Chapter 3: Ember

Chapter

Three

EMBER

T he crisp night air nips at my cheeks as I huddle closer to the fire, pulling my oversized sweater tighter around me. The crackling flames cast a warm glow over the faces of my family, scattered around the yard in various states of holiday cheer. My niece and nephew dart past, squealing with laughter as they chase their cousins through the maze of lawn chairs and coolers.

I can't help but smile, even as a twinge of longing and envy tugs at my chest. This is what I left behind when I moved to Sterling City to pursue my dreams. The warmth, the chaos, the sense of belonging.

But it's also what I escaped.

The suffocating expectations and the constant pressure to settle down, find a pack, start a family.

"So, how was practice?" Taylor asks, nudging me with her shoulder. She's bundled up next to me on the old porch swing, a mug of mulled cider warming her hands.

I shrug, trying to keep my voice neutral. "Uneventful. Except for some assholes who intruded on my space."

Taylor's eyebrows shoot up. "Intruded how? At the rink?"

I nod, feeling the frustration from earlier bubbling up again. "Yeah. Apparently, the manager double-booked. I showed up for my reserved time, and there were these four guys there, claiming they had it booked too."

"Oh no," Taylor says, but there's a hint of amusement in her voice that makes me narrow my eyes. "That sounds like an honest mistake, though. Were they at least hot assholes?"

I can't help the flush that creeps up my neck, and I blame it on the fire. "That's not the point," I mutter.

Taylor's eyes light up. "Oh my god, they were! Spill, Em. What did they look like? Were they alphas?"

I groan, already regretting ever bringing it up. "Yes, they were alphas. And yes, fine, they were attractive. But that just makes them worse."

"How so?" Taylor asks, leaning in with interest.

"Because..." I struggle to find the right words. "Because they know they're hot, and they use it. All smirks and cocky attitudes and stupid nicknames."

"Nicknames?" Taylor's grin widens. "They gave you a nickname already?"

I feel my face heat up even more. "It's not—look, it doesn't matter. The point is, I have no interest in alphas right now, especially not a whole pack of them."

Taylor's eyes widen. "Wait, they're a pack? Em, that's?—"

"Don't," I cut her off. "Don't start. I know what you're thinking, and it's not happening. I'm not interested in a relationship, let alone with multiple alphas who probably think figure skating is just twirling around in sparkly outfits."

Taylor opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, our mom appears, balancing a tray of steaming mugs.

"Hot cocoa for my girls," she says, her smile warm and inviting. "What are you two whispering about over here?"

"Nothing," I say quickly, shooting Taylor a warning glance. The last thing I need is to unleash Mom's not-so-subtle desire for me to "pack up" again. She means well, but she just doesn't understand that not everyone wants the same things she has.

"Just catching up," Taylor adds smoothly, accepting a mug with a grateful smile. "Thanks, Mom."

Mom hands me a mug, and I wrap my hands around it, letting the warmth seep into my fingers. "Well, don't let me interrupt," she says, but there's a knowing look in her eye that makes me squirm. "I'm just happy to have my babies home for the holidays."

As she walks away to distribute the rest of the cocoa, I can't help but feel a pang of guilt. I know I don't visit as often as I should, but my training schedule is demanding, and every time I come home, I feel the weight of expectations pressing down on me.

"You know," Taylor says softly, "it's okay to want both."

I turn to her, confused. "Both what?"

She gestures vaguely at the scene before us—Dad at the grill, flipping what I'm sure are the traditional (and traditionally awful) Cornish game hens, Mom fussing over the kids, aunts and uncles and cousins all mingling and laughing. "This. A family, a pack. And your career."

I snort, taking a sip of my cocoa to avoid responding right away. The rich chocolate coats my tongue, a comforting taste of childhood that does nothing to soothe the ache in my chest.

"It's not that simple," I finally say. "You don't understand what it's like out there, Tay. The competition, the pressure. I can't afford distractions."

"Is that what a family would be to you? A distraction?"

Her words hit a little too close to home, and I find myself staring into the flames, watching the embers dance and flicker. Is that what I really think? That love, companionship, the warmth of a pack—that it's all just a distraction from my goals?

I didn't used to. Not until Jake made me feel like it was all a zero-sum game and I had to pick and choose.

"I don't know," I admit quietly. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just not cut out for it. Maybe I'm not the kind of person who gets to have both."

Taylor's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. "Em, you're one of the most driven, talented people I know. If anyone could make it work, it's you."

I want to believe her. God, do I want to believe her. But as I look around at my family—at the life I left behind to chase my dreams—I can't shake the feeling that I'm standing on the edge of two worlds, unable to fully inhabit either.

"I'd rather be alone forever than give up my dreams," I say, and it's the truth. As hurt as I was when Jake made that ultimatum, there was a part of me that felt… relief. But is that really the only option? Being alone, or sacrificing everything at the altar of a one-sided relationship?

Taylor doesn't push, and for that, I'm grateful. We sit in companionable silence, sipping our cocoa and watching the fire. The laughter of the kids rings out, punctuated by the sizzle of meat on the grill and the low murmur of adult conversation.

And despite myself, despite all my protests and walls and carefully constructed reasons, I find myself wondering. What would it be like to have all this—the family, the love, the sense of belonging—and still keep my passion, my drive, my dreams on the ice?

The image of four frustratingly handsome alphas flashes through my mind, unbidden. I push it away, but not before a treacherous part of me whispers, What if?

I shake my head, banishing the thought. No. I made my choice. I'm here for a week, to see my family and practice for my competition.

That's it.

No distractions, no complications, and certainly no packs of attractive, arrogant hockey players.