Ipush open the door to the coach’s office, the familiar smell of stale coffee hitting me immediately.
Dad’s sitting at his desk, flipping through some papers. He looks up when I step in, a grin spreading across his face.
“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite daughter,” he teases.
I roll my eyes, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. “I’m your only daughter.”
He waves me off. “Same difference. Bringing me lunch again, or just stopping by to see if I’m still alive?”
I chuckle, swinging the brown paper bag onto his desk. “You’re lucky I am. If Mom had her way, you’d be eating steamed vegetables and quinoa every day.”
Dad groans loudly as he grabs the sandwich I bought for him. “Love your mom, but I need some fucking meat.” He takes a bite, chewing with a look of pure relief on his face.
I sit down across from him, and he devours his sandwich, gulping it down.
“How’s school going?” he asks, before taking another bite. “Keeping up with everything?”
I shrug, leaning back in the chair. “Yeah, it’s fine. Boring. You know how it is.” I make a face, because I know he knows exactly what I mean.
“You having a good time working with me at the rink?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.
I smile, my lips curving without even thinking about it. “You know I love it.”
Dad’s face softens a little, his eyes lighting up. “Love to hear it,” he says, then leans back in his chair, studying me carefully. “I thought for sure one of the guys would try something with you, but it looks like they’re keeping their heads straight, huh?”
My pulse kicks up, but I plaster on a smile. “They know better than to mess with Coach’s daughter.”
Dad laughs. “Good. I’ve got enough on my plate without worrying about that.” He takes another bite of his sandwich, then shoots me a look. “But if anyone even thinks about it…” He raises a brow.
I snort. “You gonna bench the entire team?”
He grins. “Don’t tempt me.”
I keep smiling, but inside, I’m spiraling. Because someone alreadyhasthought about it. Touched. Kissed. Definitely done more than that.
I push the thought down, burying it under about a hundred layers of denial. Because if he finds out about Ryan? Game over. I don’t even know for who—me, Ryan, both of us, the team?
“You know I’ve gotta protect my little girl,” Dad says, still smiling.
Before I can respond, a knock interrupts. I turn my head seeing Nathan at the door, Ryan close behind. My pulse skips when my eyes meet Ryan’s, and that familiar smirk on his face is enough to make my stomach flip.
I force myself to look away, pinning my bottom lip between my teeth.
It’s been days since the whole sneaking-out mess, and God, I didn’t realize how much I’d missed him until now. Every time I think about it, I feel this strange tug in my chest, this longing I didn’t sign up for. We haven’t had the chance to see each other since then, and it’s driving me crazy.
“Hey, Dad, you got your car keys? I left my hoodie in the backseat last night, and it’s freezing in the rink,” Nathan says.
Dad sighs, already digging into his pocket. “You’re worse than me at losing shit.” He tosses the keys over, shaking his head. “First, though, I want to get your guys’ opinion on something.”
Nathan catches the keys. “Alright, shoot.”
Dad leans back in his chair, glancing between us. “What would you guys say if I gave Isabella a little more responsibility and let her work on the next set of plays for the game against Westbrook?”
I blink, caught completely off guard. “Wait, you want me to—what? Seriously?”
He gives a little shrug. “You’ve been showing me more than enough in practice. I think you’re ready for it.”
A rush of excitement floods my chest, quickly followed by a wave of nerves that makes my stomach tighten. “I—uh, I don’t know. That’s a lot of pressure.”
