42. Emma

I walkarm-in-arm with Selena down Milwaukee Avenue, passing eclectic storefronts. After the nightmare of a week I've had with losing my job with the Blizzards, this afternoon of retail therapy is exactly what the doctor ordered. With the help of the guys, Selena finally convinced me to leave the apartment.

We pop in and out of the quirky boutiques and vintage shops that give Wicker Park its artsy flair, and slowly I can feel the stress and anger that's been eating away at me start to melt. It's certainly helped along by Selena's infectious smile and the promise of some fabulous new outfits.

"Ooh, girl, this dress would look amazing on you!" Selena tugs me towards a rack displaying a slinky blue number that is sexy but still professional enough to wear to an office. "The color is perfect for your eyes."

I run my fingers over the silky fabric, picturing how it would hug my curves. But I hesitate. "I don't know, Lena. Where would I even wear something like this? It's not like I have a job to go to anymore."

Selena's having none of it. She grabs the dress and thrusts it into my hands.

"Em, you can't think like that! Besides, you never know when your hockey hunks are going to want to take you out for a night on the town. Now go try this on, doctor's orders!"

Selena gives me a playful swat on the butt, and I can't help but laugh as I retreat to the dressing room. She always knows just what to say to snap me out of my funks.

I strip down and slip the cool fabric over my shoulders. As I turn to look in the mirror, a smile spreads across my face.

The cornflower shade makes my blue eyes pop, and the cut hugs my figure in all the right places. I feel confident for the first time in days.

Just as I'm doing a little twirl, admiring myself from all angles, my cell phone starts buzzing from my purse.

Unknown number.

My stomach clenches. Could it be news about my job? I grab for the phone with shaking hands and hit answer.

"Hello, this is Emma." My voice quivers despite my attempt at sounding calm and professional.

"Hi, Emma, this is Monique from Vincent Dale's office," a polite female voice responds.

My pulse rushes at the name. Vincent Dale, the Blizzards' general manager. A man I haven't spoken to directly since I was a little girl visiting Dad at work, who I've been dodging the entire time I worked under his organization.

What could he possibly want with me now, after everything that's happened?

Monique continues in a warm but businesslike tone. "Mr. Dale would like to meet with you this afternoon to discuss an important matter. Would 3 p.m. at his office work for your schedule?"

"Y-yes, of course. I'll be there," I stammer, my mind racing with possibilities both exciting and nerve-wracking.

Monique confirms the details and we say our goodbyes. I stand there in the dressing room, still clutching the phone, as a tsunami of emotions crashes over me.

A soft knock at the door jolts me back to the present. "Everything okay in there, babe?" Selena calls out. "You've been quiet for a while."

I open the door, and Selena's eyes widen as she takes in my appearance. "Damn girl, that dress was made for you! But wait, what's with the face? Who was on the phone?"

I take a shaky breath. "That was Vincent Dale's assistant. He wants to meet with me. Today."

Selena's perfectly shaped brows shoot up. "The head honcho? Holy shit, Em!"

I nod, chewing on my bottom lip. "What do you think it could be about? You don't think…" I trail off, hardly daring to voice the chaotic thoughts swirling in my head.

Could the guys have found a way to clear my name? Is Vincent going to apologize and give me my job back?

Or…or what if it's the opposite? What if the guys are in trouble too, and they're bringing me in to grill me about our relationship?

The room starts to spin, and I grab Selena for support. She guides me to the velvet bench and rubs soothing circles on my back.

"Hey, hey, breathe, Em. We can't jump to conclusions," Selena says gently. "Vincent asked to meet with you in person. If it was bad news, he'd have just had Monique tell you over the phone, right?"

I exhale slowly and nod. Selena's right—I need to stay calm and not assume the worst. For all I know, this meeting could change everything.

A few hours later, I find myself standing outside Vincent's office, my heart pounding against my ribcage. I bought the blue dress, hoping it would serve as a good luck charm, and now I smooth my sweaty palms over the silky fabric.

I take a deep, steadying breath and knock on the heavy wooden door.

"Come in," Vincent's deep voice calls from within.

As I step in, Vincent rises from behind his mahogany desk, a warm smile on his chiseled face. "Emma, thank you for coming on such short notice. Please, have a seat."

I sink into the plush leather chair, my nerves on high alert. Vincent leans forward, his elbows resting on the desk, and fixes me with an intense gaze.

"First and foremost, I want to apologize for the way you were treated," he begins, his tone sincere. "What happened to you was unfair and unacceptable. Your dismissal was unjustified, and I'm deeply sorry for the distress it has caused you."

My eyes widen as I process his words. An apology? I lean in, hanging on his every word.

