10. Emile

EMILE

The aroma of Cajun spices hits me the second I push open the door to DuPont's. Even though it's late, the place is still buzzing with the low hum of conversation and the rhythmic clatter of cutlery against plates. I spot Sara immediately. She's busy wiping down tables, her brow furrowed in concentration as she meticulously straightens a stack of menus.

After giving her a quick wave to let her know I'm here, I make my way to the bar, my gaze lingering on her while I wait. Even in her simple black uniform and sensible shoes, she manages to look effortlessly adorable. She's perfect.

"Hey, Romeo." Natalie's voice startles me out of my thoughts. "Didn't expect to see you here tonight. Thought you'd be at home licking your wounds after getting benched during practise today."

I wince, taking a seat at the bar and accepting the beer she sets down in front of me. "I promised Sara a ride home. How is Luc? I should probably call and apologize again."

"He's doing OK. But he'll be out of action for this weekend's game."

"What?" I wince, remembering the sickening thud of the puck connecting with Luc's knee.

"It's OK. The doctor says it's nothing serious. Just some deep tissue bruising. The rest is just a precaution."

I put my head in my hands. "I feel awful. My head was all over the place, but…it'll never happen again. I swear."

"Good. Because if my fiancé's hockey career ended because of a stray puck from his soon-to-be brother-in-law, things could get awkward at family dinners." She winks, but her tone isn't serious. "Seriously though, Emile. What the hell was that back there? Luc said you were playing like a man possessed."

I take a long swig of my beer, the cool liquid doing little to quench the sudden dryness in my throat. "Coach got under my skin."

Natalie's eyebrows shoot up. "Because of Sara?"

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "Yeah. He doesn't want me dating her." I quickly recount the conversation I had with Coach Belanger, the warning, the threat to my position on the team.

Natalie listens patiently, her frown deepening the longer I go on. When I'm finished, she lets out a low whistle. "Wow. He wasted no time laying down the law."

"He threatened to bench me if I don't stay away from her."

"I don't blame him for being protective. I mean, she's his daughter. But at the same time, she's not a little kid anymore. He has to let her make her own decisions. Have you spoken to her about it?"

"No." I groan, burying my face in my hands. "What am I supposed to do, Nat? I really like her. Like, really, really like her. But I don't want to cause a rift between her and her dad, and I can't afford to lose my spot on the team before I've played enough games to try and trade to another team."

Natalie pats my arm sympathetically. "Look, I'm not going to tell you what to do here. You're a grown man, and you have to make your own decisions too. But I will say this: Sara's a special girl, Emile. She's not like those puck bunnies who throw themselves at you guys. She's smart, she's funny, and for some reason, she really likes my knuckle-head little brother. If you let her go because you're too scared to fight for what you want, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

"I know. I just… I don't know how to make this work without fucking something important to me up. You know how hard I worked to get here."

"I do. And putting your career at risk is the last thing I want you to do. There has to be a way you can have both, but I don't have the answers, Em. And I'm sorry you even have to go through this. However, while we're on the topic of Sara and fucking up, I do have a little something to talk to you about." She pauses, her lips curving into a wry smile, and I prepare myself for what's next. "You might want to encourage her to find a different line of work."

"What?"

"She broke ten plates, and a dropped a whole tray of beignets tonight."

I pull my head back in surprise. "Ten plates and…Seriously?"

"Seriously. Apparently, being a server isn't her calling."

I can't help but laugh at that, the tension breaking like those unfortunate plates. "You want me to, I don't know, reimburse you or something?"

"No. There's no need for that. Just…let her down gently for me. She's such a sweet thing, and she tried so hard. But she's a disaster in the kitchen. I can't keep her around."

"Shit. OK. I'll talk to her."

"Thanks." Natalie reaches across the bar and gives my forearm a squeeze before heading off to attend to some more work. I shoot Luc a quick text to check in on him, and by the time I hit send, Sara appears beside me, looking flustered but beautiful.

"Ready to go?" I ask, pocketing my cell as I get up from the bar stool.

"Absolutely. My feet are killing me."

"I'll massage them for you."

As we walk toward the door, I glance back at Natalie, who gives me a knowing look and a subtle thumbs-up. Outside, I hand Sara her helmet, my gaze lingering on her face. She seems different somehow, more subdued than usual.

"Everything OK?" I ask, concern lacing my voice.

She shrugs, pulling the helmet on. "I broke some plates."

"I heard."

"And I dropped the beignets."

I pull her into a tight hug. "It's OK."

"It's not. I made a mess."

"Let's get you home."

She nods, and I help her onto the bike before I start the engine and pull out into the quiet street. The ride to Sara's apartment is quiet besides the rumble of the engine and the rush of the wind. She holds tight to me, her head tucked against my back like I'm her shield, and when we pull up outside her building, she quickly climbs off the bike and hands me her helmet with a sigh.

"I'm not getting another shift at the restaurant, am I?"

I wince, reaching out to take her hand in mine. "Probably not. But hey, maybe that's for the best. You weren't really feeling the whole waitress vibe anyway, right?"

She sighs. "Yeah, but…you know where that leaves me."

"I do. But you'll find something. You're too smart not too."

Letting out another sigh, she snaps her head back all of a sudden, looking around as if noticing our surroundings for the first time. "This isn't my apartment. It's…this is around the corner."

My stomach drops. "I thought it would be best if we..." I can't even get the words out.

She takes a step back. "Oh my god. Are you ashamed to be seen with me?"

"What?! God, no. Never." I reach for her hand, needing her to understand, but she pulls away.

"Then what is this? Why aren't we out the front?"

"It's just…I'm concerned about your father seeing us together."

"Because?"

"Because at practice today, he called me into his office and…" I tell her everything. The accusation, the threat, the impossible choice he's forcing me to make.

By the time I'm finished, her face is pale, her eyes filled with a mixture of hurt and anger. "So, what now? Does this mean you're going to break up with me so you can keep playing hockey?"

My heart clenches at the pain in her voice. "No, Sara. I don't want to let you go. But I don't want to have to choose either. I've worked my whole life to get to where I am. But at the same time, meeting you… it feels different. Important. Like it was meant to be."

I run a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me. "I want to have both, Sara. You and hockey. I just… I don't know how to do that without hurting one or the other. But I'll choose if I have to, and I need you to know that my choice would be you."

"Oh, Emile. No. I can't let you give up your dream for me. It's not fair."

"I know that. But I'm not walking away when I'm?—"

"Stop." She places her hand over my mouth to stop me from speaking. For a moment, she's silent, thinking. Then her dark eyes fix on mine like she's just made a big decision. "Leave this with me," she says, lowering her hand. "I'll fix it."

"What? Sara, what are you?—"

But before I can finish, she's leaning in, silencing me by pressing a soft kiss to my lips. "Trust me." Then she's turning on her heel and marching off with a purpose.

"Wait! What are you gonna do?"

She turns briefly, walking backward as she says, "The coach's daughter's version of getting you a new laptop."

"What?" I laugh. That makes no sense.

She turns around again and just waves at me over her shoulder. "You'll see."

I watch her go, my heart racing. I don't know what she's planning, but one thing I now know for sure is this: I'm one hundred percent head over heels in love with Sara Belanger. And if it whatever she's planning doesn't work, and it comes down to a choice between her and hockey, it'll have to be her. Now that I've had a taste of her, I don't think I could ever live without her.