Nate’s POV
The screen of my phone glowed with Viktor Melnyk’s training credentials when Liam’s shadow fell across my table like a storm cloud.
I didn’t need to look up to know my brother was furious—the tension radiating from him was practically electric.
“What the hell are you doing?” Liam’s voice cut through the coffee shop’s ambient noise like a blade.
I glanced up from my research, quickly closing the browser tab about Viktor’s work with NHL players. Three Olympic medalists. Connor McDavid. Nathan MacKinnon. The connections were all there, buried in obscure interviews and training reports.
My ticket to the next level.
“Having coffee,” I said, forcing casualness into my voice. “You know, normal human activities.”
Liam dropped into the chair across from me with enough force to make nearby tables turn. His green eyes burned with barely contained rage.
“Don’t play dumb with me. I’m talking about her. Kat Melnyk. Why were you talking to her right after she humiliated me?”
There it was. The real reason for his fury. I’d wondered how long it would take for word to get back to him about my conversation with Kat.
Apparently, Ridgeview’s gossip network was working at peak efficiency.
“You’re questioning who I talk to now?” I laughed, though nothing about this situation was funny. “Since when do you control my social life?”
“Since you started cozying up to spoiled princesses who think they can waltz in here and—”
“And what?” I interrupted, letting real irritation creep into my voice. “Excel? Show talent? Threaten your precious ego?”
Liam flinched. Good. Maybe it was time someone called him out on his knee-jerk hostility toward anyone who might challenge his position as Ridgeview’s golden boy.
“Stay away from her,” he warned, his voice dropping to a whisper that somehow managed to be more menacing than shouting. “I’m serious, Nate.”
“Why?” I pressed, genuinely curious now. “Give me one good reason why I should stay away from a perfectly nice girl just because you’ve decided to hate her for no apparent reason.”
Liam opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly struggling to find an answer that wouldn’t reveal whatever was really driving his hostility toward Kat.
I watched him run a hand through his dark hair in frustration.
“I don’t need a reason,” he said finally, but even he had to know how weak that sounded.
“Bullshit,” I said flatly. “You always have reasons for everything, Liam. You don’t do anything without calculating the angles first. So what is it? What’s your real problem with her?”
“She doesn’t belong here,” he said, but I could hear the uncertainty creeping into his voice. “People like her—”
“People like her what? People with talent? People with money? News flash, brother—this entire school is full of people with money. That’s kind of the point.”
Liam was quiet for a long moment, staring down at his hands clenched on the table. When he looked up again, there was something almost vulnerable in his expression.
“Just… stay away from her, okay? Trust me on this one.”
The plea in his voice almost made me reconsider. Almost. But then I thought about the research I’d been doing, about the opportunity that Kat represented, about the college scouts who would be watching our games in just a few weeks.
I couldn’t afford to let family loyalty derail my plans.
“No,” I said simply. “I like her. She’s genuine, she’s funny, and she doesn’t deserve the shit you’ve been giving her. If you can’t handle that, that’s your problem, not mine.”
Liam’s chair scraped against the floor as he stood up abruptly, his face flushing with anger. “Fine. But don’t come crying to me when she shows her true colors.”
“And what colors would those be, exactly?” I called after him, but he was already stalking toward the exit without another word.
I watched him leave, feeling a familiar mixture of frustration and guilt. Liam and I had been competing our entire lives, but this felt different. More personal.
There was something about Kat Melnyk that had gotten under his skin in a way I’d never seen before.
Which only made her more valuable to me.
I pulled out my phone again, scrolling back to the article about Viktor Melnyk’s work with professional hockey players.
The mental conditioning techniques, the visualization exercises, the discipline methods that had helped elite athletes reach the next level.
This was exactly what I needed to separate myself from the pack of talented-but-not-extraordinary hockey players competing for the same college scholarships.
My stats were good but not great. My speed was above average but not elite. My shot was accurate but not powerful enough to wow scouts.
I was the definition of a solid, reliable player—the kind who made teams better but never made headlines. In a world where college recruiters had their pick of phenoms and prodigies, being reliable wasn’t enough.
But mental training? The psychological edge that came from working with someone like Viktor Melnyk?
That could be the difference between a Division III scholarship and a shot at the NHL.
I just needed to get close enough to Kat to earn an introduction.
I was still strategizing when I saw Kat walking toward the coffee shop entrance, looking slightly frazzled but beautiful. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore an oversized sweater that somehow managed to be both casual and elegant.
Perfect timing.
I stood up quickly, intercepting her before she could reach the counter. She looked surprised to see me, but not unhappy, which I took as a good sign.
“Kat! Perfect timing. I was just thinking about you.”
“Were you?” she asked, accepting my invitation to join me at my table. “Should I be flattered or concerned?”
“Definitely flattered,” I grinned, though my mind was racing with how to approach this. I needed to be careful, to make this seem natural rather than calculated. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
I watched her settle into the chair Liam had just vacated, noting that she looked more relaxed than she had during our first meeting. Maybe the week at Ridgeview was starting to feel less overwhelming.
“Oh?” She sipped her latte, waiting for me to continue.
This was it. My chance to set everything in motion. I took a deep breath, knowing that what I said next would determine whether my plan had any chance of succeeding.
“I’ve been thinking about our friendship,” I said slowly, testing the waters. “About how much I enjoy spending time with you.”
“That’s sweet, Nate, but—”
“Let’s date,” I said suddenly, the words coming out in a rush before I could second-guess myself.
Her eyes went wide with shock, and for a moment I thought I’d completely miscalculated. But then I realized this could actually work even better than I’d originally planned.
A romantic relationship would give me much more access to her world, more opportunities to meet her father, more chances to prove myself worthy of his attention.
“What?” she exclaimed, her voice pitched high with surprise.