"Alex came to me with evidence proving that Alison was behind the leaked photos," Vincent continues, his jaw clenching with barely contained anger. "Her actions were malicious and completely against the values of our organization. Rest assured, her employment with us has been terminated, effective immediately."

Relief washes over me like a tidal wave, and I feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. My name has been cleared. I take a shaky breath, trying to compose myself.

"Thank you, Mr. Dale," I manage to say, my voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

Vincent nods, his expression softening. "Emma, I respect why you didn't want to tell me that you were working here. You know that I loved your father, very much. We fought, of course." He laughs.

I laugh too, thinking about some of the battles I used to overhear between them over player trades and team strategy. Vincent is a bulldog, but my dad had a strong personality too, and could more than hold his own. More than once, I heard my dad threaten to quit on him. But the next day, they'd always be back to having a beer together, inseparable buddies.

"When he died," Vincent starts, but then starts to get emotional. He looks away from me and clears his throat. "When he died, I promised myself that I would always help you if you needed it. But I understand why you wouldn't want my help. Why you'd want to try to make it here on your own, and not rely on your dad's reputation or connections."

I nod, licking my lips. "I wasn't trying to sneak around, Mr. Dale?—"

He cuts me off. "Please, Emma, call me Vincent."

I nod again, and keep speaking, eager to make him understand. "I don't want you to feel like I was deceiving you by not letting you know that I worked here. I just love this place so much. The Blizzards are the only home I've ever known. All I wanted, my whole life, was to come back here and be a part of this organization. And I didn't want anyone to have an opportunity to say I didn't deserve my spot here."

Vincent lets out a deep sigh. "Well, Emma, I think anyone would agree that you've more than earned your spot here. Aside from Alison, you've had great reviews from colleagues, and your work on our social channels has higher engagement than we ever could've imagined, or so I've been told. If you want it, we would reinstate you in your position effective immediately."

My whole system is flooded with relief, but his phrasing gives me pause. "If I want it? Of course I want my job back."

He cocks his head to the side. "Or, alternatively, you could take the new position we're opening up as an assistant video coach."

My jaw drops open in shock. "Assistant video coach? Seriously?" I ask, hardly daring to believe it.

Vincent nods, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Alex came to me with the idea. He says you have a brilliant hockey mind and an uncanny ability to break down tape and identify areas for improvement. He thinks you could be an invaluable asset to the coaching staff. He showed me some of your tape, and I agree, you have a natural aptitude for this work."

"I…I don't know what to say," I stammer, my mind reeling. Of course this is a dream job for me, but I meant it when I told Alex previously that I wasn't sure about it. I really don't want people to think I was given the job just because of my family.

As if reading my mind, Vincent says, "You might get people who lobby accusations of nepotism at you. Honestly, Emma, it's true that I agreed to look at your tape because of my relationship with your dad. I probably would not have taken Alex seriously otherwise. But I would never offer someone a coaching position on my team unless I truly believed in them."

I look up at him, somewhat dumbfounded. "So it wouldn't bother you, then? If people said they thought you were favoring me or being unfair?"

Vincent shrugs. "Fuck 'em. Do you think we'd be able to operate as an organization if we listened to every grumbling fan? You gotta make a choice, believe that it's the best one you can make, and go with it. Otherwise, you'll never accomplish anything. That's true for jobs, life, sports, love, everything."

I'm stunned, my mind reeling with the implications of this unexpected offer. The chance to work directly with the coaching staff, to have a true impact on the team's success…it's a dream come real.

And what Vincent said is true. I decided not to let other people's opinions stop me when I thought I was falling for four different men. It's been the best choice imaginable, the one that has given me a family again.

I refuse to cave to judgment when it comes to my love life. So why would I let it impact the decisions I make with my career?

"What do you say, Emma?" Vincent asks.

Tears of joy and gratitude threaten to spill down my cheeks. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart.

"Yes," I say, my voice strong and clear. "I accept the assistant video coach position. Thank you for believing in me, Vincent. I won't let you down."

Vincent stands, extending his hand across the desk. "Welcome to the coaching staff, Emma. I have a feeling you're going to do great things here."

After we shake hands, I practically float out of Vincent's office, my heart soaring with elation. I can't wait to share the incredible news with my guys. As I pull out my phone to call them, a text from Slade catches my eye.

It's an address I don't recognize, somewhere in Logan Square. The message accompanying it says, "Meet us here."

Curiosity piqued, I head back out to the parking lot and get into my car, setting the GPS. After driving for a while, I eventually reach a beautiful greystone house, its facade adorned with intricate stonework and a wrought-iron fence. I park and step out onto the sidewalk, my stomach twisting with anticipation.

I approach the imposing wooden front door, wondering what awaits me inside. Knowing Slade, it could be anything from a romantic candlelit dinner to a wild party with the entire team.

But whatever it is, I know it will be unforgettable.