Page 49

CHAPTER 49

MY CIRCLE

KAYDEN

I haven't been able to stop thinking about Emory in the two weeks since I brought her home from Boulder. She went back to work before I was cleared to even practice, and being stuck at home all day without her there felt like being held in solitary confinement—if I ignore the fact I was in a five-thousand square foot penthouse with lots of natural light and everything I could ever want.

I'm surprised Emory didn't file for a restraining order given the number of texts I sent her those first couple of days. Or when I scheduled a check-up for an imaginary hamster just so I could see her. Thankfully, the Sting's team doctor cleared me to return to light activities before I could finalize my plan to rent a cat for a kitty colonoscopy.

"You see that blue line out there, ref?" Emory's voice cuts through the noise of the arena and pulls me right back to the game. "Maybe you should try watching it next time. I told you, Kayden." She leans over so our shoulders are touching. "I swear that ref's out to get us. Maybe we need to show him how we handle these things in the big leagues."

I spin on the bench to look at her, but she's glaring at the ref, snarling as she points from her eyes to him. "Um, this is the way we handle it in the pros. We whine, but then we get on with it."

Her mouth is still curled in a sneer when she faces me, and it takes all my willpower to not kiss her right now. I don't care that we have a bench full of ten- and eleven-year-olds beside us, or a packed arena watching our team play for the Salt Lake City Youth League title.

"Really?" she asks, apparently unaware of how close I am to pressing my lips against hers. "Of all the fights you guys do, none of them are ever with a referee?" Noah is sitting on the other side of Emory, his eyes growing wider.

"Oh my god, no! Absolutely no fighting with a referee, ever!" I say it loud enough so Noah and everyone else on the bench can hear me.

When I'm sure there's no risk of a ten-year-old leaping over the boards to start a brawl with a forty-year-old volunteer official, I lean in so my mouth is just an inch away from Emory's ear. "After we win this game, I'm going to show my girl how a pro celebrates a championship."

"Oh yeah?" The way she drags her tongue across her lip makes me want to rip the whistle from the referee's neck and blow this game over right now. "But my man hasn't won a championship in the pros yet."

"That doesn't mean I haven't fantasized about it. And about celebrating with you. Again and again and again. Everyone knows this is our year. So consider this a practice run for what's coming in June."

Emory leans back in obvious surprise. "June? Are you serious?"

"Yes. How do you simultaneously know so much and so little about hockey?"

"I thought for sure we were getting close to the end."

"Don't worry. The closer you get to the end, the faster it goes."

"Unlike this game." She turns back to the ice. "Come on, Yeti! Steer the puck toward the boards. And watch your gap, Mia!"

It's the final period, and we're up by one, but there are still seven minutes left. I know as head coach, I should watch the game, but I can't take my eyes off Emory.

I spent years sure that I was just like my dad. That any woman who got too close would end up hurt. But I just hadn't found the right one. Now I have, and I know that I would destroy myself before I ever did a thing to hurt her.

"Why are you staring?" Emory's uneasy chuckle snaps me to attention. "Did I do something wrong? Should I have told them to run the one-two-two instead? I thought the box plus one would be better since?—"

I can't resist the urge to kiss her for a second longer. I brush a kiss on the corner of her lip. I intend it as a promise of what I'm going to do once we're home, but when I feel the heat of her lips, I can't stop. I press my mouth to hers again. Then again. Tracing my tongue along her lips so she'll part for me, and I moan when she does.

She's the only thing I ever want to taste. And I would devour her right here if it weren't for the "oohs" coming from the stands behind us and the giggles coming from the other end of the bench.

"You are so sexy when you're talking defense," I whisper to her. "Now, let's go, Yeti! You heard Coach H. Box plus one. We got this!" I clap so hard my hands sting.

The other team is throwing everything they can at us now. It seems like they have control of the puck nearly ninety percent of the time. When they pull their goalie with two minutes left, my heart and my stomach both decide to drop from my body.

But from the very first practice, I knew this team was special. They're not the best hockey players. I doubt if even one of them goes on to play for a major college program, let alone the pros. But they love this game and they've never once forgotten that it's supposed to be fun.

So while the rest of us in the arena are sweating out every drop of liquid in our bodies, they're on the ice celebrating the little things. Like the way Sophia high-fives Noah after he clears the puck from the zone. Or the way they all form a semi-circle and dance with Madison in the net when there's a stoppage in play. It's what the game should be, but it's what so many adults forget.

With thirty seconds left, I take Emory's hand, and we watch in silence as Madison turns aside shot after desperate shot. In the final second before the horn sounds to end the game, she squeezes my hand so hard I wonder if I'll need to go for x-rays. Then she leaps up, screaming.

