7. Emma

Chapter 7

Emma

I watch the beginnings of the warm-up from the stands, feeling the excitement and nervousness bubbling in my chest. This friendly match is supposed to be a chance for our teams to let off some steam, but with Taran on the ice and the rivalry between him and Lachlan, I'm sensing it might be anything but friendly.

"Emma," my dad's voice interrupts my thoughts as he plonks down beside me. "How's it going?"

"I'm guessing you know Colin left, so Lachlan is interim coach right now. It's a mess, Dad. Not what I needed." I glare at him as if this is all his fault.

He chuckles, which just infuriates me. "I do know, but you're doing fine." He gestures out at the ice where Lachlan and Taran are now exchanging what looks like some very heated words. Wonderful .

I sigh. "Any chance you could come back part-time to sort this out?"

He pats my back warmly, a sad look on his face, and I feel terrible for offering him the one thing he can't have. His health is way more important than me and my woes. "Keep your chin up, lass. You're stronger than you think."

As he gets up to mingle with some old friends, I spot Keir skating towards me. He has that slightly awkward smile on his face that makes my heart do funny little flips.

"Hi, Emma," he says through the plexiglass, his breath fogging up the barrier between us.

"Hey, Keir," I reply, leaning closer so we can talk without shouting. "Everything okay out there?"

He follows my gaze over his shoulder to Taran and Lachlan, who are still going at it. "It will be." He gestures for me to come closer.

I frown and move my face closer to the glass. "What is it?"

He leans his forehead on it and smiles.

I smile back, and all my problems hide themselves away for a moment. I lean my forehead against his through the glass and squish my nose against it. He does the same and we laugh as we kiss. I don't care who sees it. I really don't. I'm done worrying about this. I want everyone to know.

When we pull back, Jamie is staring at us and then over at Lachlan, who is chuckling away to himself as if he finds this whole thing amusing, and then he shouts for his lads to huddle up, or whatever the fuck it's called.

"See you later," Keir murmurs.

I nod, knowing I want him tonight in my bed so we can get over this hurdle that seems to be the elephant in the room. Not that I want to force it, but I'm ready, so I hope he is, too. Watching his graceful movements as he skates away, I look up at my office. I should be up there trying to organise a new coach, but down here, where Lachlan and Taran look like they're about to slam each other off the ice to orbit Jupiter, I can't move my arse off this plastic seat. I don't know how my being here watching will ease that tension, but I'm hoping maybe it will be enough so that things don't get physical.

The referee's whistle pierces the air, signalling the start of the game. I glance back to see my dad, now comfortably seated with his old friends, reminiscing and laughing about their own hockey days. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to tear my eyes away from him and focus on the ice.

The puck drops, and immediately, the rivalry ignites like someone just poured petrol on a bonfire. Taran and Lachlan clash almost instantly, bodies slamming against the boards, sticks clattering. It's a rough start with pure, unfiltered competition.

Keir gets hold of the puck and makes a break for the goal, weaving through players with that effortless grace that catches me off guard. He's determined, focused—his awkwardness completely vanishing as he becomes one with his task. It's hot as fuck. I feel my cheeks flush as I remember our moment through the glass.

Then, in a blink, Taran intercepts Keir's path with Lachlan not far behind. Keir spins away and passes the puck to Lachlan, who takes a shot—blocked by Castle Arrows' goalie at the last second. The crowd groans in disappointment.

I hug myself tighter as I watch Lachlan exchange heated words with Taran again. They're practically nose to nose now, and even from here, I can sense this is way past the normal levels of rivalry. It strikes me suddenly how this might be about me, but then I shove that egotistical thought aside with a grimace and hunker down to keep watching.

The air is tense on the ice, and I can hardly sit still. The game rages on with fierce intensity, each move brimming with raw determination. Our team is keeping up, thanks to Lachlan's guidance and Keir's relentless energy, but Castle Arrows isn't giving in either.

The game resumes, and Lachlan takes control of the puck. He manoeuvres it skilfully down the ice while Taran shadows him closely, their rivalry evident in every glance and shove. Just as Lachlan prepares to make another shot at the goal, Taran barrels into him with full force.

The collision sends both men crashing into the boards with a sickening thud. The crowd gasps collectively, and my heart leaps into my throat. For a moment, everything seems to slow down as I watch Lachlan struggle to get back on his feet.

