She looked at me with annoyance, as if I should know the answer to this.“Mr.Fox, you call it what you want but let me tell you the truth.Your fans, who, might I remind you, include a lot of impressionable children, whose brains are like sponges and love to mimic their idols, idolize guys like you.Every child I know has someone he or she wants to be like.I’ll tell you right now that if this doesn’t get fixed, sales of hats, jerseys, and even fucking bobbleheads will stop.Any product with your name on it will stop selling.You’ll no longer have promotional contracts, and no matter what team you move to, or play for, the only thing you will be remembered for or associated with will be this one event, not to mention the other things from your past that I’ve learned about that you think have been buried will all come back to the surface, haunting you forever.Is that the example you want to set?”
“Blah, blah, blah….you sound just like these guys.”I huffed, growing even more annoyed because I knew she was right, and that irritated me more than anything.
“Mr.Fox, that’s enough.Miss Cooper isn’t here to deal with your abuse,” Larson said, crossing his arms in front of himself.“She can leave just as quickly as she arrived.”
“Let her!I certainly didn’t ask for this.”
“Mr.Larson, I can assure you I’ve dealt with many men like Colton Fox.I’m not afraid of him, I won’t back down from him, and I certainly won’t allow myself to be intimidated by him.If he thinks he’ll break me with a few harsh words, he’s wrong.He won’t.I deal with powerful men every single day, and there hasn’t been one yet who could break me,” Emma said, looking at Larson and then at me.
I glared at Emma.Was she giving me a challenge, because if so, I’d accept.
“I’ll gladly be the first man to break you, sweetheart.”
Emma looked at me and glared.
“Fox, I’m not telling you again.You are going to go through this.You will comply with the orders set out by us, and you will fix this situation.”
I sat there, looking Larson dead in the eye, not liking the turn of this conversation.I was used to Thompkins telling me what to do, but fucking Larson didn’t have a damn clue.He sat behind his desk, and that was about all.He knew absolutely nothing about this life.Then, as if a light switch flipped in my head, a thought floated through my mind that I’d shoved off to the side many times before when I’d been in situations like this.Only this time it sounded better than ever to me.
“What if I retire early?”I said, completely interrupting whatever it was Emma was talking about.
“What?”Kent questioned as the entire room looked at me.
“Seriously, what if I just retire?I can buy a cabin up in the mountains, stay away from everyone.You can all go back to your happy lives, not worrying about what I’ll do next, and this will surely make the paparazzi lose interest in me forever.”
I glanced over to see Emma looking at me.I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination or not, but I was certain I saw a glint of something in her eyes, like she was begging me not to give up on my dream.It was then I realized that perhaps beneath this facade of veneer and ice Emma now had, the girl I once knew might still be in there.
Seventeen YearsAgo
I would never forgetthe pain in her eyes as I told her I was leaving, at the way her body felt as it shook from the tears she cried as I held her against me for nothing more than a quick moment.I also never thought it would be the last time I laid my hands on her.
My parents had been fighting for years, and I didn’t want that life for myself.Emma and I were inseparable from the first day we met, and in the three years we dated, we never fought.She was my only constant, aside from hockey.Emma and hockey were the only things that took me away from the constant reminder that my parents hated one another.
After I returned from saying goodbye to Emma that night, Dad and I left, driving through the night and the next day to Boston.
Two days later, I pulled my suitcase up onto the bed and pulled out the only two pictures I’d taken from my room back home, placing them on my nightstand.One of them was a photograph of my mom and I and the other was of Emma and me.I lay on my bed and grabbed the frame that contained the picture of Emma and me.
It was a photograph of Emma and me at the summer festival.She had her arms wrapped around me, laughing into my chest at something I’d said, while I kissed her forehead.Fuck, I’d have given anything to see that smile one more time before I left.Instead, I’d left her on her mother’s porch, gutted, her beautiful eyes filled with tears.
Emma and I texted daily.She shared with me about school, while I shared with her all about my start on the Junior A team.We often did our homework together via video chat, but as practice and games started, and then I picked up a part-time job, my time became limited.
Months passed after we’d moved.My father didn’t like the time I was spending on my cell phone, saying I should use that time for studying or practice, and one morning I woke up to find he’d cut off my plan.Of course I’d told Emma, so she said she’d email or send letters the old-fashioned way instead.Again, weeks passed.We shared a couple of letters back and forth, and then there was nothing.
I sank into a bit of a depression as my parents were still fighting.I’d give my dad the letters to mail from his office, but a response never came.Soon the only joy I had was when I was playing hockey.
When I finally returned home to visit my mother, I did it quietly, not alerting anyone I was coming, including Emma.It was wrong, but I needed that time to visit my mom and to rest.It was the only moment of peace I’d had between games, work, school, and the harsh words my father constantly yelled at me.
One afternoon, before I’d left to head back to Boston, my mom gave me my birthday and Christmas money.She knew I needed a new pair of skates for the upcoming season, so I ventured out to the sports store and tried on a couple of pairs.That was the last time I’d seen Emma.
She was at the mall shopping with Chantal.Immediately, I’d noticed she’d changed the color of her hair, but that was the only difference I spotted.I wanted to go up to her and wrap my arms around her, ask her why I hadn’t heard from her, but then I also hadn’t been perfect.The last couple of letters I’d written, I hadn’t really said anything because I was struggling.My life had become way too complicated.My Dad had turned his abusive words on me, and practices were intense, as was school, so when I had time to myself without my father around, I was completely selfish.
I was already back in Boston on the day of my actual birthday, and I had come in from practice with the mail.I quickly thumbed through the pile, noticing a yellow envelope with my name on it.There was no mistaking who it was from; I’d know the handwriting anywhere.I took what I knew was a birthday card up to my room and had just slipped it into my drawer to read later when my dad stepped into my room.
“Have a good time with your mother?”he questioned.
“Yep, as always.”
“Did she give you anything?”he asked, leaning up against the doorframe, looking at me.
