Chapter Two

Emma

The bar's warm glow welcomed me as I pushed open the heavy wooden door. The buzz of laughter and conversation filled the air, and I felt the tense muscles in my neck and shoulders begin to relax a little as I walked inside. Tonight, I wanted to escape, to forget the pressures and expectations that seemed to suffocate me at every turn. The noise, the bustle, the anonymity of the bar would have been the perfect refuge for me if only everyone didn't already know who I was—Sawyer Steele's little sister.

"Hey, Emma!" Greg, the bartender, called out, his smile as warm as the room. "The usual?"

"Not tonight, Greg," I replied, managing a weak smile. "Surprise me."

He nodded, already mixing up something as I settled at the bar. The place was packed, as it always was on Friday nights. Groups of friends clustered around high tables, couples nestled in cozy booths, and a few lone souls like me sat at the bar, lost in their own thoughts.

I sighed, tracing the rim of the glass Greg placed in front of me. Tonight, I wanted to be someone else, even if just for a few hours. I wanted to forget the constant comparisons, the endless pressure to live up to my brother"s name. Sawyer Steele—the golden boy. The star athlete. The pride of our family. And me? I was just Emma, the quiet, nurturing one who never quite measured up.

Sawyer had always been the favorite. Our parents practically worshipped him, their eyes lighting up whenever he walked into a room. They lived and breathed hockey, and Sawyer's success on the ice was their crowning achievement. The countless trophies and accolades he brought home were displayed like holy relics in our house, a constant reminder of his greatness. Every time I stepped into that living room, it was like walking into a shrine dedicated to my brother. Thank God I'd finally completed my degree in early childhood education and got a job that paid enough for me to move into my own apartment.

My accomplishments, of course, were mere footnotes in the family narrative. Sure, Mom and Dad were proud of my work as a preschool teacher, but it was never with the same fervor, the same pride they had for Sawyer. Teaching young children was a noble profession, at least to me, but in my parents' eyes, it was nothing compared to the glory of hockey. I'd lost count of the times I'd overheard them talking about Sawyer's latest game, their voices brimming with excitement, while my achievements were acknowledged with a polite nod and a half-hearted "That's nice, dear." I still wasn't sure they'd taken notice when I moved out last summer.

I sipped my drink, the sharp taste of gin and lime refreshing. I glanced around the bar, hoping to spot my brother. He had invited me out tonight, saying it would be good for me to socialize more. He was probably right, since I was an introvert by nature and usually preferred to stay home, curl up on my sofa with my cat Snickers, and binge watch Netflix on Friday nights. The bar was packed tonight though, and finding Sawyer here would be like locating a needle in a haystack.

As I scanned the room, my eyes landed on a corner table where a guy sat alone, nursing a beer. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't quite place him. His shoulders were broad, his dark hair slightly tousled. There was a quiet intensity about him, a brooding air that set him apart from the noisy crowd around him. I felt a strange pull toward him, a curiosity that made me want to know more.

But before I could decide whether to approach him, someone jostled me from behind. I lurched forward, the contents of my drink flying onto nearby patrons before it hit the floor and shattered into a million pieces. In the blur of motion, I stumbled into the crowd, tripped over my own feet and lost my balance, arms flailing. Panic surged through me as I braced for impact.

"Whoa!" a voice exclaimed, strong arms catching me just before I hit the ground.

I blinked and looked up, finding myself squarely in the lap of the handsome guy I'd been watching. Embarrassment washed over me as I scrambled to get up. Talk about a faux pas. This was definitely not the impression I wanted to make, and I might as well kiss any chance I had with him goodbye.

"I'm so sorry," I stammered, feeling my cheeks heat up. "I didn't mean to…"

"It's okay," he interrupted, steadying me with a gentle grip on my waist. His brown eyes were the color of dark chocolate, and I melted under this gaze. "Are you alright?"

I nodded, pushing a stray lock of blonde hair behind my ear. "Yeah, I just…lost my footing I guess."

He helped me stand, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. "No harm done. It's not every day a beautiful woman falls into my lap."

I laughed, the sound a bit shaky. "Well, I'm glad to hear you're not holding it against me."

