“No. I suck at sports.”
“Well, at least you didn’t say you can’t play hockey because you’re a girl. Because girls can totally play hockey.”
“I like watching it.” She scoops up some yogurt.
Emerie strolls out then, dressed in jeans and a black sweater that hugs her curves. Her hair’s on top of her head in a messy bun and she’s wearing her glasses, which I discovered are real on the trip, although she has several pairs. I like these ones—big, roundish clear plastic frames.
“Oh, you’re eating,” she says on seeing Cat’s bowl. She looks at me. “Thank you.”
I nod. “Coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
I know she doesn’t eat breakfast but has to have her coffee with lots of sugar and real cream. Things I don’t usually have, but which I now keep on hand. She gratefully accepts the big mug from me and takes a mouthful.
“Do you like math, Owen?” Cat asks me.
“Yeah, actually I do.”
“Cool.” She finishes her yogurt and jumps off the stool at the counter. Without asking, she locates the dishwasher and places her bowl and spoon inside. Good kid.
“Are you ready?” Emerie asks her.
“I don’t want to go to school today.”
Yikes. I remember Emerie telling me about when Cat was little and refused to go to school because of her anxiety. Jesus, I hope this isn’t triggering more problems for her. I meet Emerie’s eyes and see the hint of worry there.
But she smiles sympathetically. “I know. But there’s no reason not to. Owen’s going to drive us this morning.”
Cat pouts, then shrugs. “Okay.”
Whew. “Let’s scat, alley cat.” I say.
Emerie directs me over to the west side, and we make the drop off.
“Now what?” I ask.
“We’re going over to Vince’s. I mean, I’m going over to Vince’s. I’ve had enough of this. Cat’s unhappy. I have to do something.” Her chin sets with determination.
I put the SUV in gear and say nothing. She’s not going alone, but we’ll argue about that when we get there.
I navigate the old, narrow streets full of delivery vehicles and other traffic and park near the apartment building. When I get out, she pauses. “You can wait here.”
“Nope.” I shut my door and round the vehicle to hold hers. She slides out, her gaze fastened on my face. I squeeze her hand. “I’m coming with you.”
“No.” Her eyes widen. “You can’t.”
“I can. I am.” I brush my mouth over hers. “I’m doing this. Don’t argue.”
“Owen…” Her eyebrows slant downward, her look pleading. “I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will. You have totally got this.”
One corner of her mouth kicks up.
“I’m only here for backup. Let’s go.”
We enter the building, and she breezes right past the doormen.
“Uh, Ms. Ross…wait. You can’t—”
“Change of plans, Anthony!” She waves at him and steps into the elevator.
I follow. The doors slide closed. “How are you going to get in?”
She holds up a key, a nefarious look on her face. “This.”
I realize what she’s done. “That’s Cat’s.”
“Yep.”
I grin.
We enter the big apartment. It’s quiet, and Emerie pauses in the foyer then lifts her chin. She walks down the hall and pauses at an open door. “Hi, Vince.”
I’m standing behind her so he can’t see me.
“What the hell…how did you get in?”
“Never mind. We need to talk.”
“Fine.”
He didn’t even ask about Cat. Motherfucker. Heat runs through my veins and my jaw clenches.
Emerie is amazingly calm. She walks farther into the room, which I guess is Vince’s home office. For now, I stay out of sight.
“Cat was so unhappy she ran away,” Emerie says, her tone gentle and compassionate. “Don’t you care about that?”
“Of course I do.”
“You need to let me move back in,” she continues quietly but firmly. “I’m the one who looks after her. What is your plan for school and homework and activities? I know Klara helps, but she can’t do all that.”
“It’s handled.”
Emerie says nothing for a moment and my heart squeezes. He’s telling her they don’t need her. That must hurt.
“Why are you doing this?” Her voice contains genuine curiosity. “This seems excessive. I know you want me and Roman to get back together, but I’ve told you…it’s not happening.”
For long seconds, he’s silent. “You’ll feel differently about that when Owen Cooke is gone.”
I freeze. When I’m gone. Not if I’m gone. Jesus Christ. I press my hand to my forehead.
Another pause. I wish I could see them.
“You won’t do that,” Emerie says, but I pick up the faint tremor in her voice.
“Why not? Hockey players are expendable. There are all kinds of players waiting to get their break in the NHL.”
He’s not wrong. Still, that burns. Sweat breaks out under my arms.
“He’s a good player, Vince. And a good man. He’s an important part of this team. Would you really mess that up and hurt the team because of this? Why?” She pauses. “Is it because of money?”
He doesn’t answer that question, saying, “You have an inflated sense of his worth. Did that come from him?”
I narrow my eyes, hands curled into fists.
“It’s reality,” Emerie says. She sounds so confident, I’m impressed. “And I’m sure Brad Julian would tell you that, too.”
“Sure.” Vince’s tone is dismissive. “But I’m in charge.”
“What would convince you? Not making the playoffs?”
“We will make the playoffs.”
“Maybe? Maybe not. By then it’s too late to fix it. You’re out until next year. The playoffs are a big source of revenue for the team and the league. You can’t take a chance on that.”
Wow. She’s done some homework.
“You can’t do it, Vince. If this gets out…it’s really bad PR. The league wouldn’t be impressed at all. Remember all those times we went to the commissioner’s place for dinner?”
She fucking knows the commissioner of the league?
I swipe sweat off my brow.
“You’re not going to tell him,” Vince says. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I will.” Her voice is clear. “You already know I don’t care what people say about me. I’ll tell this whole vile story. The league has enough issues right now with inconsistent reffing, and a player accused of revenge porn.”
Yikes. She knows about that? Not our team, but still a big embarrassment for the league. Has she been studying? I can’t help the little smile that tugs my lips. My little hockey nerd in training.
“The last thing they need is a scandal about a player being benched or traded because the owner’s pissed that the player is dating his stepdaughter.”