of itself.
Rickman eyed Lucian. “You okay with the next half?”
Lucian might as well have been made of marble. “Of course.”
The next half was a show of running drills, trick shots, and what I thought of as fancy skating. Watching Lucian speed around maneuvering the puck was sexy as hell.
God, he was beautiful when he skated. Joyous but also focused, that stern expression and ice-green eyes making for a combo that had many fans calling out and whistling in sheer lust. I was one of them. But then, I got to go home with him.
Lucky me.
“He’s extraordinary, isn’t he?”
I turned to find Rickman standing next to me. “Yes.” But I wasn’t talking about hockey.
I didn’t like the way Rickman looked at Lucian, as though assessing every move he made. There was something covetous that rubbed me raw. “He was lucky to have a coach who knew to let him go.”
Rickman turned my way, his eyes half hidden under bushy brows. “It was his choice. Not mine.”
“You wanted him to stay?”
He shrugged. “Our hands were tied. But he’s still the best player I’ve ever coached. Hockey smarts like you dream about.”
I didn’t know what to say to that and went back to clapping when Lucian whizzed by.
“Really is a pity,” Rickman mused.
“He’s alive,” I snapped. “The pity would be if he died.”
Flat blue eyes peered at me from a face set in stubborn if not sorrowful lines. “Some players would tell you they were better off that way than to have a career cut short.”
Rage bubbled in my veins, but I managed to keep my tone cool. “Anyone who thinks that is a fool.”
Rickman merely shrugged and went back to watching the players. “I’m not the one you need to convince.”
Lucian
“So.” Emma smiled up at me as she wrapped her arm around my waist, and we left the stadium.
“So,” I repeated, biting back a grin. She was too adorable and felt perfectly right tucked up against me. Emma nudged my ribs, getting my ticklish spot, the evil woman.
I most definitely did not giggle. I grabbed her fiendish hand and pressed a kiss to her fingertips. “Did you have fun, Snoop?”
“Yes.” She leaned her head on my shoulder, humming. “You were spectacular. A truly phenomenal player.”
I’d been told that in so many different ways over the years that it had lost its meaning. But hearing the words fall from Emma’s pretty mouth, her tone reverential and filled with awe, had nothing but pure pride swelling up in my chest. I wanted to crow, strut . . . pick her up, and spin her around for the joy of making her smile and laugh.
She’d gotten a small taste of who I’d been, me at my best. She’d witnessed fans cheering for me and cheered along with them, her eyes shining with pride. It made me want to put that look on her face every day of my life. I wanted her admiration, to make her proud all the time.
My chest ached with a sudden fierceness that had me pressing my hand to it. But she didn’t notice. She was still chatting about all my “effortless skill,” which was cute but made me feel like a sham.
Seeing her talk to Cassandra hadn’t helped. The exchange hadn’t looked friendly, and I could have guessed what Cass had said, but I didn’t want to ask Emma. Mainly because I didn’t want her to stop looking at me as though I was her hero.
I thought you were more than hockey, Oz. I see now that you weren’t.
Annoyed that I even thought of Cassandra’s last words to me, I shoved her into the back of my mind and caught Emma’s hand.
A crowd waited on the edges of the roped-off area leading to the valet. Several players were signing autographs. As we drew near, shouts went out, calling my name. Emma waggled her golden brows. “Your public awaits.”
“You mind?”
“Why would I mind? Fans deserve your time.”
We headed their way, and I was quickly inundated with demands for autographs. But when I heard her name being called, I looked up.
Emma had been noticed. And all these die-hard hockey fans had swarmed. There was security nearby, and Emma didn’t seem to be overwhelmed or nervous. On the contrary, her smile was gracious and beautiful as she signed autographs and posed for selfies.
“She really your girlfriend?”
The guy whose Osmond jersey I’d been signing glanced at Emma and then back to me, as though he couldn’t quite believe it. Some days I couldn’t either—not