11. Emma

The next day, Drake kisses me on the forehead before leaving my apartment in the wee hours of the morning. I wake up and get in the shower. His words rattle through my brain.

How does he seem to know me so well, even when he doesn"t truly know me at all? It"s a paradox that leaves me feeling exposed, and vulnerable. The layers I"ve carefully built to shield myself from the world suddenly seem translucent, as if he has effortlessly seen through the facade I present to everyone else.

"If you continue to do what you've always done, then everything will stay the same."

Every relationship I've ever had has been the same in some way.

Zane is a narcissist with a drinking problem.

Ted is a also a narcissist who has no empathy whatsoever.

The men in between the two of them were all narcissists with a drinking or drug problem. I was finding men just like my father in some twisted way to finally feel what it's like for my father to love me. I was so desperate to understand that I could be loved, that it wasn't me that was the problem that I never truly found love.

I have a type.

I blow out a breath and feel that realization.

I'm stuck in the same cycle with men, I keep choosing the same men. Drake is so different than any of those men, but I'm still acting as though he's the same.

Anytime we disagree I'm already waiting for the reasons as to why it's my fault, as to where I'm wrong and they're innocent. Mostly, I'm waiting for reasons as to why I'm crazy and imagining things.

Drake is different.

He's shown me that, so why do I keep reacting the same way as I did with the other guys?

"I need you to see that you're more than just sex to me."

"Oof," I murmur out loud.

Those words really hit home. For so long, I thought that's all I had to offer. I still think that way.

What is this thought that I'm more, that I can be more?

It doesn't seem real.

I get out of the shower, dry off, and pull out my laptop. I start searching for online therapists. My old one is back in California and doesn't do remote sessions.

The prospect of baring my soul to a stranger in a virtual space feels simultaneously daunting and liberating. It"s a step toward unraveling the complexities that Drake"s words have illuminated, a journey to understand myself more deeply.

There's other work I could be doing too and luckily, the internet gives me access to a lot of resources. Other people out there were raised by alcoholic parents, maybe I'll dig into what they did to get past that hurt and betrayal.

I spend some time reading a few blogs where the authors were children of alcoholics who grew up in one-parent households.

Score. It's like I've written the descriptions leading up to their road of healing myself. I've lived the same life as the authors. To finally realize that I'm not alone in what I've been through is healing.

Mindfulness, yoga, and meditation were the first things I read about. The authors talk about grounding in the grass every morning to connect their energy with nature and deposit the negativity. They talk about finding a workout they enjoy like dancing, yoga, or in some cases, even cardio boxing to get out their aggression.

I have the workout parts on lock. I search for yoga classes nearby and make a note to put them into my calendar to start doing.

There is a lot about journaling with or without prompts to work through things in that way. I've always loved to write so I spend time looking for that on Amazon.

I feel good about the tools I found and will continue to look for more. I don't know that I've ever wanted to heal and get better more than I do in this moment.

I go to the gym that's in the rink and start a cardio workout. I'm lost in the music in my Airpods and focused on the burn in my lungs as I ride the spin bike.

"What are you doing in here?" Zane asks rudely as he flicks my earbud.

"Working out," I reply before putting the piece back in my ear.

He rolls his eyes and walks off.

An hour later, Syd asks me to look at the speed workout he's put together. I can hear Zane scoff before he walks off.

I go to the first practice of the day. The coach, Chase, and I are in a conversation about speed and agility and how the team has been improving.

"Why is she here? She's a washed-up figure skater," Zane snaps.

"Washed up? How do you figure?"

"She's not skating anymore, she's back in her hometown."

"You never left your hometown," Chase interjects.

"Screw you," Zane hisses. "She's toxic and drama. She doesn't need to be here. We can't learn anything from a woman."

"Zane, what"s your problem?" I confront him, my tone edged with frustration.

He smirks, the arrogance in his expression apparent. "Problem? Oh, nothing. Just dealing with the fact that some people think figure skating is a real sport."

My patience wears thin, and I refuse to let his condescension go unchecked. "We used to be friends. What happened? Why are you treating me like I"m the enemy?"

He scoffs, dismissing my words with a wave of his hand. "Friends? Please. We were never friends, just fuck buddies."

The bitterness in his words catches me off guard. It"s as if our shared history, the laughter and camaraderie we once had, mean nothing to him now. The realization stings, and a surge of frustration propels me to stand my ground.

"What"s really bothering you?"

"You being here, pretending like you're a good person. Or like we were ever friends. Friends don't do what you did."

"What did I do?"

"You dropped me as if I was nothing. Stopped talking to me, blocked me from your life when I needed you. You forgot where you came from and who made you."

I take a deep breath, steadying myself before responding. "You cheated on me. I haven"t forgotten anything. But if you"re determined to see me as the enemy, I can"t change that. Just know that I won"t let your bitterness define me."

The exchange is leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. There was a point in my life where Zane really was one of my best friends. We told each other everything, we were a huge part of each other's lives and then we weren't. I hadn't talked to him in years. He'd never treated me fantastic, but this cold, harsh Zane is triggering the people pleaser in me and I don't enjoy it.

As I retreat from the ice rink that evening, I grapple with the need to fix the problem and the realization that I'm not that people pleaser, scared little girl anymore.

Damn if she's not hard to get rid of.

"You're a trip," Zane laughs dismissively.

"We used to be friends. Can"t we find common ground, even if our paths have diverged?"

He scoffs, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Friends? Do you think we can just go back to the way things were? You"ve changed, Emma. You think you're better than the rest of us."

