Chapter Thirteen
Colton
It was the end of the second period and as I made my way off the ice, I checked behind the bench for signs of Emma, but her seat was still empty. Lorelai waved at me and shrugged as she pointed to the chair that had my jersey hanging off the back of it.
Worry filled me as I made my way to the dressing room.
She’d bolted from the room, and by the time I’d run after her, she was already gone.
I couldn’t take the time I wanted to take and go after her because I had to get to the lobby to catch the bus for the arena.
I figured she’d cool off and that she’d show up to the game tonight.
But she didn’t.
Unfortunately, after we won the game, and as much as I wanted to return to the hotel immediately, Thompkins insisted I stick around for photographs and interviews, during which both he and Pamela kept a close watch on me, no doubt wondering where the hell Emma was.
After the interview, I was brought back to the hotel and dropped off with the rest of the team. I checked my phone for messages, but there weren’t any. I made my way up to our room only to find it in darkness.
I walked back out into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind me, and texted her, then made my way down to the lobby.
I strolled through the lobby looking for her.
When I didn’t find her there, I made my way over to the restaurant.
I glanced at the patrons, and then pulled my phone from my pocket, quickly pulling up the group chat with the guys.
I’d just finished typing out the message and was about to hit send when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye over in the corner booth at the back of the restaurant.
I made my way to the back of the restaurant and glanced over the booth seat to find Emma sitting there alone, a half glass of what appeared to be pop in front of her.
“Well, well, there you are,” I said.
“Here I am,” she said, holding her arms out, then giggling.
What the hell? Was she drinking?
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
She looked up at me with bloodshot eyes and smiled. “Ohhh, you know, taking a play out of Fox’s playbook and drowning my sorrows,” she said, picking up her glass, lifting it toward me in a mock cheer before taking a drink.
“How many of those have you had?” I asked, slipping into the seat.
“How many of those have you had?” she mocked in a deep voice, then started giggling followed with a hiccup. “The first, and now the last, does it really matter?”
“Okay, well, I think you’ve had enough for tonight,” I said, reaching for her glass, which she grabbed and moved away.
“So serious,” she said, looking up at me.
“Okay then,” I said, sitting down across from her.
“What are you doing?” she questioned, looking at me.
“Well, I’m thirsty, so I think I’ll join you,” I said, waving over a server.
“Are you with this young lady?” the server questioned.
“I am.”
“Thank goodness, we were about to call security.”
“No need. I will take care of her. Could I please get a soda, and would you be able to get the lady another of whatever it is she’s drinking?”
The server looked over at Emma and then at me and shook her head. “I’m sorry, but the lady has had enough tonight. I have cut her off,” she said, giving me a nod.
“I see. Well, if I promise to get her out of your hair after this last drink would you be willing to get her even half a glass?” I said, winking, knowing she probably wouldn’t even drink them before she was ready to pass out.
“I’m not supposed to do that, but fine.” She made her way to the bar, returning moments later with our order, placing the glasses down on the table, and then walking away.
“You are good. All you do is pour a little of that Fox charm on the lady, and she buckles after she’d already cut me off.”
“Drink up.” I nodded toward the glass, pushing it toward her.
Emma took a sip at the same time I did, then placed the glass down on the table. She leaned against the wall of the booth and closed her eyes.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “You always seem so in control of everything.”
“I’m in control,” she said, picking up her glass again and taking a drink.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, right, maybe of the glass in front of you.”
“Ugh, now here comes the asshole.” She sighed, rolling her eyes. “I told you, a poor attitude isn’t a personality trait.”
“Can’t help it, I guess you just bring that out in me.”
God, I loved watching her when she got flustered. Not only was she attractive as hell, just as she had always been, but I swore she was cuter when she was irritated with me than when she wasn’t. I could only imagine what makeup sex would be like with her.
“You aren’t the only one, apparently,” she mumbled.
“What?” I questioned.
She took a drink and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
“I said, you aren’t the only one. I must attract the bad-attitude gene.”
“Why do you say that?”
She avoided my gaze, taking another drink. “I told you I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Didn’t you feel better after you loosened up the other night and talked to me about things?
You need to stop trying to control every single situation and let people in once in a while.
Maybe if you did that, you’d stop being miserable as fuck with things in your life, so why don’t you tell me what gives. You used to share everything with me.”
I could see her thinking through the idea of telling someone her troubles. She was probably so uptight all the time and had pushed so many people away that she probably had no one to talk to.
“It’s not my style to talk to others.”
“Why not?”
“People talk. They judge.”
“And you think by telling me I’m going to tell all kinds of people and judge you.”
“You’re no different from anyone else.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I know people.”
“No, you think you know people.”
“Trust me, I know them. I see what the media does to people like you.”
“That isn’t the same thing. They’re paid to spread rumors about people. Normal people have better things to do than talk about others behind their backs, and if they are friends, then they don’t do that, anyway.”
“If only you knew the ones I knew, and we aren’t friends. Friends don’t just disappear, especially the ones who claimed that they were in love with you.”
While my father had intercepted her letters from getting to me after I’d lost my phone, I guess he’d never sent the ones I’d written to her like I’d asked.
“Okay, then,” I said, drinking down the rest of my drink. “Drink up, let’s go.”
“But I thought you wanted me to—”
“Nope, I want to know nothing. You’ve made it very clear. Now, drink up.”
There wasn’t any point in trying to have a conversation about this with her right now.
She was far too drunk to try to reason with.
I slipped out of the booth and took care of the bill.
When I returned to the table, she had her head down, her eyes closed as her head rested on her arm, her phone in her hand.
