Grace on the Rocks: A Slapshot Prequel (Slapshot Prequel Trilogy Book 2)

by Heather C. Myers

“Yeah, but I’m sure another team would have paid him the same,” Emma said. “And plus, killing Ken didn’t guarantee that whoever inherited the team would give him that money. And if the team was sold without him resigning, he would have been screwed.”

  “See?” Michelle said with an easy grin. “Hot.” Carrie rolled her eyes, still not entirely convinced. From the corner of her eyes, Emma noticed an extremely tall guy walk into the restaurant, heading straight for them. She couldn’t stop herself from letting out a groan.

  “Guys,” she seethed under her breath. “Who the eff invited Vincent?”

  Ariel pointedly avoided Emma’s eyes, Michelle smirked, and Carrie shrugged.

  “He is our friend,” Ariel said. “Or have you forgotten?”

  “Yeah, our friend who happens to like me a little too much!” Emma exclaimed as softly as she could.

  Carrie started laughing as Michelle said, “Seeing the two of you interact is, literally, a better show than any 3D Imax movie.”

  “Well, I’m glad my life amuses all of you,” Emma said in a rush just as Vincent made his appearance.

  “Hey!” he exclaimed in a low, gravelly voice. He gave each of the four girls a hug, lingering on Emma a little too long, something that didn’t go unnoticed by anybody at the table. “Sorry, class got out late.”

  Vincent was pushing six foot five, with short, curly black hair and a high forehead. He had crisp, brown eyes and a svelte form that was highlighted by his height. With a small nose, a small mouth, and broad shoulders, he wasn’t obviously good looking, but he had charm and he was hilarious which made up for whatever seemed lacking in his physical appearance.

  Emma knew that Vincent would definitely make a good boyfriend. He was warm and funny and he seemed to genuinely like her. He was also a gentleman – always holding door open for her – and was sweet, not only to her but to all of her friends. But she wasn’t interested. Mostly because she wasn’t actually attracted to him, though she did admit that he was cute, but also because he could be annoying in his courtship of her. The first time Vincent asked her out, it was somewhat awkward due to their friendship but nonetheless sweet. The second time, it was pushing it. The third time, Emma promised herself that she would do her best to avoid him. Which was hard, because he was always hanging around the four of them. He, too, was in graduate school at UCI – his for some science Emma couldn’t pronounce – so he was local and actually could hang out if he wasn’t working. Emma tried to organize their catch ups when Vincent was working, but it didn’t always work and it wasn’t always Emma who put things together.

  Today’s lunch date was thanks to Ariel. As such, Emma knew that Ariel was to blame for the surprise visit. All of her friends knew Emma was trying to avoid him as much as she could but if they all dropped him at once...

  Well, Emma could understand the logic behind it, but that didn’t mean she was happy about it.

  He waved at the waitress, ordering a beer and a burger.

  Lucky bastard.

  “Emma, was that the Kyle Underwood you went out with Tuesday night?” Carrie asked before Vincent could say anything. Vincent, who happened to be sitting right next to Emma, having pulled a nearby barstool over and placing it conveniently next to hers.

  “Wait,” Vincent said. “You went out with Kyle Underwood? The hockey player? Like, on a date?”

  Emma looked up, temporarily ignoring Vincent’s inquiries. There was actually a picture of Kyle Underwood – like Thorpe’s, it was this season’s team photo – and there it was, the skipping of the heart and the following ignoring of it.

  “Yup, that’s Kyle,” Emma answered with a nod. She couldn’t deny that she was slightly proud of this fact. Kyle was cute and he was a hockey player. “But we both thought that it would be best to just be friends.”

  “You went on a date with Kyle Underwood?” Vicent asked, deadpan.

  “Why?” Carrie asked. “The guy is so cute!”

  “Can I just point out that you’ve seemed to find something wrong with every guy you’ve dated since Paul and Paul was two years ago,” Michelle said.

  “Vincent, you need to set Emma up with some of your friends,” Ariel suggested.

  Emma threw her friend and dark look but Ariel just smiled as though she didn’t do anything wrong.

