4. Off the Ice
Chapter four
Off the Ice
Emma
T he adrenaline from scoring my first goal as a Silver Pine Wolf has officially worn off, replaced by something that feels suspiciously like nervous anticipation.
Which is ridiculous.
I’ve shared space with Luke Anderson countless times: holidays at Mom’s house, family trips to watch Grayson play, that summer he stayed with us for two months instead of one week.
I’ve seen him hungover, sleep-deprived, post-workout disgusting.
I’ve stolen his hoodies and eaten his leftover pizza.
I’ve beaten him at Mario Kart thirty-nine times (he’s beaten me twice, and yes, I’m still bitter about both).
But I’ve never been in his bedroom.
Not his actual bedroom. Not the private space where he sleeps and thinks and exists when nobody’s watching. Not the place where he—
“You coming?” Sienna.
I blink at the faculty apartment complex in front of me. Building C, unit 21B. I know where Luke Anderson sleeps now. The knowledge feels powerful somehow. Dangerous.
Like I’m collecting ammunition for a war only I know we’re fighting.
“Just savoring the win,” I lie, climbing out of the car .
Sienna’s knowing smile suggests she doesn’t believe me for a second. But she doesn’t push, which is one of the many reasons I actually like my future sister-in-law.
The door to 21B is already open when we arrive. Probably Grayson’s doing considering I can hear him from down the hallway.
“Dude, you actually bought furniture! I’m so proud of you right now.”
I exchange a look with Sienna, who doesn't hide her smile.
The apartment is small. Neat. Almost aggressively impersonal, like Luke moved in six weeks ago and never quite committed to the idea of staying. Navy couch (practical). Coffee table with papers in a perfect stack (practice plans, probably). Mounted TV.
Three personal items, total:
A photo on the mantel of the Silver Pine championship. A twin to the one at Mom’s house. It’s from his senior year of college. Luke, Grayson, and the Morgan brothers holding the trophy. All of them looking impossibly young and happy.
A coffee maker that’s probably been used at least eight times today alone. (That qualifies as a personal item, right?)
Another framed photo on the bookshelf that makes my heart do something stupid.
I drift toward it while Mom claims the armchair and Grayson raids Luke’s fridge.
It’s from Sienna and Grayson’s engagement party.
Summer after my freshman year at BC. All four of us at the lake house Gray rented from Zane Morgan.
We're on the deck. Sienna’s extending her ring toward the camera, laughing.
Grayson’s grinning like he won the lottery.
I’m wearing that blue dress Sienna picked out.
The one that made me feel older than nineteen.
And Luke’s arm is around my shoulders.
I remember that moment with painful clarity. Mom was taking the photo. Grayson pulled Sienna close, so Luke threw his arm over mine. Casual. Brotherly, probably. But I’d leaned into him, wanting it to be real. Wanting to be his in every way that mattered.
“Em, you want a beer?”
Grayson’s voice yanks me back. I’m still holding the frame like it might contain answers to questions I haven’t figured out how to ask .
“Sure.”
Liquid courage feels necessary.
Luke appears in the kitchen doorway, and his eyes immediately find me. Find the photo in my hands. And is that… regret?
“Pizza should be here in twenty,” Grayson announces, emerging with three bottles. “Giuseppe’s still gives us priority from that youth clinic sponsorship. Remember convincing them, Luke?”
“All your idea.” Luke’s eyes flick to me again, just for a heartbeat. “I only negotiated because you threatened to fill my hockey bag with glitter.”
“And I would’ve done it,” Grayson offers cheerfully, handing me one of the bottles.
“I know. That’s why I agreed.”
Their banter is easy. Familiar. The kind of friendship that survived distance and diverging paths and one of them making the NHL while the other’s dreams got destroyed by a knee injury.
I hate that I know exactly how much that still hurts him.
Luke takes the third beer. Grayson and Sienna claim the couch. Mom’s in the chair.
Which leaves one spot.
“You sit, Em,” Luke comments, gesturing to the remaining couch cushion. “I’ll take the floor.”
He does, wincing slightly as he settles against the couch arm. Right next to where I sit.
Not touching. But close.
Close enough that when he shifts, I can smell his soap. Close enough that I could reach down and run my fingers through his hair if I wanted to.
Close enough that when I deliberately cross my legs, my knee touches his shoulder.
He goes still.
I take a sip of my beer and pretend it was an accident.
The pizza arrives after eighteen minutes of standard family chaos and me making Luke suffer.
Nothing obvious that would draw attention.
Small moments like reaching for a slice and bracing my hand on his shoulder for balance.
“Sorry,” I murmur, not sorry at all.
His jaw does that thing again. That’s number eight since the game.
