36. Lachlan

Ice scuffs under my skates as I pull to a stop. I lean against the boards, arms crossed, watching as the boys toss pucks around, their laughter bouncing off the arena walls. It's a mesh of sounds before the real deal. Emma and Keith will be here soon enough. She isn't expecting it, but Keith wanted to surprise her with it, not give her a chance to prepare, to show him what she's made of. I think she'll do great, but Colin has his doubts about her. He expects her to know everything in and out, but to me, that doesn't matter. Yeah, it helps, but all she has to do is focus on the back end of the game. The business side and leave the managing and playing to us.

The rink is alive with the buzz of pre-season training. Jerseys flash by in a blur of colour, each player a bolt of lightning ready to strike. You can almost taste the expectation hanging in the air. We're all here with something to prove, but me and Keir? We've got our eyes on a prize that's not just about the game.

"MacLeod! You planning on joining us, or are you just gonna warm the boards with your arse?" Keir shouts, stick slapping the ice.

"Keep your skates on, I'm coming!" I push off the boards and whizz towards him. This is home, where every worry melts away—except for the one with fiery red hair and a body that would make a grown man weep.

"Alright, lads, let's do this like we mean it!"

"That's it, MacLeod!" Keith's voice booms behind me, announcing their arrival, and he claps his hands loudly. "Show your new boss what you're made of!"

Grinning at each other, we zip around the rink, sticks clacking, pucks flying—a whirlwind of energy and ambition. Every pass, every shot, is more than just practice; it's a statement. We're the Warriors, and we've got our sights set on victory this season again. Failure is not an option.

"Nice shot, MacLeod!" Grant calls out after I snipe one top shelf where grandma hides the good biscuits. It's nothing fancy, just doing what I do best, but it feels like scoring the winning goal when I know Emma's eyes might just be on me.

"Thanks, mate!" I call back, grinning widely. There's no room for self-doubt here, not with the season breathing down our necks. We've got a point to make, and I'll be skating at the front, leading the charge. For the team, for the Nessie side of town, and one hundred per cent for Emma too.

"Let's keep it moving, boys!" Colin shouts. The sound of the siren blares, signalling the start of the next drill, and we're off again, a flurry of motion, ready to battle it out.

"You'll need to move faster than that." Keir teases, skating past with a wink.

"Watch and learn, lad," I reply, pushing off into a glide. This dance on blades is second nature, and the banter's just part of the rhythm.

"Eyes up! We've got royalty watching today!" Jokes aside, the lads straighten up a bit as we all give Emma a quick salute before we re-focus.

"Showtime, boys," I mutter, but loud enough for a few nearby chuckles.

Emma's gaze scans the ice, and it's like she's tallying our worth with those sharp blue eyes. I push off a little harder and skate a little faster. Maybe if I shine bright enough on the ice, she'll notice more than just my stats.

"Remember, lads, look alive out there!" I call, clapping my hands together, sending a spray of ice crystals into the air. It's not just another practice; it's a proving ground, and Emma Thornton is the one we're aiming to impress.

The whistle blows, slicing through the crisp air. The drill is simple enough: weave through cones, pass to the winger, then drive to the net for a return feed. But today, it feels like the Championship is on the line.

"MacLeod, you're up!" Colin bellows, and I nod, feeling every muscle coil ready to spring.

I take off, stickhandling the puck with quick flicks of my wrists. Each cone is an opponent I sidestep, a blur in my peripheral vision. The puck might as well be glued to my stick, obedient to every nudge, every deceptive move I make.

"Nice moves, Lachlan!" Keir shouts, but it's Emma's eyes I want on me.

I snap a crisp pass to the winger and dart toward the goal. The puck comes back to me like we're connected by an invisible string. One touch to settle it, then a quick shot. The puck slams into the back of the net, and the sound is pure satisfaction.

The boys are hooting, fists bumping my shoulder pads, but I only half-hear them.

I cast another glance toward Emma, hoping she caught the performance, hoping she saw more than just a hockey player—hoping she saw someone striving to impress not just her, but the whole town that loves this team. I skate back to the line, breaths coming out in white puffs, ready to do it all again.

"Looking good, Captain," one of the rookies pipes up, his eyes wide with respect and envy.

"Thanks, kid," I say, slapping him on the back. "Keep your eyes peeled; there's more where that came from."

"Next drill, let's go!" Coach yells, and I'm already moving, already planning the next play. I'm in my element, and I'm not letting up. Not today.

"Keir, mate, you're up!" I shout as I tap my stick against the ice. He's been solid all morning, but I can tell he's got more in the tank. He is out to impress as well, and we aren't leaving this practice until Emma sees us for who we really are in this team we love. The team that she now owns and wants to make a success.

