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Contents
Other Books by MJ Duncan
Copyright
Title Page
PROLOGUE
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Other Books by MJ Duncan

Second Chances

Veritas

Spectrum

Atramentum

Symphony in Blue

Heist

Pas de Deux
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and
are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events,
locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

Copyright © 2020 by MJ Duncan

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored

in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—
electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except
for brief quotations in printed reviews, without prior written
permission from the author.

Cover art © 2020 by MJ Duncan

 Emma Beauchamp didn’t bother to try to hide the small smile
that tugged at her lips as she watched two of the team’s youngest
players taking selfies with their gold medals before slipping through
the locker room doors. They had put in the work and more than
earned this moment, but part of her wondered if they truly
appreciated the prize they held. It was their first Games, after all,
coming off a gold medal at Worlds the year before, so they had yet
to experience anything but winning. Victory was sweet, there was no
denying that, but this one was all the sweeter for her because she
knew what it was like to put in just as much blood, sweat, and tears
as they had coming into this tournament only to come up
heartbreakingly short time and time and time again.
She had decided at the beginning of this Olympic cycle that this
would be her last go-round, her last attempt to attain the one
championship that had eluded her over the course of her career, and
now that she finally, finally had the Olympic gold she’d been chasing,
she was more secure than ever in her decision. She had spent close
to half her life as the face of the program and the last nine years as
its captain—had suited up for four Olympic Games, ten World
Championships, and more friendlies than she could remember—and
she was ready to move on.
She glanced toward the glow from the reporters’ cameras that
filtered around the curve of the corridor that lead to the exit as they
waited to try and steal one last post-game reaction interview from
players from both teams, and ran her thumb over the medal clasped
tightly in her hand as she turned away from the light and toward the
ice that had seen her greatest dream finally realized.
Later, she would have to face the press and their questions, but,
for now, she wanted just a few moments to reflect and enjoy this
moment that was a lifetime in the making.
She took a deep breath as she stepped into the bench area the
team had abandoned in a rush of flying gloves and cheers and more
than a few tears after the game, and closed her eyes as she savored
the chill that tickled her nose.
“You okay?” a quiet voice asked from behind her.
Emma smiled at Valerie Dunn’s question as she blinked her eyes
open. “Yeah.” She stepped over the bench and leaned her forearms
on the top of the boards, knowing that her best friend would follow.
“Just wanted a moment to myself. You know?”
“Yeah. I know.” Val mirrored Emma’s posture as they looked out
over the ice. The evidence of their celebration and the medal
ceremony had been cleared away while they showered, and the
Zamboni was finishing its last circuit en route to the open boards on
the far end of the rink that led to its storage garage. She huffed a
laugh and bumped her shoulder against Emma’s. “We finally beat
the freaking Canadians at the Olympics. I guess the third time really
is the charm, huh?”
“Fourth,” Emma corrected. “But who’s counting?”
“You, clearly,” Val teased. She sighed and wrapped an arm
around Emma’s waist. “I’m glad we were able to get this one for
you, Cap. God knows you deserve to go out on top after everything
you’ve done for this sport.”
Emma smiled at the gentle affection in Val’s voice and leaned into
her side. “We deserved this.”
“Well, yeah, but you…” Val sighed. She knew better than most
how the pressure of being the face of the program affected Emma,
had been the one to prop her up when the press and the federation
heaped the blame for the team consistently coming up short in this
tournament onto her shoulders. “You deserved it the most.”
 “It was all worth it.”
“I’m glad.” Val cleared her throat. “So, are you sure you still want
to hang ‘em up?”
Emma nodded. There was a part of her that mourned the end of
this chapter of her life, but it was only a small part. Mostly, she felt…
content. Calm.
At peace.
She had climbed the mountain and achieved the dream. And with
nothing left to accomplish in the sport, it was time to walk away.
Besides, while she could out-skate almost anyone on the ice, she
couldn’t out-skate time, and these last few years had taken a toll on
her body that she wasn’t entirely sure she would ever recover from.
“You know you’re gonna miss this, right?”
Emma lifted her right shoulder in a small shrug. She wasn’t going
to miss the grind that went with making sure she was ready to
compete at the highest level. Wasn’t going to miss working two jobs
to make ends meet, travel trips that seemed to never end, ice baths,
or the training sessions that left her feeling like she was going to die.
But she was going to miss everything else. Was going to miss the
raucous team dinners and messing around between practices, the
card games that went late into the night, and the soul-baring
conversations that floated across the dark between her and her
roommate’s beds after lights out.
She was ready to walk away from the game.
Walking away from everything else, however…
“Yeah. I’m gonna miss this.” Emma wiped at her eyes. “But we all
gotta become grown-ups eventually. Right?”
Val groaned. “God, don’t remind me.”
Emma smiled. “You know, you can always come be my assistant
coach at Stonebridge…”
Val huffed a quiet laugh. “I wish I could. But the commute from
New Haven to middle-of-nowhere Massachusetts would be a bitch,
especially in the winter, and Jon would probably call off the wedding
we haven’t even had time to start planning yet if I left him in
Connecticut to live with you.”
