48. Emmy
FORTY-EIGHT
I’m panicking.
Maverick has never sounded so anxious before. There was a crack in his voice, like he was fighting to keep a secret bottled inside. He was out of breath, and I think he might have been terrified to call me.
I don’t know what that means.
I’m preparing myself for him to tell me something awful.
He’s going to break up with me.
He’s sick.
My dad got hurt and he wants to tell me the news so I don’t turn hysterical.
Waiting for him is torture. I stare at the clock on the microwave and watch the minutes tick by, wondering where the hell he is.
The knock comes fifteen minutes later, and I sprint to the door, throwing it open and finding Maverick on the other side.
“Hi,” I whisper, and he steps into the foyer.
“Hi.” He wraps me in a tight hug and kisses the top of my head. “I missed you so fucking much.”
I melt into him, believing that if he had news he desperately had to tell me, he would’ve already said it. That gives me hope that maybe this is all a misunderstanding.
“I saw you two hours ago.” I rub my hand up and down his back and across his shoulders. God, I love touching him. “What’s going on?”
Maverick untangles our torsos and threads his fingers through mine. “Let’s go to the living room.”
I let him guide me down the hall, and I memorize the back of his head. The dark hair that’s a little longer on his neck than it was a month ago. The small bruise barely hidden under the collar of his shirt, a mark left behind from our game the other night when he got checked into the boards.
My beautiful, beautiful man.
“You’re scaring me,” I say, and his thumb glides over the inside of my wrist. “Can you please tell me what’s going on?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to scare you, Emmy. I want to talk about this where we’re comfortable.” He tugs me onto the couch and pulls me flush against his chest. “I’m going to tell you a piece of information I’m not technically supposed to tell you, but I’ve been given permission to do it anyway. I want you to listen to all of it before you say anything, okay?”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath. My heart hammers like a drum, and I nod. “Go ahead.”
“Coach pulled me into his office after practice and told me you’re being considered for a trade.”
My stomach bottoms out. I adjust my position on the couch so I can look at him, and I blink. “What?”
“You, Finn Adams, and a first-round pick for Justin Harper.”
“What?” I repeat, because that’s an absurd offer. “Why would they ever do that? It’s basically giving away a star player for free.”
“They see your size and speed as an asset, and Finn, when he’s healthy—which he will be soon—is a great athlete. A first-round pick gives them something for the future, and it dumps the contract of a player who’s already paid his dues with a team and brought them exactly what they wanted.”
“Hang on. Justin plays in Toronto.” My brain is slow to catch up, and I shake my head. “That would mean I would leave DC?”
“Nothing is set in stone,” Maverick rushes to say. “Coach said he’s taking forty-eight hours to think it over, and I know he’s going to do what’s best for the team. He, uh, knows about our relationship, and I told him not to make any decisions on my personal behalf.”
I nod and stare at the floor.
I want to be disappointed, but that was the captain thing to say. I would’ve done the same thing in his position.
“Maybe Toronto would be good. Staying still isn’t in my blood, and if I get too comfortable, my playing might be affected. I can’t lose sight of my goal.”
“Don’t say that.” He scoots closer to me, knee pressing against mine. “Don’t run from me, Emmy. I don’t want you to go. I want you here with me.”
“That’s the reality of being an athlete, isn’t it? One of us is always going to be somewhere else.” I bite my bottom lip and shrug. “It’s impossible for us to ever really settle. Not until we retire, and god knows how long that will be. Five years, at least. Maybe ten? That’s a long way away.”
“I’ll retire if that’s what it takes to be with you,” he says.
I laugh even though it’s not funny.
He’d never do that.
“Why would you give up the sport you love?”
“Because I love you more!” he shouts, and my mouth parts. His chest heaves and he closes his eyes. Surely I didn’t hear him right. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to yell, but you need to hear it. I love you. I love every part of you, and that won’t change whether you’re here or there. I told you early on I’d find a way to track you down, and I would. I will, baby, because I fucking love you. I’m going to be on a plane to see you every day I can. I’ll buy a place up there so I can have somewhere to stay without invading the life you create for yourself. We’ll figure the rest out as we go. I know we will, because I. Love. You.”
He punctuates the last three words, and it punctures my heart.
Love.
Oh my god, he loves me.
I love him too.
I’ve loved him for so long.
Longer than I thought was possible or rational or believable, but I love him, I love him, I love him.
“Do you really?”
“I do, but don’t think you have to say it back. I just wanted you to know. If you go to Toronto, I’m going to be there every weekend. You’ll come here and we’ll make it work, Emmy, because that’s what two people who care about each other do.”
“I love you too,” I whisper. “I love you so much, Maverick. I didn’t mean what I said. I want to stay here. I want to be where you are. If that means commuting back and forth between Toronto and DC, so be it. I’ll do it. I’ll do it gladly because I love you, and I’d rather have you from a five hundred miles away than not have you at all.”
“Can you—” his throat bobs, and his hand trembles when he wraps his fingers around my thigh. “No one’s ever loved me before—not like this—and I would really like to hear you say it again.”
I put both of my palms on his cheeks. I stare into his eyes, and there’s so much hope there. “I love you, Maverick Miller. I love you so very much, and I’ll tell you as many times as you like.”
“Fucking hell.” He kisses me, and it’s nothing like the kisses we’ve had before. There are so many other words behind the press of his mouth and the gentle glide of his tongue. “I love you. I fucking love you, Emmy girl, and I’m going to say it every day. Probably a hundred times a day, because I don’t want to stop. I love you. I love you, baby.”
