Chapter 8
EMMIE
“You need more height. Push off your toe pick harder and extend your arms over your head,” Marcy coached from her spot on the ice near the side boards.
“Triple?” I asked, breathing heavy from doing the twist three times already.
“Triple,” Marcy confirmed.
I gave a nod and headed back to the other side of the rink. If Marcy asked me to do something, I would, without a doubt, do exactly that, even if I was tired or frustrated. I didn’t get to where I was without being pushed to my absolute limit.
Taking a deep breath, I steadied my body before starting the pass again. My skates cut through the ice with ease, the sound of my breathing echoing through my ears. Unlike other axels, this one was a forward facing jump.
With my front facing forward, I needed to push off with my front skate, twist, and then land backward on my opposite foot. It was probably the most difficult jump in figure skating, and I had three in my routine. If I managed to land all of them perfectly, I’d be the only skater to have done it.
At the halfway point, I breathed in and held my core. Then I angled my right skate to the side and pushed off my toe pick. Like Marcy instructed, I dug it into the ice harder than before, forcing my body into the air, arms extended above my head.
The jump only lasted seconds as I twisted three times before landing back on the ice on my left foot. My arms snapped out to steady my momentum as I glided out of the triple axel.
Marcy clapped. “Beautiful.”
I skated over to her, hands on my hips, a beaming smile on my face.
“Remember, when you land on your left skate, keep your knee turned inward to level out your blade.” Marcy angled her own skate to show me. “Keep those arms extended until you get into the camel spin.”
While Marcy gave a few more tips, I downed water and grabbed my gloves. I knew what she was going to say before she did.
“Let’s run through the routine with full music but don’t do any more triples, just a single jump where they go. I don’t want your legs to give out.”
Before I could open my mouth and respond, Marcy skated past me and exited the ice.
“Woo, fun,” I mumbled.
“What was that?” Marcy called over her shoulder.
“Nothing!” Just because I did everything she asked of me didn’t mean I couldn’t complain a little about it in the process.
“That’s what I thought.”
Grumbling under my breath about her having ears like a hawk, I skated to the middle of the rink.
I swear she could hear every little thing, even when she was far away.
Growing up, I got away with little when Marcy was around.
She saw and heard everything. I would be hanging out with other skaters and they’d mention going out somewhere after the first day of competition, and instantly, Marcy was there to nip it in the bud.
At the time, I hated it, but now with four medals under my belt, I understood why she was, and still is, strict.
“Ready?” she called from the other side of the boards. Sending a thumbs-up in her direction, I got in my start position. Toe pick to the ice, my body twisted with one arm wrapped around my stomach and the other on my shoulder.
I cleared my head with closed eyes, ready to immerse myself in the soundtrack I picked for my routine. The moment the beginning piano to Hamilton’s “Wait For It” started, my eyes snapped open.
For the next two and a half minutes, everything else but me, the ice, and the music disappeared. My favorite part of skating was losing myself in the music. Letting the lyrics and beats seep into my body and take over, making nothing else matter.
When it came to picking out the song for my routine, Marcy always let me take the reins.
When I was younger, she had to approve it and keep it within regulations.
Over the years, the type of music allowed changed, so there was more freedom in selection.
Six years ago, I wouldn’t have been able to use Hamilton or lyrics, for that matter.
Since this year was more than likely my last, I wanted to pick something that fit where I was now. Something that showed that I was here to win. If I made it back to the Olympics next year, I’d probably change the song and routine, but for now, this was by far my favorite on both accounts.
I slid across the ice on my knees as the final notes played, stopping at the same time the song ended. Hand draped across my face, I stayed there with my chest heaving.
“Good.” Marcy clapped, the sound echoing through the now silent rink.
Sitting back on my heels with my hands on my thighs, I tried to catch my breath. Skating on ice was anything but easy. My lungs burned from the nonstop movement and twisting for three minutes straight. Even after doing it for years, my body still ached and burned.
Getting to my feet, I slowly skated around the rink, giving myself a few minutes to cool down. Come competition time, I’d feel like this to the max. Sometimes the adrenaline highs were the hardest to come down from.
