Chapter 3
EMMETT
“Did the money reach you all right?” I ask Scott before I’ll be forced to switch my cell to Airplane mode.
Flying by private jet has its benefits, including being permitted to make calls right until takeoff. Still, that doesn’t prevent the side-eye I receive from my captain and center, Jack Morgan, as he takes a seat next to me.
“Yeah, it landed in my account late last night.”
Scott sounds less sure of me sending the money than when we spoke a few days ago in the bar.
“It’s yours, no questions asked,” I reassure him, trying to sound as vague as possible.
While I trust my teammates fully, I’m certain that Scott and Freya wouldn’t want their business shared with anyone—well, if Freya knew the full truth.
Scott clears his throat. I know he’s at work today, likely sitting in his van outside the school where he’s a full-time janitor. “I want to at least pay some of it back.”
“Not happening.” My retort is fast and sharper than I intended, garnering another look from Jack.
I switch my phone to the hand nearest the window. Ordinarily, we would be in single seats, but almost the entire team is flying out to Lake Garda this bye week to celebrate the wedding between key Blades defenseman Tommy Williams and his fiancée and New York Storm goalie, Jenna Miller.
It’s a crazy-long flight to Italy, but that’s where Tommy wanted to wed his girl, and who were we to say no to New York’s latest power couple? The entire city is obsessed with them both, and being honest, flying ten hours is the only way to fully eliminate attention from the paparazzi.
I work to soften my voice. I want Scott to accept the money willingly, not ram it down his throat. “How’s Billie doing?”
Over the plane’s engine noise, I still hear his sigh.
“That good, huh?”
“She’s not eating much, and she thinks all this is her fault when really …” He breaks off, and I can visualize his knuckles turning white as they wrap around his steering wheel. A little like mine would if I ever got my hands on Tucker.
“When I get back from Italy, I’ll stop by. It must be at least three years since I last saw Billie.”
“Over three years,” Scott clarifies. “You haven’t seen her since she was seventeen. That’s the last time she was home for the holidays.”
Memories of Billie sitting opposite me at the table push forward from the depths of my brain, along with the turkey Maria tossed on our kitchen floor during an argument. I wince at the way we imposed ourselves on the Quinns that year, thanks to my ex-wife’s childish behavior.
“That’s right,” I say, difficult memories morphing to a smile when I recall the way she annihilated me at Monopoly and then shoved her win and the bet we’d made in my competitive face later that night when we were doing the dishes and everyone else was watching TV.
Billie Quinn has always been a spitfire with top banter that made me belly laugh, even before she delivered the punch line.
I hate to think of her hurting at the hands of an asshole and his family.
I’d reach out and text her to let her know that she had people around her if that wouldn’t be weird as fuck.
We’ve barely spoken since she left for college.
I shift in my seat as Jack takes a cup of hot water from the flight attendant and snags a tea bag from the front pocket of his hoodie, adding it to his mug. I stare at him for a long moment as he stirs the bag around carefully.
The British are fucking weird sometimes.
“Why the fuck were you flirting with our friends’ teenage daughter?!”
More memories from that Christmas race back.
The accusation Maria slung at me before we even pulled out of Scott and Freya’s driveway was fucking ridiculous, and she knew it too.
I remember almost crashing the car when I threw my hands up and turned it back around on her, hypothesizing that she was being unfaithful, given that was all she could fucking think about or throw at me every time I spoke to any female who wasn’t her.
“You’re going crazy, Maria,” I snapped back, turning into our driveway and hitting the brakes way too hard, throwing us both forward in the process.
“Next, you’ll suggest that I’m screwing Freya behind your back.
” I scoffed and stared out of the windshield.
“I’ve never given you any reason to doubt me, yet you repeatedly hurt me with ludicrous allegations. ”
“It’s Billie’s birthday next week.” Scott’s voice penetrates unwanted memories of my ex-wife, cutting them short before I spiral into the abyss that is my divorce. “Why don’t you stop by and say hi? She’d likely welcome a friendly face.”
“The big two-one, right?” I ask, knowing exactly how old Billie is and that her birthday is right around the corner.
She always said that she was born on Valentine’s Day because she was the most lovable human being on the planet.
“You’re too damn cocky for your own good, Bill.” The gibe I made as she flicked soapy water in my face that Christmas heats my body for an uncomfortable second. Along with the look on Maria’s face when we came back to sit in the living room.
