The Zamboni comes out onto the ice, and the camera continues moving around the arena, pausing on the sea of Warriors fans who have their faces painted. On a regular day, seeing that level of joy and support for our team would put a smile on my face, but not today.
“You want us to kidnap her?” Hudson deadpans, shifting on the couch to turn and look at Darcy over the backrest. “Seriously? After everything she’s been through? Why don’t we just club her over the back of the head and tattooMonarchsacross her chest while we’re at it.”
The camera starts to pan out past the penalty boxes, getting close enough that a blonde head catches my attention.
The silence from the other two would be troublesome if my blood pressure wasn’t starting to cause a headache.
The camera never quite paused long enough for me to get a good look, only a glimpse, but I am positive I saw her. Lunging forward, I reach for the remote and rewind all the way back to the painted faces and then press play again, thumb hovering over the pause button.
As soon as the blonde head is on the screen, I hit pause, satisfaction burning through my veins.
“She’s not there,” I mutter, focus unwavering from the paused Oakley on my screen with the very empty seat next to her. I barely hear my own words over the thumping of my pulse in my ears.
“Emery has made her choice, we have to respect that. Maybe it works out with the hockey player, and maybe it doesn't. All we can do is be here for her when she needs us. We need to be her village,” says Hudson, borderline scolding the others, but truly, I don’t give a fuck.
“She’s not there,” I state more firmly, the extra volume high enough that their conversation pauses. Cutting a quick glance in their direction, I gesture at the screen with the remote. “Oakley is there, but no Emery.”
All three of their heads snap in the direction of the TV.
Every other seat on the screen has a person in it, making the gap next to Oakley very noticeable. I’ve paused her as she is smiling at something on her phone, and I have my fingers crossed it isn’t a message from Emery, asking her about snacks or something.
“Her location still hasn’t updated.”
Shifting my attention to Xavier, the hope forming in my chest deflates a little.
“Could she have turned her phone off?” Hudson asks cautiously, like he is trying to defuse a bomb. He side-eyes Xavier before continuing. “She knows you watch her phone, right?”
Xavier grunts in acknowledgement. “Yes.”
“So, maybe the reason it’s not updating is because her phone is off. She could have left the arena without us knowing. She could be on her way—”
The very quiet ping of the security panel, followed by the turning of the handle, has all of us swiveling to stare at the hallway that leads to the front door.
My stomach swaps positions with my heart and lungs as I become aware of the blood rushing through my veins. Slowly, I stand, water bottle hanging from my fingertips as several quiet steps reach our ears.
Every inch of my body feels like it is overheating as Emery appears, expression uncertain, one hand clutching at the strap of her backpack. And even though she’s in jeans, a hoodie, and sneakers, with a cute pink beanie on her head, she’s still an absolute vision.
We all stand there, staring at each other, her gaze flicking between the four of us. Emery shifts from one foot to the other, and the movement makes my brain kick back into action.
She’s here.
She came.
She chose us.
“Emery—” I start, but she cuts me off, raising a hand that is filled with several folded sheets of paper.
“I want to discuss our contract.”
Chapter 89
Emery
My heart is fucking pounding.
Like, I legit think I might pass out. Or throw up. Or both.
They are standing there, staring at me.