 “No he wouldn’t. He loves me.”
“You’re his second favorite girl in the entire world,” Val agreed
with a smile. “But even if the commute wasn’t a pain in the ass, I
don’t think I’m quite cut out for coaching high school girls. College,
sure. Been doing that for years. But teenagers…” She shuddered
dramatically.
“Aren’t all bad,” Emma pointed out with a smile. She had fond
memories of her time at Stonebridge and, though Val liked to make
jokes about teenagers, she personally thought she had been easier
to manage as a player in high school than she’d been in college.
Being a female athlete, she had always known she would need a
“real” career to fall back on when she was done playing, and she
had always wanted to teach and coach. And since teaching positions
at her old prep school didn’t come available often, it seemed a
brilliant twist of fate that the end of her professional career and an
opening in the math department aligned in a way to allow her to
jump directly from one to the other. “Besides, if they really piss me
off, I’ll just bag skate ‘em until the attitude goes away.”
“Oooh, you’re mean.”
“You know it,” Emma chuckled. “Have you decided what you’re
going to do?”
Val hummed noncommittally. “Not yet. I don’t know if I’m really
up for another four years, especially with all the kids they got in the
pipeline gunning for my spot, but I’ll probably lace ‘em up for
another year with the Whale while I decide.” She leaned her head on
Emma’s shoulder. “I’m still on the lookout for a good woman for you,
by the way. Don’t think that just because we’re not going to be
skating together anymore that that’s gonna change.”
Emma leaned her cheek against the top of Val’s head. She had
been trying for years to set her up, but there had never been
anyone that could come close to competing with her love for the
game. “Good luck with that.”
“She’s out there somewhere.”
“If you say so,” Emma murmured. She took a deep breath as she
let her gaze drift over the arena, and let it go slowly as she
straightened. She rapped her knuckles on the top of the boards, and
a small smile curled her lips as she looked down at the gold medal in
her hand. She had done everything there was to do here—it was
time to move on. “Let’s go, Val.”
“You sure?”
Emma took in the empty arena one last time and, after a long
moment, nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
 “Are you good and tired now, Mr. Dash?” Lars Olsson asked, his
pale gray eyes sparkling with laughter as he set his cup of coffee
onto the small table beside him.
Emma nodded as she handed him the rambunctious husky’s
leash. “He should be.”
Though, judging by the way Dash was standing at Lars’ side, his
blue eyes that were only a shade lighter than her own sparkling with
mischievousness, whatever energy he had expended on their run
wasn’t enough to completely knock him out for the morning.
“He better be,” Beca Olsson grumbled as she collapsed onto the
grass outside the couple’s modest, single-story colonial-style home
on the southern edge of the boarding school’s campus.
“We went up around Guilder Pond today,” Emma explained as she
smiled at her friend’s antics. The run wasn’t much longer than any of
the ones they’d done all summer, but the late-season humidity was
already beginning to make the air uncomfortable, and the path up
Mount Everett to the pond was significantly more challenging than
the circuitous route they had been taking through the campus’
rolling hills.
Lars popped his wheelchair into a rocking wheelie. “Good job,
honey.”
Beca groaned and lifted her right arm to flash him a stiff middle
finger.
 Lars rolled his eyes at her. “You see how she treats me?” he
asked, shooting Emma a playfully exasperated look.
“Just leave her on the grass, then.” Emma shook her head at the
way Beca cursed at her as she rolled onto her stomach and folded
her arms so she could rest her cheek on her hands, looking every bit
like she was preparing to take a nap right there in the front yard.
“How was CrossFit?”
“Good.” Lars dropped back to four wheels and raked a hand
through his short, sandy-gray hair that was still wet from his shower.
“There was a new girl there today. Just moved to town, apparently.
Cute. No ring. Wasn’t weirded out by this thing at all”—he smacked
the wheel on his left side—“so she’s a keeper in my book.”
Emma laughed. She’d known Lars for what seemed like her
whole life. He’d competed in sled hockey and para track and field
with her brother growing up, and he took great pride in filling the
big brother role in her life whenever Brody wasn’t around. When
Beca had been looking for a teaching position not long after their
wedding, Emma had been the one to suggest Stonebridge to her,
knowing that Lars could freelance from anywhere. Coming back to
teach at her alma mater had always been her dream, and getting to
do it all with her quasi-brother and his wife, whom she counted
among her best friends, made the whole experience so much better
than she could have ever hoped for. “God, you’re as bad as Val.”
“When is she coming back up, by the way?” Beca asked as she
rolled to a sitting position. She sighed and tugged at her long, wavy
black hair to tighten her ponytail. “I have more ideas for the
wedding reception.”
“No idea. Maybe next week before the kids come back?”
