Chapter 33 Emmett
EMMETT
The elevator doors close on Joelle and Collette. She doesn't look back. Fuck. I stand there, staring at the empty space where she just was.
"Well, that was intense," Sully says.
I punch the wall.
"What the hell?"
"Fuck."
"Want to talk about it?" Sully asks.
"No."
We continue in silence as the elevator moves again up to fifteen. I grab my stuff and storm down the corridor to my room.
"Cap, hey, wait."
I ignore my friend, swipe the key to my room, and walk in. He captures the door before it closes and follows
"Get the fuck out," I yell at my friend.
"No."
"Sully, please," I beg him. It was humiliating enough that I bared my soul in front of him, but also having him witness my rejection, it's too much. I pace around the room, pulling out my hair. But he just waits me out. "She said she can't do it," I finally say.
"She also said she can't stop thinking about you," he reminds me.
"She couldn't get out of the elevator quick enough."
"Wouldn't you want to escape the steel box of death after being stuck in there?" Sully raises a brow at me. "She's also scared," he adds. "I see it now. I thought this was just a crush. Flirting. Maybe more from you than her. But I see it now. She feels the same way about you as you do her."
Hope rises in my chest. "Do you think so?"
"I do. And I'm sorry I've been making jokes about it when it's been a hell of a lot more intense than I thought."
"Thanks."
"She's scared, and she is trying to please everyone, but in the end, she doesn’t please anyone. Her brothers play on your team. She works for your team. This is complicated as hell. So, what are you going to do?"
"Nothing."
Sully looks at me like I've lost my mind. "Bullshit."
I glare at him. "Excuse me?"
"That's bullshit, and you know it. You're not going to just give up."
"What am I supposed to do? Force her into something she doesn't want?"
"She wants it. You heard her in that elevator. She's just terrified of what it means."
I sink onto my bed and run my hands through my hair. "I can't lose her before I even have her."
"Then don't." Sully sits across from me. "Look, I get it. This is messy. But you're both adults. You can figure this out."
"Her brothers will kill me."
"Probably. But you've taken worse hits on the ice."
I almost smile. "Not helping."
"I'm serious. Pierre and Felix are protective, yes. But they're not unreasonable. If they see you're serious about her. If they see you're not just screwing around ..."
"They'll still want to kill me."
"Um, of course. We would do the same if our sisters were dating someone from the team," he states. That's facts. "I've known you my whole life. I've never seen you like this over anyone."
"What if it doesn't work out?"
"That's life. But also, what if it does?" Sully smirks. "You would be brothers-in-law with the St. Pierre brothers," he teases. "Oh my god, imagine your kids. With Black and St. Pierre blood running through their veins, they would be the best hockey players in the league."
He has gone rogue with his thoughts. "Don't think we are anywhere close to that."
"Okay. Let's pin that for the moment." He grins.
"I get what you're saying. And thanks for being so supportive. But I also have to think of the team dynamics. The guys would never trust me again."
"They would get over it, eventually."
"I can't screw with the team. We're making the playoffs this year. This could derail all that."
"That's months away. It will be a temporary blip on our road to the cup," Sully states naively.
"You think I can risk that."
He takes a seat on the bed, too. "Or you could just not tell anyone."
"What? Sneak around?"
He nods. "Till the season is over."
I stare at him. "You think that's fair on Jo?"
He shrugs. "You're in a pickle."
"Don't I know it."
I'm lying in bed when my phone buzzes, and I'm surprised by who it is.
Joelle: I'm sorry about the elevator.
Emmett: You have nothing to be sorry for.
Joelle: I just wanted you to know I heard what you said in there. But let's get through these next two road games and talk when we get home.
My stomach sinks. I don't know if this is good or bad.
Emmett: Of course. We can talk when we get home.
Joelle: Good. Now get some sleep. You have a big game tomorrow.
Emmett: Yes, ma'am.
Joelle: Goodnight, Captain.
Emmett: Goodnight, Trouble.
I set my phone down, my mind is running through a million and one different scenarios. But maybe. Just maybe. I can hope.
Game day. The arena is packed, and Boston fans are loud, rowdy, and ready to see their team destroy us.
They're in for a disappointment, because I am in the mood to unleash.
We're in the locker room. Coach is giving his pre-game speech.
The usual stuff about playing hard, staying focused, winning battles.
I tune him out, my head is already in the game.
"All right, Cap," Coach says, turning to me. "Anything to add?"
I stand and look around at my team. "We're on a winning streak. Four games. Let's make it five. Play smart. Play clean. And for fuck's sake, don't give them any power plays." The guys laugh. "Let's go," I finish.
