5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Molly
“Emmett,” Preston groaned. “Seriously?”
Emmett Krause, the Instigator’s starting goalie who I knew by name only, stalked over to us, his wide shoulders and determined set of his jaw making my stomach whoosh again. I was swooning over these two. Literally swooning.
I was no better than the women I’d been rolling my eyes at.
I had never swooned over anything—except maybe those mint ice cream bars covered in a chocolate shell. They were discontinued, but the way the chocolate melted on my tongue was enough to make my toes curl. Maybe I should have written the manuscript with that ice cream bar in mind—
“You’re not about to give Tyler’s sister her first kiss in a dingy, gross hallway,” Emmett muttered.
Emmett overheard us? My stomach flipped, setting a million butterflies free throughout my arms and legs. I didn’t know him that well and I wasn’t sure I wanted the whole world to know my biggest secret.
“Please don’t tell anyone,” I whispered.
Emmett’s harsh scowl evaporated, his eyes softening into emerald green pools that made my heart skip.
I’d seen him over the years at functions Lucas invited me to, or at parties at Lucas’s house, but I had never been so close to him.
He was beautiful up close, even as he towered over Preston and me.
The shadows from the lights above gave him a harsh, commanding look, and I ducked my head, hiding the prickling heat reddening my whole body as I wondered what he could teach me about romance.
“Your secret’s safe with me.” He put his hand out and I glanced at Preston.
Preston nodded once, his jaw muscle feathering. “You can trust Emmett.”
I placed my hand on Emmett’s and gasped when he pulled me to my feet easily.
He was at least half a foot taller than my five-foot-four-much-too-short self.
Preston got to his feet, dusting off his butt, and closed in, turning us into a small huddle.
I could get lost between both of them. Preston was about two inches taller than Emmett and I knew Preston was six feet and one-half inch tall—yes, one-half inch.
My brother was six feet tall, so that half inch mattered a lot once they finished going through growth spurts that passed right over me.
Regardless of half inches and exact numbers, these two nearly engulfed me as they looked at each other, something silent passing between them. Then both of their attention was on me, and I felt as big as an ant. And incredibly turned on.
I hoped Juliet was staying over at Romeo’s because once I got home, I’d need either a cold shower, or a very long, very vibrational soak in the bath. Whether I doused the flames their attention stoked in my body or fanned them to completion, I needed to do something.
I made a mental note of that comparison. That had to be good for a romance novel. Right?
“Come over to our house,” Emmett said.
I stepped back, tripping over Preston’s foot. I didn’t hear him right. “Your house?”
They had lived together for a while, but I hadn’t been to their place. If it was only Preston’s, I probably would have shown up unannounced with cookies or something when he moved in, but Emmett had always unnerved me a little.
His proximity was doing nothing to help the panic I felt when he was close. Or maybe it was my heart pounding as I read way too much into his invitation. There was a fine line between terrified and turned on.
“I’ll order pizza,” Preston said, pulling out his phone. “Ham and olives?”
I nodded, feeling dazed. He remembered my pizza order. But that was nothing. We’d had pizza together so many times, I’d be offended if he hadn’t.
His brows pinched as he focused on his phone. I wouldn’t normally stare at him, but the alternative meant my eyes would have to pass over Emmett, so I studied every move Preston made until he tucked his phone in his pocket.
“Pizza’s ordered. We’ll get there right before it’s delivered.” He reached for my hand, and I put mine in his, wondering what the heck I’d tell Lucas.
I convinced myself it didn’t matter. I was friends with Preston, too. And he lived with Emmett. If they invited me over, it was rude of me to turn them down. And my brother wouldn’t want me to be rude to his friends.
As I followed Preston out of the arena, I patted myself on the back for being such a considerate sister.
“Home sweet home,” Preston announced as we got to the front door.
Matching rocking chairs adorned the wraparound porch, and I ran my fingers over one of them. “Where can I get my own?”
“Why? You like our old lady chairs?” Preston teased.
“I’ve never loved anything more,” I said, faking a swoon.
“Wait until the weather gets warmer. We sit out here judging the neighbors,” Emmett said, unlocking the door.
He didn’t strike me as the nosy neighborhood gossip and I nearly giggled at the image of him and Preston rocking on the porch, gossiping about what Mrs. What’s-Her-Name down the street wore to church last week.
He reached in, flipping the light switch on before stepping back to let me walk in first.
The house was adorable on the outside and even cuter inside.
It wasn’t at all a place I’d expect two bachelor hockey players to share.
It was dated in all the best ways, and I loved every bit of it.
Emmett clearly didn’t buy into the sleek, modern colors that plagued the rest of the world.
A solid blue couch sat across the room, with two white and blue plaid armchairs on either side, a wooden rocking chair in one corner, and a solid wall of built-in bookshelves, filled to capacity, stray books stacked in the corner of the room.
The walls were adorned with framed and faded painting replicas, along with family portraits of people who looked a lot like Emmett.
I stood in the center of the room, turning around slowly as I took it all in.
It felt like home. Not in that weird way when someone’s trying to convince themselves fate is real, but like a place someone cherished so completely their soul lingered behind.
From every knickknack on the battered and scarred mantel, I could tell this was a home, not just a house.
Emmett was in the doorway, his hockey bag slung on his shoulder, and I blushed when I realized he had been watching me.
“What do you think?” he asked, the corner of his mouth ticking up.
“I love it,” I breathed.
“Me too.” He dropped his bag by the door and crossed the room, standing so close our shoulders brushed. “That’s why I haven’t changed anything.”
“Oh?” I asked, my head tilting as I tried to work out what he could mean.
“The house has been in my family for three generations now,” he explained. “I inherited it after my grandma passed away.”
I knew he was from Vancouver, but he was from a different neighborhood than we were, and a couple of years older than Preston and Lucas. None of us met him until the Instigators.
“I’m so sorry about your grandma,” I whispered, a sinking pit in my stomach forming at the thought of losing any of my grandparents.
A sad smile flickered across his face. “It was a while ago.” He tucked his hands in his pockets. “She loved this house.”
“I can tell. It looks like a great life was lived within these walls.”
The sadness evaporated from him in an instant, the green of his eyes vibrant as he looked around the room. “A very great life.”
“Your grandmother lived here last, so it skipped your parents and went to you?” I asked, the curiosity too much to remember my manners.
He smiled, a brittle, fragile curve of his lips as he ran his hand over the back of the rocking chair. “They died when I was little.”
“Oh,” I whispered.
Even though I didn’t know Emmett well, he’d always seemed larger than life.
A force in front of the net and a quiet observer in regular life.
Seeing him like this was surprising. Vulnerable.
And I had this overwhelming desire to grab his arm and drape it over my shoulder so I could hug him around his middle and take some of the pain away.
But that would be absolutely ridiculous.
If he was still grieving, the last thing he needed was a disoriented, confused woman hanging off him to appease her own discomfort at his pain.
The history of the house washed over me, and I imagined a young Emmett bursting through the door, excited to tell his grandma about his day at school.
“I love it—” My hand flew over my mouth, and I bit the inside of my cheek. “I mean, I love the house. Not how you got it, or—”
Emmett’s smile softened, the stiff arc smoothing into something warmer. “I love it, too.”
His understanding put me at ease.
“I think we should get this kissing business out of the way before the pizza gets here,” Preston said, walking into the room perfectly oblivious to the heaviness hanging in every corner like ancient spiderwebs.
My jaw dropped, and I snuck a glance at Emmett, my stomach plummeting through the floorboards when I saw the scowl darkening his entire face.