Page 69 of Hat Trick
I can see her rolling her eyes and sighing in my mind.
I know the idea that they could get a crazed serial-killer for their uber driver is ridiculous, but my brain can't distinguish fact from fiction right now and the need to have my girls in my arms is overpowering. I would pick her up myself if we weren't slated to leave right as she was arriving for warm ups and pre-game shit.
We head to the arena in rented out SUVs when my phone pings again. It's a picture of Emily and Annie on the couch in my hotel room, brilliant smiles on both of their faces.
Emily: Can't wait to watch you dominate tonight!
Me: Are you good? Got in alright?
Emily: Stop worrying! We're going to grab a bite at the hotel restaurant. Arena food isn't exactly good for you. And then we'll see you at the game! We're good!
I close my phone. Of course she's good. Annie's good. Emily knows what she's doing. I need to focus on tonight's game.
But I have a thought.
Me: I have another jersey in my bag. Wear it tonight? Please?
Emily: Anything for you, sweetheart.
My heart tightens at her sweet words. I don't deserve her. She's done nothing but make my life better since the moment she stumbled intoit and I can't believe how she's still always so good. I don't deserve her attention, her praise, her love. But I'm a selfish bastard, so I'm going to keep it.
Equipping up, prep-talks, and warm-ups happen just like they do at every other away game. I know I need to get in my game-day mentality, but I can't. I want to check my phone. I want to know my mom's okay. That somehow Dad hasn't gotten to her while we're all away. I want to know that Emily was honest when she said her travel day was fine. I want to put my eyes on Annie and Emily and know they're alright. I want to see Emily in my jersey. And I can't do any of that from the fucking locker room.
Finally, the ushers tell us it's time and I follow our Coach to the ice. As Captain, everyone else is following me. I have to set the example, the vibe for tonight's game. I've gone over all of the pre-game footage. I know Denver likes to strike hard and fast, hoping to rattle their opponents, lure them into early fouls.
But if I'm honest, my mind and my heart are elsewhere.
I skate around the boards, looking for Emily. I know we got her tickets on the ice. Siobhan had to call in a couple of favors. But it takes three laps, and a bucket of nerves later, before I spot her. She's juggling an oversized bag, and Annie, with her noise-cancelling headphones, into their chair. Fuck, I only bought one seat. I should have bought two so Annie could sleep in her car seat while Emily enjoyed the game.
Would there ever be a day I didn't fuck things up as a dad? As a boss? As a boyfriend?
I take a close look at Emily, though, and she's nothing but smiles. She grabs Annie's hand and presses it to the plexiglass. I skate overand cover Annie's little hand in mine. I lock eyes with Emily, and I pray she can see everything I want to tell her in them. That I love her. That I appreciate her. More than words can say.
I hold a sleeping Annie to my chest as we take the elevator to our hotel suite. We're all quiet, an underlying simmering of anticipation filling every void in the elevator car.
Somehow, we all understand we'll all be taking Emily tonight. At the same time.
The boys and I are still simmering with adrenaline from the game. Emily's shifting her weight back and forth on her feet, clearly affected by the anticipation in the car.
The boys and I stare straight ahead at the car door, dialed-in, waiting. Emily's eyes ping-pong around all of us, nervously.
We silently walk to the room, I scan my key card, and hold the door open while we file in. I give Annie a sweet kiss on the head before laying her down in the portable crib Emily had the forward thought to set up ahead of time. I make a mental note to reward my good nanny for that.
Luca and Gabe flank Emily, whose waiting by the California King. I pause for a moment and simply take her in. She's twisting her fingers against themselves and shifting her weight from foot to foot. But she has a shy smile on her lips.
Luca can't keep his eyes off of her. Gabe looks at her like he's absolutely feral. And a sudden realization dawns on me. This is my show. They're waiting for me for instruction.
The control freak in me throws a metaphorical fist in the air.
"Luca. Take off her jersey and pants."
Luca slides to her side, giving her a sweet smile, kissing the side of her neck, and lifting my jersey off of her body. She threads her fingers through his dirty blonde hair, and I almost lose my composure. He drops to his knees next to her before unbuttoning her jeans and tugging them gently down her hips. She places her hands on his shoulders while he helps her step out of her jeans. Luca gives her a sweet kiss on her mound, over her panties, before standing and stepping back.
Gabe looks like he fucking wants to eat her alive.
"Gabe. Kiss our girl." Before I even have the words out his crashing his lips into hers. They both moan together, their bodies moving in tandem, both chasing after the same thing.
"Luca. Panties and bra."
