15. Emmy
FIFTEEN
Thirty minutes later,I’m sitting across from Maverick in a red-checkered booth in a diner that’s so small, I could probably touch both sides of the wall if I stuck out my arms.
I look at the paper menu on the table that tells me the restaurant has been around since the 1930s, and my stomach rumbles again.
“Do you come here a lot?” I ask.
“Once a week since I got drafted by the Stars.” Maverick scoots half an inch to the left to avoid hitting his head on the low hanging light overhead. “It’s kind of like Johnny’s. I can throw on a hat and a hoodie, and no one will know who I am. If they figure it out, they don’t care. They’re just here to eat good food.”
He did throw on a hat on the quick drive from the arena then had the fucking audacity to turn it backwards on his head when he parked his Mercedes in the gravel lot out front.
I’ve always considered myself a feminist, but there’s something so goddamn sexy about a man in a backwards hat that has me ready to drop to my knees for the patriarchy.
I clear my throat. “What do you normally order?”
“It’s cruel to pick a favorite. The grilled cheese is delicious. You can’t go wrong with the club or meatball sub either. And, if you’re really feeling wild, the burger with a pretzel bun is better than any orgasm I’ve ever had.”
The comment makes my heart race. I stare at the list of side items, trying to distract myself from thinking about Maverick Miller and his orgasms.
Potato salad.
French fries.
Coleslaw.
Right there, Red.
Atta girl.
“A grilled cheese sounds great,” I almost shout.
“That’s what I usually get. The pickles on the side really bring it all together.” He glances to his left and smiles at the woman with graying hair and an apron around her waist approaching our table. “Hi, Mama Darla.”
“There’s my sweet boy.” She wraps her arms around his shoulders and kisses the top of his head. “How did the game go?”
“Not great, but there will be plenty more.” His eyes bounce over to me. “Mama D, this is Emerson Hartwell. She’s our new left winger, and a first timer at The Nook. Thought she might need some comfort food to cheer her up after today.”
Darla’s mouth drops open. “Oh, heavens. Some of the boys come in here after games or on their days off, and I was hoping I’d get to meet you. My granddaughter is a big fan.”
“That’s very kind. Thank you.”
“Would you—is it okay if— ” Darla fumbles with the order pad in her pocket and hands it to me. “Could you sign something for her?”
“I’d love to. What’s her name?”
“Lydia. She has red hair just like you.”
“Another fire girl.” I write out a quick note to her, adding a heart and my signature. “There you go.”
“Thank you, darlin’. This means a lot. Now. What can I get y’all to eat?”
When she leaves, Maverick gives me a sly look.
“See?” he says.
“See what?”
“Mama D doesn’t care you had a bad game and neither does Lydia. You just made her day.”
“You might be right.”
“I’m sorry. Can you say that again? I didn’t quite hear you.”
“You might be right,” I repeat, louder this time.
“Hartwell thinks I’m right,” Maverick announces to the mostly empty diner. “I’m on top of the world!”
I slide down the booth and hide my face. “I’m never spending time with you again.”
“Not a single person looked up from their newspapers.” His knee knocks against mine under the table and I pull my leg away. “You could act like the biggest idiot in the world and no one would know.”
“You would know,” I say, and his grin is sharp.
“We could keep it our little secret—kind of like you and this sweet side of yours. You show everyone your tough exterior, but I’m starting to see what’s underneath.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Signing an autograph. Calling Lydia a fire girl—which she is. She’s eight and an absolute hellion. Asking about my arena tour with Rachel. You’re nice, Hartwell, and I’m not sure what to do with that information.”
I ball up a napkin and throw it in his face. “Fuck you.”
“There she is. That’s more like it.” Maverick puts his hands behind his head and gets comfortable. “Do you want to ask your question of the day first, or should I kick us off? We’re not in a team setting, so our normal rules apply.”
“You can go first,” I tell him.
“What did you want to be when you were growing up?”
“Of all the things you could ask, you go with one about my childhood?”
“Patience, Red. I’ve got 495 questions left. I’ll get to all of them eventually. I’m not in a rush.”
“That’s assuming you’ll still see me 495 days from now. I could get traded. Or sent back to the AHL or ECHL.”
“You could also get hit by an anvil falling from the sky when you walk out of your apartment tomorrow morning, but consider me optimistic.” Maverick stares at me, his eyes locked on mine. “I’d find a way to track you down.”
Awareness blooms in me with his attention. With the proximity of his body to mine and the careful way he’s watching me like he can’t wait to hear what I have to say.
It’s a line, I tell myself.
A ruse he uses on all the women that come in and out of his life.
I’m not special.
But maybe you’d like to be.
I lean back, needing some distance from him.