I carefully slid the phone out from under her hand and noticed it was open to a chat, my eyes immediately drawn to my name. I glanced at Emma, who still had her eyes closed, and then read the last part of the chat.
Chantal: Bullshit, until you met Mark, out of all the guys you dated, all you did was talk about what a loss Colton Fox was when you’d break up with them, and how you wished you could have a second chance.
Emma: Chantal, I did not.
Chantal: You did. Please do yourself this one favor and stop lying to yourself. Perhaps this is life’s way of giving you both a second chance.
Emma: You have no clue what you’re talking about. Colton would never be interested in a girl like me.
Chantal: Why not? He kissed you didn’t he?
I looked down at Emma, her eyes closed as she rested her head on her arm.
“Alright, baby girl, let’s go,” I whispered, carefully pulling her from the booth and getting her into a standing position as she groaned.
I was more interested in her than she knew, but we needed to sort a lot of our past if there would ever be a chance at a future. I was just after the girl I knew she was, not the one she pretended to be.
“Take your shoes off,” I said, carefully holding her as I kicked mine off and shut the room door.
She hadn’t moved when I looked at her.
“I kissed you…oh God, I kissed you,” she said, rubbing her face.
“That you did.” I chuckled.
“I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not even over him. If I think about it, I don’t think I ever even got over you, and now I’ve kissed you.”
She kicked off one shoe and went to take off the other when she stepped on her other shoe, almost falling. I quickly grabbed her before she fell over.
“Whoa there, baby girl. Be careful.”
She looked up at me, bringing her hands to my cheeks. She ran her thumb over my bottom lip.
“You know what?” she whispered.
“What?”
“I enjoyed kissing you more than I ever enjoyed kissing him, and you barely even kissed me back.”
“Is that so?”
She nodded and bit her bottom lip.
She was right, I’d kissed her back, but barely, and it wasn’t because I didn’t want to, but because we were in a room full of cameras.
“Come on, take your other shoe off.”
“Trying to get me out of my clothes, are you?” She giggled.
Again, I chuckled. This was so far from the Emma I’d spent the last week with. This was the real one, right here.
“If I wanted you out of your clothes, you’d be out of them,” I whispered. “Now take your shoe off.”
“Yes, sir.” She giggled again, slipping her other foot out of her shoe.
I held onto her and carefully walked her over to the edge of the bed and sat her down.
“Now, I’m going to go get changed. While I’m in the bathroom, can I trust you to change out of your clothes?”
She looked up at me, ran her hand over mine, and nodded her head. “Will you kiss me good night? I’ll only do it if you kiss me good night,” she said, crossing her arms and looking up at me mischievously.
I let out the breath I was holding. “Fine, yes, I’ll kiss you good night. Now, get changed.” I grabbed my boxers and went to go to the bathroom when I felt her hand grab the belt loop of my jeans.
“Not so fast. God, I love your ass…” She giggled and then hiccupped. “Hand me my stuff,” she said, pointing to the top drawer.
I couldn’t help but laugh, while I opened the drawer and looked inside.
“White tank top and gray boy shorts on top of the pile,” she said, hiccupping again.
I handed them to her and left her to get changed. When I came out of the bathroom, I expected to find her already changed, but she lay on the bed, passed out, with the tank top on, but she was still in her jeans.
I made my way over to the bed, unsure what to do, but I also knew what it felt like to sleep in jeans, and hers were way tighter than mine. There was no way she’d be comfortable.
I carefully undid her belt, followed by the button on her jeans, and unzipped them, then I slid my one arm under her legs and in one swift motion, lifted her up and slid them off her.
When I glanced back up, I noticed she was asleep, so I placed her shorts on the dresser.
Then I carefully picked her legs up and turned her, so her head was resting on the pillow and her legs were on the bed, then I sat down on the bed beside her and studied her face.
I should have gone to her when I’d gone to visit my mom, but soon she too moved to Boston. Perhaps had I done that, we’d have caught on to what my Dad had done and we’d have stayed together. God, I felt like kicking myself now.
She let out a tiny whimper, and I reached over and brushed her hair from her face. This was the Emma I knew, the Emma I’d fallen in love with all those years ago. I hoped it wasn’t too late for us.
I was just about to get up and make my way to the other side of the bed, when she raised her left arm over her head and stretched out, causing her tank top to raise a little. It was then I caught sight of the top of what appeared to be a tattoo on the front of her hip.
I sat back down, glanced up at her to see she was still sound asleep, and then brought my hand down to the band of her panties. I carefully lowered them and bent down to get a look in the dimly lit room.
There on her hip in red was a heart, and inside that heart were the initials CF.
I grabbed my phone, turning on the flashlight, and shone it on the tattoo and ran my fingers over her hip.
When the hell had she gotten that? I was about to run my fingers over it again when she let out another moan and shifted on the bed.
Quickly, I shut the flashlight off and made my way around to the other side of the bed and pulled the covers down, then sat down on the edge of the bed.
I plugged my phone in, then I lay down, adjusting the pillows behind my head, and stared up at the ceiling.
I finally released the breath I was holding and was about to turn over when Emma let out a tiny moan and then another, almost like she was crying.
Instead of rolling over, I spun onto my side, facing her, and shuffled myself until I was in the middle of the bed where I slipped my arm around her waist and pulled her back against me. The instant she was against my body, she let out one more tiny moan and fell into a deep sleep.
As I lay there holding her, my mind racing, the only question I had for her was about that tattoo, but I never got the chance because when I returned to the room the next morning, she was gone.