Chapter 8 #2
I followed at a slower pace, scanning the rink until I spotted Nina in our usual seats near center ice–third row up, just high enough to see everything.
Her chestnut hair was swept into a high bun, a few loose strands framing her face.
She wore her signature puffer coat in a deep forest green, zipped halfway over a faded university hoodie.
One leg was crossed over the other, foot bouncing lazily in a worn sneaker as she leaned back with casual confidence, looking like she owned the entire rink.
Both hands were wrapped around oversized coffee cups, one already extended in my direction, grinning as she saw me. “Saved your seat.”
“Thank you,” I muttered, climbing the steps and plopping down beside her.
I took the coffee and wrapped my hands around it gratefully, letting the warmth seep into my fingers.
“How was work?” Nina asked, tucking her legs up beneath her.
I stiffened slightly. “Uh… it was alright.”
She hummed, not pushing, just sipping her coffee like she knew I wasn’t quite ready to spill.
A minute passed. Then another.
I let out a breath. “I poured hot coffee on a customer this morning.”
Nina’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”
I groaned, sinking lower into my seat. “Right on his shirt. Like, full-on soaked him.”
She tilted her head, intrigued. “Who was it?”
I opened my mouth, about to answer. “Ryan–”
“Ryan,” Nina said at the exact same time as she looked toward the tunnel entrance.
I froze. “How did you–?”
She was already nodding toward the ice. “The other coach. He just walked in. He’s been gone for like a week–family stuff I think.”
Ryan.
I nearly dropped my coffee.
No. It couldn’t be. There had to be more than one Ryan in town. Ryan was a common name. Not the same Ryan who I doused in coffee earlier today.
My pulse spiked as I turned my head slowly, following Nina’s gaze. And there he was.
He stood at the edge of the rink, dressed head-to-toe in team gear–a fitted black track suit that did nothing to hide the broadness of his shoulders, skates laced tight, a helmet tucked low over his dark hair.
A hockey stick rested casually in one hand, a clipboard in the other, and a whistle hung from his neck.
Ryan.
The name echoed in my head as memories from the morning collided with this new realization. The registration. The woman who mentioned Coach Ryan. I hadn’t put it together.
Not until now.
Looking at him–those same piercing blue eyes–there was no question. It was him.
And he was staring right at me.
Our eyes locked, and for a split second, his expression was unreadable–cool, composed. Then, just barely, the corner of his mouth tugged upward, and the unmistakable glint of amusement flashed in his eyes.
My cheeks burned all over again at the memory, and I could feel Nina’s gaze shift toward me even before she spoke. Her eyes flicked from Ryan to me, one brow arching with a quiet sort of knowing as she took a slow sip from her coffee.
“You okay?” she asked, her tone casual enough, though, curiosity threaded through the words–sharp and amused.
I hesitated, staring down into my cup like it held the answer to everything.
“That coffee incident this morning I told you about…”
Nina blinked. “Yes?”
I let out a sigh, barely above a whisper. “On Ryan. It was Ryan.”
There was a beat of silence before she leaned forward, a grin spreading across her face. “This is the best thing that’s happened all week.”
I groaned and dropped my face into my hands.
The sound of skates carving into the ice echoed through the rink as the kids coasted toward where Nina and I were sitting, their energy still high even after a full practice.
Connor was among them, face flushed, hair sticking to his forehead under his helmet, grinning so wide it practically split his cheeks. I couldn’t help but smile.
Ryan dropped to one knee, lowering himself to their level. Shane followed suit beside him, arms crossed, his usual stern expression in place.
“Okay, team,” Ryan began, his voice carrying clearly across the ice, “we’ve got a big game coming up this weekend. We’re playing the Wolves, and they’re one of the toughest teams in the league.”
A few groans rose from the circle. I saw Connor glance at the boy beside him, eyebrows raised, before Ryan lifted a hand to settle the noise.
“Yeah, they’re good,” he continued, calm and steady. “But so are we. You’ve been working hard. You’ve got speed, skill, and more heart than half the league combined. That’s what wins games. If you show up like I know you can, we’ve got a real shot at taking them down.”
There was a pause, and then Shane spoke up, his voice lower yet just as commanding. “Coach is right. The Wolves are tough. They don’t play with the kind of grit you’ve been building out here, though. Stick to what we’ve practised, keep your heads up, and don’t let them push you around.”
From the group, a small voice called out–Tommy, I think. “We’re totally gonna win now that we’ve got Connor on our team!”
