2. Emile

EMILE

"So, Belanger's your dad," I state, setting two pints of beer on the table and taking the seat across from Sara. "How's that working out for ya?"

"Thanks." She immediately reaches for her glass of beer and takes a long, thirsty drink. So thirsty that it's half gone already. Not that I blame her. When she called the company to explain what happened before her interview, they promptly told her the position was already filled. She needs this drink. "That's better." She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and pants to get her breath. "What was it you asked me?"

I lean in, resting my elbows on the table as I take in the short, curvy woman in front of me. If Sue Peck from Malcolm in the Middle had full lips and a healthy appetite, she would look just like Sara Belanger. And oddly, I'm digging it.

"I asked what it's like having the Nighthawks coach for a father." I take a sip of my beer, watching her carefully over the rim of my glass.

She sighs and looks out one of the stained glass windows in the dark space. "Honestly, it's fine. He's great. Supportive. Kind. Caring." She shrugs, taking only a sip this time and meeting my gaze. "But he's also overprotective. A little controlling. When my internship fell through in New York, he was instantly pushing for me to take a job on the marketing team for the Nighthawks."

"I'm guessing you don't want that?"

Sara shakes her head, dusty brown hair swaying lightly. "I love hockey. Love the Nighthawks. But I want to make my own name in marketing. Carve my own path." She runs her fingers through the condensation on her glass and knits her brow. "I need to do this on my own so I don't spend my whole career riding on my father's coattails."

"I get that," I say, nodding my understanding. "I think everyone wants to do something that sets them apart from their parents. Especially when you have a parent who's really successful at something."

"Is that why you play hockey?" She takes another drink and my eyes travel over her, wincing at the coffee stains all over her nice blouse. Way to make a first impression, Emile.

"To be different from my parents? No." I chuckle and lean back in my seat. My eyes lock onto hers as I continue, "I play hockey because it's what I love. It's what I've always loved. Growing up, my dad didn't understand it. He worked a shitty nine-to-five that he hated, and he thought it was foolish to pursue sport as a career. He always said I should be more interested in business or law. But I didn't care. I just wanted to play." I shrug, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over me. "They were the same with my sister. She wanted to be a chef, and they pressured her into law. She relented, hated it, quit, and the both of us moved to Sugar City to go after our own dreams. When I got signed to the Nighthawks, we used the signing bonus to open her restaurant, and it's a roaring success. So, you know, I guess we both kind of showed them that we can find the kind of success they wanted for us, but that we just had to go after our passions to do it." I finish my beer and smile at her. "And now we both have jobs we love."

"That's amazing of you to do that for her," Sara says. "You and your sister must be really close."

I grin. "She's my best friend. And since she worked her ass off supporting me until I got my big break, realized my dream, then the least I could do was help her with hers."

Sara smiles, a genuine warmth in her eyes. "That's really sweet, Emile. Seems you two have a special bond."

I nod. "We do. And I think that's what family should be about, you know? Supporting each other's dreams, even if they're different from what you might have expected."

Sara sighs and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "I wish my dad saw it that way. Don't get me wrong, he's a great dad. But sometimes I feel like he's so focused on hockey that he tries to force his whole world inside it. He forgets there's more to life outside the rink."

"We hockey guys do tend to get a bit obsessed. Have you tried talking to him about how you feel?"

She shakes her head. "Not really. I don't want to disappoint him, you know? He's so excited to have me home that all he can talk about is me working for the team. It's why I was doing my interview at the coffee shop. I didn't want him to walk in and feel let down that I'm exploring other options. That at the end of the day, I don't want to build my life in Sugar City."

I nod in understanding. "It must be tough trying to balance your own dreams and aspirations with your dad's expectations. Just remember—and don't tell him I said this to you, or he might kick me off the front line—but you deserve to walk your own path, Sara, even if it means going against what he wants."

She looks at me with a small smile. "Thanks, Emile. I think I needed to hear that today." She finishes her drink and sets the glass down on the table. "Well, I should get going. Thank you for the drink. It was great talking with you."

"Likewise," I respond, watching her collect her things. "Maybe we can do it again sometime, over some food or something?"

Sara blushes slightly and looks away. "Yeah, that sounds nice. We'll see."

"Hey, before you go, let me take your laptop. I have a buddy who's a whiz with computers. He might be able to salvage it."

Sara hesitates, biting her lip. "I don't know, Emile. It's really busted up. I think I should just cut my losses here."

I wave off her concerns. "It's no imposition at all. I want to help. Please, let me do this for you. I really want to make this right."

She sighs as she looks at the broken laptop in her arms. "OK, fine. But only because you're being so persistent."

I grin, taking the laptop from her. "Persistence is one of my many charms."

Getting up, I walk her out of the bar. On the sidewalk, Sara stops and turns to me, chewing the inside of her lip. "Hey, Emile? Do you think… Can we just keep this between us for now? I don't want my dad getting the wrong idea about... well, about us running into each other. He can be really protective when it comes to his players being around me. And well, you and I are just being friendly here, so I don't see a need to rile him up."

I nod, trying to hide the slight disappointment that hits. "Of course. Whatever you need. My lips are sealed." I mime a key locking my mouth and toss it away.

Her relieved smile lights up her eyes. "Thanks, Emile. You're really sweet." She glances down the street, then back at me. "I've got to catch a bus, but I'll see you around, OK?"

"Sure."

She turns and starts to walk away, but I quickly call after her.

"Sara!"

She pauses, turning back to me, eyebrows raised.

"I just realized I need your number so I can return your laptop once it's fixed," I call out. "Unless you want me to go on a city-wide search for you."

She chuckles, the tension in her shoulders relaxing as she walks back toward me. "All right, you've got a point. Here." She reaches into her purse and pulls out a pen, grabbing my hand to scribble her number on my palm. Her touch is warm, and I'm acutely aware of the closeness. "Don't lose it," she says with a playful stern glance.

"Wouldn't dream of it," I say with a wink.

She gives me one last smile before spinning on her heel and heading toward the bus stop. I watch her until she's out of sight, grinning like an idiot the whole time. Then I look at my palm, admiring the neat digits that decorate my hand before I input her number into my cell, saving her number under the name ‘Curvy Sue' just to be safe.

While I don't really know if anything will ever come of this since she's looking to leave town as soon as possible, there's just something about the coach's daughter that makes my heart race and my palms sweat. Big problem though, she's the coach's daughter. And I'm just a rookie.

Come to think of it. Maybe I should stay the hell away.