During practice, Brandon’s focus wavered. He should have been concentrating on drills, on the puck, on his teammates—but his eyes kept drifting toward the coach’s office. Through the glass, he could see Jason’s daughter sitting there, headphones in, scribbling diligently in a notebook. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice him peeking, and Brandon’s heart gave a little jump every time she flipped a page or tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Jason, standing at the edge of the rink with a clipboard, noticed immediately. He could see the way Brandon’s gaze kept flicking to the office, the way he missed passes and forgot to call out to his teammates. And Jason couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. It was just too obvious, too human, and honestly a little endearing.

He shook his head with a grin, muttering under his breath, “Kid’s got it bad.” He didn’t call him out in front of the team—there was a line between coaching and embarrassing someone—but inside, Jason found the whole scene hilarious. The usually confident, composed team captain reduced to a blushing mess because of a girl quietly doing her homework? That was comedy gold.

Meanwhile, Brandon tried to refocus, scolding himself silently, but it was no use. Every glance toward the office made it worse. Jason just smiled knowingly, watching the situation unfold with quiet amusement.