"Yeah." I laugh.
"Don't they annoy you? My brother is so annoying," she grumbles.
"My brothers annoy me all the time."
"Even though you are big?" she asks.
"Yep."
"Oh no. That sucks." She pouts. "Okay, break's over. I'm gonna go try skating backward."
"Good luck!" I call out after her.
She wobbles back onto the ice, and I make the mistake of glancing toward center ice. Emmett is looking right at me. He's got a kid hanging off each arm, both giggling as he pretends they're weighing him down. I wince a little, worried about his shoulder. But his eyes are on me. There's something warm in them. Something that makes my stomach flip. He grins. Not thecocky smirk I'm used to, but a genuine smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. I look away first. I have to.
The clinic wraps up with photos and autographs. Kids swarm the players, shoving jerseys and pucks at them to sign. Parents thank the organization profusely. Collette runs around getting last-minute content while I pack up my unused supplies.
"Good turnout." Emmett's voice comes from behind me, surprising me as I nearly knock over a bottle of antiseptic. I turn, he's off the ice now, still in his skates, but with his helmet tucked under his arm, his hair is damp with sweat, curling slightly at his temples. There's a flush across his cheeks from the exertion. He looks unfairly good.
"Seemed like the kids had fun," I say, aiming for casual.
"They're great." He leans against the boards beside me. Watching the last of the families filter out. "This is my favorite event of the year. Reminds me why I started playing in the first place."
"Yeah?" I glance at him. "And why was that?"
"My dad flooded our backyard one winter to make a rink." His voice goes soft with memory. "Taught me and my sister to skate. We'd stay out there until our mom dragged us inside for dinner." He shakes his head. "I was probably one of those kids once. Some local player showed up at my school who seemed like a god to me. Made me believe I could do it too."
There's an openness in him right now that catches me off-guard. No walls. No heat. Just ... Emmett.
"You're good with them," I say. "The kids."
"They're easy. No bullshit. No politics. They just want to have fun and learn." He looks at me sideways. "Unlike adults."
My brows pull together. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." But he's smiling again. That real smile. "Just that kids say what they mean. They don't play games."
I think about the little girl telling me he keeps looking at me. Kids say what they mean.
"That little girl. The one with the braids. She said you told her falling is how you learn."
"It's true."
"She also said you keep looking at me."
His smile fades into something more intense. "Also, true."
My heart stutters. "Emmett ..."
"I know." He shifts closer, not touching, but close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off him. "But I can't ..."
"Can't what?"
"Stop looking at you." His voice is low. Just for me. "Thinking about you. Wanting ..." He cuts himself off.
There are still people around. Parents. Staff. A few lingering kids. Anyone could see us. Anyone could notice the way we're standing too close. I should step back. I should make an excuse and walk away.
Instead, I say, "Watching you today. With the kids ..."
