Chapter Seven #2
“The youth skills clinic begins in four minutes. We will discuss the relationship during tomorrow’s interview.”
She tugged lightly on his hand.
Emmett followed.
They walked through the entrance without answering another question.
The moment they reached the temporary staff area, Piper released him.
Maren closed the gate behind them.
Ava stared at Emmett.
Griffin stared at Emmett.
Tyler appeared from behind a stack of equipment and stared at Emmett.
Beckett slowly removed his sunglasses.
“The contract is fake. She is not,” he repeated. “That is excellent.”
Emmett rubbed the back of his neck.
“I know.”
“You know it was excellent?”
“I know I should not have said it.”
Piper folded her arms.
“You think?”
He looked at her.
“You told me to answer honestly.”
“I did not tell you to create a quote that will be printed on sweatshirts by lunch.”
Tyler checked his phone.
“Too late.”
Everyone turned.
He held up the screen.
A fan account had already placed the words over a photograph of Piper and Emmett holding hands.
THE CONTRACT IS FAKE. SHE IS NOT.
The post had thirty thousand likes.
Piper closed her eyes.
Beckett leaned toward Tyler.
“Cream shirts. Dark lettering.”
“Stop monetizing my emotional crisis,” Piper said.
“I was thinking charity.”
“That is how all of this started.”
Griffin took Tyler’s phone.
“No merchandise.”
Tyler looked wounded. “You cannot suppress art and commerce simultaneously.”
“Watch me.”
Paulson hurried across the event area toward them.
Piper braced for a complaint.
Instead, he held up his phone.
“The donor increased the match.”
“What?” Maren asked.
“Another ten thousand if Piper and Emmett participate in the couples skills challenge this afternoon.”
Piper stared.
“There is no couples skills challenge.”
Paulson looked at Tyler.
Tyler took one careful step backward.
“There is now.”
Griffin pointed toward the supply tent.
“Go stand somewhere without ideas.”
“That location does not exist.”
Paulson looked at Piper. “You can say no.”
Piper appreciated that everyone had begun stating this explicitly.
She looked at the youth equipment display. New helmets. Used gloves. Several pairs of skates with cracked plastic and taped laces.
Ten thousand dollars could replace almost all of it.
“What does the challenge involve?”
Tyler’s face brightened.
Griffin caught him by the shoulder.
“I will explain,” Maren said.
Thirty minutes later, Piper stood on the temporary court wearing a Ridgeview practice jersey over her clothes while Emmett fastened goalie pads around her legs.
“This is humiliating,” she said.
“You have not started yet.”
“I am wearing equipment that weighs more than a bridesmaid.”
Emmett tightened one strap.
“You planned a wedding with bridesmaids this size?”
“One was carrying emotional weight.”
He looked up at her from where he crouched.
Piper immediately regretted every choice that had placed his face near her knees.
“Too tight?” he asked.
“No.”
His fingers adjusted the buckle.
“Now?”
“No.”
“You sound uncertain.”
“I am wearing your equipment in front of two hundred people.”
“Not mine.”
“What?”
“The youth pads.”
Piper looked down.
“They belong to a child?”
“A large child.”
“I am leaving.”
Emmett’s hand closed gently around her ankle.
The contact stopped her.
“Do you want to?”
His voice had lost the teasing.
Piper looked toward the crowd.
Phones were raised, but the atmosphere felt different from the reporters outside. Families laughed. Children cheered. Mason stood near the front holding a sign that read:
TEAM PIPER, SORRY COOPER
She smiled despite herself.
“No.”
Emmett released her ankle.
“Then stay.”
He stood and placed the goalie mask in her hands.
The challenge was simple.
Piper would block five foam shots from Emmett.
Then Emmett would attempt to score five goals while wearing oven mitts.
Tyler had called it an equal test of trust.
Griffin had called it evidence of a failed institution.
Piper pulled on the mask.
Emmett leaned closer.
“You do not have to block them.”
“That seems to defeat the concept.”
“I will shoot wide.”
“No.”
“You have never played goalie.”
“I am aware.”
“You dislike projectiles.”
“I dislike poorly managed projectiles.”
He looked toward the goal.
“Stand in the center. Keep your knees bent. Watch my shoulders.”
Piper adjusted her grip on the youth goalie stick.
“Your shoulders are distracting.”
The words escaped.
Emmett went very still.
Piper could not see his entire face through the mask, but she saw enough.
His mouth moved.
“Noted.”
“Forget it.”
“I cannot.”
