Chapter 56

Fifty-Six

EMORY

"Scottie didn't come?" I brush my mom's hand away as she attempts to push a strand of my damp hair out of my face. "I was hoping she would."

Me too.

"She couldn't." I'm eager to brag about Scottie, even if it's just to my parents. "She had to work."

"Work? I didn't realize she had a job. Though, we didn't really get to chat much about that yet. You've been so secretive about her, and your father made her uncomfortable already, so I didn't want to press."

My dad stops talking with Rhodes to interject. "I didn't make her uncomfortable."

Rhodes only came over to let me know that the bus was leaving in ten to head back to the airport, but he got caught in the Jay-and-MaryAnn trap, and now he's knee deep in a conversation with my dad about home improvement.

"You did too," my mom argues. She turns back to me, and it's clear she wants to know more about Scottie.

"Scottie is a photographer. An amazing one."

Shortly after she was asked to photograph for the clothing shop, Vivian asked her to take Nola's photos, and Georgia is begging her to take her and Matt's engagement photos plus cover their wedding. Since Scottie absolutely refuses to let me help with her brother's legal fees, I've been encouraging her to take every opportunity given, even if she doesn't feel like a "professional"—her words, not mine.

My dad pipes in again. "A photographer? Maybe she can photoshop us into your wedding photos since you didn't think to invite the family."

For fuck's sake.

"We will have another wedding with all of our friends and family. How's that, Dad?"

He thinks I'm being a sarcastic ass, but the thought of having a real wedding with Scottie walking down the aisle is too inviting of an idea. We will need a honeymoon too—wherever she wants to go.

Knowing Scottie, it'll be somewhere simple.

Which is fine with me.

"We gotta go," Rhodes interjects. He gives a clipped goodbye to my parents and rushes off.

"That one isn't much of a talker, huh?" My dad notes, staring after my captain.

"No." I shake my head. "But you should meet his daughter. She's the complete opposite."

My mom moves in for a hug, and I wrap my arms around her comforting frame. When she pulls back, she has a little glint to her eye. "Do you think you and Scottie will have kids?"

She'll definitely carry my baby one day.

The thought stuns me.

I have never felt more sure about something in my entire life.

Thinking about Scottie carrying my child in her stomach? That's a high I didn't know I could reach. I hadn't even thought about children. Before Scottie, I hadn't even thought about marriage.

"Oh, will you stop it? You did the same thing to Taytum and Ford the other day, and you freaked them out too."

My mom slaps my dad's chest lightly. "Correction. I freaked Tay out. Not Ford. He was elated by the idea."

I think to myself while my parents argue over Taytum and Ford. I now understand what my best friend was feeling when he decided to pursue my sister behind my back. He told me he couldn't help it, and now it all makes sense.

After hugging my dad, I say goodbye to my parents and tell my mom I'll call her when I figure out a good time for them to come visit again. The only reason they came to the game this evening was because it was only a few hours from home. Otherwise, they catch me on TV and call it a night.

Once I'm settled on the bus, I pull open my phone and text Scottie.

Do you want kids one day?

It feels like hours before she texts back, but it's only been a minute, if that.

That's what you text me after you just played an absolutely amazing game? Is that what you were thinking about when blocking those pucks?

I'm always thinking about you. Now answer my question.

I'm trying to decide which answer will freak you out less.

The truth. Always the truth.

A text bubble pops up while she types, and I block the conversations of my teammates out as I wait nervously. If Scottie doesn't want children, then that's okay. Understandable, even. She's been taking care of her brother for most of her life, drowning in stress, and there's a lot of trauma lingering from her own mother. Scottie would be the most amazing mom in the world. I've quietly watched her with Ellie and Nola, and I'd love nothing more than to watch her with our child. But again, if she doesn't want a child of her own, then that's okay. I'm still flabbergasted that she confided in me, but there's a sense of pride there too. I want to be there for her, and I'm so fucking proud that she purposefully let herself become vulnerable in front of me.

I do want a child one day. Only one.

My tight stomach loosens, and I blow out a heavy breath. I didn't realize how nervous I was while waiting for her to respond to me. That was worse than asking her if she'd be my fake wife.

Do you want children?

With you? Yes. I'd love nothing more than to see you carry my baby.

Stop making me blush. Plus, who said I'm going to let you get me pregnant, Olson?

Don't play games with me.

She texts back with a laughing face, but I don't respond until we're settled on the plane and waiting for takeoff. Now that I have her waiting at home for me, these plane rides seem to take longer and longer.

