Chapter 20 Emmett
EMMETT
I'm distracted, unable to focus, and can't think straight.
All because of her. We're running drills. Standard pre-game warm-up. But I keep looking over at the bench where she’s seated.
She's sitting with Mike, Sarah, and David, tablet in hand, watching us skate, taking notes, and assessing how we move.
But all I can think about is yesterday, my fingers inside her, the way she came apart for me.
Focus, Black.
I take a shot and miss the net completely. Idiot.
"Cap! Where's your head?" Coach yells.
"Sorry, Coach," I call back. My eyes land on Joelle, and she's trying hard not to look at me.
I skate harder, pushing myself, trying to get her out of my mind.
It doesn't work. Because every time I circle back, my eyes find her.
Automatically, like I'm programmed to look for her.
She's talking to Sarah, laughing at something, and her face lights up when she smiles.
She is so freaking beautiful. I miss my next pass, and Sully has to chase it down.
"What the fuck?" He skates up beside me, following my gaze. "Oh."
"What?"
"You're staring at Jo."
"No, I'm not." I vehemently deny that accusation, even though he is one hundred percent correct.
"You are. And you've been off all practice." He grins.
"I don't always have to be perfect," I grumble.
"Bullshit. Perfection is your fucking motto." He smirks.
"Drop it, Sully," I warn him, especially as Felix and Pierre or any of the other guys are skating around and could hear him.
"Can't drop it. This is gold." He's still grinning. "Emmett Black has a crush."
I skate into him and knock his shoulders. "Shut the fuck up."
"No one can hear me. It's cute."
“Fuck you." I glare at him. "I don't have a crush."
"Then what do you call it?" He raises a brow at me as we skate around each other. Thankfully, everyone else is distracted. It's not uncommon for Sully and me to have our moments talking one-on-one.
"Nothing. I call it nothing."
He doesn't believe me. I can see it all over his face. "I've never seen you this distracted by a girl before."
"Fuck," I curse.
"It's okay. You're just going to have to mask it better. Because you are acting all kinds of wrong, and people are going to start speculating," he warns me.
No shit.
"Does she know?" he asks.
"Does she know what?"
"That you're into her?" I'm about to open my mouth, but he stops me. "And do not give me that bullshit that you're not into her. I know you. Really know you. And you are."
I let out a sigh. "There's nothing to know. She's off-limits."
"It's such a shame you're a rule follower," he teases me.
"Fuck you. I thought we were friends."
"We are. But come on, let me have this one. It's rare."
I shake my head at him as we line up for the next drill.
Two-on-one rush. I'm carrying the puck. Sully's on my wing.
I look up to pass, but my eyes land on her, just for a second.
She's watching me. Our eyes meet, and I get lost in them.
Sully hip-checks me, hard, and I go down.
Skidding across the ice, I land on my ass. The entire team bursts out laughing.
Fuck.
"What the fuck, Sully?" I get up, dusting ice off my gear.
"You weren't paying attention. Told you to focus." He's grinning, and I'm seconds away from wiping that fucking smile from his face.
"I was focused."
"On hockey or something else?" Pierre asks, skating over, still laughing.
Shit.
"On hockey," I tell him.
"Really? Because it looked like you were staring into space."
Oh, thank goodness he didn't clock I was checking out his sister.
"I wasn't."
Felix joins us. "You definitely were. We all saw it. Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I thought I was but ..."
"Look, we all have one of those days. Are you okay to play tonight?" Pierre asks.
"Fuck yeah."
He nods. "Good."
Practice ends, and we head to the locker room. I sit at my stall and start my routine of undressing. The guys are still chirping me about falling.
"Cap's losing his edge," Fish calls out from across the room.
"Fuck off," I mutter, pulling off my skates.
"Maybe he needs more sleep in his old age," Bouch suggests with a grin.
I ignore them all. Strip down. Grab my towel.
Head to the showers. The hot water beats down on my shoulders.
I close my eyes, trying to clear my head and get in the zone for tonight's game.
I can't fuck up tonight like I did in practice.
The team tonight is fast. We need to be faster.
But my mind drifts while in the shower, back to her.
The way she looked at me during practice.
The way her hands felt on my skin yesterday.
The sounds she made. Stop. You're going to give yourself a boner in the shower.
Instantly, I turn the cold water on and let it shock my system. Get your head straight, Black.
By the time I'm dressed and ready to head out, I've got my game face on, and I'm focused and ready for the game tonight.
Pierre catches me at the door. "You good, Cap?"
"Yeah. Just an off day. But don't worry. Won't happen tonight."
He claps my shoulder. "Never doubted you. See ya tonight."
"See you." I make my way home, where I'm going to eat, rest, and run through plays in my head.
When I arrive back at the arena, I'm locked in. Game mode. Nothing else matters.
It's game time. The anthem plays, and twenty thousand fans are on their feet, the energy is electric, vibrating through the ice. This is where I'm best. On the ice. In the game. Everything else fades. The noise. The pressure. Her.
The puck drops and I'm focused. Every shift matters.
Every second counts. First period is fast, physical.
The other team is playing aggressively, trying to establish dominance early.
