My Hockey Crush Is My Best Friend’s Dad

“You don’t crush on your best friend’s dad. You just don’t.” That was what Mads always said to me. And this was usually when she caught me staring too long at Coach Kane during practice. As a way of responding, I always rolled my eyes at her and said, “Please, I stopped liking him years ago.” Whenever I said that, I would almost choke because I knew that it was a lie. It was a very big one. The truth was that I had never really stopped liking Coach Kane. I’d just gotten better at pretending. Right now, I was sprawled across Mads’s messy bedroom floor, folding her clothes into a suitcase while she danced around in leggings and a sweatshirt that said Hockey is my Love Language. Music blared from her speaker and it was something upbeat that didn’t match the winter gloom outside the window. Typical Mads. “Do you seriously need four pairs of boots?” I asked, holding up the newest addition to the pile. As Mads tossed her hair, a wave of blond curls bounced gleefully in response. She rolled her eyes at me and said, “It’s a holiday camp, Lena. Not a survival retreat. And besides, I have to look good for photos.” “Right because we are definitely going to care about i********: likes when we are freezing in the woods,” I muttered dryly as I neatly refolded one of her sweaters. She grinned at me. “You’d care if my dad ended up taking a group photo. You’d be the first one to fix your hair.” I paused mid-fold, heat crawling up my neck. “What? Why would I—” “Oh please.” She dropped onto the bed, smirking. “Don’t even start. You’ve had a thing for him since… forever.” “I was fifteen, Mads,” I protested even though I knew that it wasn't going to help a bit. “And it wasn’t a thing, it was a—” I waved my hands around, searching for the least embarrassing word— “a… teenage delusion.” She burst into laughter and it was the kind that echoed off stutter whenever he said hi.” I widened my eyes as if in shock. “I did not.” “You did.” She tilted her head, squinting at me with mock sympathy. “You were like, ‘Hi—Hi—Hi, Coach K—Kane.’ It was adorable. Creepy, but adorable.” Flustered at her words, I threw a sock at her and she dodged it easily. God, I hated that she was right. That summer still burned in my memory like a sunspot I couldn’t blink away. The first time I saw him — Alex Kane, the man everyone called Coach K — he was out on the rink, barking orders at the team with that low, even tone he had that made everyone listen. Including me. Fifteen-year-old me had been sitting on the bleachers, pretending to read my book but I couldn’t focus on a single line. Every word out of his mouth had a kind of gravity. His dark hair, his sharp blue eyes — the way he carried himself, calm but in control — it was the kind of presence that made even the loudest players quiet down. He had been intense. Focused. Untouchable. And he still was. “Earth to Lena.” Mads snapped her fingers in front of my face, pulling me out of the flashback. “Were you daydreaming again? Please tell me you’re not picturing my dad in a Santa hat.” “Oh my God, stop!” I groaned, burying my face in one of her jackets. “Could we not do this every year?” “Fine, fine.” She laughed and zipped her bag shut. “But seriously, remember the rule as we go to this holiday camp.” I sighed. Even though I wanted to say something ridiculous like ‘get a life, Mads,’ I kept my mouth shut. I was too excited that the Grayson family had somehow invited me to this holiday camp so I wasn't going to say or do anything that would jinx it. Absolutely not. Which was why I calmly nodded my head and said to Mads, “Yeah, yeah. Don’t crush on your best friend’s dad. I know.” “Exactly.” She pointed at me dramatically. “You can admire the beard. You can even respect the muscles. But you may not, under any circumstances, think of my dad as hot. Got it?” I muttered under my breath, “Too late.” Mads widened her eyes at me. “What?” I chuckled and said in a louder voice, “Nothing.” Mads raised a brow but before she could interrogate me further, her phone pinged and she lit up. “Ooh, ride’s here! Come on, let’s go before my dad decides to leave without us.” *** Alex’s car smelled like coffee and pine-scented air freshener as we got in. Mads quickly sat in the front beside her dad, chatting animatedly about the weekend itinerary. I was in the back seat, trying really hard not to make eye contact with the rearview mirror. He hadn’t said much since I got in…just a polite, “Hey, Lena. Ready for the trip?” in that deep, calm voice that hit a little too low in my chest. And I’d said yes as a response. Too quickly. Probably too eagerly. Now I was stuck analyzing my tone while staring out the window at passing snowbanks. The world outside was white and endless. Frost-laced trees leaned toward the road like frozen sentinels. Occasionally, we passed clusters of houses decorated in blinking Christmas lights. Inside one, I caught a glimpse of a family around a glowing tree, and something in my chest ached. It was stupid, really. My family was fine…I mean, they were chaotic, loud, loving in their own weird way. But this trip felt like an escape from them. A breath of something new. “Lena,” Alex said suddenly, his voice pulling me from my thoughts. “How’s school going?” I