Chapter 4
FOUR
GINA
By the time we get to the little cottage next to the lodge, my nerves are frayed.
Not because anything has gone wrong—if anything, it’s because everything feels too right.
Too familiar.
Too easy.
Dane fits into my kitchen like he never left, sitting at the table with his sleeves pushed up, listening to Scottie ramble about practice as if it’s the most important briefing he’s had all day.
Pizza boxes clutter the counter. Scottie eventually migrates to the living room with one of her games, the repetitive beeping and chiming giving Dane and me just enough privacy to talk without feeling like we’re being overheard.
“So,” I say, mostly to fill the silence. “How long are you really in town?”
He leans back in his chair. “A few weeks. Maybe longer.”
“Because you’re coaching the team,” I ask.
“Because I agreed to coach the team,” he agrees. “And because I needed to step away for a minute.”
I nod slowly. I understand that feeling more than he knows.
I also know more about what’s at stake for him and his career. Much as I hate to admit it, I’ve kept tabs on him. Just out of curiosity. And, because in our town it’s hard to ignore any news about the homegrown hero.
“What happens next?” I ask. “If things don’t go your way.”
He doesn’t deflect. Doesn’t joke. He just exhales. “I’m not sure. I’ve spent so long defining myself by hockey that imagining anything else feels… unnatural.”
Scottie looks up from the floor. “You’re still a coach.”
He smiles at her. “Yeah. I am.”
“And you’re good at it,” she adds matter-of-factly.
Something tightens in my chest.
“I like helping players off the ice,” he says, looking at me now. “Especially the ones who don’t really have a home base. Somewhere they can train. Reset. Be people…
“…Be people again,” he finishes.
I swallow. “That sounds really nice.”
He shrugs, but there’s something hopeful under the casualness. “It does, doesn’t it?”
Scottie’s game beeps triumphantly from the living room. “I won!”
Dane grins. “I knew she was competitive.”
“Relentless,” I agree.
When he leaves a little while later, I tell myself it’s just pizza. Just nostalgia. Just two adults being civil for the sake of a kid who loves hockey.
It has nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with the way he can still make my heart pound faster than anyone else ever has.
Practice the next day starts out normally enough.
The kids are loud and chaotic, sticks clattering, skates scraping, voices echoing off the walls. I take my usual seat in the bleachers, thermos in hand, watching Scottie warm up with her friends.
Dane moves easily among them, authoritative without being intimidating. He corrects a stance here, offers a word of encouragement there. The kids listen. Respect him. Gravitate toward him.
Scottie glows under it.
About halfway through practice, I notice her skating harder than usual. Jaw set. Shoulders tense. She lines up for a drill and one of the boys shoves past her, knocking her off balance.
“Careful,” she snaps.
“Whatever,” he mutters. “You shouldn’t even be playing.”
My grip tightens on my thermos.
Another boy snickers. “Yeah. Girls don’t belong on this team.”
Before I can stand, Dane’s whistle cuts through the air.
They freeze, stricken like they’ve been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.
He skates to a stop in front of them, expression calm in a way that’s somehow more intimidating than yelling.
“What did you just say?” he asks.
Neither boy answers.
“I’ll wait,” Dane continues evenly.
The first boy shifts uncomfortably. “Nothing.”
Dane shakes his head. “Try again.”
Silence stretches. The entire rink has gone quiet now. Parents lean forward in their seats. Kids stop skating.
“She doesn’t belong,” the second boy mumbles.
“That’s what I thought you said.” Dane straightens fully.
“Everyone over here,” he says, gesturing to center ice.
The kids gather, Scottie hovering slightly apart, chin lifted even though I can see the tension in her shoulders.
“This game doesn’t care who you are,” Dane says. “It doesn’t care what you look like. It doesn’t care if you’re bigger, smaller, louder, quieter, a boy or a girl, if you’re new in town, or your family has been here for generations.”
His gaze sweeps the group.
“All that matters is how you play, how you treat your teammates, and how hard you’re willing to work. If you can’t handle that, you don’t deserve to wear this jersey.”
My chest burns.
“Scottie belongs here because she earns it,” he continues. “Just like every single one of you. Anyone who has a problem with that can take a seat.”
The boys drop their eyes.
Scottie’s shoulders relax.
“Got it?” With their nods, Dane blows the whistle again. “Back to work.”
Practice resumes, but something has shifted. The energy is different. It’s not perfect, but it’s better.
And not just for the players.
For me.
My heart is practically bursting out of my chest. And while I know there’s a better than good chance that he’ll leave town again, I have this need to reconnect with him. To see where these new feelings that are even stronger than the old might go.
Even if it’s temporary. It couldn’t hurt. Right?
When practice ends, Scottie skates straight to me, cheeks flushed. “Did you hear everything?”
“I did,” I say, pulling her into a hug. “You were amazing out there.”
She grins. “Coach Dane is awesome.”
I laugh softly. “Yeah. He is.”
And she doesn’t even know just how awesome. As I watch him give the boys from before another talk, I’m once again stricken by how well he’s grown up.
Not just physically, but as a human. He’s a man. A good one at that.
I wonder if he kisses like a man now.
I wait until Scottie heads to the locker room before finding Dane near the bench.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice quieter now.
“It was nothing.” He shrugs. “It was the truth.”
“It wasn’t nothing. It mattered to all of those players and Scott.” I take a shaky breath. “And it mattered to me.”
He studies my face for a beat, more than a spark of interest lighting his eyes. “I’m glad.”
The adrenaline still buzzes through me, and my pulse beats loudly in my ears. Before I can think better of it, I step closer and press my lips to his.
He starts in surprise, but then he kisses me back.
It’s soft. Gentle. Brief and barely there.
But it’s enough. It’s enough to fully reignite the desire that has long been dormant inside of me.
It’s enough to make me want more.
And that’s… terrifying.
I pull back quickly. “I—sorry. I got caught up. I just—”
He catches my wrist gently. “Hey.”
I look up. His expression is soft, searching.
“It’s all good,” he says. “You can get caught up with me whenever you like.”
Something in his tone unravels the last of my restraint. I lean in again, slower this time, letting the kiss deepen just enough to remind me of everything I’ve been trying not to feel.
When I finally step back, my heart is racing.
“Come over tonight,” I say. “If you want. After Scottie goes to bed.”
His breath stutters, just slightly. “Are you sure?”
I lick my bottom lip, still savoring his taste. “Absolutely.”
“Okay.” He nods. “I definitely want to.”
I nod once, decisively, even though fear curls low in my stomach.
“Good,” I say. “Then I’ll see you later.”
I turn away before I can change my mind.
Because if I’m going to risk my heart again, I want it to be for a man who stands up for my daughter without hesitation.
And Dane just proved exactly who he is.
And I’m willing to risk future heartbreak for even one a couple of weeks of getting to know the man he’s become.