The kids on the ice toss their sticks toward the sky. The bench explodes as players leap onto the ice, scooping up the loose sticks and launching them again. This arena barely holds two thousand people, but the cheers behind us are as deafening as what I hear from the twenty thousand fans at The Hive. It takes me a few seconds to realize I'm jumping up and down too. Then I leap over the boards and turn around, holding my hands out for my girl.

She eyes my outstretched arms but then shakes her head. "I'm terrible on ice, and these shoes might not be very practical for that. But you go ahead."

Before we left home, I told her I've never had a coach wear heels to a game in all my years of hockey. She just smiled and told me I'd obviously never had a coach as fabulous as her. She was right.

"This is your team too, and there's nobody else in the world that I want to celebrate this with. You're coming out here. It's not even slippery."

She plants her hands on her hips and gives me a look that would intimidate a rabid dog. "It's ice, Kayden. Ice is, almost by definition, slippery. I am not falling on my ass in front of all these people."

I cast a quick glance at the packed stands over her shoulder. Everyone I invited is here, and that makes me so nervous I'm trembling.

"Fine, it's kind of slippery," I tell her. "But I'm going to be right beside you, and I won't let you fall."

She snorts and gestures to herself. "Once I start going down, you won't be able to stop this momentum. "

"I'll tuck that bit of information away for later." I wink. "But I mean it, Nyx. You're coming out here with the team, and I will never let you fall. Ready?"

"To embarrass myself in front of a bunch of parents? Damn you, Kayden."

She inches toward the gate and draws in a breath. Before her foot even touches the ice, I slip my arm through hers, holding tight as she takes her first tentative steps. I've seen baby birds take bigger steps, but I don't say a word.

When we make it a few feet away from the boards, she stops us. "Is your goal to keep me from falling or to crush my arm? Because, mission accomplished on both fronts."

I wince and let go. Then I panic as I imagine her slipping, so I grab her arm again, gentler this time. "Sorry. Better?"

She laughs under her breath and takes a few more steps that can only be measured on the atomic scale before stopping again. Her arm clamps on mine, and my heart races, thinking that she's falling. Then I see what she's looking at.

To our left, a man rolls a black carpet from the gate to the center of the ice.

"They roll a carpet out? You knew they roll a carpet out for uncoordinated and stylish people like me, and you didn't think to share that?"

Still holding on to her arm, I move in front of her. And quickly learn that's a mistake. I've just put myself in range for all kinds of bad things she could do to me. And it looks like she wants to do every one of them.

"Maybe? But I couldn't wait. Sometimes it feels like I spend a quarter of my life on this stuff." I motion at the ice beneath our feet as I lead her the last few steps to the safety of the carpet. "Maybe I wanted a moment where I shared that with my girl?"

"Oh my god, you are such a colossal?—"

"Coach B, Coach H, come on!" Madison and Noah attack us from the sides, pulling us down the carpet to center ice where the youth league officials are putting the finishing touches on the trophy presentation area. Neither one of them seems to realize they just saved my life.

Emory casts one last murderous glare in my direction as we reach center ice, but before she can stab even a single fingernail into me, the rest of the team swarms us, causing a fresh round of cheers from the audience.

Emory starts to look up at the crowd, but I nudge her shoulder to distract her. During the game, she was so focused on the action that it was easy to keep her from turning around and looking into the stands. It's going to be more of a struggle now, but I only have to make it for a few more minutes.

"I have an idea." I lean in like I'm telling her a secret. "Let me have your engagement ring."

She stares at me like I just asked her to detach her hand.

"Only for a couple of minutes. It'll be hilarious. Follow my lead when the time comes. Trust me."

"What if I don't want to take it off?" Her eyes are pleading, and it's almost enough to get me to give in.

"I love you, Nyx, and you love me. Five minutes without that ring won't change that. Please?"

She brushes a fingertip over the ring, hesitating a moment, but finally, she slides it off and hands it to me. "If you lose it, I will randomly put horse laxatives in your meals for the rest of your life."

"We're in the middle of an ice rink. It's kind of hard to lose anything here, but look." I drop the ring into the pocket of my jeans. "These are deep, useful pockets, not like the pockets society decided women should have. Another of the pervasive forms of patriarchal oppression women have to deal with every single day."

"Okay, Coach Steinem." She glances over my shoulder. "I think they're waiting for us."

I fix her with my eyes. "'Don't think about making women fit the world—think about making the world fit women.'"

"Christ, I fucking love you," she whispers as she takes my hand.

When I turn around, every eye is on us, and I nod to the director of the Salt Lake City Youth League.