I take a hit along the boards, shake it off, and keep going.
Pierre gets the puck, dekes around a defender, and feeds it to Felix.
Felix one-times it, but the goalie makes the save.
"Good try!" I call out.
We cycle back, our defense holds strong. Nelly makes a huge save, catching a hard slapshot with his glove. The crowd roars. I live for this.
"Let's go!" I tap my stick on the ice, calling for the puck.
Sully passes it up, and I carry it through the neutral zone, looking for an opening. I see Pierre breaking free and thread the pass between two defenders.
Pierre scores.
Fuck yeah!
The bench erupts. We're up 1-0.
I tap Pierre's helmet as we line up for the face off. "Nice finish."
"Nice pass, Cap." He winks.
Hell yeah. If we can keep working like this, we have a chance at getting that cup.
Between periods, I head down the tunnel.
Most of the guys go straight to the locker room, but I need to grab water from the medical area.
The doors open, and I can see her inside with Mike, reviewing something on the tablet.
She looks up, our eyes meet through the doorway.
My chest tightens. Then Mike says something, and she looks away.
I grab my water and head to the lockers without going in.
Second period is brutal. The other team is frustrated, playing dirtier, and taking liberties.
The refs are letting too much go. I'm on the ice, battling for a puck in the corner when two guys converge on me.
Then a third one comes in. I'm focused on the puck, and I don’t see him coming from my blind side.
The hit is massive. My head snaps back as I'm driven into the boards.
The impact rattles through my entire body.
For a second, everything goes white. The whistle blows.
My ears are ringing. My shoulder is screaming.
"Cap!" Pierre's there, grabbing my arm. "You good?" I can hear the concern in his voice.
I shake my head, trying to clear the fog. "Yeah."
The crowd is going crazy. I can only assume people are fighting.
"That was a cheap shot."
"Yeah, I know."
The ref gives the guy two minutes, it should've been five, but I'm not arguing. I skate to the bench, my shoulder is throbbing, and my head feels like it's in a vice.
"Sit," Coach orders.
I do and try to catch my breath. Suddenly prickles rush up the back of my neck, and when I turn to work out what it could be, I see her. Joelle appears at the gate with Mike. She's got a look on her face. Is it concern? Those hazel eyes land on me.
"Do you need us to check? Black looks like his shoulder is tight," Mike says to one of the assistant coaches. I can see Joelle standing behind him. Nibbling her nail with a look of worry.
"Cap, how's the shoulder?" Shane, one of the assistant coaches, calls out to me.
"It's fine." It's not. But I'll deal with it after the game.
"He said he's fine, Mike. But you know he'll be in your room after the game," Shane tells him.
Mike nods and turns back around with Joelle. She gives me one last look as they head back to their seats.
The play is developing. Our power play. I need to be out there. Then it's my shift again, I hop the boards without another word, skating right into it all.
We score on the power play. Felix. One-timer from the point.
It's now 2-0.
I tap my stick on the ice in celebration, but the movement sends a sharp pain through my shoulder. I grit my teeth and push through it.
One more period. Then I can deal with it.
Third period, we play defense. We need to protect the lead. The other team throws everything at us, but Nelly is a wall.
Final buzzer sounds.
We win. 2-0.
The guys celebrate on the ice with fist bumps and helmet taps. Sully pulls me into a hug. I try not to wince when he hits my shoulder.
"Good game, Cap!"
"You too."
We head off the ice, down the tunnel, and the locker room is loud. The music is pumping, the boys are celebrating and the energy is high.
"Hell yeah, boys!" Fish shouts.
Pierre claps me on the back, right on my bad shoulder. White hot pain explodes through me, and I bite down on my tongue. So much so, I taste copper, but I don’t let my face show it.
"Great game, Cap," he says.
I force a nod. I can't speak. Not yet. I'm trying to push the pain down.
I move to my stall and start to strip off my gear.
Shoulder pads first. But when I pull them over my head, the joint screams in protest. Fire shoots down my arm, and my vision blurs for a second.
I breathe through it as I keep my face blank.
Can't let the guys see. Around me, everyone's heading to the bikes for a cool-down.
Ten minutes of easy spinning to flush out that lactic acid and prevent soreness tomorrow.
Don't think a spin on a bike is going to help me with this shoulder.
I should skip it and go straight to treatment.
It's only ten minutes. I pull on a compression shirt, the fabric dragging across my shoulder.
Each movement is agony. The joint feels loose.
Wrong. Like something's grinding that shouldn't be.
I walk to the bikes, mount the one next to Sully, and start pedaling.
Light resistance. Easy spin. It's torture.
Sweat breaks out on my forehead, and not from exertion but from pain.
Another five minutes. That's all I need.
"You don't look so good." Sully's voice is low, he looks at me with concern. I nod and keep pedaling. "You need to see Mike."
"I know."
His eyes narrow. "You're not avoiding going to the treatment room because of ..." He lets the sentence hang.
"No," I argue. But maybe there is some slight truth in it.
Three minutes left.
The door opens to the cool-down room, and I don't even need to look up because I feel her. That awareness. That pull.
Joelle.