“Speaking of the wedding,” Lars drawled, winking at Beca, “you
still need a date. Right? And there was a cute new girl at CrossFit
today…”
“All right,” Emma replied, knowing that it would be easier for her
in the long run just to play along. “Does cute CrossFit girl have a
name?”
Lars grinned. “Tracy.”
 “Is she into women?”
“See, now that I don’t know,” Lars admitted with a dramatic sigh.
“She was crazy strong, though.”
“Ooh, get Em a girl that can shove her up against the wall and
just—” Beca broke off laughing when Emma rounded on her with a
textbook Are you fucking serious right now? look. “God, your face!”
Emma shook her head. “Who’s to say I wouldn’t be the one
doing the shoving?” She rolled her eyes when Beca just started
laughing harder because, yeah, she might be six-feet of former
hockey star, but she was probably the last person on the planet that
would be shoving anyone else up against a wall. She rounded on
Lars, who was laughing along with his wife. “And just so you know,
strong doesn’t equal gay.”
“Well, duh.” Lars flexed his arms and tilted his head at biceps. He
might not have the type of build that would put on massive amounts
of bulk, but he was definitely ripped. Doing a shitton of pull-up reps
with the added weight of a chair strapped to your body would do
that. “I mean, look at me.” He lifted up his shirt and smacked his abs
as if to prove his point. “I’m jacked.”
“Yeah, like an old librarian,” Emma shot back. It was a running
joke with them, given Lars’ wiry build, already graying hair, and
wireframe glasses, and she chuckled at the glare it earned her.
“Funny, Beauchamp.” Lars flipped her off. “Real funny.”
“What?” Emma smirked at him as she lifted the hem of her tank
to wipe at the sweat on her forehead, and purposefully flexed her
abs to show that he wasn’t the only one rocking a six-pack. Of
course, hers was a bit less defined than it had been when she’d
been playing, but the gym habits she’d developed over her career
had carried over into her retirement. Mostly because they were too
ingrained to break, but also because she had yet to find a more
effective way to burn off stress.
“My god! Just put your shirt down already.”
Emma laughed as she dropped her shirt. “Was that for me, or
your husband?”
 “Both of you. I’m surrounded by fucking fitness models,” Beca
grumbled.
“But you’re still the prettiest,” Lars replied sweetly.
Emma nodded. “He’s right. You’re definitely the prettiest.” Dark
where Lars was light, with pale brown eyes that seemed to glow no
matter the time of day or the lighting, and standing only a few
inches shorter than herself, calling Beca the prettiest was honestly
selling her short. Beca Olsson was positively striking. “He’s a lucky
man.” The chunky Garmin on her right wrist buzzed with an alert,
and she sighed when she saw the calendar notification. “Right, well,
I better go. Woodworth wants me to meet the new guidance and
wellness counselor he hired over the summer that’s interested in
helping with the hockey program. So I’ve got less than an hour to
shower, change, find some food, and get over there.”
“Isabella was in on her vetting,” Beca shared as she climbed to
her feet. “I remember she was really impressed with her.”
Emma nodded. She had heard that, too. She held up her right
hand with her index and middle fingers twisted. “Fingers crossed.”
Hal Giovanni, the school’s Latin teacher, had stepped up to serve as
her assistant the year before, but with no hockey experience, he was
good for little more than managing the teams’ equipment and
schedules. It had been nice not to have to worry about that kind of
stuff, and she didn’t mind handling the bulk of the coaching, but she
had been more than a little overwhelmed trying to balance running
the entire girls’ hockey program on top of her regular teaching
requirements. She didn’t have particularly high hopes that the new
counselor would be able to take over the junior varsity team, but it
would be nice to have a little help at practice. “Save me a seat?”
“Back row?”
“Perfect.” Not that there were many places to hide with a faculty
of roughly seventy-five people, but every little bit helped. Emma
leaned down to give Dash’s ears a scratch. “Thanks for the run,
buddy. Be good for your dad when your mom and I are trying to not
fall asleep during our meetings later.”
 “Oh, he won’t be,” Lars replied, smiling fondly at Dash. “But it’s
cool. I’ll take him bikejoring later or something.”
Emma gave Dash’s head a pat. Even having been around
wheelchairs all her life, she had still been thrown the first time she’d
seen the husky gleefully pulling Lars’ handcycle through campus, but
it turned out that bikejoring—having a dog pull you on a bike—was a
popular activity with husky owners when snow was in short supply.
The breed had been bred to run and pull, after all, and she’d learned
after a week of running with Beca and Dash that he lived for the
exercise. “Don’t pull your dad into a ditch, then, my dude.”
Dash cocked his head and jabbered back in his adorably raspy
voice in a way that seemed to say, Yeah, I can’t promise that. He
was the chattiest dog Emma had ever met, and she loved their
conversations. Even when he wouldn’t stop arguing with her. Which
was often. Dash had a lot of very strong opinions. “You’re lucky
you’re cute, bud.”
“Very lucky,” Lars agreed as he took over scratching the dog’s
ears.