He calls our captain, Sophia, first. She duckwalks forward, shakes his hand, but then waves off her trophy, insisting that everyone else get theirs before her. As she moves to the back of the line, she catches my attention and forms a C over her heart with her thumb and forefinger. Feeling like my pride could melt the ice, I return the gesture—one team captain to another.

After everyone has worked through the line, the director raises the team trophy. It's nearly the size of Madison's leg pad. The kids erupt with excitement and yank Emory and me to the front of the line.

"Great season, Coach Bouchard." He sets the giant trophy at my feet and extends his hand to shake mine. "You guys really turned things around. Congratulations."

But I just point to my left. "Tell it to this lady. Coach Hopkins is the brains. I'm just a pretty face."

Emory's cheeks are red as she twists to face me. "Don't you dare do that, Kayden. Don't you dare pretend that you're not the smartest person in this arena."

"Second smartest. And even that is debatable until I fix the dumbest mistake I've ever made."

I take hold of her shoulders and rise to my full height so my eyes are even with hers. "Remember that call I got before the game?"

"You mean the one that made you glow like a kid on Christmas morning before turning secretive and moody when I asked? Nope, doesn't ring a bell."

"I wasn't moody. I just had a lot to think about. It was my agent calling." I hesitate as a wave of nausea ripples through my gut. "The Sting's owners were as incensed about that article as you were, and they've been working on a contract to show their commitment to me. They submitted the final proposal this morning."

"Kayden, that's great! You get to stay with your family." She reaches out to hug me but stops short. Her grin vanishes as she studies my face. "That's what you wanted, right? So why do you look like this is bad news?"

" You're my family, Nyx. I know this contract renewal is what I originally wanted. But there never would have been an article if the owners hadn't raised doubts about me in the first place. Then again, if they hadn't, you wouldn't be here now."

"What are you saying?"

I steady myself for a beat. "Look at everyone who's here." I turn her toward the stands and wrap my arms around her from behind.

"If you mean Lily, Brant and Chloe, I already know. They were sitting right behind the bench. I think Brant yells at the ref more than I do."

She tries to turn back to me, but I hold tight. "It's more than them." I rest my chin on her shoulder.

"Oh, some of your teammates are here too."

" All of my teammates are here. Plus Coach and Elijah, along with the whole training staff."

"Oh my god," she gasps. "There's Mom and Dad too? Why?"

This time when she spins to face me, I don't stop her. "This is my circle, Nyx. All of them plus these kids on the ice with us." I take her hands in mine. "Each of these people is inside my radius. Not some reporter who wants to build himself up by tearing me down. Not those anonymous commenters. Not even the Sting's owners."

"What are you trying to tell me?" Her bottom lip trembles.

"That these are the people who matter to me. But you're the one who's right here."

I trail a fingertip along her bare ring finger as I drop to a knee.

Then I drop to both because this woman deserves to have me on both of my knees.

"I never did this for real. That's the mistake I need to fix."

I give the signal to the league director, and just like we rehearsed, the arena dims until the only light is the soft glow of the emergency lights. The opening notes of "Reflections" from Mulan play over the arena's speakers.

Emory's eyes widen. "What is this?" Her voice is trembling and unsure.

"Your dad said you sang this song all the time growing up." My voice isn't much steadier than hers, and I swear my heart rate doubles every second.

As the music swells to the chorus, green and white lights dance across the ice, reflecting off the tears on Emory's cheeks and shimmering like stars.

"I see you, Nyx. I know you. And I love you for who you are."

My heart is pounding now as I pull her ring from my pocket and hold it at the tip of her finger. "If you want me to turn down the contract, I will. I'll give this all up, because none of it matters without you. I can't have a circle without a center. Just please say that you'll always be my center."

Her tears fall to the carpet as she looks down at me. "As long as you'll be mine." She extends the tip of her finger through the ring, and I slide it the rest of the way. Back where it belongs. Where it's going to stay forever.

"But I have one condition," she whispers.

I take her hands again as I stand. "Anything," I promise her.

"Don't ever think about leaving the people you love because of me. Sign the contract. I might be your center, but these people are your family too. A circle with no radius is a black hole."

It feels like the weight of the entire arena vanishes from me with her words. I kiss the tears under her eyes. "Who's the nerd now?"

She stares at me for a second. "Still you. Always you."

"Fair." I agree. "Ready to go home?"

Emory puts her arms around my neck, and her body presses tight to mine as she kisses me. Opening myself for her is just a reaction now. Our tongues briefly dance before she leans away. "Not yet."

"Now," I plead, but she just shakes her head .

"We have a team that was promised pizzas after the game, win or lose."

"Maybe they forgot." I sneak a glance over my shoulder and find them lined up and watching us like this is a movie theater. "Okay, they didn't forget. After pizza?"

"After pizza, I'm yours," she says so only I can hear her. "All night."