We break and head out to the ice. The crowd roars when Boston skates out. Boos follow us as we skate out. I don't care. I feed off it.
Puck drops.
Game on.
First period is brutal. Boston comes out swinging.
They're fast, aggressive, playing like they have something to prove.
We match them hit for hit. Pierre takes a shot five minutes in.
Misses. Felix gets checked hard into the boards shakes it off and keeps playing.
Sully blocks a shot that would have been a goal. The save of the game.
We're tied 0-0 going into the second.
In the locker room between periods, everyone is amped.
"They're getting tired," Coach says. "Keep the pressure on."
I grab my water bottle and take a long drink. Joelle is standing by the door with Sarah, watching, making sure the boys are all healthy. I wink at her. She quickly looks away, but I see the blush that blooms across her cheeks, and somehow, that's enough.
Second period, we score. Felix sets it up with a beautiful pass to Pierre. Pierre shoots.
Goal.
The team erupts. We're up 1-0.
Boston fights back hard and scores six minutes later. We’re tied again.
Then, with two minutes left in the period, I get the puck. I'm skating down the ice. Sully on my left. Pierre on my right. Boston's defense closes in. I fake left. Go right. Shoot. The puck sails past the goalie.
Goal.
2-1.
The guys swarm me, pounding my back, shouting.
"Fuck yes, Cap!" Pierre says.
"That's how it's done!" Sully adds.
I skate back to the bench and glance up at the medical area. Joelle is smiling and gives me a thumbs up. That's progress. And that feels better than scoring.
Third period is a battle. Boston is desperate. They pull their goalie with three minutes left. We defend hard. Block shots. Clear the puck. With thirty seconds left, Fish steals the puck and shoots it down the ice.
Empty net goal.
3-1.
Game over.
We win.
The locker room after is chaos. Music is blaring and everyone is celebrating.
"Five in a row!" Bouch yells.
"Undefeated streak!" Fish adds.
Coach walks in. Everyone goes quiet. "Good game, boys.
Clean. Smart. Exactly what we needed." He looks at me.
"Captain led by example tonight. Two assists and a goal.
Well done, Black." The team cheers. Five wins in a row, the playoffs are in sight.
Everything is falling into place, except the one thing that matters most.
On the plane ride to the next city, somewhere in Canada, I'm sitting by the window. Sully is next to me. Most of the guys are asleep, exhausted from the game. I pull out my phone.
Emmett: We won.
Joelle: You were amazing. That goal in the second period was incredible.
Emmett: Team effort.
Joelle: Don't be modest. You earned that win.
Emmett: Next stop Canada, then home.
Joelle: I know.
Emmett: I'll be waiting for you, Trouble.
Joelle: I know.
I set my phone down. Patience.
Ottawa. The arena is smaller than Boston, but the energy is just as intense. Canadian hockey fans don't mess around. We're riding high from the Boston win on a five-game streak. The guys are confident. Maybe too confident.
"Don't get cocky," I tell them in the locker room before the game. "Ottawa's good. They're fast. They'll capitalize on every mistake."
"We got this, Cap," Pierre says.
"I know we do. But we earn it. No shortcuts," I warn them.
Coach Anderson nods his approval.
We head out.
The game is tight from the start. Ottawa scores first. We're down 1-0 by the end of the first period.
In the locker room, Coach is calm. "Stay disciplined. The goals will come."
Second period, Felix ties it up. 1-1.
Then Pierre scores. 2-1.
The momentum shifts. We're in control now.
Third period, Sully gets an assist on a goal by Bouch. 3-1.
Ottawa pulls their goalie with two minutes left, desperate for the tie. Pierre intercepts and shoots from center ice.
Empty net goal again.
4-1.
Six wins in a row.
The locker room is electric, guys are screaming, hugging. This is the streak we needed going into the final stretch of the season.
"Six!" Fish yells.
"Unstoppable!" Bouch adds.
I'm grinning, I can't help it, and this is what we've been working for.
My phone buzzes.
Joelle: Six in a row. You're on fire.
Emmett: Teams on fire. So are your brothers.
Joelle: They are. But also, don't be modest. You had two assists tonight.
Emmett: We're heading home tomorrow.
Joelle: I know.
Emmett: Can you come to my house for dinner?
Joelle: Dinner?
Emmett: It's long overdue.
Joelle: Okay.
I pocket my phone and join my team in celebrating our six-game winning streak. And tomorrow, I find out if I can have the one thing I want more than the Cup.