11. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
Sebastian
“Do the three of you live together?”
Mac flashed the reporter his most charming smile, and my heart tightened. He was primed with his best PR face, but the question was overstepping, and I could see the strain he was fighting as he kept his composure.
“Yes. But what we’re really here for—the new hockey clinic is going to serve the community—”
“And do you all share a bedroom?” The reporter sidestepped Mac’s comment about the actual reason we were out tonight and turned to Emily. “You must be incredible to score such hot men. Can we get a few words about what it’s like?”
Em was a deer in headlights in front of the bright light radiating from the camera. Mac’s face fell, and he put his arm around her, shielding her from the reporter.
“Like I was saying, the new hockey clinic—”
As the team’s chef, I didn’t need to be at this event. But as the fiancé of the team’s best player—which was just a fact, not that I was biased—and the fiancé of the team’s social media manager, I couldn’t have stayed home.
It had been really important to Em that the three of us show up as a united front and, as much as I hated all the spotlight on us, I was glad I hadn’t stayed home and thrown her to the wolves.
I shared a look with Mac over Em’s head and nodded. He passed her to me, still shielding her from the camera, and I guided her through the small crowd and over to our table.
“I didn’t mean to freeze like that.” She scowled and picked at the sequins on her clutch purse.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I should have an answer queued up.”
“No. They shouldn’t have asked that.” I pulled out a chair for Em and took the seat next to her. “We’re here for the new hockey clinic announcement, not an interrogation about our relationship.”
“Still—”
“Still, nothing. She overstepped.”
Em frowned and played with the napkin at the edge of her spot. “Is it over now?”
My stomach knotted, and I waited for her to say more, but she didn’t. “Is what over?”
“Our privacy. Or this little bubble of apathy we’ve been stuck in. I thought people didn’t care, but maybe they just didn’t actually see it until now.”
“I’m sure the Evergreens making it to the finals hasn’t helped—”
Her face fell, and I put my hand on her knee. “But it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Maybe the extra attention will be good?”
She glanced up, an incredulous look as she raised her brows. “You don’t believe that.”
“No. No, I don’t.”
Julie walked up and took a seat across from us, ending our conversation. She was a big supporter of our relationship, but would she still be if the media hounded us and turned it into a shit show for our PR team?
Management liked to keep things as drama free off the ice as they could. On the ice provided plenty of fodder as it was.
And Mac’s contract hadn’t been renewed yet. Would media scrutiny affect how that turned out? He hadn’t talked to us about it, but it was obvious it was weighing on his mind.
I loved being in Vancouver, but if he transferred to another team, I would follow him. Em would, too. We talked about it one night when he was snoring so loud, he woke us up. He had enough to worry about with the cup and maintaining his status as the team’s star player, so we were waiting until he brought it up.
He was incredible during the last game, and I knew he would be just as invincible tomorrow.
I squeezed Em’s hand, and she smiled softly. Less than an hour ago, I was inside her. I shifted slightly and her eyes flicked down to my hips. A slow smile crept across her face, and she leaned against me.
“Thinking about earlier?” she whispered.
“Always,” I murmured.
Coach Locke strolled up, deep in conversation with Strelow and Lightning. The three of them took the rest of the seats around Julie, leaving one space open for Mac next to Em.
He sauntered up, balancing three drinks that I rushed to help him set down safely.
“Six o’clock,” he muttered.
“What?”
He lifted his chin. “Behind me. Tall, dark hair. At the bar—”
Em whipped around and groaned. “What about red hair next to him?”
I turned, and they both grabbed me.
“Don’t be so obvious,” Em hissed.
I pushed their hands away and looked. Two Instigators were getting drinks at the open bar and laughing about something.
“Red hair is Preston Ledger,” Mac said, his eyes locked on the dark-haired man. “We played against each other in the minor leagues. That guy, though—”
I cleared my throat, but neither of them flinched as they rubbernecked the two men.
“They’re both Instigators. Isn’t that like your sworn enemy?”
Mac licked his lower lip and shook his head. “We’re not even on the same level.”
I rolled my eyes—neither of them saw.
The two men wandered around the room until they spotted some other team members and sat with them. Scanning the small crowd, I recognized someone else heading toward the same table.
“That’s Lucas Tyler.” I nodded toward him, and he waved before taking a seat next to Preston. “Want me to wave them over?”
Em’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dare.”
She grabbed my hand as I waved back to Lucas. I laughed and kissed the back of her hand.
“Don’t worry. I know him from school. I’m not waving him over.”
