Chapter 25 Joelle
JOELLE
"Remind me again why I'm here?" I ask Collette as we walk into the Mavericks’ training facility.
"Because you love me, and it's called helping the community. Besides, you're medical staff. If some kid face-plants, you can patch them up."
"That's not really in my job description." It is, but still.
"It is today." She flashes me a grin. "Welcome to the Mavericks Youth Hockey Clinic, featuring your favorite players teaching tiny humans how to skate."
The rink is already chaos, kids everywhere, ranging from maybe five to twelve years old. All in oversized helmets and borrowed gear, parents line the bleachers with their phones out.
A banner hangs over the boards.
Mavericks Give Back
Youth Hockey Clinic
Several players are already on the ice. Felix is helping a little girl who can barely stand on her skates, holding both her hands while she wobbles. Sully has a group of older kids running drills. Bouch is pretending to be a goalie while tiny forwards take shots at him with foam pucks.
And Emmett ...
Emmett is crouched down at center ice. Eye level with a boy who can't be more than six. The kid is crying, his helmet askew, clearly having just taken a tumble. Emmett's got one hand on the kid's shoulder, talking to him softly. Even from here, I can see the patience in his posture.
"Earth to Joelle." Collette waves a hand in front of my face.
"What?"
"You're staring. Don’t be a creeper.”
"I'm observing. In case someone gets hurt. And I think someone is hurt."
"Uh-huh." She smirks. "Observing the captain very closely."
"Shut up." I hit her, then nervously look around to see if anyone heard her. I tear my eyes away and busy myself setting up a small first aid station at the bench. Band-aids. Ice packs. Antiseptic wipes. The essentials for minor scrapes and bruised egos. But my gaze keeps drifting back to the ice.
Emmett has gotten the little boy to stop crying.
He's saying something that makes the kid laugh, then helps him back to his feet.
Instead of sending him off, Emmett skates slowly beside him.
One hand hovering near the boy's back, ready to catch him if he falls again.
The boy gains confidence, skating a little faster, and Emmett matches his pace.
Encouraging him. When the kid makes it all the way to the boards without falling, he throws his tiny arms up in triumph.
Emmett gives him a high five that nearly knocks him over.
He then scoops him up and spins him around while the kid shrieks with laughter.
Something twists in my chest. I've seen Emmett Black be many things.
Intense. Commanding. Infuriatingly cocky.
I've seen him bark orders on the ice and intimidate opponents twice his size.
I've seen him pressed against me in a hotel room.
All heat and barely restrained hunger. I've never seen him like this. Gentle. Patient. Soft.
"You're staring again," Collette calls me out.
"I'm doing my job."
"Your job is to look at the captain like you want to climb him like a tree?"
"I do not ..." I cut myself off because she's baiting me, and I'm falling for it. "Don't you have content to create?"
"I'm multitasking." She wanders off toward the ice with her camera, leaving me alone with my very inconvenient thoughts.
For the next hour, I patch up scraped knees and hand out ice packs for bumped elbows, nothing serious. The players are careful with the kids. The kids are having the time of their lives.
Emmett rotates through different groups, spending time with each one.
He teaches the beginners how to fall safely.
"Butt first, not face first," he tells them.
Demonstrating by flopping dramatically onto the ice while the kids howl with laughter.
He runs passing drills with the intermediate kids, cheering every successful connection like they've just won the Cup.
He lets the older kids try to steal the puck from him, pretending to be outmaneuvered before accidentally losing it to a determined ten-year-old. He's good at this. Really good.
"Excuse me?" A small voice pulls my attention.
A little girl is standing at my station, maybe six years old, with a gap-toothed smile and braids poking out from under her helmet.
"Hi, sweetie. Are you hurt?"
"No." She leans against the boards. "I just wanted to take a break. Skating is hard."
"It is hard. But you looked like you were doing great out there."
She shrugs. "Emmett says I'm a natural. But I fell three times."
"Emmett, huh? Not Captain Black?"
"He said to call him Emmett." She giggles. "He's nice. He caught me when I almost fell into the boards."
"Did he?" Why is my heart doing weird things in my chest?
"Uh-huh. And he said falling is how you learn. He said he fell a hundred times when he was learning."