Once my breathing calmed down, I made my way back to Marcy. As I neared, she gave me a nod of approval, which meant a lot coming from her.
“You’re ready for regionals in a few weeks. We’ll move to practice three times a week now, but I want you to keep up on your stretching,” she instructed.
I nodded. “I still go to Pilates and yoga during the week.”
“Good. Make sure you consume enough calories.” She gave me a pointed look.
Eating disorders were a big thing with figure skaters.
They thought they needed to be extremely thin to be beautiful and win.
If it wasn’t for Marcy being by my side when I was younger I probably would have been one of those girls. I now know muscles can be sexy.
She was persistent in making sure I ate over three thousand calories a day since I burned an insane amount at every practice and competition. I also had Erin, who never said no to getting food with me.
“Will do,” I promised.
“I’ll see you Thursday.” She tapped the top of the boards. “Great job today, Emmie.”
I preened under her praise, a smile forming on my face. “Thank you.”
With that, Marcy left. The smile stayed as I pushed away from the boards and glided backward. For the first time in a while, confidence filled me in regards to regionals.
I skated around the rink a few times before people started trickling through the doors, the calm silence of the rink fading. The sight of kids in hockey uniforms made my heart patter. Before I could stop myself, I glanced around to see if I’d spot Mateo amongst them.
It’s been two days since we went out to eat. Forty-eight hours since Mateo gave me his number to text him, yet I haven’t. I’ve stared at his number multiple times and even went to type something to him. Instead of sending it, I tossed my phone to the side, double-guessing myself.
Things were already a bit complicated with my profession. Not to mention, my father was Mateo’s coach. From the way Mateo talked about my dad the other day, he respected him and thought highly of his opinion. Finding out I was his daughter would end what we had before it even started.
I should’ve been okay with that, yet my heart sank at the idea of that. What if Mateo would actually be okay with me being the coach's daughter? Maybe it wasn’t a deal breaker.
I knew my father wouldn’t care, or at least, he had no room to. He was trying to repair our relationship, but I was a grown woman. I could date whoever I wanted. Even if it was one of his players.
The mental gymnastics of it all was exhausting, especially since seeing the kids on the ice in their hockey gear reminded me of Mateo.
With a low growl, I tugged my ice skates off. See, complicated.
Shoving my skates into my bag, my phone started buzzing. Like clockwork, Erin’s name flashed on the screen. No matter what, Erin always called right after practice. It had been our thing for years now.
Erin immediately greeted me the second I answered. “What’s up, bitch?”
“Wow, you really have a way with words.”
“I know, I’m a master of them,” she boasted, making me snort. “How was practice?”
I could hear her shuffling on the other side of the phone, probably switching positions on the couch as she wrote.
“It went well. Stuck the front triple, and Marcy moved practice to three times a week instead of four.”
“Told you you’d nail it.” Erin said it like she had no worries at all about my abilities.
“And what are you doing?”
“Just wrote my favorite who did this to you scene, and now he’s about to fuck her against the door.”
“Very productive,” I mused while sliding my regular shoes on.
“Are you on your way home?” Erin asked. I started to answer, but then my phone buzzed in my hand. Confused, I pulled it from my ear and glanced at the screen. My dad’s name popped up, followed by a text.
Dad: Would you want to drop by the practice facility and then go get a late lunch?
“Emmie?” Erin’s voice came through the phone at my lack of response.
“Sorry.” I brought my phone back to my ear. “I just got a text from my dad.”
“Oh? What did he want?”
“Wanted to see if I’d come to the practice facility before grabbing lunch.”
Erin hummed. “Well, that’s nice of him to ask. He seems to be making an effort lately.”
“Yeah.” This was the second time in a week he reached out, which was more than he did in the past few years.
“Are you going to go? You know Mateo will be there.” I could hear the grin in her voice even through the phone.
“That’s not why I would go,” I said, but my stomach fluttered at the thought.
“Uh, huh. Em, you literally ditched our friend’s dinner to hang out with the guy a few days ago. And I’ve caught you staring at your phone multiple times since then.”
Erin has taken every opportunity since Sunday to remind me that I ditched her. She wasn’t mad. In fact, she almost made me deaf with her screaming when I told her where I was and who I was with. She was all for team Mateo.
