Page 53 of Uncoachable

Before I can answer, the door bursts open. Dean and Scottie push through the crowd of giant men like they own the place. Dean raises a finger, silencing the room.

“Not so fast, boys,” Dean says, his voice low and commanding. “It’s her birthday. She’s coming with us.”

The room freezes. Cash stops mid-laugh. Leo drops his water bottle, the plastic clattering against the floor. Nico blinks in total confusion, and Brick whispers, “Birthday?”

I exhale, my chest feeling exposed and elated all at once. Having everyone notice me as a person, not just a set of eyes on a clipboard, is more intimate than I anticipated.

Cash is the first to move.

He strides over and wraps me in a massive, sweaty hug, planting a loud, sloppy kiss on my cheek. “Happy Birthday, Iveline! Why didn’t you tell us? We would’ve gotten a cake!”

Heat rises in my chest, and for once, I don’t push the affection away. I hug him back briefly. “Because I didn’t want the cake, Cash. But thank you.”

A birthday is a vulnerability; it’s a day that admits you have a history, a life that exists outside the white lines of the rink. I’ve kept mine a secret for years because I didn’t want the cupcakes or the ‘Happy Birthday’ sung by twenty men who can’t hold a high note.

But seeing the way the guys’ faces soften—seeing them look at me as a human being—it cracks the Ice Queen’s armor right down the middle.

Callahan moves through the crowd. The other guys instinctively give him space, sensing a shift in the air.

He doesn’t hug me like Cash did.

He doesn’t plant a kiss on my cheek.

He just stands in my space, his height making the rest of the room feel small and distant.

“Congratulations, Ivy,” he says.

He uses the name only my inner circle is allowed to touch. He says it like he’s been practicing the weight of it in his mouth.

“It’s just another year, Callahan,” I say, my voice coming out breathier than I intended.

“No,” he murmurs, leaning in just enough so the words are for me alone. “It’s the year you came to us.”

I meet his gaze, and the moment stretches until the rest of the room feels like a background blur.

Scottie claps her hands, breaking the tension before it can ignite. “Alright! Enough brooding! Now we celebrate. Drinks, birthday, and a win—all at once. You in?”

I look around the room at my team, at my friends, then back at Callahan.

“Let’s get drunk.”

14

Callahan Eli

5:57 PM

Me: Don’t do that again.

Cash: Do what? Win? I plan on doing that a lot.

Me: The cheek thing.

Cash: THE BIRTHDAY HUG? YOU CAN’T BE JEALOUS OF A BIRTHDAY HUG.

Me: I’m not jealous. But you shouldn’t be kissing our coach. It’s a professional boundary.

Cash: YOU’RE JEALOUS. I’M FRAMING THIS CHAT AND PUTTING IT ON THE LOCKER ROOM DOOR.