9. Lachlan
Landing back in Inverness after cutting our holiday short, it doesn't surprise me it is raining.
"Welcome home," I mutter to Keir.
He glances up from his phone with an eye roll. "Welcome home, indeed. Rain and all."
We trudge through Passport Control and head towards baggage claim. Keir is preoccupied, but I don't bother asking him what's up. I'm too busy with my own shit. With Keith gone and Emma taking over, things are going to be challenging, to say the least. The last thing we need is this shitshow when we need to be focusing on winning again. Last season was a complete fuck-up. No one even knows what happened. We can't pinpoint the exact moment everything went into a downward slide. That has to change. We lost our edge, our drive. But with Emma now at the helm, I have this weird inkling things might just be different. Or maybe it's hope. Who the fuck knows?
As Keir and I grab our bags from the carousel, he finally speaks up, "You heard from Colin about Emma's plans yet?"
I shake my head, "Not a clue. I don't think there are any plans yet. She's not meant to be up here for a few weeks yet, so I think we need to get back to the rink for pre-pre season training. That shite from last season is embarrassing."
Keir grimaces. "Right?"
Once we've cleared customs, we head to the car park, where Keir's Range Rover waits for us. Shiny, black, and brand new, it still has that new car smell when we slide in.
On the drive back, my thoughts drift to Emma. It's time now to stop staring at her IG and start doing some proper research on this woman.
"Think she'll handle it?" Keir asks, breaking into my thoughts.
"Who knows?" I shrug, staring out the window at the passing rain-soaked landscape.
Keir nods thoughtfully. "Worst case scenario, we get to watch some fireworks."
I chuckle despite myself. "If that's your worst-case scenario, then you are some positive-arsed fucker."
"What can I say? Glass half full," Keir replies with a grin.
We settle into a comfortable silence as the car hums along the wet roads back to town. My mind drifts again, this time to how things will change once Emma arrives. New routines, new strategies – a whole new dynamic.
By the time we reach our huge, overpriced apartment that overlooks the River Ness that we share, I'm restless and itching to hit the ice again, to shake off last season's crap and start fresh. A week away has done me good, but now it's time to focus again.
Keir pulls into the underground parking and pulls to a stop. He looks like he wants to say something, but then he changes his mind and climbs out of the car, so I follow. We unload our bags and catch the lift up to the top floor. Keir heads straight for his room while I dump my stuff haphazardly in mine.
After I drop my bags, the apartment feels stifling. Too quiet and too still. Perfect place to brew in your own thoughts. I grab my keys and practice bag and head out, shouting to Keir that I'm heading to the rink. He just waves me off, absorbed in whatever's on his phone.
Chucking my stuff into the black Mustang that I just had to own, I fire up the engine and head out of the underground garage. The drive to the Warriors arena isn't far, and as usual, the rain's coming down hard enough to make you think it was winter again. But it doesn't bother me. It's refreshing. I love walking out in it. It clears my head. Pulling up into the car park, I grab my bag and climb out of the car. By the time I push open the doors and step into the chilled air of the arena, I feel more alive than I have in days.
During the summer period, the rink is usually packed out with ice-skaters of all ages and skills, skating around and around in circles, having fun, laughing and today is no different. But to me, it's my life. When I have to retire from this gig, in not as many years as you'd think, I'll be devastated.
Sitting down with the masses to get my skates on, shooting smiles at the little kiddies who recognise me and the dads who shout out and pretend they're my best friend, I drink it all in. But as soon as my skates hit the ice, it's like coming home. Gliding over the surface, doing lap after lap, dodging the beginners and watching out for the kids, I can feel all the frustration of last season melt away. The rhythm of skating is therapeutic. Just me and the ice, no distractions.
I've got more space to myself. Finally, some peace. I start working on some quick sprints and tight turns, trying to shake off the rust. Just as I'm getting into the groove, I spot someone familiar on the edge of the rink, leaning against the boards - Colin, our assistant coach.
"MacLeod!" he calls out over the clatter of skates and laughter. "Got a minute?"
I skate over, stopping just short of where he stands. "What's up?"
Colin looks like he's barely survived a hurricane. His hair's a mess, and his shirt's wrinkled. Classic Colin after dealing with any sort of admin work. "It's official. The girl is taking over. Keith just confirmed it. She'll be here sometime in the next few days."
"Few days? I thought it was a few weeks away?"
"Nah. Keith said she'll be here before the weekend."
"So, he's really doing this?"
"Yep."
"Fuck." I have to admit, somewhere not that deep down, I'd hoped he would reconsider. "Has she reached out to you yet?"
"Nope."
"Brilliant," I mutter. "Flying blind then."
Colin nods, scratching the back of his head. "Pretty much. But Keith wants us to make a good impression. So, no cockups."
"No pressure," I say with a smirk. "Guess we'll see soon enough what she's made of."
"Yeah."
With that, Colin heads off and I skate back into the centre of the rink, thoughts buzzing. This is it—new era for the Warriors. Emma Thornton is an enigma so far, but she carries our future in her hands.