Emma raked her hands through her hair to push it off her
forehead as Dash chimed in with his two cents on the matter. She
gave Beca and Lars one last wave before she turned toward Allen
House—the dormitory her faculty apartment cluster was connected
to—and took off at a slow jog. The half-mile trip was a perfect cool-
down, and by the time she was tapping her ID to the reader
mounted outside the back door, she was feeling energized and ready
to start the day.
Thirty minutes after she had entered her small, one-bedroom
apartment, she was striding back out the door in her most
comfortable pair of “nice” jeans, a navy blue polo, and her cleanest
pair of running shoes. When classes started back up, the faculty
would be required to wear their usual business attire—parents
weren’t forking over the ungodly amounts of money they were
paying in tuition for their children to be educated by teachers
wearing jeans, after all—but considering she was going to be sitting
all day, she was glad for the relaxed dress code.
 The campus was too quiet for her liking as she made her way to
Stonebridge hall. Perhaps it was because she had only spent an odd
few days here and there on campus over the summer, but she
wasn’t used to the calm, and it was strange to have the pathways to
herself. Not that she missed dodging students who were more
focused on their phones than where they were walking—or, god
forbid, the rogue skateboarder trying to show off to their friends—
but she found herself looking forward to the end of the month when
the students would return to campus.
She grabbed the strap of the leather satchel Val and the rest of
the girls had given her at her retirement party to keep it from
swinging wildly as she jogged up the stairs to Stonebridge Hall. The
three-story colonial manor that had imposing wings jutting from
either side of the main building was the focal point every other
building was angled toward, and it was just as impressive now as it’d
been back when she had first set foot on campus at fourteen. Its
bright white facade contrasted beautifully with the vibrant green
trees on the mountain it was nestled into, and she knew it would be
even more striking in a few months when autumn arrived in the
Berkshires.
Besides being the anchor for the campus, Stonebridge Hall was
also its hub. The English and language departments occupied the
building’s western wing, while arts and social sciences were spread
amongst the eastern side, and the school’s administrative offices,
main lecture halls, meeting areas, and dining hall occupied the
center of the building. Math and science were in Cormer Center, a
two-story structure that sat between Allen House and the main
building. Cormer had been a smaller version of Stonebridge Hall
when she had been a student, but after the renovation that had
happened in her absence, it was now a wonder of modern colonial
architecture, with an overabundance of windows to let light in even
on the dreariest of days.
Having most of the school localized in a single building was ideal
in the winter or when the weather was particularly awful but, while
the administrators were great about leaving teachers to teach
without constantly being under a microscope, there was a sense of
freedom that came from not spending her days in the main building.
At times, living and working at Stonebridge was like being in a
claustrophobically small town where everyone knew everyone’s
business, and while she couldn’t see herself being anywhere else,
she did appreciate the sense of space she got from having her
department housed elsewhere.
A good couple dozen of her fellow faculty members were taking
advantage of the dining hall being open again—during breaks when
students weren’t on campus, it was typically closed—and she waved
absently to the room at large as she made her way toward the
serving stations.
“Good morning, Nora,” Emma greeted the silver-haired woman
who was setting out a fresh tray of danish. Nora had been
overseeing the nourishment of Stonebridge’s residents since before
Emma had arrived on campus as a wide-eyed third-former, anxious
about being away from home and worried about what her peers
would think of her if they learned the only reason she could afford to
attend the prestigious prep school was the full-ride academic
scholarship she’d been given. Nora, who seemed to have a sixth
sense for such things, had been a kind and steady presence,
mothering her just the right amount by asking about her day and
listening as Emma rambled on about whatever was happening in her
life, and serving up a little extra of Emma’s favorites on particularly
rough days. When Emma looked back on her time as a student at
Stonebridge, she remembered Nora’s kindness fondly, and she had
been beyond pleased to see that Nora was still around when she’d
returned the year before. “Did you have a nice break?”
Nora smiled. “I did. It was busy, of course, with all the weddings
we catered, but busy is good. We did get to sneak away for a couple
weeks to get up to Maine to see the grandkids, so it was nice. And
yours?”
“Would have been nicer with your cooking,” Emma admitted with
a wry laugh. She was trying to learn her way around the kitchen, but
she was still very much a work in progress. “But it was good. Went
to a weeklong seminar at MIT at the end of June, and just spent the
rest of the time bopping around from one hockey camp to another.”
“Good. Lord knows you deserve to make some money off your
hockey career.”
Emma smiled. The girls at the camps were always so excited to
meet her that she felt bad charging the camps an appearance fee,
but she also knew that her name on the flyer was what drove at
least half the kids to choose that particular camp, so she didn’t feel
too guilty about it. “Right?” She plucked a plain bagel from the plate
beside the danish and flashed Nora a hopeful look. “Peanut butter?”
“Aren’t you going to toast it first?”
That would be ideal, but a glance at her watch confirmed what
Emma already knew. “Don’t have time. I need to be in Woodworth’s
office in seven minutes to meet with the new guidance counselor. I
guess she has some hockey experience and wants to help with the
girls’ teams.”