He grins at me, that lopsided smile that says he's about to pull something slick. "Watch and learn, Lachlan."

I lean on my stick, watching as Keir takes a position for the face-off drill. He's calm, like he's not even trying, but then the puck drops, and he's a whirlwind, stickhandling like it's second nature. I cheer when he pulls off a neat deke, leaving his opponent grasping at air.

"Smooth, Drummond!" I call, clapping my gloved hands together. But there's no way I'm letting him have all the glory.

"Coach! Set us up, will you?" I skate over, nudging Keir with my shoulder. "Fancy going head-to-head?"

"Thought you'd never ask," he replies, eyes sparking with challenge.

Also, it means Emma's eyes are on both of us at the same time.

We line up, sticks at the ready, tension coiling in our muscles. The whistle blows, and we're both lunging for the puck, a flurry of movement and grunts. I can see Emma out of the corner of my eye, standing now as she watches intently, getting into the atmosphere.

"Come on, Lach, show me what you've got!" Keir teases, jabbing his stick in to swipe the puck.

Sweeping the puck away, I send it flying towards the net. It's a close call, but it hits the post, and I laugh. Keir's giving me a run for my money, and it's exhilarating.

"That was almost too pretty, fuckface," Keir chuckles, skating back to me for another round.

"Almost doesn't count," I shoot back, my chest light with the banter. This is what it's all about—pushing each other to be better, having a laugh while we're at it.

"Your turn to impress," I say, tapping his pads with my stick. "Let's see if you can actually hit the net."

He winks and gets into position.

"Nice shot!" I admit when Keir scores, nodding my approval.

As the final drill sets in, I feel every muscle aching. A couple of weeks off is too much in this high-energy, high-impact sport. I'm getting tired, but it's the kind of exhaustion you wear like a badge of honour. Coach has us on shuttleruns now, back and forth across the rink, and every cell in my body screams for reprieve. But I won't give in—not when there's something to prove.

"Push, Lachlan, push!" Coach bellows, and I do. Each stride cuts deeper into the ice, driven by sheer willpower and the burning need to show Emma what I'm made of. Around me, my teammates pant and push, too.

The buzzer sounds, signalling the end of practice, but I take one last lap at full tilt. My lungs are blazing, but as I glide to a stop, spraying ice chips in a wide arc, it's worth it. Worth it to see the nod from Coach, the thumbs-up from my mates, and a hint of a smile from Emma as she claps hard with her dad by her side, whispering in her ear.

"Nice hustle, Captain," Keir grins, bumping my shoulder as he skates past. It's all the reward I need. Well, that and the chance to prove myself to Emma. But that's a game that's only just begun, and I'm playing for keeps.

"Lachlan, think fast!" Grant yells. I whip around just in time to catch a rogue puck flying at my head.

"Nice save, Captain!" The guys bang their sticks against the boards in salute, and I laugh. This is what it's all about.

"Alright, lads, who's up for a little crossbar challenge to wrap things up?" I suggest, knowing full well it's going to stir up the competitive beast in all of us.

"Bring it on!" Keir bellows, already lining up his shot. The puck zings through the air, dinging off the crossbar with a satisfying ping.

"Top that, Lachlan!" he says, a challenging glint in his green eyes.

"Challenge accepted." I line up, feeling the familiar weight of the stick in my hands. The puck flies off my blade, hitting the crossbar dead centre, then ricochets straight up before landing gently on top of the net.

"Show-off!" one of the guys jeers, but it's all in good fun.

"Hey, if you've got it, flaunt it!" I reply with a cocky grin, skating over to retrieve the puck and then skating around to where Emma and Keith are sitting, discussing something in hushed tones.

"Keith. Emma," I call out. "What did you think?"

Keith chuckles, rises, crosses over to me, and gives me a hearty clap on the shoulder. His face is full of pride, the kind that only comes from being part of a team you love. "Solid effort, Lachlan. You lads are looking sharp."

Emma's eyes sparkle with amusement. "Not bad, Captain. Not bad at all."

I give her a lopsided smile, feeling pride and relief. "Just wait until we're in season. We'll really knock your socks off."

She raises an eyebrow. "I look forward to it."

The team starts to disperse, heading towards the locker room with that post-practice buzz. Keir lingers by the boards, his gaze flicking between Emma and me before he finally speaks up.

"Fancy grabbing a bite? Celebrate a good practice?" He asks, his tone is casual but hopeful.

I glance at Emma, wondering if she'll join us, too. She catches my look and shrugs with a small smile.

"Sure, why not? I could use some food after watching you lot work up an appetite."

Keir beams. "Great! The Thistle pub has some great grub."

"I'll see you there," she says.

We wave as we make our way to the changing rooms, exchanging a grin, knowing we've got her on side. For now.