Page 36 of The E.M.M.A. Effect
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied automatically, then blinked in surprise at his own words. He rarely called anyone “ma’am,” especially not someone just a few years older. But something about Harriet’s presence just pulled that response out of him without thinking.
She was still grinning as she leaned against the table, arms crossed. “Really? ‘Ma’am’? That’s new.”
He busied himself arranging sugar packets, hoping she couldn’t see how flustered he felt.
As she resumed her explanation, Gale made an effort to focus. But part of his mind kept drifting back to that night in his kitchen—for a few hours, life had felt better, until that heated moment when everything shifted. The memory of her scorched through him—wine and raw need, her tongue claiming his mouth like she’d been starving for it. She’d arched into him with a soft moan that still echoed in his dreams, her curves molding against every hard plane of his body as he’d pinned her to the counter. He could still feel the bite of her nails on his shoulders, the way her thigh had slid between his legs, the heat of her skin burning through their clothes.
“You’re doing that thing you do sometimes,” her voice cut through his thoughts.
“What?” Gale asked, trying for innocence.
“Where you pretend to listen but you’re zoned out. Care to share with the class?”
He resisted the urge to flinch. “Won’t happen again.”
Harriet’s lips curved. “Good.”
As they dug into their food, Gale felt a strange mix of anticipation and nervous energy. He was stepping into uncharted territory, far beyond the familiar confines of the ice rink. But as terrifying as it was, a small part of him couldn’t help but wonder, What if E.M.M.A. was right?
When they finished, they headed to the parking lot. “I’ll walk you to your car,” Gale said.
“That’s sweet, but no need. I’m just right over there under the streetlight and—”
“There’s something else I want to say.” He hadn’t realized he was going to do this until just this second. Something about being around Harriet made the world make sense, even the thoughts and feelings he trash-compacted in the back of his mind.
“O-kay,” she responded, slowing her pace. “What’s up? Should I be worried? You’re not about to confess you’re secretly a Zamboni-driving superhero or something, are you?”
“That’s pretty cringe.”
“No, I agree. I regretted it as soon as the words left my mouth.”
“Although for real? That would probably be easier to explain.”
“Alright, spill it,” Harriet said.
He ran a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words. “I’m the same age now as my dad was when he had me. And not all that much younger than he was when he left us. Just... vanished without a word. I mean, he and Mom got pregnant with Brooke so young. Mom once told me he never felt like he got to have the youth he was owed. Wanted to sow his wild oats. But he always seemed old to me in my head. Now I’m here and all I know is how much I don’t know. But I do have one thing on lock—how it feels to be disappointed in someone. I... I just never guessed that I could be a disappointment too.”
Understanding dawned in Harriet’s eyes. “Oh, Gale...”
“I’ve got so much of him in me. I look like him. I talk like him. Hell, I know I play a lot like him. I’ve always been terrified of becoming him, even though I know we are different. But maybe our legacies are bound to be the same. Promising stars who burn out fast and become nobodies.”
“But you’re not him. You’re you.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to be depressing. You don’t need to hear this shit.”
“Listen to me,” Harriet said firmly, her gaze intense. “You are a good man, Gale. The fact that you’re tying yourself in knots over this proves how different you are. Nobody is perfect and no one wins all the time.”
Their eyes locked, and Gale felt a surge of emotion so powerful it nearly knocked him off his feet. The world seemed to narrow down to just the two of them, standing in the dimly lit parking lot. He found himself leaning in, drawn by an invisible force.
It wasn’t that she was beautiful, even though she was.
It wasn’t that he liked hanging out with her, even though he did.
This felt bigger, more dangerous, like his whole damn life could change.
Harriet’s breath hitched as their faces drew closer, their lips mere inches apart. The air crackled with tension, with possibility. For a moment, it seemed as if they might close that final distance, that he’d get another chance to taste her, to see what this was.
But then Harriet blinked, composing herself. She pulled back slightly, a determined look in her eyes. “I gotta get back. So much work.”