Nora nodded and reached beneath the counter. “Here you go, my
dear,” she said as she handed Emma a full jar of the organic brand
she preferred.
“You’re the best.” Emma unscrewed the lid and gratefully took
the knife Nora held out for her. Once she’d slathered each half of the
bagel with an almost embarrassing amount of peanut butter, she
smashed them back together like a sandwich and slid the jar back to
Nora. “Thank you.”
“Of course. Good luck with the new counselor.”
“Thanks.” Emma wrapped a napkin around the bottom half of her
bagel and lifted it in a salute. “See you at lunch.”
Nora shooed her off with a smile.
Appropriately famished after her run, Emma had no problem
polishing off the bagel on her way to the headmaster’s office on the
third floor. She nodded at Ben Valdez, Woodworth’s secretary, as she
entered the outer chamber of the headmaster’s suite and arched a
brow as she tilted her head toward the half-open door behind him.
There was no point explaining why she was there; Ben ran
headmaster’s office like a finely-tuned machine and had undoubtedly
been counting the seconds until her scheduled arrival.
Ben nodded. “Go on in, Em.”
“Thanks.” Emma wiped at her lips with the crumpled napkin in
her hand and tossed it into the trashcan beside his desk. “Good?”
“Spic and span,” he confirmed with a little laugh. “Good luck.”
“Thanks, man,” Emma muttered, hefting the strap of her satchel
higher onto her shoulder as she made her way toward the semi-
open door. She rapped her knuckles on the frame as she eased the
door open and, despite the fact that Ben had given her the go-
ahead, called, “Doctor Woodworth?”
“Ah, here she is now,” Woodworth said. “Come on in.”
“Here I am,” Emma confirmed as she stepped into the office. She
glanced at the woman sitting in one of the visitor’s chairs facing his
desk. The woman appeared taller than average, with shoulder-
length, honey-brown hair, and her cranberry red blouse was
stretched over surprisingly broad shoulders. But before things could
get awkward, she looked back to Wesley Woodworth, the genial,
white-haired headmaster who, once upon a time, had been her
calculus teacher, and smiled. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”
“Not at all,” Woodworth assured her as he motioned to the
woman sitting across from him. “I was just bringing Ms. Jordan here
up to speed on all the pre-school year activities.”
The woman he’d identified as Ms. Jordan turned to face her as
well, and Emma couldn’t mask her surprise when she realized just
who she had been brought in to meet with. “Campbell.”
“Hello, Emma,” Campbell drawled, her hazel eyes glinting with a
familiar edge. She smirked at Emma’s obvious surprise, looking
every bit like the cocky competitor who had goaded Emma into
probably ninety-nine percent of the major penalties she’d been
slapped with over the years. “It’s nice to see you again.”
 Emma was so focused on the sudden appearance of her old rival
that she was only vaguely aware of the way Woodworth looked
between them in surprise as he said, “Oh, I hadn’t realized you
knew each other.”
Emma bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the
way Campbell’s right eyebrow quirked in either amusement or
surprise. She wasn’t sure which, but both would have been
appropriate. She knew from her own hiring that the school runs a
thorough background check on all new-hires and, while that would
have been more than sufficient to confirm the veracity of her resumé
and character, there wasn’t a search engine on the planet that could
come close to explaining the murky depths of their history.
Emma dragged her attention away from Campbell to look at her
boss. “Yes, well, hockey is a small world once you get up to a certain
level.”
Which, while true, was also something of an understatement.
Between international competitions and struggling to get
professional women’s hockey leagues off the ground, if one were to
go into the contacts list on any top-tier athlete’s phone, they would
find the names and information for two-thirds of the world’s best
talent.
So, yeah. They knew each other.
There were even several players on the Canadian team that
Emma considered friends, but Campbell Jordan had never been one
of them. Perhaps because their rivalry was not just based on team
loyalty, but also position, as they’d both been the center on their
team’s first line of attackers, and later, captains. Theirs was a more
personal rancor that spanned college, international, and professional
play, and that sort of thing just didn’t lead to friendship beyond the
boards where she was concerned. She could still rattle off Campbell’s
quirks on the ice—a skill she’d honed to the finest of points over the
years to gain the smallest of edges in faceoffs—and could recall even
better all the times they “accidentally” collided with each other.
Checking might not be technically allowed in the women’s game, but
that didn’t mean that players weren’t out there beating the shit out
of each other to gain an advantage, and she had always rather
enjoyed knocking Campbell Jordan on her pretty little ass.
Of course, judging by the multitude of ways they had gone at
each other over the years, that feeling was entirely mutual.
Hell, one of their altercations had been so bad that—much to
their programs’ shared horror and the television network’s delight—
both their benches had cleared and the world saw exactly how
rough and tumble women’s hockey could be.