I nod. He's not wrong, per se. There was a point in my life when I thought I was too good to stay in this tiny town. I thought the people here were beneath me.

I don't feel that way anymore.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. You're not going to bad mouth me and try to undermine me in any way though. You don't have to like me."

Whoa. Where I had normally been a pushover, figure skating had given me a backbone, but lately, especially with Drake in my life, I surprise myself with how I stand up for myself. I'm not sure what he's doing to me, but I like it.

"You will show her respect, or you'll ride the bench," Coach interjects. "You have to swallow your pride and allow other people to help you become better. If you don't, you'll never evolve in life or on the ice."

He rolls his eyes and walks away.

"Thanks for that," I say.

"You did well to stand up to him. He's got to get rid of that ego before it destroys him."

I watch as Zane skates away. I blow out a breath and go about my day. I hope that he can figure out how to get rid of his ego and anger before it's too late.

***

My phone vibrates the next morning. Drake is lying in bed next to me. I smile as I look at him sleeping peacefully. I grab my phone and see that Kade has texted me good morning.

Kade—his name dances on the edge of my consciousness like an elusive refrain. He"s become a constant presence, a figure who appears in the periphery of my world, disrupting the equilibrium I"ve carefully maintained. The incessant buzz of my phone interrupts my focus, a series of messages from him lighting up the screen.

Hey Emma, hope your day is going well. Got a minute to chat about some potential collaboration ideas?

Collaboration ideas—he wraps his intentions in a cloak of professionalism, a veneer that masks the undercurrent of flirtation beneath. I respond, keeping my tone neutral and businesslike.

Sure, Kade. What do you have in mind?

His reply comes almost instantly, the virtual dialogue dancing between the lines of business and playful banter.

I was thinking we could meet up for coffee. Discuss ideas face to face. What do you say?

The invitation hangs in the digital air, pregnant with implications that go beyond professional collaboration. Despite my reservations, a part of me is intrigued by the prospect of a face-to-face meeting. The line between business and personal blurs, and I find myself agreeing.

***

The charming coffee shop becomes the backdrop for our meeting. Kade is already seated when I arrive, a playful smile on his face that makes it clear this is more than just a business discussion.

He is so hot.

My eyes roam up and down him slowly. Blonde hair, blue eyes, dimples when he smiles and a body that makes him look like a Greek God.

I bite my bottom lip thinking about what he looks like shirtless.

"You look beautiful," he says softly bringing me back to reality.

As we exchange pleasantries, the conversation seamlessly shifts from work to personal matters.

"So, Emma," Kade says, his gaze lingering on mine, "tell me more about yourself. What do you enjoy doing outside of figure skating?"

I keep my answers vague, unwilling to reveal too much. "Well, I also enjoy reading and spending time with friends. I'm really enjoying teaching."

"Any guilty pleasures? Secret talents? I"m sure there"s more to you than meets the eye."

"Maybe I"ll share some secrets if our collaboration goes well."

The easy banter continues, the atmosphere charged with a subtle tension that goes beyond the surface of our words. Kade is persistent, skillfully blending flirtation with genuine interest, and I find myself navigating the delicate dance of maintaining boundaries while indulging in the attention he showers upon me.

"You know, Emma," he says with a playful grin, "there"s something about you that I find intriguing. It"s not just about business anymore, is it?"

"Kade, I'm engaged. I thought this was completely professional."

He chuckles, a twinkle in his eyes. "I"ve got tickets to a concert this weekend. Interested?"

"I can't, I promised one of my students I'd go to a production she's in this weekend."

He responds with an understanding tone, asking for a rain check.

He doesn't stop there; he's continuously asking for dates outside of our business meetings. He's working to get a head coaching position and is asking me for input on practices, conditioning, and so on.

He's also got a line on some sponsorships for me, personally, to help bring in a little extra income now that I'm retired. It turns out that his family comes from a long line of hockey and skating.

"We own a line of skates; it's doing really well but I think having you as the face of the company will help push us over the line. The young girls idolize you, the guys fantasize about you, and the moms who are buying the stuff think you're relatable."

"Okay," I laugh. "What does that entail?"

"Photo shoots, commercials, meet and greets. You up for that?"

"I won't get back on the ice. I'll lace up, but I will not skate. I can't risk any more injuries."

"Understood. We can definitely do this without that. We have a grand opening in a store in Wisconsin in a few weeks. What do you say the two of us go out for that?"

"Together?"

"Yeah, Drake is more than welcome to come—if he doesn't trust you, that is."

"He trusts me. We trust each other." I blubber.

He nods. "My assistant and a few other people will be there for the opening too. My family as well."

"Oh, so it's a big thing not just you and me in a hotel room together."

"It can be arranged if that's what you want."

I chuckle. "Nope, I'm happily engaged."

He nods and shrugs indifferently. "Great, I will work out an itinerary and a plan and we'll get moving on it."

"I didn't say yes. I need to talk to my fiancé about all of it."

"That's a red flag if you need to ask for permission."

"No, it's not."

"Listen, I think we've become friends over the little time that we've known each other and as your friend, I don't think your relationship is healthy. I see the way he talks to you, and treats you. You deserve better."

"You don't know anything about my relationship," I breathe and roll my eyes.

I stand and grab my phone and purse off the table.

"Where are you going?"

"I have another meeting," I lie.

He calls after me, but I keep walking.

"I see the way he talks to you."

How does he talk to me? Am I ignoring red flags?