Page 3 of Grace on the Rocks

“Oh, I do,” he said, looking at her. “It’s not that. I just hate all the awkward conversations that people expect to have with you.”

Emma grazed her bottom lip in order to keep a retort from spilling out of her mouth. He obviously didn’t recognize the hypocrisy of his statement.

“So I wanted to escape.”

Emma wasn’t sure if he was finishing a previous thought or was compelled to add it on for her benefit.

“And how’s that going for you?” she asked him, and then prayed to God that he didn’t use some kind of cheesy pick-up line like, ‘Well, the view’s definitely better.’

Surprisingly enough, he lifted his right shoulder and let it fall before angling his torso in his direction. “It could be better, I suppose. I don’t know. If I was at the beach, I’d rather be lying down on towel, soaking up the sun, maybe reading. I’m not a very social person. I kind of like to do my own thing.”

Once again, Emma refrained from asking just why, if he was as unsocial as he claimed to be, he was he talking to her, initiating the forced conversation he had just said he wanted to avoid. “You’re a hockey player though,” she pointed out. “Aren’t you supposed to interact with your fans and the press and all that stuff? You know, be famous?”

Kyle surprised her again by rolling those clear, blue eyes. “Okay, I know this is going entirely cliché, but fame isn’t why I got into playing hockey,” he told her, and for whatever reason, she decided to believe him. “I like the feeling I get when I’m on the ice, when I’m throwing an opposing player into the wall, when I’m shooting the puck. I do the press stuff because that’s what the job requires me to do. I interact with the fans because without them, I wouldn’t get to live my dream. But really, if the money and fame and all that other stuff didn’t come along with playing, I’d still play.”

“You seem very dedicated.” Because, really, Emma wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to such an unexpected bout of passion.

He didn’t comment on Emma’s observation and instead, shifted his weight before saying, “So are you really into hockey? You come to all the games and you have been, for a while.”

“Oh no, it’s not me,” Emma said in a rush, feeling her face heat up at the prospect that he actually noticed her presence. He didn’t think she was some kind of stalker, did he? “My dad’s the fan. I just go to the games with him.”

Kyle gave her a look – a cross between confused and interested – and cocked his head to the side before crossing his arms over his chest. “It sounds like you’re very dedicated to your father,” he said and then chuckled. “That came out wrong, didn’t it?”

Despite her best efforts, she found herself chuckling along with him. “No, I get what you’re saying,” she said. “Um, yeah, I guess you could say that. We’re both busy but we try to make time for each other, and somehow, our commonality is hockey. I grew up coming to games and events and stuff. I guess it’s just how we bond.”

“You’re lucky,” he commented. “My father didn’t want me playing hockey, thought it would be a waste of my time. Even now, even though I’m playing for an NHL team, he still sees it as a habit rather than a career.”

“I’m sorry.” Emma knew her voice sounded off; whenever people told her personal things, she could never find the right things to say to make them feel better or supported. Instead, she stuck with formal apologies or silence, hoping it would ease her discomfort at the personal nature of the conversation as much as it would ease the speaker.

Kyle shrugged, shaking his head as though it was no big deal. “I have my mom, you know?”

Obviously the question was rhetorical, but the words stumbled out of Emma’s mouth before she could stop them. “No,” she murmured. “I don’t know.” She glanced up and saw that he was about to say something much like her own tacky apology, and if anything made her feel more uncomfortable than people sharing their intimate details of their life, it was being on the receiving end of one of those bullshit apologies. Which was why, under normal circumstances, she didn’t talk about things like that.

“You kind of sound like you have an accent,” she said, hoping to change the subject before he could say anything. His eyes caught hold of hers, and for a moment, Emma felt as though he could see through her cool exterior, as though he knew what she was doing.

“I’m from Canada,” he replied, causing Emma to release a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.

He knew what she did and let her get away with it.

Before anything else could transpire between the two, Kyle’s name pierced the low murmurings of the crowd that had gathered. Both figures turned to see the only player Emma recognized by sight and actually knew the name of; Matt Peters, the Gulls’ team captain. She could see the many tattoos crawl up and down his arms, sliding in and out of the loose material of the v-neck shirt he was wearing as gestured for his teammate to come over to where he was at.

“There are some people who want to meet you,” he called.

Kyle nodded but didn’t respond. He turned to Emma and gave her a grin that seemed to have some sort of effect on her heart because it jumped out of its normal beating pattern. “It was nice to meet you, Emma Winsor,” he said, and now that he mentioned it, Emma could detect the subtle Canadian accent laced through his voice. “I’ll see you around.”

Though it was a statement, Emma still felt compelled to answer. “I’m sure you will,” she said.

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