Page 22 of Down to Puck

“That shot is what’s up, Park,” Emerson claps him on the shoulder. “It’s clean. Textbook. Every eye in the arena was on you.”

Parker swells at the praise. I can practically see his chest inflating as he puffs it up. Sofie spins in an excited circle before continuing with her Parker photo shoot.

I smile, shaking my head.

“But that’s the problem. Goalie saw you coming a mile away.” Emerson lowers his voice, looking at Parker with that intense turquoise gaze. “Next time you’ve got every eye on you, kid, don’t think about the crowd. Think about the team. Dump the puck. In fact— don’t take another shot tonight.”

Parker’s face falls fast, his chest and ego deflating at record speed.

“But it’s my first game not in the minors, and —”

Beside them, Sofia lowers the camera wordlessly.

“ — and you want to win it, right? We’re all tied up with ten minutes left, Parker. Start passing, or we’ll find another replacement.”

Another vicious collision sends both players limping to either side. Emerson snatches Parker’s drink and shoves him back towards the ice.

“Think that’ll work?” I ask, stepping back next to Emerson. His arm goes around me casually, like we’ve been together for years. I lean into his warmth. Even though the arena is packed, it’s still a bit chilly.

Minutes tick by, both teams waging a grueling, physical war for control of the puck. I know Emerson heard me, but his intense focus makes him slow to respond. That’s alright.

I can be patient when I need to be.

“Hope so. It’s my first time coaching, but I see a lot of myself in that kid. I’m just telling him what I wish someone had told me.”

The crowd gasps, drawing both of us to look at the ice. Somehow, Parker has the puck on a breakaway. The kid is fast. I squeeze his hand as we watch Parker line up another shot.

“Come on, kid,” Emerson whispers.

I glance away from the ice, studying the man beside me instead. The game isn’t nearly as important as he is. I can see the hurt and longing in his face. He wants to be out there, and I know he will be again. I’ll have to stitch him up again someday, and that’s ok. Emerson’s passion is one of the reasons I love him. I couldn’t ever ask him to give up the career he loves for good.

“I love you, Emerson,” I lean in, whispering against his ear.

He twists away from the game, all of his focus on me. The passion he has for hockey pales in comparison to what he’s shown me in just a few days.

“I love you too, Angel.”

He grabs my face, pulling me in close for a kiss. Around us, the crowd erupts in a deafening roar. The buzzer ticks down, the game ending with us up a last-minute point.

Neither of us see it.

We’re too focused on this perfect moment.

Emerson doesn’t bother breaking the kiss, picking me up and spinning me around as everyone around us erupts in celebration.

“Emerson! Hey, Mr. Stone! Did you see that?!” Parker skates up, exuberant as a puppy.

Emerson doesn’t break our kiss, but I see him giving Parker a thumbs up out of the corner of my eye. I can’t help but giggle against his lips, shaking my head.

“You’re terrible,” I smack him in the chest.

“Hey, I’m not the one who decided we were going to miss the end of the game.”

I shrug, sliding down his body, enjoying the feel of his hard muscles even through our clothes.

“I needed you,” I tell him.

Simple, straightforward, and true.

---