Chapter 36 Emma
EMMA
What are the odds that Liam’s new contract would bring him to Boston?
“You are fucking stalkers,” my sister says as we find our seats in the arena, led by her new boyfriend, Paul. “I can’t believe you’re moving here, you psycho.”
“You owe two quarters to the swear jar, Auntie Tal,” Laddie announces as he shoves his hand in my popcorn box.
“Buddy,” I say, swatting him away as he giggles. “You said you wanted a pretzel, so I got you a pretzel. Stop eating my popcorn.”
“I tricked you, Mama,” he says, grinning that half-toothless grin I love so much. “I wanted both, and you said one, so I guessed which one you would get and picked the other.”
“Devious, man,” Talia says, reaching over me and fist-bumping my kid. “Well done.”
“Do not encourage this,” I say, rolling my eyes.
The two teams are warming up, and in a fun coincidence, Liam’s new team, the Boston Brawlers, is playing the Chicago Reapers. Liam is all the way down at the other end of the ice from our seats, so the Reapers are doing their warm-up drills on our end.
Talia points out big, red-headed Connor Murphy. “See that big motherfucker? The one who looks like a Viking who lost his axe? I… may have made some questionable decisions with him. Once. Don’t judge me.”
“Twenty-five cents!” Laddie yells.
“Whatever,” Talia says. “Earmuffs.”
I cringe and look over at Paul.“Tal,” I mutter. “Please. Paul does not need to know that.”
My sister just waves a hand like she’s swatting away a fly.
“Oh, relax. Everyone has a sexual history, Emma.”
Paul gives an easy shrug, smiling like this is all perfectly normal conversation for him.
“She’s not wrong.”
He’s an affable dude, I’ll give him that. I shake my head and let out a breathy, incredulous laugh.
I cannot imagine talking to Liam about anyone I was with before we found our way back to each other. He would absolutely blow a gasket.
I’m happy for my sister, though. Truly. She and Paul seem to be having fun, and they’ve been seeing each other pretty much the whole time she’s lived here.
I don’t know if it’ll last—her contract in Boston is only a year, and Talia’s never exactly been the “forever” type—but she’s trying.
She’s been seeing a therapist, working through what happened in Chicago, and she’s doing really, really well.
We’ve had some tough but honest conversations since she moved. About her mental and physical health. About Laddie. About Liam and me.
And somehow, after everything, we’re closer than we’ve ever been.
I was barely an adult when I fled to her in California, pregnant, heartbroken, and drowning in fear. And she wasn’t much older, yet she took me in without hesitation.
Our parents are lovely, good people, but they were not thrilled with my decision not to attend art school and instead have a child. Now, we see our parents a couple of times a year, and it’s nice, and they dote on Laddie, but they have never been my rock.
Talia has.
I lean my head on her shoulder and say, “I’m glad you’re not dead.”
She barks a laugh. “Well, me too, I guess. Jesus.”
“I mean, it would be hard to stalk you if you were dead.”
“I’m sure you’d find a way,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “But listen, if you follow me to my next gig in Tucson, I’m calling the cops.”
“Mama, where’s Dad?” Laddie asks, melting my heart. I remember the first time he called Liam ‘Dad.’ I thought Liam’s face was going to split in half for how hard he’d grinned.
I point out to the far end of the ice, where Liam is doing some very suggestive-looking hip stretches. “He’s right there, honey. Number ninety-one.”
“Why’s he ninety-one?” Laddie asks, squinting. “He was a different number in Chicago, right?”
“Yes. Good memory.”
I smile, brushing his hair back. “He used to be number nineteen. But when he came here, someone had already claimed that number, so he changed it. One-nine became nine-one.”
“Ohhh.”
He says, reaching into my popcorn box again. I sigh and just hand the whole thing over.
As the teams disappear down the tunnels for their pre-game talks, the arena shifts into full show mode. Lights dim. Music swells. A hype video plays across the jumbotron, and Liam gets a lot of screen time.
Every time his face flashes across the massive screen, the crowd roars.
Boston loves him already.
And honestly? I get it.
He’s playing better than I’ve ever seen him.
Confident. Sharp. Focused.
It’s like the weight he carried in Chicago finally slid off his shoulders the moment he stepped onto the ice here.
This city was desperate for a stronger defense, and Liam Callaghan arrived, immediately giving them hope. People are already wearing his jersey, so I feel like it’s a good sign.