  “Trust me,” Vincent said, and though he was speaking in response to Ariel’s question, he was looking at Emma with twinkling eyes. “If Emma won’t even go out with me, I highly doubt she’d go out with my friends.”

  Thank God the waitress came with their food – save for Vincent’s due to the late order – at that moment because she wouldn’t have known what to say. Actually, scratch that, she knew what she wanted to say and might have said even though it probably was rude.

  And anyway, Emma could leave right after the food – she’d throw enough cash for her food and a tip – and head over to the dance studio at UCI. Thank God school started so she wouldn’t have to see Vincent all that much anymore. Thank God she could focus on dance rather than boys. And thank God for her dad because even though he wasn’t a fighter, she was almost certain that if she needed it, he’d hire someone to take care of Vincent if he continued to bother her.

  And who knew? Maybe Kyle Underwood would offer up his services as well.

  Chapter 9

  October was turning out to be more bitter than Emma anticipated. She added a heavy goodie to her typical school outfit, and instead of her flats, she exchanged them for a pair of knee-high boots. Since the Gulls and Seraphina had found Ken Brown's murderer, things have calmed down. It was a blessing that things managed to calm down by the season opener. The games following Simon spades arrest had less boos and more enthusiasm for the team collectively, even Brandon Thorpe. To some degree, it annoyed Emma that the fans as a whole wouldn't give the player the benefit of the doubt, but even she remembered that she thought it was possible he could be the one to do it.

  Things between she and Kyle had gotten more friendly as well. Numbers had been exchanged and they had hung out a couple of more times. It was hard to lock down something definitive, given that he was traveling right now and she was starting to choreograph her group dance. She was also applying to dance schools in New York so she was using up any free time in order to get everything perfected to the best of her ability. It was a long shot that she would even get into places like Juilliard but she wouldn't forgive herself if she didn't at least try. To be honest, she had no idea what she planned to do once she was finished with school and had obtained her bachelors degree in dance. If she couldn't get over to New York,she would probably want to teach kids dance. It didn't make much money but she didn't really need money, to be honest, and she knew it would be a job she would love. She had to volunteer to teach dance at a local studio as part of her degree and she did that over the summer and fell in love with it. In fact, she kept at it when she could, even though she was no longer required to volunteer there.

  The choreography itself was coming along as best as it could, given the circumstances. Her three other courses required her focus; actual classes that required her brain rather than her body didn't come as easy to her as dance did. As such, they required more effort on her part to retain information and studying for a midterm or final was a multi-day event. There were times when she wished school came as easy to her as dance did but she supposed taking the initiative to learn other things built character and made her more well-rounded.

  When she got home from class at two o'clock in early in October, all she wanted to do was go into her make-shift studio and get the moves out. Instead, she was surprised to find her father in the living room with a vaguely familiar man and a guy that appeared to be her age. She felt herself stiffen and her eyes shot over to her father. She didn't mean to but her forehead wrinkles as she pushed up her brow, silently asking him a question.

  "Emma," he said. "Do you remember your Uncle Eddie? Your mother's brother? And your cousin Justin?"

  If she said no, which
was the truth, would that make her an asshole? She pressed her lips together, trying to think of any excuse to remove herself from the situation. She didn’t want to be anywhere near her mother’s family. It wasn’t as though she hated them, but any reminder of her mother was like a gutting and she would rather not remember. She would rather not think of the good times her mother shared with her. It was too painful. Good times didn’t bring her mother back or even explain why she had left in the first place.

  “Oh, hi,” she forced herself to say, slowly walking into the dining room.

  Jeremy shot her a look and she shot him one back. What did he expect her to do? Be so excited to see these people who pretty much abandoned them as well? What prohibited her uncle from reaching out to them. Just because her mother left didn’t mean they had to.

  “Wow,” Eddie, her uncle, said, appraising her with admiring blue eyes. “You look just like her.”

  Before Emma could control it, she reacted. Her brow furrowed and her lips pulled down into a grimace. That was the last thing she wanted to hear – that she resembled her mother. Yes, she noticed that the only thing she could see that belonged to her father on her person was his eyes, but she ignored everything else.