We were messing around, just like we always had. Billie was a fun girl, and I was in love with my wife. End of story.
“And before you ask, no. She doesn’t want or need anything for her birthday.” Scott’s tone is deadly serious, as is the attendant’s when she announces that we’re about to depart and to switch all devices to in-flight mode.
I choose to ignore my friend’s warning. There’s no way I’m showing up empty-handed on arguably the biggest birthday anyone can have.
And if Scott won’t give me any pointers on what kind of gift to get his daughter, then I’ll just have to go rogue with my choice.
Maria always sorted that kind of shit out.
“I gotta go,” I tell him. “We’re about to take off, and my captain is slurping his tea, to the point where I can barely focus on anything else.”
Jack’s head darts to me, eyes narrowed with annoyance when he brings his cup to his mouth and slurps even louder.
When he chokes on his mouthful, I offer a sarcastic smile.
Scott just chuckles, and it’s nice to hear him laugh.
He’s under a lot of pressure, but honestly, I can’t recall a time when he and Freya haven’t been struggling to make ends meet financially.
I know he’s been tempted to sell Shelby more than just once, especially when Freya’s late parents were taken into a care home and fees spiraled way beyond the scope of what their insurance would cover.
“Put me on speaker,” Scott instructs, and I do as he asked.
“Jack,” Scott continues after a couple of seconds, “I want to see the Blades lift the Cup again this year. Oh, and for you to beat your goal-scoring record.”
Jack’s all cocky bravado as he takes another unnecessarily loud sip of tea. “It’s already in the bag, Scott.”
I roll my eyes at my teammate and disconnect the call. “No one likes a show-off, Jack.”
Scott has met some of the guys on postgame nights out. Each time, he’s hit it off with Jack. That said, everyone gets on with our captain. He’s the golden retriever and glue that sticks the team together. Aside from my former teammate, Sawyer Bryce, he’s the best captain I’ve ever played under.
Jack releases a heavy exhale, reclining his seat once we’re in the air and the seat belt signs are turned off.
“What’s eating at you?” I ask, surprised over his change in mood.
He closes his eyes, folding his hands over his chest. “Nothing.”
“Oh, well, that’s definitely convincing.”
Jack cracks an eyelid and looks at me. “I’m not happy about being away from Esme for four nights, and neither is Kendra.”
Esme is Jack’s seven-month-old daughter, and Kendra, his wife, is Jenna’s best friend and teammate. All the bridal party flew out to Lake Garda two nights ago.
“You could’ve brought her along,” I say, having zero clue how hard it is to travel across the world with a baby.
Jack shakes his head, his British accent more obvious than normal as he replies, “Nah. The jet lag we’re all about to have will be hard enough to overcome, never mind having to do it with a baby. I’m surprised our general manager signed off on this trip, to be honest.”
“As long as we bring our best game next Saturday, the GM will only see it as good for team building.”
Jack nods his head once, brown hair flopping over his forehead. “Did you ever think that we’d be going to Tommy’s wedding?” He snorts a laugh. “This time last year, I wouldn’t have attended his funeral, and now he has us all wrapped around his finger and Sawyer as his best man.”
He isn’t wrong. Tommy Williams, formerly Tommy Schneider, was the guy on the team everyone hated, and he loved it.
It felt like every game he played in, we lost because he couldn’t keep his gloves on or his fists out of opposing players’ faces.
But then he met Jenna, and once they sorted out their differences, sparks flew for all the right reasons.
He’s a good guy and precisely why so many of the team are on a flight to go celebrate the rest of his life with the woman he loves.
As the attendant hands me a beer, I push away memories of my own wedding day in a Vegas chapel. I genuinely thought that I was in love with my college sweetheart, and neither I nor Maria could wait to get hitched and call it forever.
I hope Tommy and Jenna’s marriage doesn’t go the way ours did.
“How are you doing?” Jack asks, likely sensing my discomfort over our conversation. He’s always been intuitive like that.
I shrug and take a pull from my beer. “What can I say? My marriage didn’t work out. It is what it is.”
Bringing his seat back to an upright position, Jack looks unconvinced. I don’t want to talk about Maria, but I get a feeling that I won’t have a choice.
“Is there anyone else?” he asks me cautiously.
My beer very nearly ends up in the next row of seats as I fight to swallow it. “Are you for real?!” I laugh at the ridiculous notion. “No, there isn’t anyone.”