Hell, I’m wearing his jersey tonight too. Ninety-one. I’m pretty sure my heart does a weird little flutter every time I look down at it.
After the video, there’s some other pomp and circumstance, but then there’s a little commotion in the aisle to the right of Laddie.
A security staff member is trying to get my attention.
I lean over Laddie. “Hi—can I help you?”
“Are you Emma Reyes?” he asks.
“Um… yes?”
“Could you come with me for just a few minutes?” His smile is warm, reassuring. “I’ll make sure you’re brought right back.”
I look back at Talia with an inquisitive look, but she seems just as confused as I feel.
“Listen to Auntie Tal for a bit,” I tell him, brushing his curls. Then I crawl over him and follow the man up the stairs and out of the arena bowl.
My pulse is skittering.
“Is everything okay?” I ask as we walk. “Did I… forget something at security?”
He chuckles. “No idea, honestly. I was just told to escort you to the ice.”
“The ice?” My voice jumps an octave.
We step into a staff corridor, turn twice, and then push through a door marked Staff only.
When we emerge, we’re right in front of the ice.
And to my right stands a woman in a glittering gown, tall and stunning, skin glowing under the lights.
When I realize who she is, the breath leaves my body.
“Oh my god,” I blurt, hand flying to my chest. “You’re… you’re Trinity Preston.”
She grins, a wide, perfect smile, and holds out a hand for me to shake. “And you are?”
“Uh, nobody?” I say, grinning like an idiot. Trinity Preston won America’s Next Singer two cycles ago. She just put out an album, and I’ve had it on repeat for weeks. I might swoon.
“I doubt that very much,” she says.
“I’m, oh, I mean, my name is Emma. But I’m not…I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”
The teams take the ice in a flurry of light and sound, another promotional video playing. Liam is one of the last of the Brawlers to take the ice. He’s a starter, and he’s new, so he gets a lot of applause.
When the cheers finally settle, the announcer’s voice booms:
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Trinity Preston for the National Anthem.”
Trinity steps out through the same opening the staff member led me through, gliding over the red carpet that stretches across the ice. She looks like a literal goddess under the arena lights, sequins catching every color.
Both teams line up on either side of her.
And Liam is standing right next to her.
He leans in, says something I can’t hear, and Trinity beams at him just as the music cues.
Then she sings.
Her rich, soaring, powerful voice fills the entire arena, enough to vibrate straight through my chest. I swallow hard, suddenly feeling emotional and overwhelmed. I’m so swept up in that, for a moment, I honestly think this must be the whole surprise.
A surprise meet-and-greet. Something sweet and thoughtful that Liam arranged because he knows how much I adore Trinity’s music.
But then the last note fades—the applause crescendos around us.
And Trinity doesn’t step off the ice.
Instead, she lifts the mic again, her dazzling smile flashing across the jumbotron.
“My fellow Bostonians,” she says, laughter in her voice, “can I borrow two more minutes of your time before we drop the puck? Turns out our newest Brawler, Liam Callaghan, has something significant he wants to share… and he asked for as many witnesses as possible. You all good with that?”
The arena answers with a thunderous roar.
My stomach flips.
And then I’m being gently ushered forward, toward the ice, toward him.
I step out onto the carpet, shaky, stunned, acutely aware of twenty thousand set of eyes.
Liam is waiting for me. Full gear. Helmet off. Sweat-damp curls. Cheeks pink from the cold.
He gives me this small, nervous smile.
And then—
He drops to one knee.
The entire building gasps with me.
Liam brings the mic to his mouth, eyes never leaving mine.
“A long time ago,” he begins, voice steady but soft, “there was this shy kid in middle school art class. He didn’t talk much. He had a lot going on at home. He didn’t feel safe anywhere… except when he sat next to one girl.”
My chest squeezes.
“She made him feel calm. Seen. Like maybe he wasn’t broken after all.” He swallows, emotion thickening his voice. “And as they grew up, that friendship turned into more. It was high school love, burning, intense, and full of promises. The kind that feels like the whole world.”
He smiles a little, small and aching.
“But then she was gone. No goodbye. No explanation. Just gone. And all those promises were made? They stayed with him. Every day.” He pauses, breath catching almost too subtly for the crowd to notice, but I see it.
Everyone is completely silent.
“You could say he grew up,” he goes on. “He became a man. Made some mistakes. Carried some heavy things he didn’t know how to put down. And one night, he found himself in a situation he couldn’t get out of.”