As I finally regained my composure, I got a better look at him. His eyes were now filled with a mix of amusement and curiosity and a small smile played about his full lips. His olive complexion, high cheekbones, and Roman nose made him seem exotic, and I wondered if he was of Italian or maybe Spanish descent. Up close, there was something undeniably attractive about him, a rugged handsomeness that made my heart skip a beat.

"I'm Emma," I said, offering a tentative smile.

"Leo," he replied, taking my hand. His grip was firm but warm, and a strange flutter ran through me.

"Nice to meet you, Leo," I said, feeling my smile widen. "I'm really sorry about that. I'm usually more graceful, I swear."

He chuckled, the sound deep and genuine. "No harm done. Can I get you another drink as a thank you for making my night interesting?"

I felt a spark of interest. "How about I buy you a drink instead, as an apology for the impromptu acrobatics?"

His eyebrow raised, intrigued, but he waved his hand in the air, brushing off my offer. "You don't owe me anything, Emma. And I'd never let a lady buy."

We maneuvered through the sea of patrons to the bar and placed our orders. Greg handed us our drinks, and I felt a bit giddy at the unexpected turn of events.

"Sorry for the mess I created back there," I said to the bartender, wrinkling my nose. "I'd be happy to clean it up."

"Nah, don't worry about it," he replied. "I've already sent Jenna over there. Trust me, this isn't the first time anyone's ever dropped a glass."

"Thanks," I said gratefully.

"I think I see an empty table over there," Leo said, jutting his chin to the left. "Join me?"

"Sure," I agreed.

"So, what brings you here tonight?" Leo asked after we'd taken our seats.

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Just needed a change of scenery, I guess. I was supposed to meet my brother here, but I haven't seen him yet. He recently moved back to Denver after spending the past few years in Minneapolis."

"Really?" Leo asked. "What does your brother do?"

I nodded and took a sip of my cocktail. "He's a hockey player. Sawyer Steele? You might have heard of him."

Leo's expression darkened for a moment, and I felt a pang of worry. Did he know Sawyer? I hoped it wasn't something bad.

"Yeah, I've heard of him," he said, his tone guarded.

I winced inwardly, sensing I'd touched a nerve. "You're a hockey player too, right? You look familiar."

"Yeah," Leo said, the word heavy. "Leo Giordano."

Recognition dawned on me, and my heart sank. Leo Giordano. The Denver Warlords player Sawyer had accidentally injured in that infamous game nearly a year ago. The memory of that night flashed through my mind. The brutal clash, Leo lying on the ice, blood pooling under his leg as the crowd screamed in horror. After the melee, I remembered the meetings Sawyer's PR team had called with our family to coach us on how to talk about the incident in order to salvage his reputation in the public eye. No one seemed very concerned about Leo, but then again their teams had a long rivalry and I suppose it was just assumed that he was being well cared for.

"Oh, right," I said, my voice soft. "I remember now. You were in that game with Sawyer."

"Yeah," Leo repeated, his jaw tightening. "That game."

I bit my lip, feeling a surge of guilt. "I'm really sorry about what happened. Sawyer…he can be a bit intense."

"That's one way to put it," Leo muttered, bitterness lacing his words.

I sighed, my shoulders slumping. "He just gets really competitive. I'm sure you are, too."

"Maybe. But what he did…it wasn't just competitive. It was dangerous."

"Well, I'm really glad you're okay," I said, desperately wanting to change the subject. "I heard you're coming back to play again, and now that Sawyer's been transferred to play for the Warlords, hopefully you guys can make amends."

"We'll see," Leo conceded, though his tone was skeptical. "But right now, I'd rather talk about something else. Like what you do when you're not falling into strangers' laps?"

I laughed, the tension easing slightly. "I'm a preschool teacher. I work at Little Blossoms, a small school near downtown. It's challenging and messy, but I love it."

"Sounds interesting," he said, sounding genuinely intrigued. "I always admired people who could do that kind of work. I can barely keep my nephew entertained for an hour."