And, even though she would freely admit that it was stupid, she
still hated the fact that her biggest rival in the game had worn her
number. She only wished Campbell hadn’t gone down with a knee
injury before the last Games. Not that she hadn’t been as shocked
as everyone else when the news broke that Campbell was retiring,
but she had so wanted to finally notch that win over her to make up
for the two times she’d had to stand aside and watch Campbell
stand atop that podium and celebrate winning Olympic gold.
“Right…” Woodworth tapped a finger on a paper on his desk.
“That makes sense.”
Emma resisted the urge to laugh. Wesley Woodworth was an
incredible teacher and an amazing administrator, but his ability to
comprehend the various complexities of sports was capped
somewhere around dodgeball. Or maybe tag. And, while she would
have preferred to have a little more of a head’s up to the whole
Campbell situation, knowing him like she did, it was perfectly in-
character for him to be unaware of the fact that there was no bigger
rivalry in women’s hockey than the one between the US and Canada.
“It’s fine, sir. It’s just hockey.”
“Well, then since you already know each other, then I guess I’m
no longer needed here.” Woodworth nodded at Emma. “We did a
tour of the campus when Campbell was interviewing last term, but I
thought you would be the better guide to help her get her bearings
now that she’ll be on campus full-time. Plus, it’ll give you two time to
discuss your plans for the hockey program for this year.”
Emma sighed. Having to coach with Campbell Jordan was only
slightly, slightly less ideal than having to muscle through another
season with Hal. He at least listened to her and did what she asked.
She was willing to bet that things weren’t going to be that easy with
Campbell. It killed her to admit it, and she would never dream of
doing so out loud, but Campbell did have a brilliant mind for hockey
—and that knowledge was undoubtedly going to come with opinions
about how things should be done that, she was certain, were not
going to match her own.
Working with Campbell was probably going to be the US versus
Canada all over again.
Only this time, instead of being on the world stage, it was going
to be taking place in a relatively modest arena in Sheffield,
Massachusetts.
Emma wanted nothing more than to tell Woodworth that she had
found someone else to help with the program and that Campbell
could spend her first year at the school focusing on her job, but the
only other people on campus who knew anything about hockey were
coaching the boys’ teams—whose season ran the same time as the
girls’. And she knew that Woodworth knew it, too, because when the
job openings for the coming year had been posted last spring, she
had not-so-subtly asked for him to keep an eye out for someone
with even a modicum of hockey experience that could give her some
kind of help.
And, well, he’d more-than delivered. She couldn’t argue with
that. Campbell certainly had top-tier hockey experience.
 She just wished that the person he’d managed to find was
anybody else.
But this was what he’d found for her and, even though it
physically pained her to accept that she was going to have to
somehow find a way to work with Campbell Jordan.
Emma nodded. “Sounds good, sir.”
“Wonderful. I knew I could count on you.” Woodworth smiled and
shoved his hands into the front pockets of his pleated chinos,
looking every bit like a proud father as he smiled at them. “I won’t
keep you any longer, then. I’ll see you both at the ten o’clock
meeting in Blair.” He blinked and turned his attention to Campbell.
“Oh! And I’ll have Ben start looking into alternate housing
assignments right away, so it should all be sorted by the end of the
day.”
Campbell nodded as she pushed herself to her feet. “That would
be great, thank you. The van with my things won’t arrive until this
weekend, so if it doesn’t get settled today, that’s fine, too. I’m
crashing with a friend in Canton until my stuff gets here, anyway.”
Woodworth’s brow furrowed. “That’s quite a drive.”
Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She’d driven past
Canton plenty of times on her way to visit Val, and it was, at most,
an hour away.
“It’s not too bad.” Campbell shrugged. “And, besides, it’s only for
the week.”
“If you’re sure…” Woodworth murmured.
“Perfectly sure, sir.” Campbell smoothed her hands over the
thighs of her khaki slacks and turned to Emma. The half-inch height
advantage Emma had over her wasn’t enough to keep them from
being practically eye-to-eye, and there was no mistaking the
challenge in her expression as she asked, “So…shall we?”
Emma pressed her lips into a hard line and nodded. If this was
the game Campbell wanted to play, she was more than capable of
going along with it. “Of course.” She checked her watch and then
looked at Woodworth. “So, Blair in an hour?”
 Woodworth nodded, and Emma bit the inside of her cheek as she
turned to Campbell and waved a hand toward the door for her to go
on ahead of her. She was grateful that Campbell didn’t argue as she
followed her out the door, and she offered Ben a wan smile as she
passed his desk. “Catch you later, man.”
“Oh yeah,” he confirmed with a grin. “Have fun at your day-o-
meetings.”
Emma nodded. “I’ll try.”
Ben looked at Campbell. “I’ll get started on finding an apartment
for you right away. I’m assuming you’d prefer to be closer to your
office?”
“Whatever is easiest for you guys,” Campbell demurred with a
shrug.
“Closer to the office it is, then,” Ben confirmed.
“Thank you.”
“Right, well, we should probably get going,” Emma spoke up. She
took a deep breath to steel herself for what was to come when
Campbell nodded in agreement, and just barely resisted the urge to
sigh as they made their way out of the headmaster’s office.