Grayson launches into some story about a rookie getting pranked on the road trip, and I relax into the couch. Let my leg press more firmly against Luke’s shoulder.
“—and then the kid walks into the team meeting wearing Mickey Mouse pajamas,” Grayson finishes, laughing. “Didn’t even realize until Coach started the film review.”
“Classic,” Luke manages, but his voice sounds strained.
“I keep telling Sie to convince Zane to join me in New York. Add another proven forward to the starting line,” Gray responds, shaking his head.
I lean forward to set my beer on the coffee table, making sure Luke gets a perfect view down my shirt. Nothing scandalous—I’m wearing a sports bra—but enough.
When I settle back, I catch him staring at the ceiling like he’s praying for divine intervention.
“You okay, Coach?” I ask innocently. “You look a little warm.”
His eyes snap to mine. “Fine.”
“You sure? Your apartment is kind of...” I fan myself with one hand. “Cozy.”
“It’s sixty-eight degrees,” he says flatly.
“Is it?” I tilt my head, letting my hair fall over one shoulder. “Feels warmer to me.”
Sienna’s watching us now, eyes narrowed. But she doesn’t say anything.
“So Emma,” Mom says, saving Luke. For now. “How are your classes going? Any trouble balancing everything?”
I back off.
“They’re manageable,” I answer. Simple. Nothing that gives away I might not be here next year. Because Sienna’s the only one I’ve spoken to about that.
Before. Before I knew Luke would be coaching. Before it meant leaving more than just a school I’ll play at for a year .
“That’s good,” Mom continues. “And your roommates? You’re getting along?”
“Great. Sky and Rowan are sweet. And Sloane’s...” I pause, catching Luke’s eye. “Well, she’s intense. Keeps things interesting.”
“Sounds like trouble,” Grayson adds.
“The best kind. Actually, Sloane reminds me of—”
“Don’t say it,” Luke warns.
“—Luke when he’s—”
“Emma—”
“—being particularly—”
“I’m right here—”
“—intense,” I finish triumphantly.
Grayson throws a napkin at Luke’s head. “She’s got you there, bro.”
I throw mine too. Direct hit.
“You’re both children,” Luke comments, but he’s fighting a smile.
“Says the guy who reorganizes the equipment room by stick flex,” Grayson counters.
“That’s just efficient.”
“Intense,” I mouth at Grayson.
“So intense,” he mouths back.
We’re both laughing now. That stupid sibling ESP where you don’t need words, just looks. Where you’ve been doing this so long it’s basically choreographed.
Luke’s watching us. Not laughing. Just... watching.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” A lie. “Just missed this.” Not a lie.
“Me too.”
Like Sienna can see what we’re not really saying, she clears her throat. Changes the subject.
“So, Em, still considering declaring this year? Making hockey a career?”
She said it.
Actually said it.
Moment of truth. What I haven’t fully admitted outside of that conversation earlier this summer. “Maybe. We’ll see how the season goes. If it’s meant to happen.”
“Do you want it to happen?” Luke asks, and there’s something careful in his voice. Measured. Coach-like. Except it’s not. Not really.
I meet his eyes. Storm-gray and searching, like he’s trying to read between my words for the answer I’m not saying.
“Playing professionally?” I keep my tone light even though my chest feels tight. “I mean, yeah. Obviously. But it’s not... I don’t know. I never thought my entire life had to be hockey.”
“Since when?” Grayson laughs. “You’ve been obsessed since you were six.”
“I was obsessed with beating you,” I correct. “There’s a difference.”
“Is there?” Luke’s still watching me, and I can feel the weight of it. “You left BC when you had scouts calling. When Olympic development was a real possibility.”
My stomach flips. Because he’s right. And he’s also asking a question he shouldn’t be asking in front of Grayson and Sienna.
“BC wasn’t the right fit,” I say carefully. “Sometimes you have to choose what’s good for you over what looks good on paper.”
Sienna’s eyes sharpen. She knows there’s more to that story.
“Emma’s smart,” Mom says, saving me. “She knows what she wants. Even if that changes along the way.”
“Exactly.” I flash her a grateful smile. “Besides, Silver Pine’s inaugural season? That’s history. I’d rather be part of building something than chasing someone else’s spotlight.”
It’s not entirely a lie. But it’s not entirely the truth either.
The conversation shifts again and I’m grateful. Too close to saying things I’m not ready to admit.
It’s later when Mom stands. “This has been great, but I should get going. Early brunch with Linda tomorrow.”
Grayson and Sienna follow suit. “Yeah, we should head out. It’s late.”
It’s 10:30 .
“First game’s Saturday,” Sienna adds, like we all don’t know Gray’s season is about to kick into high gear.
I nod. Because his season starting means more travel. Means balancing schedules. Means he might not make all my games.