Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
EMMETT
I’ve been a pro hockey player for well over a decade now.
During that time, I’ve witnessed my fair share of craziness—from insane hits to PR scandals and the absolute mayhem that ensues when your team finally lifts the Cup.
Having your coach plan his own defenseman’s wedding though? That’s a new one and every bit as wild now as when Tommy told us that Coach Morgan—aka Jon Morgan, NHL Hall of Famer and all-round nice guy—was going to arrange everything, bar actually being the officiant.
Up until now, I’ve only ever seen the stoic side of Coach Morgan, the face of reason and professionalism.
But as he glides along the courtyard with a five-tier cake stand in one hand and a white bird cage in the other, I find myself questioning everything I once thought I knew about this guy.
Or—and maybe more accurately—if I accidentally ingested magic mushrooms during breakfast.
“I’m … actually lost for words right now,” I say to Jack as he comes to stand next to me, all of us dressed in dark blue suits with white dress shirts open at the collar.
Jack doesn’t look at all surprised by what he’s witnessing. “Come to think of it, I think that’s why the GM signed off on the whole team traveling to Italy—he didn’t dare say no to Jon. He’s living out his dream right now.”
I look at my captain. “He just coached us to Cup victory. Surely, that was his dream.”
Jack makes a face that isn’t totally agreeable.
“Listen …” Jensen Jones—our goalie coach and Jon’s former teammate when they played for the Seattle Scorpions—joins us, standing on the opposite side of me to Jack.
He crosses his arms over his chest and shakes his head in Coach’s direction when he slides a headset on and begins pointing at staff members.
“Let him have his moment in the sun. He’s been banging on about wedding planning since I can remember.
He’s attempted to plan pretty much everyone’s wedding other than Archer’s. And that was only because he eloped.”
Like our goalie can hear the conversation from across the courtyard, he offers us a salute and then lifts a pint of beer in our direction.
He married his wife, Darcy, who just happens to be Jack’s sister, a couple of years back, before anyone found out that he’d gotten her pregnant.
To say that the shit hit the fan when Jack found out about their secret relationship and pregnancy would be the understatement of the century.
“Are the girls nearly ready?” I ask, checking my watch.
The ceremony is in less than twenty minutes, and Coach looks like he might burst a blood vessel.
Jack worries his lip. “Kendra messaged me a couple of minutes ago. Jenna’s hair needs to be refixed, so they’re running behind.”
“The last time I checked the inventory, I hadn’t ordered three extra statues for the courtyard.” Coach power-walks toward us, now holding half a dozen peacock feathers and … a fucking porcelain swan.
Jesus. I’m putting in for a trade before the March deadline.
“We didn’t want to get in the way of your finest hour.” Jensen’s voice drips with sarcasm, earning a low chuckle from Jack.
Coach narrows his eyes at his center. “You were supposed to be folding napkins in the Naples suite ten minutes ago.”
Jack’s eyes flare wide, and he turns on his heel, striding off without another word.
Coach turns to Jensen then, dropping the porcelain swan into his arms. “I need you to set this up on the far end of the buffet table. I told management three times where it needed to go, but somehow, it still found its way into the lobby.”
When Jensen takes off with his instructions, a sense of dread settles inside me. I’d rather run sprint drills than deal with the way my coach is staring me down right now.
“You get a free pass, Emmett.”
Hearing him use my first name feels foreign. He always addresses me by my last name.
“Why do I get off lightly?” I ask him.
Without a doubt, Jon Morgan is the best coach I’ve ever played under.
My respect for him as a player and now leader is huge.
He’s turned the Blades around from the mess we were in when he took over the job.
I’ve played my best games and recovered from the worst injury of my career under him, and I can’t think of another guy I’d rather see out my pro days playing for.
He drops a hand onto my shoulder, and my throat instantly turns thick. I’m not an emotional guy, and I wasn’t expecting this interaction to go how it is. I anticipated him shoving those feathers up my ass for being unhelpful.
“Thanks for showing up. Tommy, Jenna, and the rest of the guys can only imagine how tough this is for you, so soon after …” He trails off. “Well, after Maria.”
Warmth from his palm radiates through my suit, and I swallow down my emotions.
It’s true; I’m not particularly stoked to be here, but I’m not about to miss my teammate’s big day or a chance to spend some time with the guys.
Realistically, I’d have been riding out the next few days in the gym or lying on my couch if I hadn’t flown out here.
I need to keep my head busy and away from spiraling thoughts.
“It is what it is, Coach,” I confirm.