He’s staring at me as he’s reciting this. I can’t quite read his emotions at the moment, “And that situation led him straight to her door,” he says quietly. “Not the girl he remembered… but the woman she’d become.”
You could hear a pin drop in this arena.
My cheeks are on fire. My heart is thundering so hard it might punch its way out of my throat.
Liam takes a slow breath, still looking right at me.
“In fairy tales,” he says, voice deep and steady through the speakers, “there’s always a test. A threat. Something that tries to tear the two people apart. But fate… fate always finds a way to pull them back together.”
My vision blurs for a second. Oh God.
“And that’s what happened to us,” he goes on. “Fate put me right back in front of my first love. Even when things got dangerous. Even when everything tried to take us down… we fought. We survived. We found our way back.”
He gives a tiny, shy smile that absolutely destroys me.
“And like any good story,” he says softly, “We beat the monsters. Now all that’s left is the happily-ever-after. Or at least… I hope so.”
Trinity Preston steps forward at the perfect moment and hands him a small velvet box. It’s open, displaying a truly stunning princess-cut solitaire ring that catches the arena lights so brightly it throws tiny stars across the ice.
My breath catches.
“Emma Reyes, we vanquished demons together. We fell apart, but we put ourselves back together. We made a friggin’ awesome kid together.” A laugh ripples through the crowd. “And I’ve wanted you since I was sixteen years old. I have loved you for longer than that. Will you marry me?”
A heartbeat passes, and I am suspended in it, overwhelmed and overstimulated and thinking about the years when Liam Callaghan was my everything and the years when I pretended he was not. And here he is now, sandy-haired and nervous and handsome, and I want nothing less than forever with him.
“Yes.”
His grin widens as he gets to his feet, handing over the microphone to Trinity as he slips the ring on my left ring finger.
“She said yes!” Trinity announces, and the crowd erupts in cheers.
Liam pulls me to him, and he’s even taller on skates than he is in real life, so he has to bend down to kiss my head, then even lower to kiss my lips.
I’m grinning and crying at the same time like an idiot.
“That was a big speech for you, champ.”
“I know, he says, “I feel like I might puke.”
I laugh as the tears roll down my cheeks and kiss him again before turning to follow the red carpet off the ice.
Once we’re off the ice, Trinity gives me a hug, “Congratulations, girl,” she beams. “And that ring? Woo. He did well.”
In fact, pretty much everyone I pass on my way back to our seats congratulates me or gives me a high five or tells me they want to know how I snagged a professional hockey player.
When I slide back into my seat, I pull Laddie onto my lap and hug him tightly.
Well, at least for a minute, until Talia nearly yanks my arm off my body so she can look at my ring.
“Oh my God,” she shrieks, pulls my arm back and forth like she’s trying to restart my heart. “Let me see it—let me see it—let me see it.”
“Tal!” I gasp, swatting at her. “You’re going to dislocate my shoulder!”
She does not care. She is pawing the ring like she plans to marry it herself.
The game starts, the crowd roars, but my face is still tomato-red from the proposal spectacle that I never in one million years imagined being part of.
Laddie, meanwhile, is staring up at me with big, puzzled eyes.
“What happened out there, Mama?”
I clear my throat. “Oh… um. Dad asked me to marry him.”
His eyes widen. “You’re not already married?”
“Nope,” I say, showing him the ring now that Talia has stopped manhandling me. “We did things out of order.”
“What’s outta-odor?”
I laugh. “Out of order,” I correct him gently. “It just means we didn’t do things the way people normally do them. But that’s okay. We love each other, and we love you.”
I turn to Talia, and she’s crying and rolling her eyes, and how does someone even do that at the same time?
I lift my lip in annoyed disbelief. “What is wrong with you?”
She sniffs dramatically. “That was so cheesy it broke me. These are tears of pure mortification. For you.”
I laugh and shove her shoulder while she fans her face with a nacho menu.
“You’re the absolute worst. I can’t wait until you move to Tucson.”
She puts an arm over my shoulder and leans in. “Hey. I’m actually really happy for you. I know I haven’t always been Liam’s biggest fan, but… I know he loves you. That much is crystal clear. And honestly? That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you. For you to be cherished. For Laddie to be loved.”
I meet my sister’s sincere gaze and give her a tiny grateful smile.
And as we settle in for the game, everything feels new and right, like we really are stepping into a new future, full of promises.