“I haven’t stared at my phone…” I trailed off, knowing it was a lie.
“Yeah, you can’t lie to me, Em. But in all seriousness, go and see your dad. It’s nice he’s finally making the effort.” Even though she couldn’t see me, I nodded. “And if you happen to see Mateo, it’s a win-win.”
“You’re the worst, you know that?”
Erin laughed. “You love me.”
“Unfortunately, I do,” I huffed. “I’ll let you know when I’m on my way home.”
“Let me know if I need wine on hand.”
“Will do.”
“Go and have fun with your future husband and your dad!”
Before I could reply, Erin hung up. I shook my head as I clicked on my dad’s text. I was only going to see him and that was it. My visit would have nothing to do with Mateo. At least that was what I was telling myself as I hit send.
“I’m here to see Coach Reggie,” I told the security guard who sat at the front desk in the Titan’s practice facility. It was a different guy than when I was here last week.
“For what reason?” he questioned with raised eyebrows. I knew they had to ask so not just anyone could walk in. I bet they had some crazy fans try to come and see the players from time to time.
“He’s my dad.” The disbelieving look was one I was used to. I hadn’t been around enough in the last few years for anyone to know who I was. “Yep, true story.”
The guard didn’t crack a smile at my words. Holding back a sigh, I pulled out my ID and handed it over. “My name should be written down as well.”
It took the guy a few minutes of looking at my ID and face before referring to his computer to see if I was actually allowed to be here. Finally, he handed back my stuff, along with a lanyard with a badge on it.
“Wear this at all times. Before you leave, make sure to get a permanent visitor’s pass.” His tone was gruff and a bit scolding, like I had done something wrong.
“Will do.” With the lanyard around my neck, I left the guard and headed to the right, the same direction I took the last time I was here. I may have gotten a tour from my dad, but I still had no clue where anything was.
I wandered the halls, passing a few people who gave me curious looks but didn’t say anything. I was pretty sure I stuck out like a sore thumb in my leggings and long-sleeved jacket when it was sunny and hot outside.
I made it halfway down a random hallway when commotion caught my ear. Curiosity got the better of me, and I headed straight toward the sound. A minute later, I stumbled upon an open doorway that looked out into an indoor field.
Cautiously, I stepped through, taking in the Titan’s field. The Astroturf seemed to shine under the bright lights, the spray-painted yard lines bright white. Cones were scattered around, as well as hitting dummies and agility ladders. Footballs laid around the fake grass.
It was impressive the Titan’s had an indoor practice field this big. It showed just how much money the franchise had. I didn’t know why the sight of it all made it start to sink in that my father really was a big deal. He was the head coach to a giant team that just won The Legacy Championship.
Men’s voices jerked me out of my thoughts. A big group of football players gathered to the right. A few were already looking at me but most were focused on someone standing in the middle.
When a few guys shifted to the side, I caught sight of my dad.
My father wasn’t a small man by any means, but standing there amongst football players, he looked on the short.
He was in his early fifties but could easily pass for his forties.
When I was younger, my friends used to tell me my dad was a DILF.
Something my poor innocent eyes and ears didn’t need to know.
I tried to stay out of sight, but as my dad’s head turned, he saw me. A wide smile graced his features. I briefly wondered if it was too late to turn and leave. Maybe I could get away.
My dad gestured for me to come forward, and I inwardly groaned. Well, this wasn’t how I wanted Mateo to find out about this. Any sort of romantic feelings toward me could very well be over in the next ten seconds.
Knowing I couldn’t get out of this, I kept my eyes averted from the players. Mateo was somewhere in that bunch.
With each step, dread pooled in my stomach. I should have told Mateo the other day, and now I was kicking myself for not having done so.
The players parted to let me through, my five-two frame, miniature compared to the lot of them. It was like I was surrounded by giants as I walked through the huddle.
“Gentlemen,” my dad’s voice rang out, echoing to the metal beams surrounding the field. I came up to his side as he draped an arm over my shoulder. A proud grin graced his face as he turned to his players. “This is my daughter—Emmie.”
I lifted my head to face the group. It took all of three seconds before my eyes clashed with a pair of blue ones.