Mac shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind—”
“Our house is perfectly full enough,” I growled, no longer finding any of this funny. “Keep it in your pants.”
Mac laughed and grabbed his glass. “Is Bardot jealous?”
I glared at him, and he laughed harder. Em joined in and I motioned for them to lean in close.
“The two of you belong to me. Don’t ever forget that.”
Em pressed her legs together, and I hid a smile. She could fawn all over that guy, but it was me she’d be going home with.
Mac coughed and held the drink to his lips. “Noted.”
“Should you be drinking tonight?” Em asked quietly.
“Mine’s sparkling cider.” He winked and took a sip. “Wait, wrong glass.” Wincing, he swapped his with the one I was holding and took a sip. “Much better.” He sat back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair. He hadn’t had time to style it properly before we left, but the messy tumble of curls looked intentional and good. So damn good.
“You better have enough energy after the game tomorrow,” Em murmured. “I need both of you.” Her eyes flicked to Preston Ledger, and she sighed. “Desperately.”
Mac snorted, and I gave her a dirty look. “We’re not bringing in a fourth—or fifth—” I glared at Mac.
He leaned back, raising his hands. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Good. The two of you are taken and you should be well fucked at the moment. Cool your jets.”
Em took a sip and licked her lips. “This morning wasn’t enough. If we could do that twenty-four-seven, it still wouldn’t be enough.”
“If I could do anything about it, I would.” Mac’s face fell, and I rubbed his back, my heart going out to him.
If Em was still as desperate when we got home, I would happily oblige her, but Mac could only watch.
Tonight, he needed all the sleep he could get, and he couldn’t afford to waste any energy on a pre-game romp. The entire team had been warned about the risk of dead legs after sex. They were encouraged to get it all out of their system and leave tonight for sleep and tomorrow for hockey.
That was a conversation I wasn’t thankful to be a part of as Lightning asked every minute question he could think of, drilling down to precisely what he should and shouldn’t do.
“I’m just so—” She groaned. “Are you okay watching tonight?”
Mac grinned and downed the rest of his cider before he answered. “More than okay. And tomorrow night’s your birthday eve—”
“It’s your birthday?” Julie asked, and Em’s cheeks reddened.
“Her birthday is in two days,” Mac said, beaming at her.
I grabbed Em’s hand and brushed my mouth directly over her ear. “She didn’t hear what you said.”
“Good,” Em whispered back.
Coach Locke lifted his glass. “Here’s to a win for your birthday.”
“I’ll have to give her a win,” Mac said. “She won’t tell us what she wants for her birthday—”
“I did too! I want a quiet week at home before we go to the retreat.”
“Ask for diamonds,” Julie said.
“Haven’t you seen the rock on her finger?” Coach Locke’s eyes widened, and he reached for Em’s hand, but Julie stopped him.
“It’s time for you to head over there, dear.” She checked her phone. “They’re going to start soon.”
He excused himself and made his way to the stage. The coach from the Instigators followed him, and the room turned its attention to a woman thanking us all for being there.
It was insane to bring two hockey teams together. Especially two teams that were both in the middle of their own playoffs. Not even the middle.
The very fucking end.
I had been livid the organization had chosen tonight for the event, but now that I was here, I could see why. Both teams were from Vancouver—one a professional hockey team, the Instigators a semi-pro team. And both were at the top of their game. The entire state’s attention was on the outcome of their last games, and it was the ideal time to funnel that attention toward something worthwhile.
Coach Locke thanked the crowd and started up a slideshow about what the organization was all about. Unlike Vancouver, BC, our Vancouver had taken a while to warm up to hockey. How we had two teams was a mystery to me, but they were thriving. The organization, Ice Heroes Academy, would teach kids more than just hockey. They would learn teamwork, leadership, cooperation, and grit.
As Coach went through his slides, he won over the entire room, prompting a standing ovation when it was revealed the organization would be headquartered at the Evergreens' arena, but would be run equally by both teams.
After the clapping and cheering died down, a murmur grew around the room. People were pledging amounts and donating directly. It was also being broadcast online so donors from all over could send in money.
Julie checked her phone and squealed. “We’ve gone over our goal by twenty-thousand dollars, and it keeps going up.” She passed her phone around and we all marveled as the real-time number updated every second.
Any residual anger I had about them choosing this night evaporated. The event coordinators knew exactly what they were doing.
The charity was a success. Em’s birthday was two days away. All we had to do was make it through tomorrow and we had a week to ourselves. A week where we promised ourselves no wedding planning. No hockey talk. Nothing but each other and as minimal clothes as possible.