I laugh and wrap my arms around his neck. His skin is warm and soft, and I can’t wait to see what it feels like in fifty years. When there are wrinkles where his muscles are and after his hair turns gray.
“How long?” I ask. “How long have you known?”
“Your dad pointed it out to me.”
“My dad? When?”
“When you stepped out of the suite to talk to the security guard in Detroit, he asked how long I had been in love with you. I thought it might be true, but when Coach told me about the potential trade, I spiraled. I imagined my life without you in it and I hated the idea of not having you around. I went to Dallas’s, and that’s where it all became clear. I think I’ve loved you for a long time, though. I just didn’t know how to say it.”
“When you told me you would drive with me to pick up my dad, that’s when I knew. I fought it off before, but in that moment, I knew you had my heart.” I touch his necklace and tug him closer. “I’m scared though, Maverick.”
“Scared of what? Talk to me. Tell me.”
“Of this. Of us. Of the distance and of falling so hard for you. I’ve done it before, and I don’t want to end up broken like that again. I’m not sure if I could put myself back together if that happened with you.”
“If you fall, I fall, baby. I’m so far gone for you, Emmy, and it’s okay to be scared. I’m scared shitless too, but there’s no one I’d rather be scared with.” His hand settles on my stomach and his thumb traces my ribs. “We’ll come up with a plan. The season is almost over, and we’ll have all summer to do whatever the hell we want. We can take a trip. We can spend days in the apartment not doing a goddamn thing. We’ll go to Michigan and visit your dad. You can show me where you grew up, and it’s all going to be okay.”
I think my heart might crack in two.
I’ve heard this before—the promises. The pretty picture of a perfect future. There’s always been a hesitancy to believe it, but with Maverick, I really think it could come true.
“I’d like to do all those things,” I say, and his face brightens. I’ve never seen him look so happy, and even with so much uncertainty on the horizon, it makes me smile too. “I want to do everything with you.”
“Everything, huh?”
“I’m trying to be romantic for once in my life.”
“Sorry.” Maverick grins. “Tell me again how much you love me.”
“Nope. You lost your chance, buddy.”
“Come on.” He sticks out his bottom lip and I reach out, pulling it down with my thumb. “I’ll beg.”
“You know I like you on your knees.”
“I’ll go there whenever you?—”
His phone rings and cuts him off. He scrambles for it, yanking it out of his pocket and sighing in relief when he sees the name. “It’s just Dallas. I thought it might’ve been Coach.”
“You can answer it.”
“Nah. I’ll call him later. I got a whole lesson on love from him, Reid and Hudson, so they know now. I’m sure the rest of the boys will find out soon, since apparently you stare at me when we’re on the ice.”
I gape at him. “I do not stare at you, you conceited man.” I press my fingers into his ribs, and he giggles. “Take it back.”
“Don’t shoot the messenger.” Maverick dodges my attack and stands up, hauling me over his shoulder. He smacks my ass and I grab a fistful of his shirt. “Where’s Piper today?”
“Doing something at the rink,” I say. “Why? Do you have plans for me, Miller?”
“Lots of plans, Red. I’m going to stare into your eyes. Say all that ooey, gooey shit I thought I hated, but with you, I can’t say it enough. Then I’m going to?—”
His phone rings again, and he stops us in the hallway, halfway to my bedroom.
“Answer it,” I say gently, and he keeps me in his arms as he pulls out his phone. “Your friends want to talk to you, and that’s okay, Maverick.”
“It’s not my friends. It’s Coach.”
“Oh.”
“Why the fuck is he calling me? He said he’d let me know in forty-eight hours.”
“Answer it,” I repeat. “I can handle it. Really.”
“I know you can, baby.” He sets me down, and his gaze meets mine. “We’re going to be okay. I promise we’re going to be okay.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I know we are. We’ll figure it out.”
His shoulders sag when he answers. “Hey, Coach. Yeah. Okay. Right. Yeah, I’ll tell her. No, man. It’s fine. You don’t need to—mhm. Right. Okay, thanks. See you tomorrow.”
“Well?” I ask, and from the look in his eyes, I already know what he’s going to say.
“There was a lot of interest in Harper, and management had to act quick.” His throat bobs, and he tucks his chin to his chest. “They approved the trade pending physicals, and ESPN already picked up the story. The Stingrays want you in Toronto in three days.”
“Three days.” I scrub a hand over my face and nod. “Okay. Well. That’s that.”
“At least you can come to team dinner tomorrow,” he says, and that soothes the ache. I’ll get to be with my favorite guys one more time. “And I’ll help you pack a suitcase.”
“Thank you.” I rest my cheek on his shoulder and sigh. “I can’t believe I found the place where I’d be happy to stay forever, and now I have to leave. I guess it’s my fault for finally planting roots somewhere.”
“You’re planted with me, Emmy girl, and we’re going to have roots everywhere. Here. There. Wherever our friends end up. We’re stuck together now, and we’ll take this one step at a time.”
“I know the guys will have heard about the trade by tomorrow, but I want to tell them in person at dinner. And I want to tell them about us too.”
“We can do that. We can tell the whole world, if you want.”
“Let’s start with the team first. Then we’ll go from there.”
He squeezes my hand. “We’re going to be okay, baby.”
“Yeah.” I smile, and for the first time since he told me I could be leaving, I believe it. “We’re going to be just fine.”