He’s distracting when he’s this close. I keep wanting to look at the fading bruise on his cheek. Examine the tattoos on his arm and ask what they all mean. Learn which one is his favorite and trace it with my fingers.
I sit on my hands.
“I wanted to be a vet,” I say. “My dad’s distant family has a ranch in Colorado, and one year when I was younger, we went out to visit in the summertime. I saw all the horses and cows and the six dogs that lived with them, and I wanted to find a way to work with animals. A vet seemed like a logical choice. That winter, I picked up a hockey stick for the first time, and I never looked back. The veterinary dream went on the back burner to make room for being a professional athlete, and here we are.”
“A ranch in Colorado? I’ve only ever been in cities and can’t imagine that much open space. It sounds like heaven.”
“It is. We moved around a lot when I was a kid. My mom kept finding jobs in different places, and my dad worked for the postal service, so he could have a career anywhere. I remember pulling up to Rolling Green Ranch and thinking, This isa place I’d never leave. I’d lay down some roots and stay there forever—and I’ve never thought that way about anywhere else.”
“What makes it so special?”
“It’s one of those places that’s so stunning, it’s hard to describe. Do you know what I mean? There are mountains and trees everywhere. Sunsets made of colors I haven’t seen anywhere else. But saying that seems silly, because it doesn’t do it justice. Even a picture doesn’t fully capture its beauty.”
Maverick nods, and his eyes haven’t left mine since I started talking. “I”ve never had a place like that before,” he says thickly. “But lately, I think I might be experiencing it for the first time.”
My heart beats wildly in my chest, and I take a deep breath. “That’s good,” I say.
“Maybe I need to buy a ranch out in the middle of nowhere and go off the grid.”
“Women are loving cowboys in romance novels lately. They probably love them in real life too.” I take a sip of my water. My skin is warm and my vision is blurry from sharing so much personal information with him. “Not that you need help in attracting women, according to the TMZ article I read last night.”
“Thinking about me when you’re in bed?”
“Dart practice, remember?”
“Wow. You printed off an article about me? Do you want me to sign it for you? Make it out to Maverick’s Biggest Fan?”
I flip him off. “I read it on my phone, you asshat. You know what I meant.”
“Asshat, huh? You need to stop flirting with me, Red. I’m not that kind of guy.” His smile makes me want to throw another napkin in his face, but it also makes my stomach swoop low. “You read romance books?”
“Yeah. They’re a nice escape from reality. You’re going to make fun of me, aren’t you?”
“I’d never make fun of you for liking something. I’d give you shit in different ways.”
I frown, unsure of where to go from here. I’m so used to having to defend my reading choices, and his easy acceptance throws me off. “Oh.”
“Have people made fun of you for that in the past?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does if it’s important to you.”
“Yes,” I say, and I tap the edge of the table. “People have made fun of me.”
“Well, they suck. If I ever meet them, I’m going to give them an earful.”
I snort. “Thanks.”
“There’s another one of your chortles.”
“At least you didn’t call it a laugh this time.” I wrap my hand around my glass of water and take a long sip. “You’re turn to answer the question. What did you want to do when you were growing up? Hockey, right? You probably came out of the womb holding a stick.”
“I didn’t start playing hockey until I was nine. I grew up in Las Vegas, and ice rinks weren’t that popular when I was a kid. Now they have an NHL team and a huge following. That wasn’t the case when I lived there.”
“Vegas? Really? I took you for a Northeast boy.”
He narrows his eyes. “That’s an insult, Hartwell. I don’t drop my r’s like Ethan does. I wanted to be a dolphin trainer. I watched Flipper, like, twenty times in a row, and I was obsessed. When he saved Elijah Wood from the shark? Man. That was an elite cinematic experience.”
“Did you learn echolocation? I’d pay big money to see a video of hot shot Maverick Miller trying to talk like a dolphin.”
“Nah. There aren’t any videos. That would require?—”
Darla cuts him off, returning to our table with our dinner.
“I have two grilled cheeses with a pickle on the side.” She sets the plates down and drops a stack of napkins between us. “I loaded up on the fries for y’all too. You must have burned a lot of calories today.”
“Thanks, Mama D.” Maverick smiles at her. “Is it Ray back there cooking tonight?”
“It is. He made sure to put a double layer of cheese on your sandwich for you.” Darla pats his head, and I swear he melts under her touch. “Ketchup is over there, and you let me know if you need anything else.”
“This looks delicious.” I take a bite and moan. “My god.”
He eats half the sandwich in one go. Cheese hangs from the corner of his mouth, but he ignores it, powering on through another bite. “Nirvana, right?”
“I see why you come here once a week. I’m going to have to try everything.” I wipe my mouth with my napkin and sigh. “I almost forgot I’m supposed to ask you a question.”
“Oh.” He perks up, and now there’s a glob of ketchup on his chin. “Hit me, Red.”
