50. Emmy
FIFTY
I wakeup the morning I’m leaving for Toronto wrapped around Maverick. My face is buried in his chest and his arms have me in a tight hold I can’t escape from. I would never try to escape, though. Not from this kind of happiness.
“Morning,” he says, rubbing my back. “How did you sleep?”
“Not very well,” I admit, tipping my chin up and staring at him. “How about you?”
“About the same. I think I spent half the night watching you like a creep.” His smile tugs on the corners of his mouth, and he tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “I know you only have a few hours before you need to head to the airport. I’m sure you want to say goodbye to Piper and double check that you have everything packed, and I don’t want to get in your way.”
“I want to spend them with you. There’s actually something I was hoping we could do before I left.”
“I sure hope it involves your ass. You did so good last night, baby.”
His appreciation of my body in the early morning light makes me blush. So does the thought of tangled sheets and the gentle encouragement and soft praise he whispered in my ear as he helped me relax and work up to two fingers.
That’s it, Emmy.
Look how well you take me.
You’re doing so well. I’ve never seen something so beautiful.
“Stop talking about my ass,” I murmur without any bite behind it, and his hand strokes my backside.
“It’s hard not to. Have you seen the thing? Okay, I’m sorry. Enough of the jokes. What do you want to do before you leave?”
“Can we go to the rink? I haven’t skated in a few days, and I want to take some shots on goal. It’ll be like the first day we met.”
“A little nostalgia.” Maverick grins. “That sounds like the best way to spend the morning. We don’t have practice today, so it’ll be empty. You can enjoy a quiet arena without any of the knuckleheads being obnoxious.”
“What if I want you to be obnoxious? What if I want you to give me the same attitude you did back then?”
“You mean when I was flirting with you?”
“You told me that was not flirting.”
“Yeah. I lied.” He laughs and eases me out of his arms. “I’ve been flirting with you for a long time, Red. Keep up.”
“You are the most impossible man I’ve ever met.”
“And yet here you are. Naked in my bed and head over fucking heels for me.”
“Yeah.” I smile and straddle his waist, pinning his arms above his head. “Here I am.”
“I swear to god if you pull another deke on me, Hartwell, you’re going to be in big trouble. You’ve got me out here looking like a fucking rookie,” Maverick yells across the ice, and I grin.
“It’s not my fault you fell for it.” I skate a lap around the opposite goal and tap the puck with my stick. “Oldest play in the book.”
“I’m thinking about what you’re wearing under your jersey.”
“You know what I’m wearing. You saw me put it on.”
“I did. And now I want to take it off.” His eyes gleam. “Give me your best effort, Red. You know I’m a big boy who can take it.”
I bite back a response. I know he’s trying to rile me up. He’s trying to get under my skin the way he got under me before we left his apartment, one hand cupping my breasts and the other slipping between my legs.
An hour on the ice, and my body is covered in sweat. Neither one of us is giving the other an inch, and I love that we can go back and forth like this. I love that he’s not letting me score and I love that I’m not going easy on him.
Maverick defends the goal like his life depends on it. I go through trick shot after trick shot, firing the puck left, right, and center, hoping to sneak a score through his knees.
He’s had months to study how I play, and he makes more stops than he did the first time we went at each other. I’m at a disadvantage but I don’t give up, hitting the puck again and again until my arms feel so stiff, I know I’m going to be sore for days.
“Baby,” he pants, keeling over and gasping down a breath. “We need to stop.”
“Tired, Miller?” I skate up next to him and touch his shoulder. “I can keep going.”
“I know you can. You’re a machine.” He pulls off his gloves and tugs me toward him, his helmet resting against mine. “But you need to leave for the airport soon, and I want time to shower with you.”
“You drive a hard bargain.” I smile and loop my arms around his neck. “Fine. We can go. As long as you admit defeat and tell me I won.”
“You did not win.”
“Your save percentage was less than seventy percent.”
“Better than the first time I had to defend the goal from your talented ass.” He pinches my butt, and I laugh. “I want to show you something before we go.”
“What is it?”
“Come on.”
Maverick holds my hand across the ice, heading for the tunnel to the locker room. He leads me carefully down the carpet, stopping at a door that’s labeled Audio and Visual Equipment.
“We are not making a sex tape,” I say.
“Aw, come on, Red.”
“I’ll send you all the videos you want, but I draw the line at using an NHL team’s video equipment to film me giving you head.”
“That mouth of yours.” He rubs his thumb across my bottom lip. “The things I want to do to it.”
“Is that why we’re going into a closet?”
“Not quite. Close your eyes, Emmy girl.”
I listen to him, my eyes snapping shut and my palm on the wall. There’s a jangle of keys and the turn of a lock. The door creaks, and Maverick nudges me forward.
“Is this some sort of trap?” I ask.
“Give me one more second.” I hear the flip of a light switch, and the closet grows brighter. “Okay. Open.”
I blink and look around me.
The room that used to hold old video footage from decades back has been moved, and I’m staring at a small locker room.
A real locker room, with lots of space, bright blue walls and a door marked SHOWERS.
There’s a vanity along the left side, complete with a big mirror and a stool. There’s a cluster of leather chairs in the far corner and a small table between them with a vase full of sunflowers.