Keir rushes over, helping Lachlan up as they exchange quick words—no doubt swearing up a storm about Taran's dirty play. The officials intervene, separating the players before things can escalate further. It's clear this match has turned personal.

With a deep breath, I force myself to stay calm. My thoughts race as I contemplate my next move. This isn't just about winning or losing—it's about keeping our team together and making sure no one gets seriously hurt. The lines between personal and professional are blurring faster than I can keep up with.

As the game continues, I notice Taran's gaze flicking towards me every now and then. His blue eyes burn with an intensity that tells me there is more to this than just hockey, and it makes my gut twist with unease.

The game blurs by in a frenzy of skates, sticks, and shouts. Keir finally scores, and the arena erupts in cheers. It's enough to break some of the tension, and for a moment, I allow myself to breathe again.

During the next pause in play, Lachlan skates over to the bench for a quick word with the assistant coach, who looks about as confident in his ability to do his job as I probably do. Lachlan catches my eye and gives me a reassuring nod, despite the gloved hand on his side. Even bruised and battered, he looks every bit the charismatic leader I've come to respect and love.

Just as I'm about to relax in my seat again, I feel a presence beside me. "Dad," I murmur. "Do you know something I don't?"

"Whatever do you mean?" He gazes at me innocently.

Now I know something isn't right here.

"Well, for one," I say, glancing back at the ice where the players are lining up for the faceoff, "you seem awfully relaxed, considering Lachlan and Taran are tearing each other apart out there."

He chuckles a deep rumble that makes me feel like a little girl again, safe and protected. "Emma, lass, this is just part of the game. You've got to learn to take the rough with the smooth."

I snort. "Sure, but this feels a bit more personal than your average hockey scuffle."

Dad's gaze shifts to the rink, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watches the players. "Maybe it is. But you know what? That's not necessarily a bad thing."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "How do you figure that?"

"Because," he says with a knowing smile, "it means they care. About the game, about winning…"

I roll my eyes but can't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "You always did have a knack for turning everything into a life lesson, didn't you?"

"Old habits die hard," he laughs.

Back on the ice, the tension is still visibly coming off the two players in waves and it's making the rest of the teams edgy. Lachlan and Taran continue their heated exchanges, with Keir taking on a more controlled role. He's meant to be the enforcer, but right now, Lachlan has taken that upon himself.

Keir breaks free from the pack again, his movements fluid and fierce. He's like a predator on the hunt, his focus unwavering as he barrels towards Castle Arrows' goal. The crowd holds its breath as he lines up the shot.

With a deft flick of his wrist, Keir sends the puck sailing towards the net. Time seems to freeze as it arcs through the air; the Castle Arrows' goalie dives, but he's a split-second too late. The puck smacks into the back of the net with a satisfying thud.

The arena erupts in a cacophony of cheers and boos—our supporters going wild while Castle Arrows' fans groan in dismay. Keir's face lights up with triumph as he raises his stick in celebration, and for a moment, I forget all about the tension on the ice. My heart swells with pride for our team.

But then reality crashes back in as Lachlan and Taran collide again, this time more violently. They're practically wrestling now, gloves coming off as they throw punches. The referees scramble to pull them apart, but it's like trying to separate two rabid dogs.

"Oh, bloody hell," I mutter under my breath.

I turn to my dad again, but he's already standing, his eyes fixed intently on the chaos unfolding below us. "Stay here," he says firmly before making his way towards the penalty box.

As much as I want to follow him, I know better than to disobey when he uses that tone. My stomach twists with worry as I watch him disappear into the crowd.

The referees finally manage to separate Lachlan and Taran, both of whom are sporting vicious scowls. They're escorted to their respective penalty boxes amidst a chorus of jeers and cheers from the spectators.

Keir skates over to where I'm sitting and shakes his head, shrugging as I mouth "What the fuck is going on?" at him.

My gaze finds my dad, who is having a stern word with Lachlan, who looks like he is being told off by the headmaster. It suddenly occurs to me that my dad has no business being here and doing that. It's my job.

Gulping back the fear that I have to go down there and not only tell my dad to get lost but berate Lachlan for being a cock on the ice, I pull those Bridget Jones's up and march down the aisle, storming up to my dad and tapping him on the shoulder. "Get out of here before I call your doctor," I growl at him before I dismiss him completely and throw Lachlan a look that could kill a houseplant.