Page 14 of Down to Puck

I don’t know whether to groan or laugh. In the end, I do a little of each.

“Ugh,” I bury my face in my hands. “I had no idea. There will be no living with her after this.”

Emerson stands up, holding a hand out to help me to my unsteady feet.

“Come on, Yasmín. I promise I’ll be gentle.” If Sawyer’s eyes are alight with mischief, Emerson’s gaze is burning with it.

The skates feel out of place on my feet. Despite the custom fit, I can’t help but feel like I belong back on solid ground.

“Don’t let me fall, alright?” I whisper, leaning hard on Emerson as I try to find my balance on the blades.

“I promise, Yas.” Emerson’s eyes shimmer in the moonlight. “You’re safe with me.”

I nod, too focused on holding on for dear life to say much else.

Emerson’s hands are sure and steady as he guides us out onto the ice. He’s skating backward now, leading me out into the rink with him. His body is relaxed, his movements gentle.

“You’re doing great.” He smiles, and for a moment I’m worried the ice will melt under me. “Just walk for now. It’s like marching. One foot up, push off a bit. There you go.”

Emerson’s voice is soothing, almost hypnotic.

There’s a quiet peacefulness out here in the middle of a frozen pond. I’m lost to the world— nobody else exists at this moment.

No, that’s not true.

The other skaters, the people milling about the plaza, even Sawyer and the rest of the team fade away until only Emerson exists here with me. He captures all of my attention and demands all of my focus.

He’s so beautiful that it hurts.

Years of sports medicine have taught me a lot. The thought of Emerson playing hockey for the rest of his life— and what that will do to the man in front of me— is enough to choke me with emotion.

Maybe it makes me a hypocrite. I’ve seen Emerson’s chart. He’s fast enough to avoid getting hit— usually. But his most recent injuries are serious. Head wounds are nothing to fuck with. How long can he continue playing such a rough sport before something bad happens?

I don’t think I could take it.

“Good girl,” Emerson encourages gently. “That’s great.”

His words bypass my ears and hit me straight in the gut. I can feel the heat creeping up my cheeks and down my spine, pooling like lava in my lower belly.

“This isn’t so hard,” I say with my best cheeky grin.

“Oh, so I can let go?” Emerson speeds up.

“Absolutely not,” My eyes go wide as I reach forward, trying to snatch his hands before he can pull free. “Don’t let go!”

I feel my balance waver, but he’s right there. Emerson catches me as I pitch forward, crushing my face against his muscular chest. I laugh again, exhilaration and fear coursing through my veins.

“I’ve got you,” Emerson murmurs. “You’re safe with me, Yasmín.”

I look up, and I’m lost.

There’s something about the cool depths of Emerson’s eyes that draws me in. I never doubt his sincerity. Emerson is the most serious man I’ve ever met, but there’s a light and life in his eyes that I want to see every day for the rest of my life.

“Come on,” Emerson says, tugging on my hands to separate us a bit. He smiles and it warms me from the inside out. “We’ve got to at least get you skating on your own two feet. I won’t have you embarrassing me out there.”

* * *

We skate for hours.

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