That phrase seems to be my go-to these days. It says nothing and everything all at once and is a great way to sidestep difficult feelings. Because getting a divorce from the woman I once thought I was in love with fucking sucks.
Coach considers me for a moment, the ridiculous feathers blowing in his face. It’s February and not exactly warm in Lake Garda, but mercifully, the weather has taken pity on Jenna and Tommy with blue skies promised all day.
“If it’s any comfort to you, I was single and looking at the end of my pro career when I met Felicity.”
Felicity is Coach’s British wife and mom to Jack and Darcy. From what I heard about their love story, they were like fated mates, and he pursued her relentlessly before she finally gave in and agreed to date him.
“I’m not looking for anyone,” I reply, meaning every word. “Aside from a few hookups here and there, I can’t see me ever wanting to get involved with the opposite sex again.”
Coach lifts a doubtful brow. “That’s what they all say right before they meet the one.”
I chuckle at that. It’s low and dark and absolutely filled with cynicism.
“I already had my chance, and it didn’t work out.
” I look around the dressed courtyard. I might think that he’s fucking crazy, but Coach has nailed the venue.
“I guess that’s why I’m here—to celebrate and remind myself that some people do fall and stay in love.
And I hope that goes for Jenna and Tommy. ”
I can’t deny how uncomfortable it is, having a heart-to-heart with Coach Morgan.
On the contrary, he looks like he has conversations like this on the daily.
A part of me envies that he can open up so easily.
I see a lot of the same in his stepson, Jack, and I internally thank myself for never bringing kids into my former marriage—they’d have been closed off if they’d followed in my footsteps or an insane level of paranoid if they’d taken after Maria.
I reach up and adjust my glasses even though they were perfectly fine in the beginning.
“I’m here if you need to shoot the shit or talk anything out—you know that, right?”
With a nod, I clear my throat and then reach out to take the peacock feathers from him.
“Where were you headed with these?”
That’s another thing about Coach. He’s perceptive, just like Jack, annoyingly so at times.
Sensing that I’m done with talking about weddings and marriages, he waves an exasperated hand at the feathers. “Anywhere but the dining hall. They’re killing the modern vibe in there.”
“I promise to cook and clean for you since you hate it so much.” Tommy draws a laugh from the guests with a line from his vows.
Jenna swats him in the chest, kicking up the laughter a couple of octaves. In a stunning yet simple white gown that hugs her athletic figure, she looks up at the man she’s about to make her husband.
Other than my interaction with Jon, I haven’t struggled to keep my emotions in check. But the second the officiant asks Sawyer for the rings and he only produces one for Jenna, my heart jumps into my throat.
Tommy has kept pretty tight-lipped about today, leaving mostly everything to Coach. We all assumed he’d get a band similar to Jenna’s, but that’s obviously not the plan when he pulls off a piece of tape from around his ring finger to reveal Jenna’s name inked into his skin.
Her hands instantly cover her mouth, and I pull off my glasses, quickly swiping underneath my eyes before anyone notices.
Tommy is covered in tattoos, and pretty much all of them are from before he met his girl, although something tells me that while her name is the smallest tattoo he’s ever gotten, it’s definitely the most meaningful.
“Apparently, you don’t have to exchange rings to legally seal a marriage.”
He hooks his pointer finger under her chin, and tears tumble down her cheeks when he takes a step toward her. You could hear a pin drop in the courtyard, the swirling wind only adding to the romantic atmosphere.
Did Maria ever look at me like Jenna’s looking at my teammate?
“And I don’t need a ring. A band of metal is too temporary since it can be separated from my body.
I never want to be apart from you. I once told you that while I’ve changed so much since I got my tattoos, they will always have meaning—a reminder of the man I left behind and the one I want to be for you.
Only ever for you. I asked the artist when I got it done to go as deep as he could because I never want our love to fade.
This is my most significant tattoo.” He closes his eyes, resting his forehead against Jenna’s.
“And when we become a threesome”—he palms her stomach, and the entire thirty-something party of guests collectively gasps—“I’m going to add their name to my body as well.
Right where the scissors cut through the thread over my heart.
You put me back together, Hellion. This reformed bad boy is so in love with you. ”
I look over at Jenna’s friends, who are all scrambling for tissues. Kendra, her maid of honor, tips her head up to the blue sky and blows out a steadying breath.
This is a marriage for the ages. Even my bruised and disbelieving heart can’t deny the sincerity in Tommy’s words. He’s found his girl, but more than that, he’s found his family.