looked up, startled. His eyes met mine in the mirror in a brief, polite and unreadable manner and my heart danced a bit. “Oh. Um, good. Finals nearly killed me, but I survived.” He nodded, mouth curving slightly. “You always do.” I blinked at that. “You… remember?” He shrugged one shoulder. “Mads talks about you a lot.” I glanced at Mads who was pretending to scroll through her phone. “Does she now?” “Not in a good way,” she said with a dry grin. Alex chuckled just once, a quiet sound that shouldn’t have affected me really but it did. My stomach did this stupid little flip and I hated myself for feeling this way. You don’t crush on your best friend’s dad, Mads had said again and again to me. Apparently, I wasn't listening to her again and again. Sighing, I turned back to the window and watched as snow whip against the glass while the car rode on. *** The drive stretched on. Hours of winding roads and cold air seeping through the car vents. Mads sang along to Christmas songs; Alex hummed quietly under his breath. I focused on the rhythm of it all, pretending it was just another road trip, that my pulse wasn’t weirdly synchronized with every glance the man in the car occasionally gave through the rearview. When we finally stopped for gas, I stepped out to stretch my legs. The sky was a pale, icy gray, and my breath fogged in front of me. Across the parking lot, Alex was fueling the car, one hand resting on the roof, his coat collar turned up against the wind. He looked… normal. Human. Not the larger-than-life figure I’d built up in my head all those years. And yet, something about the way he moved — the steadiness, the quiet authority — still got to me. “You’re staring,” Mads said, appearing beside me with two steaming cups of cocoa. I jerked my gaze away. “I’m not.” “You totally are.” I searched for words to say. “I was… admiring his gas-pumping technique.” She snorted. “You’re hopeless.” It was obvious she saw through my bulshit. My cheeks pinked in response. “Shut up,” I said dryly. She chuckled and handed me a cup. “I can see that you are hopeless. Just don’t do anything dumb, okay? He’s in a weird mood lately. Work stuff.” I frowned at that. “What kind of mood?” “The kind where he stares into space like he’s thinking about the universe or something. It’s creepy. I think he’s just stressed.” She sighed, shook her head as if shaking the thought away and then bumped my shoulder. “So don’t flirt. Or faint. Or whatever.” “I wasn’t planning on fainting,” I mumbled but my heart was thudding erratically so I wasn't so sure of that. *** By the time we reached the Grayson cabin, night had fallen. The headlights cut through a swirl of snow, illuminating tall pine trees dusted white and a long, winding driveway leading to a sprawling cabin. The place looked like something out of a Christmas postcard — fairy lights strung across the porch, smoke curling from the chimney, laughter spilling faintly through the frosted windows. “Oh my God,” Mads breathed. “They weren’t kidding. This place is massive.” “Looks expensive,” I said softly. She grinned. “It is expensive. The Graysons basically fund half the hockey world.” The car crunched to a stop on the gravel. Alex killed the engine, and for a moment, there was silence that was permeated by the soft whisper of snow falling against the windshield. Mads hopped out first, already squealing about how she was calling dibs on the biggest room. I took a slower breath, staring at the cabin glowing against the dark. How was it that the Graysons, as rich and influential as they are, thought to invite me? How? My fingers trembled a little and I told myself it was just the cold. Then I opened the door of the car. The air was sharp, crisp, and smelled faintly of pine. Snowflakes caught in my hair as I stepped out. My boots sank into the white powder and I inhaled sharply as anticipation went up my spine. Alex was already standing by the porcha few feet away, talking to one of the Graysons. The porch light spilled over his shoulders, highlighting the dark strands of his hair, the faint scruff along his jaw. Damn it, Lena, think straight… He was smiling politely as he talked but when he glanced toward the driveway and his eyes found mine, he stopped speaking for a moment. Just like that, everything inside me froze. His gaze lingered on me— not long, maybe a second too long — but enough. Enough to make my heart slam against my ribs. Enough to make the palms of my hands wet. The noise of laughter and crunching snow faded and all I could hear was the rush of blood in my ears. He nodded once at me. It was a small acknowledgment. Professional. Polite. But something in it felt different, as if it was weighted with a silence I couldn’t name. Mads stepped out from the house and called out to me, her voice bright and oblivious. “Lena, come on! Let’s go check out the rooms!” I swallowed hard, forcing air into my lungs. “Yeah. Coming.” As I started toward the cabin, the porch light flickered, casting long shadows across the snow. Alex’s gaze followed me for a moment before he turned away, saying something to the man beside him. But that single glance lingered like static in my chest. And for one terrifying heartbeat, I could swear he had been thinking of me in a way he had never before.