Out of everyone in the world who could have found their way to
Stonebridge…
“I am sorry you were caught by surprise by all of this,” Campbell
spoke up once they had left the office, interrupting Emma’s woe-is-
me internal dialogue as they neared the head of the wide staircase
to the ground floor. “I honestly thought Dr. Woodworth would have
told you that I was being brought on.”
Emma waved Campbell off. Her expression was contrite, but
Emma thought she detected a spark of amusement in her eyes. She
probably had expected Emma to be given a head’s up, but she didn’t
look entirely displeased by the fact that she’d been able to catch her
off-guard, either. “It’s fine.”
“Is it?”
“It has to be.” And that, really, was the crux of the whole thing.
She didn’t like this situation, but there was nothing she could do
about it. “So, let’s just knock this tour out so we can get to the
meeting on time.”
“Right…” Campbell sighed. “Look, would you mind if we stop by
my office real quick? I’d like to drop off my bag. It’s got my laptop
and stuff in it, so it’s not the lightest, and if we’re going to be
walking a lot…”
“Yeah, sure. Which office did they give you?”
Campbell pulled a keyring from her pocket and read the little
paper tag that dangled from it by a string. “Two twenty-two.”
Emma started down the stairs toward the second floor. “I want to
say that’s Emily’s old office. It’s nice. Kind of in the middle of
everything down there, but it has a good view.”
“You cut your hair,” Campbell observed, a hint of a smile tugging
at her lips. “It looks good.”
“Thanks.” Emma clenched her jaw and, figuring that it wouldn’t
kill her to try to play nice since Campbell seemed to be making an
effort, added, “Thought it was time to try something new.”
“Like teaching.”
“Not exactly.” Emma shook her head. “This is different from
playing hockey pretty much full-time, but teaching and coaching—
ideally here at Stonebridge—had always been a part of my plan.”
“I see…”
A heavy silence fell between them at that, and it lasted until they
stopped in front of the door to Campbell’s new office when Emma
asked, “How in the world did you even find this place? Last I heard,
you were somewhere in California.”
Campbell nodded, sending her hair into her face as she unlocked
her office door. “Palo Alto, actually. I did my master’s at Stanford
and, after graduating, got a job at a local private high school as a
guidance counselor,” she explained, tucking her hair behind her ears
as she swept into the room. She dropped her leather briefcase onto
the dark wood desk that anchored the otherwise depressingly bare
office. “It was a day school, not boarding, like this, but I enjoyed
working with the kids.” Her lips pressed into a small frown as she
looked around the space, and it wasn’t hard to imagine she was
thinking of how she was going to decorate.
“So what in the world brought you from sunny California to
Massachusetts?” Emma couldn’t resist asking as she hovered in the
doorway.
“The weather was certainly lovely, but I missed having a proper
winter, so I started looking for positions on the east coast and back
home in Canada.” Campbell made her way to the window and
opened the blinds. The influx of sunshine helped make the office
slightly less dreary, and she seemed pleased with the change as she
turned to face Emma. “As for how I found Stonebridge, I imagine it
was the same way you did—a recruiter contacted me in early March
via my LinkedIn profile. I fell in love with the campus when I came
out for my formal interview, and when Dr. Woodworth brought up
the possibility of assisting with the girls’ hockey program, I was sold.
So when the offer came through a few days later, I accepted it
straight-away.”
“Did he mention during your interview that I was the head of the
program?” When Campbell nodded, Emma couldn’t resist asking,
“And that didn’t turn you off the job?”
“No.” Campbell shook her head. “Why would it?”
Emma crossed her arms over her chest and stared at her in open
disbelief. “Seriously?”
Campbell waved a hand dismissively, as if that gesture alone
were sufficient to wipe away years of history. “You’re not as
imposing as you think you are. And, anyway,” Campbell added, “I
just really liked the idea of getting back on the ice.”
There was something in the way Campbell’s gaze turned just a
little unfocused that gave Emma enough pause to ignore the jab and
move on to the second part of her statement. “Wait. I know you
retired and everything, but you honestly haven’t skated since your
injury?”
Campbell shrugged. “My physical therapists tried to get me to do
it. They insisted that the knee would hold if I wore a brace, but I
knew I was never pulling on that Team Canada sweater again, and I
just…” She shook her head. “It was easier to avoid the whole thing
altogether than be reminded of everything that I’d lost. But lately, I
realized I missed the sound of the ice cracking under my edges and
that crisp, indescribable smell of the rink, the feeling of the puck
leaving my stick and the snap of the net when it went in.” Her
expression lightened and smoothed into something more
introspective. “Really, I just miss the game. And, well, it’s been three
years, right? So I figured that maybe coaching would give me that
part of my life back without it hurting too much.”