On the right side of the room is a row of cubbies, with fresh wood and a long bench. Hanging from the rack is a single jersey.
Mine.
“What—” I swallow and look around, my head on a swivel. “Maverick. What is this?”
“It’s something Coach and I have been working on for a while now. It took forever to get the permits we needed to add piping and all that shit, so we were a little behind schedule. You deserve a spot to call your own. Even though you won’t be using it, it’s still yours. The next woman we have on the team can utilize it, and it’ll be here when you’re in town for an away game.”
“Oh my god.” I run my finger along the framed photo of the team Maven took after practice one day. Maverick is on Hudson’s back. Grant and Ethan are giving each other bunny ears. I’m standing front and center, my hand on my forehead and my eyes bright. “You did all of this for me?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I thought it would make you happy.”
“I’ve always wanted something like this. Thank you for giving it to me.”
“We’re not done.” Maverick guides me to the bathroom door, swinging it open and smiling when I gasp. “A tub and a shower, which is a luxury we don’t have in the boys’ locker room. Don’t tell anyone, but I’m going to sneak in here after morning skate to soak for an hour.”
There’s also a hairdryer and hooks on the wall for towels. More flowers take up space on the double sink, and it’s obvious someone spent a lot of time and effort into making this look as good as it does.
I can’t wait for the little girls who watch the games and wear my jersey to see this. I can’t wait for Rachel to see this. It gives me hope that one day women in sports everywhere will be treated as equals by their peers.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper. “I love it so much, Maverick.”
“Good.” He squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry we didn’t have it ready for you sooner.”
“That’s okay. Just knowing you put all this energy into creating something for me…” I trail off and glance up at him. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too. And even if you aren’t here, your legacy will be. We’re naming it the Hartwell Room.”
“You cannot do that.”
“Already did. There’s a plaque on the wall above the door, and you can’t take off a plaque. It’s bad luck.”
“Maverick.”
“Emerson. Don’t argue with me on this. You’re not going to win.”
“Fine.” I bite my bottom lip and lean forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for letting me take care of you.” He unclips my helmet and tosses it on one of the chairs. “Thank you for letting me be by your side.”
Maverick and I don’t share a drawn-out goodbye when he drops me off at the airport.
He already has plans to be in Toronto next week over the three day stretch when the Stars don’t have any games. I promised to call when I got to my room, and as I shove the door open and drop my bags on the floor of my new home away from home, I sigh in relief.
Today has been long. Good, but long. I’m exhausted both mentally and physically, and I can’t wait to rinse the airplane off me and talk to Maverick before I head to my physical first thing in the morning.
I pull out my phone and send him a quick text.
Me
Just got to my room!
Pretty Boy
How was the flight?
Me
Not bad. The guy next to me didn’t eat an onion sandwich this time, so that was a plus.
Pretty Boy
An onion sandwich? Sounds disgusting.
Me
You have no idea.
What are you doing?
Pretty Boy
Come and find out.
I frown and read his message twice.
Me
Am I supposed to understand what that means?
Maverick doesn’t answer, and I walk toward the beds, trying to decipher his riddle. Something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye, and when I look up, I scream.
Maverick is sprawled across the mattress with his hands behind his head and his feet crossed at his ankles.
“Took you long enough,” he draws out, giving me a lazy grin.
“What… what the fuck are you doing here?”
“Come on, Emmy girl.” He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stands. “You didn’t think I’d let you spend your first night in a new city all alone, did you?”
“How—when—did you teleport here?” I look around, wondering if I’m hallucinating. “I am in Toronto, right?”
“You are.” His dimples pop, and his laugh is soft and sweet. “I took a private jet. Being rich as fuck comes in handy sometimes. Like when you want to fly to a different country two minutes after your girlfriend walks into the airport.”
I gape at him, trying to find something to say, but not a single word comes out.
“Come here, baby,” he says, breaking the silence, and I run to him.
I jump into his arms and he spins me around, his hand at the small of my back and his mouth warm on my cheek.
“This is the best surprise,” I whisper, and I pull away to look at him. “What are you going to do about practice tomorrow?”
“Coach is giving me a personal day. He said it’s a trade-off for not having to read about my personal affairs on gossip websites anymore. Positive reinforcement for keeping my dick in my pants in public. I’ll go back to DC Friday morning, and then it’s only a few more days until I see you again. It’s going to fly by.”
“I’m overwhelmed.” I sniff and shake my head. “I never doubted you, not for a second, Maverick Miller. But this is next level.”
“Flying to see my girlfriend isn’t a chore, Emmy girl. It’s a privilege, and just more nice things you deserve.”
I see a lone tear hanging on the end of his eyelashes and kiss it away. “You feel like a dream.”
“Look who’s talking.” He rubs my shoulder. “I booked another room in case you wanted some space to unwind without me breathing down your neck.”
“The last thing I want from you is space. You’re not going anywhere, pretty boy.”
Maverick drags me to the bed, and we collapse onto the mattress in a mess of limbs. “I love you, Emmy girl.”
“I love you, too, and you’re going first with the question tonight.”
“Easiest one ever.” He beams. “How do you feel about letting me bug you forever, Red?”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but grin from ear to ear. “I can’t wait.”