Why only one?

I panic after I hit send and type another message.

I'm fine with whatever you want. I'm just curious. And seriously, stop playing games. If you're going to have anyone's baby, it's mine.

A heavy dose of possession comes over me. I am so fucking greedy when it comes to Scottie. I don't even want another man to look at her.

It makes me feel guilty to admit this, but I only want one because if anything were to happen to me, I don't want the responsibility of parenthood to fall onto my firstborn like it did with me and William. I've been taking care of him for as long as I can remember, and now that I'm an adult, I know that it really wasn't fair.

My chest aches. I reread her message a few times before attempting to rectify her guilt and fear.

It wasn't fair. You're right. But William is so god damn lucky to have you, and I don't ever want you to worry about something like that when it comes to the future. You may not have the family you wished for growing up, but you do now. You have me, Scottie. In fact, you have me wrapped around your pretty little finger so tightly all I can think about is getting home to you anytime we're apart.

I let out another puff of air when another strong set of emotions hits me.

Go to sleep. I'll be home in the morning. I love you.

I love you too. Be safe. Xo

I settle into my seat and smile. Who would have thought that a simple marriage of convenience with a feisty woman who tried to exploit me in the arena bathroom would turn into this?

My shoulder aches after blocking the puck from Kane. That man has a fucking swing on him.

"Fuck, bro," I say when he skates past. "That one stung."

He snorts. "I can make it sting worse if you want."

I scoff. "Maybe if you weren't hungover, you could."

He sends me a scowl, and I laugh under my breath. He's a beaut, and everyone in the league agrees. We're lucky to have him on our team, but he has some maturing to do.

Maybe he should find a wife too.

"Olson." I turn to look at Coach Jacobs at the bench but still manage to block the next puck Kane sends in my direction.

I drop it to the ice and smile sickeningly at him. "Weak," I say before skating to the side.

Coach Jacobs nods for me to follow him, so I hand off my stick and accompany him to the locker room. When we're tucked in his office, my heart starts to beat a little faster.

"Is there an emergency?"

Coach doesn't interrupt practice often, and I instantly think that something is wrong. I'm having flashbacks from college whenever I'd get a call about Taytum and her diabetes.

"No." He sits at his desk. "Not really."

"Not sure I like the sound of that."

He holds his finger up and presses a button on his phone. "Alright, Joseph. I have him in here."

Joseph? As in my agent?

I sit up taller and start stripping some of my gear. Sweat drips down my back, and I stare directly at Coach. "Are you trading me?"

He laughs out loud. "Absolutely not."

"Then what am I doing in here with my agent on the line instead of practicing?"

"Emory." Joseph clears his throat, and my eyes drop to the phone. "We have a slight problem. We're going to need to do some damage control."

What the fuck does that mean?

"Probably a press conference?" Coach asks, directing his question to Joseph.

"For what?" I ask.

Surely someone hasn't come forward and said I tried to fuck them again. I'm married, for fuck's sake.

"For this…" Coach says, turning his computer monitor around.

There are numerous photos of Scottie.

Or should I say, Cherry.

My heart beats right out of my chest.

I start to shake in my seat.

The bones in my hands crack.

"Get that shit taken down right now," I grit.

Joseph scoffs. "The photo of your fake wife is the least of our concerns."

I pull my glare from the phone and look at Coach. Did he fucking tell him?

He shakes his head, knowing what I'm going to ask. Instead of answering, he points to the third article title.

Olson's Social Media Fluke - A Staged Marriage to a Stripper

I'm more concerned about Scottie than I am anything else at this moment. They're referring to her as a stripper, like that's all there is to her. I grow nauseated with the more titles I read.

A Disturbing Revelation about Star Goalie, Emory Olson's, Wife

Mrs. Olson or Just Another Puck Bunny?

Scottie Monroe and Her Ties to Prison

"Fucking hell." I slap my hand on the desk and shout into the phone. "Get it all taken down now, Joseph! They're making her out to be something she isn't."

"It's better than them making you out to be the bad guy," he says.

He's fucking fired.

I stand and head for my locker. I hear Coach follow after me, and in the middle of changing and grabbing my phone, he puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it a tight squeeze.

"This is the only time I'll accept you walking out on practice. You got that?"

I nod and snag my keys. On the way to my car, I swipe away all my messages and notifications because of the leak. My only focus is Scottie.

I dial her number from my car, praying to God she hasn't seen the news.

She doesn't answer, and the pit in my stomach could swallow me whole.