  “Eddie, Emma isn’t exactly familiar with what her mother looks like now,” Jeremy said, his voice curt. Emma felt the tension in her limbs ease slightly. She was grateful her father hadn’t reprimanded her for the sour look on her face, like most parents would have, making etiquette more important than her feelings. He understood her more than most parents understood their children and she thanked God he was her father. “As I’m sure you know, the two haven’t kept in touch.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Eddie said, reaching up to cup the back of his neck with his palm. He seemed uncomfortable being here. Which Emma had no problem remedying for them – they could leave if they wanted. No one had asked them to stop by. “That was what I wanted to talk to you about, actually.”

  Emma furrowed her brow and shot her father an inquisitive look. Her father shrugged his shoulder, expressing that he had no idea what was going on, either.

  “She wants to see you, Emma,” Eddie said, turning his blue eyes onto his niece. “She knows she made a mistake by leaving and she wants to fix it.”

  “She can’t,” Emma said before she could stop herself.

  She knew it wasn't her uncles fault. She knew he probably thought he was doing the right thing by trying to reunite mother and daughter but, truth be told, Emma wanted nothing to do with her mother. It wasn't as though she hadn't given her mother a chance, either. Emma had held out hope up until her high school graduation. She was willing to forgive and forget up until then because seeing her mother at her graduation would have been wonderful and amazing and filled her with such a place of belonging that she could barely put into words how it would make her feel. But she never got that feeling and she never got to understand that feeling because her mother didn't show up. No card, no note. Nothing.

  At that moment, Emma decided to let her mother go. She wanted nothing to do with her because clearly, her mother wanted nothing to do with her. If she couldn't show up, she could have sent a note. It wasn't even as though Emma and her father moved. They even had the same house phone from before Emma was born. There was no excuse to not get in contact with them in some way. And now, her long-lost uncle and cousin just randomly decide to show up to her house when she's a year away from graduating college?

  Eddie opened his mouth to respond. Emma was ready for it. She knew he was going to say something stupid, probably justify her mother's behavior and write it off because she had her own problems. But Emma wasn't in the right place to hear that.

  Before Eddie could speak to her at all, however, her father smoothly interjected. "Em, why don't you take Justin to the game with you tonight so me and Eddie can discuss his situation further."

  Emma wanted to argue. She didn't want to attend the hockey game with some stranger; she wanted to go with her father. From the way he said situation, she knew he wasn't pleased with them being here, either, but he had experience putting on a face and defending bad people. It was something she tried - and failed - to emulate. He always told her she would make a terrible lawyer and she never disagreed. With dance, she could be as expressive as she wanted and people would applaud her for it.

  "Okay," she said. "We still have a couple of hours. I need to practice."

  And that was how she left things. No hello to Justin - she actually hadn't even really looked at him - and no goodbye or polite smile. She took off because she had to get out of there.

  “Practice?” Justin took a step forward, cocking his head to the side.

  Emma glanced at him, surprise clearly written on her face. She hadn’t even looked at him when she first walked in. She was too surprised by the fact that her uncle had stopped by and that he was here on behalf of her mother. Not because he wanted to see her or her father, of course, but because he was here on behalf of his sister. She couldn’t blame Justin, exactly. As far as she knew, at least. If anything, she could admire the loyalty among their family.

  Not her family.

  No. The only family Emma knew was her father and she liked it that way.

  “I dance,” she told him, clutching her purse tighter to her side. She was tense, she wanted to get fluid. She wanted to shake this off and refocus on something positive. Plus, there was a game tonight. Just the thought of seeing Kyle in that navy blue jersey was enough to make her body ease, albeit slightly.

  “Oh.”

  Justin wasn’t a terrible looking guy. He was tall, with dark brown hair that could be mistaken for black and blue eyes. His father’s eyes. Her mother’s eyes. He was sharp-boned and broad shouldered, with muscle in all the right places. His style was casual, and he wore a simple white t-shirt with dark blue jeans and chucks on his feet. The more she looked at him, the more her mind sent tremors through her body, as though it was telling her he looked familiar, that she really did remember him, to a degree. “I play football for Stanford U.”