The response was immediate. A chorus of “Yeah!” and “He’s awesome!” filled the air, and my heart caught in my throat. Connor’s face turned red, though he was beaming, trying to stay cool and failing completely.
Ryan clapped a hand on Connor’s shoulder, grinning. “Connor’s a great addition, no doubt. But remember–hockey’s a team sport. One player doesn’t win games. We do. Together.”
The boys nodded in unison, their excitement practically vibrating off the ice.
I took a slow sip of my coffee, trying to quiet the tightness in my chest. My conversation with Nina faded in and out as my attention kept drifting toward the bench. Toward him. Ryan.
Not because I was checking him out–God, no. I barely knew the man. Still, there was something about the way he carried himself. Calm. Steady. He didn’t bark or command attention. He didn’t need to. The kids listened to him like he was the eye of the storm–quiet, yet powerful.
And when Connor had nailed a shot earlier in practice, I’d caught a glimpse of Ryan’s reaction. Not over-the-top. Just a quiet nod, a flicker of pride that made something in my chest twist.
It wasn’t attraction. It was… curiosity. Confusion. A cautious part of me noticing that he hadn’t raised his voice once. That his smile, when it appeared, seemed real.
Nina’s sudden laugh snapped me out of my thoughts. She was looking down at her phone, thumbs flying.
“What’s so funny?” I asked, sipping my coffee.
“Jaxxon just sent me a photo of an author’s ‘inspiration board’,” she said, grinning. “It’s literally three Post-its, a picture of a beach, and a coffee stain. He wants to know if we should frame it for the office.”
“Jaxxon?”
“My assistant,” Nina said, sliding her phone into her bag. “Well, technically. But somewhere along the way, he became part-time nanny, part-time personal organizer, and full-time chaos wrangler. He keeps my life from imploding when I’m knee deep in manuscripts.”
I already knew Nina’s world was a whirlwind–she was a senior manager for one of the most prestigious publishing houses in the country.
Her days were filled with tight deadlines, opinionated authors, and manuscripts that needed serious surgery.
She seemed to handle it all with a mix of sharp wit and zero tolerance for nonsense, the same way she handled everything else in life, I’ve come to learn.
Before I could say anything, her gaze flicked past me.
“Brace yourself,” she muttered under her breath.
I glanced behind me, toward the lobby entrance.
There they were.
The hockey moms.
I’d noticed them at the first practice–hard not to, with their matching rhinestone-studded jackets and an energy that could only be described as… organized chaos. But thanks to Nina’s strategic seating and expertly timed commentary, they’d never actually approached me.
Until now.
A pack of five glided toward us, all perfect hair and oversize tumblers, like a caffeinated wolf pack on a mission.
“Here we go,” Nina murmured, sitting back like she was preparing to be entertained.
“Hi!” A blonde woman in her late thirties stepped forward, her voice bright and cheery. “You must be Connor’s mom. I’m Miranda.”
Her handshake was firm, practised. Before I could even respond, the others fell in around her like backup dancers.
“I’m Rachel,” said a tall redhead with a bold laugh. “That’s Heather, Vanessa, and Kelly.”
“Hi,” I said, trying to keep up.
They all smiled, expectant.
I opened my mouth, then faltered. My name caught in my throat for a moment too long.
Just say it.
They were all still standing there, waiting.
“Harper,” I finally offered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“We’ve been watching Connor,” Vanessa said, adjusting her scarf. “He’s got some serious talent.”
“Such a strong stride,” Heather added, sipping from her coffee cup. “Second practice and already making moves.”
“Thanks,” I said, smiling despite myself. “He really loves it.”
“So,” Kelly began, looping her arm through mine like we were old friends. “Where’d you move here from? We’ve been dying to know.”
“Uh, just a little ways south,” I replied vaguely.
They all exchanged looks, clearly intrigued but trying to appear polite. I could practically see the mental notes they were taking for later discussion.
“They’ve been dying to talk to you,” Nina said dryly, finally speaking up. “I’ve been shielding you from them.”
Miranda gasped dramatically. “Nina! We’re harmless.”
“You’re relentless,” Nina corrected, lifting her cup to her lips. “Which is different.”
“Oh, come on,” Rachel said. “We’re not that bad.”
Nina gave me a sideways look.
“Anyways,” Miranda continued, clearly unbothered, “just know we’ve got your back. New moms don’t stay new for long. If you need anything–rides, hand-me-down gear, wine–we’re your girls.”
“Thank you,” I said, genuinely touched. “That’s really nice.”
“And,” Kelly added, leaning in, “if you ever want to liven up the games, just ask for one of our special lattes.”