“Which of your tattoos is your favorite?”
“The J, obviously, for June. But besides that, I like the hockey stick. It’s a cliché, I know, but it was my first one.”
“How old were you when you got it?”
“Eighteen. Spring break, my freshman year of college. I was with some friends down in Florida, and I thought, why not? I realized tattoos are a way of telling a story, so I started to get more and more. I’ll need to start filling up my right arm soon.”
“Which is your least favorite?”
“I should probably say the one on my ass, but I actually like that one.”
“You have a tattoo on your ass?”
“Yup.” His mouth curls into a smirk. “Want to see it?”
“No, thank you.” I break off half the pickle and eat it. “What the hell do you have tattooed on your ass?”
“It’s a secret.”
“You’ve slept with half the women in this city. How is the mermaid on your butt not in some online forum?”
Maverick laughs and hits his chest. “A mermaid? Shit, that would’ve been brilliant. It’s not a sea creature, but good guess. I might do that on the other cheek.”
“I really don’t believe you.”
“Maybe one day you’ll see for yourself.”
“Never going to happen, Miller.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Red. What about your tattoo? Is it just the one?”
“I have two,” I admit. “And I love them equally. I got them at important times in my life, and I don’t have any regrets.”
He drags his gaze from my face to my arms to my ribs. It’s like he’s undressing me with his eyes and searching for what might be under my clothes, and it makes me warm all over.
I wonder if he would like what he found.
“Tattooed women are sexy,” he says lowly, and even though it’s a generalization, it’s like he’s saying it just to me. No one’s called me sexy before, and I scoop up the compliment. “I’m glad you did something that empowered you.”
“Yeah.” I grab my water and take a long sip. “So am I.”
We sink into silence as we enjoy our food, and the longer I spend in the diner, the better I feel.
I might not like him, but I can’t deny Maverick has a calming presence. The ability to help me settle in a way I haven’t settled in days. For the first time since I joined the Stars and dove headfirst into the chaos, I take a breath.
Darla comes back and leaves a check on the table. “It was good to see you, Maverick.” Her attention turns to me. “And it was so nice to meet you, Emerson. I hope you’ll come back.”
“Emmy,” I tell her. “You can call me Emmy. And I promise this isn’t the last time you’ll see me.”
“Good.” She touches my shoulder, and a smile sneaks out of me. “Take your time with the bill.”
“I’ll pay,” I say when she leaves, but Maverick bats my hand away.
“You won’t. I invited you here.” He lays down multiple one-hundred-dollar bills, and I gape at him. “What?”
“That’s a lot of money.”
“Darla is the guardian to her granddaughter, and she works two jobs to make ends meet. I leave an extra tip whenever I stop by—I won’t notice the difference, but she does.”
I swear to god my heart skips a beat.
Maverick has surprised me twice today.
He’s still that aloof guy who poses for magazines without his shirt on and gets womens’ numbers whenever he’s out. There’s probably a Rolodex in his bedroom of Sandras and Sarahs.
But he’s kind too. Soft around the edges with a big heart and enough space for everyone he meets.
I don’t know much about him, but I can tell he likes to take care of the people who are important to him. He likes to go the extra mile for those who might normally get left behind.
I wonder what it would be like to see the good everywhere you go. To love and be loved without any hesitation.
I’m not sure I could do it.
“Thank you for tonight. For practicing after the game and bringing me here. It’s nice to know I’m not alone,” I say.
“Alone?” Maverick frowns and leans closer. “You’re never alone, Hartwell. Not anymore. Not when you’re part of our team.”
This is getting too deep. Too raw and full of emotions I’m not sure I know how to express.
I slide out of the booth. “I should get going.”
“Are you going to take a rideshare?”
“I think I might walk and get some fresh air. I’m only a few blocks up the road.”
“Will you let me know when you get home?”
I roll my eyes, but a smile sneaks out of me too. It’s nice to have someone looking out for me. “Yeah. I will.”
Later, after I take another shower and climb into bed with a book, I pull up my text message thread with Maverick.
Me
Home
Bane of my Existence
Excellent.
You good?
Me
I’m good. See you at practice.
Bane of my Existence
Chin up, buttercup (I can say that now because you aren’t here to beat me in arm wrestling). The sun will come out tomorrow.
Me
Thanks, Annie.
Bane of my Existence
That’s you, Hartwell.
Maybe I should save you in my phone as that from now on.
Me
What am I right now?
Bane of my Existence
Redheaded Assassin. LOL.
Me
At least you find yourself funny.
Better sleep with one eye open, Miller.
Bane of my Existence
Can’t wait.
I’ll leave the window unlocked.
I don’t remember the last time I fell asleep with a smile on my face, but leave it to Maverick goddamn Miller to be the one to do it.