  Emma’s brow shot up. “Impressive,” she said. Must be a running back due to his size. No way was this guy on their defensive line.

  He shrugged modestly.

  “I remember you dancing when you were three,” he said. “We’re the same age but you bossed me around constantly, dressing me up in ridiculous outfits and making dance to boy bands.” He shook his head, a nostalgic smile on his face. “Do you remember that?”

  Emma wanted to. She didn’t care about her mom or her uncle but Justin seemed nice. She remembered Justin, kind of, and she didn’t remember anything negative about him. But she wasn’t ready to be open or friends. Not yet. It was too soon.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. Then, as guilt start to pool through her stomach, she added, “I’m sorry.” Her eyes found her father’s once more. “I’ll be up in a couple of hours and then we can go.”

  She didn’t wait for a response before heading up to her makeshift studio. It felt like a breath of fresh air the moment she got out of the dining room.

  Chapter 10

  It was awkward, to say the least. She didn't remember Justin at all even though they supposedly hung out all the time as toddlers. Without consciously trying, Emma attempted to look for any resemblance of her mother in her cousin and her uncle but Emma realized she had forgotten when her mother looked like. She knew her mother's eyes were dark blue and she had a slight dimple in her chin and she had wheat-colored hair but the spirit that surrounded these characteristics, that made her mother special, was unknown to Emma. Her uncle and her cousin had the same matching blue eyes and Justin had dark blond hair, but other than that, their faces were unknown to her.

  When her father suggested she take Justin to the game, Emma's brow shot straight up. Her father never missed a game. Then again, her long-lost uncle never dropped by unexpectedly. Perhaps they had things they needed to discuss. As such, Emma bit her tongue about how Justin was the last person she w
anted to go with, and instead, went upstairs to shower and change. She decided on a pair of skinny jeans, boots, and a loose scoop-neck shirt paired with a form fitted motorcycle jacket. She blew her hair dry and left it down and only applied her usual minimal makeup. Justin was sitting on her couch, watching television but not really paying attention as their parents spoke in hushed voices in the dining room. By this time, her father and her left, so she called out to Justin and the two headed outback to the garage where Emma's car was parked.

  Once the two were buckled in and on the way to Sea Side, Emma glanced over at him. She didn't like to make conversation if she didn't have to. She was bad at it and usually ended up saying something embarrassing. However, she felt it was her duty to at least try to instigate conversation with him, to pretend to be warm and accommodating when all she wanted to do was hang out with a book and some Oreos.

  "You a hockey fan?" she asked as she pulled to a red light.

  "I'm into football and baseball, mostly," he responded. He seemed friendly enough, if a little reserved, which was understandable. "But I'm definitely open to being a hockey fan. I've never been to a game before so this is a first for me."

  "Oh, really?" Emma asked with a small smile. "You'll have fun, then. There really is something different about being at a live game compared to watching it on television."

  “Listen,” Justin began, turning his body so he could face her. Emma didn’t look at him. Not only did she need to concentrate on what she was doing, but she didn’t want to look at him. She already knew what he was going to say and he didn’t want to hear it. “My dad shouldn’t have shown up at your place without warning. It’s just, Aunt Annie” –

  “I don’t care,” Emma said. Now, she locked her brown eyes with his blue ones. “I get that she had her demons. My father tried to explain it to me once, when I was younger. The thing is, she will never understand what I went through when she left. I stayed up for her for months, like some kind of dog, waiting for their master to come home. I didn’t understand what I did to make her leave – and before you tell me it wasn’t my fault, I know that. But when you choose to become mom, you accept certain responsibilities that go with it. Abandoning your child for whatever reason is unacceptable. And I don’t want to see her again. I don’t want her in my life again. And I wish you and your uncle and that person and everyone else would just leave me and my dad alone. Because you know what? We survived. We don’t need anyone else. We made it, just us. And now, because she’s ready, she wants to come back? Well, she doesn’t get that right to just decide that. I’m not ready. My dad isn’t. And I don’t know if we ever will be.”