"I bet he did." I smile.
She's quiet for a moment, watching the ice. "Are you his girlfriend?"
I choke on nothing. "What? No. Why would you think that?"
"Because he keeps looking at you." She points matter-of-factly. "Every time he skates by, he looks over here. My mom says that's what boys do when they like someone."
My face is burning. "We just work together. And my brothers are his teammates. Have you heard of the St. Pierre brothers?" She nods furiously. "I'm their sister. And so is she." I point to Collette.
"You work with your brothers?" She scrunches up her face.
"Yeah." I laugh.
"Don't they annoy you? My brother is so annoying," she grumbles.
"My brothers annoy me all the time."
"Even though you are big?" she asks.
"Yep."
"Oh no. That sucks." She pouts. "Okay, break's over. I'm gonna go try skating backward."
"Good luck!" I call out after her.
She wobbles back onto the ice, and I make the mistake of glancing toward center ice.
Emmett is looking right at me. He's got a kid hanging off each arm, both giggling as he pretends they're weighing him down.
I wince a little, worried about his shoulder.
But his eyes are on me. There's something warm in them.
Something that makes my stomach flip. He grins.
Not the cocky smirk I'm used to, but a genuine smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. I look away first. I have to.
The clinic wraps up with photos and autographs. Kids swarm the players, shoving jerseys and pucks at them to sign. Parents thank the organization profusely. Collette runs around getting last-minute content while I pack up my unused supplies.
"Good turnout." Emmett's voice comes from behind me, surprising me as I nearly knock over a bottle of antiseptic.
I turn, he's off the ice now, still in his skates, but with his helmet tucked under his arm, his hair is damp with sweat, curling slightly at his temples.
There's a flush across his cheeks from the exertion. He looks unfairly good.
"Seemed like the kids had fun," I say, aiming for casual.
"They're great." He leans against the boards beside me. Watching the last of the families filter out. "This is my favorite event of the year. Reminds me why I started playing in the first place."
"Yeah?" I glance at him. "And why was that?"
"My dad flooded our backyard one winter to make a rink.
" His voice goes soft with memory. "Taught me and my sister to skate.
We'd stay out there until our mom dragged us inside for dinner.
" He shakes his head. "I was probably one of those kids once.
Some local player showed up at my school who seemed like a god to me. Made me believe I could do it too."
There's an openness in him right now that catches me off-guard. No walls. No heat. Just ... Emmett.
"You're good with them," I say. "The kids."
"They're easy. No bullshit. No politics. They just want to have fun and learn." He looks at me sideways. "Unlike adults."
My brows pull together. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." But he's smiling again. That real smile. "Just that kids say what they mean. They don't play games."
I think about the little girl telling me he keeps looking at me. Kids say what they mean.
"That little girl. The one with the braids. She said you told her falling is how you learn."
"It's true."
"She also said you keep looking at me."
His smile fades into something more intense. "Also, true."
My heart stutters. "Emmett ..."
"I know." He shifts closer, not touching, but close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off him. "But I can't ..."
"Can't what?"
"Stop looking at you." His voice is low. Just for me. "Thinking about you. Wanting ..." He cuts himself off.
There are still people around. Parents. Staff. A few lingering kids. Anyone could see us. Anyone could notice the way we're standing too close. I should step back. I should make an excuse and walk away.
Instead, I say, "Watching you today. With the kids ..."
"Yeah?"
"You were ..." I search for the right word. "Different."
"Different how?"
"Soft," I admit. "I've never seen you like that."
Something shifts in his expression. "That bother you?"
"No." The word comes out too fast. Too honest. "I liked it."
He's quiet for a moment. "I'm not always hard. But around you, I seem to always be."
I bite my bottom lip at his innuendo. We stand there. The moment stretching between us. I feel myself leaning toward him like he's got his own gravitational pull.
"Jo!" Collette's voice shatters the spell. "I'm all done. Are you finished?"
My sister eyes how close Emmett and I are standing together.
I jerk back. Putting distance between us. "Coming!"
Emmett doesn't move, just watches me with those stormy green eyes. "See you at practice tomorrow, Joelle," he says. The way he says my name makes it sound like a promise.
I grab my bag and practically flee.