"Well, it's more about patience and creativity than anything," I explained, feeling more at ease. "But yeah, I love children. There's something magical about seeing the world through a child's eyes, even if it means getting covered in glue and glitter most days."

Leo nodded, and for the first time since we'd started talking, I saw a genuine interest in his eyes. Despite the rocky start, I felt a connection growing between us, a spark of something new and exciting.

As the night wore on, we talked about everything and nothing. Leo shared stories from his hockey career, the ups and downs, the losses and triumphs, as well as what it was like for him growing up as one of seven children in a big Italian family. I told him about my passion for teaching and my dreams for the future including one day opening my own childcare center. The conversation flowed easily, and the hours slipped by unnoticed.

At one point, he asked about my family, and I hesitated, the familiar ache of inadequacy creeping back. "My parents…they're great," I said, choosing my words carefully. "But they've always been more invested in Sawyer's career. Hockey is their world, and Sawyer's their star. I love him, but it's hard sometimes, living in his shadow."

Leo's eyes softened with understanding. "That must be tough. Feeling like you have to compete with him all the time."

"Yeah," I admitted, my voice tinged with frustration. "I've always felt like I have to prove myself, to show that I'm more than just Sawyer's sister. It's not easy when you're constantly being compared."

Before Leo could respond, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"There you are, Em!" Sawyer's unmistakable voice called out as he approached, a wide grin on his face.

My heart sank, the bubble of connection with Leo immediately bursting as Sawyer's presence loomed over us. Sawyer wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into a half-hug.

"I see you're getting to know my new teammate," he said, glancing over me at Leo with gritted teeth.

"Yeah," I replied, trying to keep my tone light. "Leo and I were just talking."

Sawyer's grip on my shoulder tightened even though he smiled. "Emma, can I talk to you for a second? In private?"

I glanced at Leo, his expression unreadable, and nodded reluctantly. "Sure."

Sawyer led me to a quieter corner of the bar, his face serious. "Emma, you need to stay away from that guy."

"What?" I exclaimed, taken aback. "Why?"

"He's trouble," Sawyer said, his voice low. "You don't know what he's like. Trust me, Em, he's not someone you should get involved with."

I frowned, my frustration bubbling up. "Sawyer, you don't get to decide who I talk to. I'm not a child."

"I'm just looking out for you Sis," he insisted, his tone firm. "Leo's not a good guy. He's got a grudge against me, and I don't want you caught in the middle of it."

"A grudge?" I repeated, the pieces clicking into place. "This is about that game, isn't it?"

Sawyer's jaw clenched. "It's more complicated than that."

"Is it?" I challenged, my voice rising. "Or are you just trying to control everything again?"

"Emma, I'm serious," Sawyer said, his eyes pleading. "Please, just stay away from him. I'm doing this for your own good."

I looked back at Leo, who was watching us while he calmly sipped his Old Fashioned. Confusion and anger swirled inside me. Whatever the issues were between Sawyer and Leo, they didn't involve me, and I was tired of being told what I could and couldn't do.

"Maybe I don't want you to," I said quietly, my resolve hardening. "Maybe I want to decide for myself who I can trust."

Sawyer's expression softened, a mix of frustration and concern etched on his face. "Em, I just don't want you to get hurt."

"Neither do I," I replied, my voice firm. "But I need to figure things out for myself. Please, just trust me."

Sawyer sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Alright. But be careful, okay? I'm your big brother, and I can't help it if I want to protect you."

"I will," I promised, feeling a strange sense of liberation. "Thanks, Sawyer."

He gave me a reluctant nod before walking away, leaving me standing there with a whirlwind of emotions. I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and headed back to where Leo was waiting.

"Everything okay?" Leo asked, his eyes searching mine.

"Yeah," I said, offering a reassuring smile. "Just a bit of family drama."

"I understand," he said, his tone gentle. "If you need to talk, I'm here."

Thanks," I said, feeling a warm glow of gratitude. "I'd like that."

As the night continued, I felt a strange sense of empowerment. I was taking control of my own destiny, making my own decisions. Each small step forward felt monumental. And as I looked into Leo's eyes, I felt a flicker of hope that maybe…just maybe…I was starting to find my own path.