Page 130 of Face Off
“Bad breakup?”
“Something like that.”
Maverick steps closer. He crowds my space, eyes holding mine. “Did he lay a finger on you?”
“What?” Hudson asks from my left. “Who put a finger on her?”
“Someone hurt Emmy?” Ethan pulls off his gloves. “Who the fuck was it?”
“Hell, no. We ride at fucking dawn!” Grant yells, and Seymour pats his shoulder.
“Maybe we ride in the next ten minutes, G.”
“My ex who I played with in the ECHL. He moved to the AHL, and the Wildebeests called him up to play tonight,” I rush out, telling them all the truth.
“Did he hurt you?” Maverick asks, lethally low.
“No.No. He wasn’t nice, but he never put a finger on me.”
“What did he say? What did he do?” Maverick yanks off his helmet and tosses it at the wall. There’s so much intensity behind his eyes, I almost stop breathing. “Tell me, Emerson.”
“He said a lot of things… That the only reason I got anywhere on the team was because my old coach wanted to sleep with me. That I was only signed because management liked how I looked. He joked—” I shake my head. I can’t finish the next part.
“What. Did. He. Say?”
“He joked that he was going to let my teammates come over and do what they wanted to me while I slept. That I was going to be passed around the locker room so everyone could have their fill.” A sob bursts out of me. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying. I don’t want to make this weird. I promise I have control over my emotions.”
Out in the stands, the fans scream in anticipation of the game. The starting lineup music begins to play, but inside our tunnel, it’s deathly quiet.
“Come here,” Hudson says, the first to speak, and he pulls me into a hug.
I sink into the comfort of his embrace, and it feels good to be held by someone I look to as a brother. To know he has my back and he’s here for me, tears and all.
“I’m going to kill him,” Maverick whispers. “I’m going to rip each one of his limbs from his body until he’s nothing but a pile of fucking bones.”
“What position does he play?” Hudson asks, and I wipe my eyes.
“Left winger. I replaced him on the starting line, and that’s when things went south.”
“That’s our girl,” Seymour yells, and I’m close to bursting into tears again.
“We’re going to take care of him,” Ethan says, and he puts a hand on my shoulder. “We’ve got your back, Emmy.”
“Yeah,” Grant adds. “You’re ours now.”
“If he comes within four feet of the goal, I’ll shove my stick down his throat,” Liam says, and from him, it’s the equivalent of a love poem.
“You all really don’t have to?—”
There’s a tug on my arm, and Maverick pulls me toward him. He cups my cheek and drops his head so his forehead presses against my helmet. “Do I need to remind you about the things we have to do and the things we want to do?”
“No.” I swallow. “I remember.”
“And you also remember that I take care of what’s mine, right?” he asks, lower this time.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I do.”
“Good.”