“That was not literal.”
“Still cannot.”
The whistle sounded.
Piper took her position.
Emmett placed the foam puck on the court.
The crowd began chanting her name.
He lifted his stick.
She watched his shoulders.
He shot gently toward her left pad.
Piper blocked it.
The crowd erupted.
She threw both arms into the air.
“Yes.”
Emmett collected another puck.
“That was one.”
“It was magnificent.”
“It moved six miles per hour.”
“Do not diminish history.”
The second shot went toward her glove.
She missed.
The puck struck the back of the net.
Emmett skated closer.
“Keep your glove in front.”
“I had it in front.”
“It was near your ear.”
“I was protecting multiple areas.”
He reached toward her arm, then stopped.
“May I?”
Piper nodded.
Emmett placed one hand beneath her elbow and adjusted the angle of her glove.
The crowd made a noise.
Not cheering.
Something more suggestive.
Piper’s skin heated beneath the equipment.
Emmett lowered his voice.
“Ignore them.”
“Easy for you.”
“No.”
Their eyes met through the mask.
The hand beneath her elbow remained warm and steady.
For one second, the entire ridiculous challenge disappeared.
Then Tyler shouted, “Goalie lesson has become intimate.”
Emmett released her.
The third shot hit Piper directly in the chest pad.
She blocked the fourth with her stick.
Before the fifth, Emmett skated backward.
Piper narrowed her eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Making it interesting.”
“You promised not to hurt me.”
“I did not.”
He fired the puck.
Faster this time.
Piper dropped instinctively.
The puck struck her left pad and bounced away.
She had blocked it.
The crowd exploded.
Piper jumped up and forgot the pads were designed for controlled movement rather than celebration.
Her legs tangled.
She fell forward.
Emmett caught her.
One arm wrapped around her waist. The other braced her back.
The mask tilted sideways.
Piper looked up at him.
His face was inches from hers.
The chanting changed.
“KISS. KISS. KISS.”
Piper’s heart hammered.
Rule Five.
No real kissing.
Cameras were present, which technically made the situation permitted.
That was a terrible interpretation of the rule.
Emmett’s gaze dropped to her mouth.
Piper stopped breathing.
He did not move closer.
“Your choice,” he said softly.
The crowd continued chanting.
Piper could stand.
Laugh.
Turn it into a joke.
She had built an entire career from knowing how to redirect a room.
Instead, she reached up and removed the goalie mask.
Emmett’s eyes remained on hers.
Piper touched one hand to the side of his face.
The cheering became deafening.
She leaned closer.
His breath touched her lips.
Then Maren’s phone rang beside the court.
Maren looked at the screen.
Her expression changed instantly.
“Piper.”
Something in her voice stopped the moment.
Piper stepped out of Emmett’s arms.
“What happened?”
Maren walked onto the court, phone still in her hand.
“The producer from tomorrow’s interview just sent an updated format.”
Piper removed one glove.
“What changed?”
Maren looked at Emmett before answering.
“They invited Owen to join live.”
The crowd continued cheering, unaware.
Piper stared at her.
“He agreed?”
“Yes.”
Her phone vibrated inside her event bag.
Then Emmett’s vibrated.
A promotional post from the lifestyle platform appeared simultaneously across every screen.
TOMORROW, LIVE AND UNEDITED: PIPER QUINN, COOPER VALE, AND OWEN KELLER FACE EACH OTHER FOR THE FIRST TIME.
Beneath it was a second line.
One relationship ended. One began. Now all three are ready to tell the truth.
Piper read it twice.
“I never agreed to that.”
Maren’s face hardened.
“I know.”
Emmett moved beside Piper.
“You are not doing the interview.”
The crowd noise seemed to fall away.
Piper looked at him.
“You do not decide that.”
“No.”
His voice remained calm.
“You do.”
Piper looked at Owen’s smiling photograph beside hers on the promotional graphic.
For eleven days, he had released edited videos, private messages, and carefully selected pieces of their relationship.
Tomorrow, he expected her to defend herself inside another story he controlled.
Piper took Maren’s phone.
She opened the producer’s contact and typed one sentence.
I will attend, but Owen does not receive the questions in advance.
The producer responded immediately.
Agreed.
A second message followed.
There is one more condition.
Piper waited.
The audience will vote at the end on which relationship they believe was real.
She showed the message to Emmett.
His expression became cold.
“This is not an interview.”
“No.”
Piper looked toward the cameras surrounding the court.
“It is another bet.”