Emma leaned against the doorframe. She had left the game on
her own terms but, even then, she had struggled with a palpable
feeling of loss at knowing she would never play at that level again—
so she had an idea of how hard it must have been for Campbell to
have the game suddenly taken away from her. Which is why, though
she still wasn’t pleased to be working with her, she found that her
frustration with the situation was marginally less than it’d been
twenty minutes earlier. She wasn’t a Campbell Jordan fan, was fairly
confident that she would never be a Campbell Jordan fan, but she
wasn’t such an awful person that she couldn’t sympathize with what
she had gone through. “It’s a pale substitute for playing,” she
shared, speaking from her own experience the year before. “But it’s
better than not having the game at all.”
Campbell blinked twice, and when she turned to look at Emma,
her eyes were still sad, but a bit clearer. “It wasn’t going to last
forever, anyway. Right?”
“Unfortunately not.” Emma pushed herself away from the
doorframe and half-turned toward the hallway. “You ready to get
started on that tour?”
“You still want to do it? I can just hang out here and tell Dr.
Woodworth that you did an excellent job showing me around.” She
shrugged. “I’ve got time. I can always explore on my own later.”
While she was surprised by the out she was being offered and
more than a little tempted to take it, Emma shook her head. If they
were going to be working together, she was going to have to start
getting used to being around Campbell and behaving like an actual
adult, so now was as good a time as any to start the process.
Especially since had a feeling it wasn’t going to be a quick one. “Is
there anywhere in particular you want to see?”
Campbell shoved her hands into the back pockets of her slacks
and shrugged. “I don’t know. How about the rink? I got more of a
general tour of the campus when I was interviewing, and I’d like to
get a good look at the place that might give me back that missing bit
of myself.”
“We can do that.” Honestly, out of everywhere on campus, that
was probably the most appropriate place for them to visit. That was
the only place, after all, where their lives would intersect. Thank
god. “Anywhere else?”
Campbell shook her head. “I mean, everything I’ll need right
away is pretty centralized here, and until I find where I’ll be living…”
“Speaking of,” Emma started as she waited for Campbell to lock
up, “what was wrong with the place they gave you originally?”
“Oh, nothing. It was a charming little house over past the
stadium, but I don’t need anything that big, so I asked if there was
anything smaller that was available closer to the heart of campus.”
Campbell pocketed her keys as she turned to look at Emma. “For my
first year, at least, I think it’d be good to really immerse myself in
the culture here. You know? Help me get my finger on the pulse of
the place so I have a better idea of what the students are dealing
with.”
“Besides acne and hormones and heartbreak and ridiculous
amounts of stress?” Emma asked as she led them back down the
hall.
“Yeah. Besides that,” Campbell chuckled. “So, hockey officially
starts when?”
“Tryouts are in the middle of October,” Emma said, glad to have
something concrete to talk about. “Games start the beginning of
November, and the season runs through the end of February.”
“Program size?”
“Thirty-ish. I carried thirteen on varsity last year and rostered the
rest on the junior varsity team to try to get them more playing time,
and I just pulled up a kid or two each game based off practice
performance to round out the varsity lines and to get them some
big-squad experience. We graduated five last year, but six of the
incoming third-formers have experience and are interested in
playing, so our numbers should be pretty stable again this year.”
“Considering the size of the school, that’s actually quite
impressive. Has there ever been a case where you don’t have
enough to roster two teams?”
Emma shook her head. “Not since the first couple years of the
program, back in the eighties.” She led them across the foyer to the
main doors. “And when I got here in the early aughts, Stonebridge
had pretty much established itself as the powerhouse it is today.”
Campbell made a small sound of surprise. “Wait, you went here?”
“Class of 2007,” Emma confirmed. She pushed open the front
door and held it for Campbell to go ahead of her. She glanced down
at Campbell’s feet as she followed after her to see if she’d chosen a
pair of sensible shoes to go with her khakis. O’Shaughnessy Athletic
Center—the building that housed the school’s two rinks as well as an
indoor track and a weight room that rivaled the one she’d used back
at Minnesota—was only a ten-minute walk from Stonebridge Hall,
but the last thing she needed to do was return the new guidance
counselor to Woodworth with a noticeable limp. Campbell’s slip-on
flats looked comfortable enough, but Emma still asked, “Are you
okay walking to O'Shaughnessy, or would you rather I hunt down
one of the maintenance team’s golf carts? It’s maybe half a mile.”
“I’m fine walking.”
Emma nodded. “Cool.” She motioned down the stairs toward
their left. “Let’s get going, then.”
 It was pushing four o’clock in the afternoon when Woodworth
climbed up onto a chair and waved his arms to get everyone’s
attention. “Okay, all. That’s it for today. Excellent work.”
Emma and the rest of her group looked up from the table they
were huddled around. It was littered with cardboard, Styrofoam, and
other various construction-type materials as they endeavored to
build a contraption that would protect an egg that would be flung off
the roof of the building at the end of the week. It was, Emma had to
admit, better than the ‘building a house out of playing cards’ activity
they had done the year before. The only problem was that she was
having a difficult time enjoying the process because every cell in her
body seemed to be tuned to Campbell’s presence. Even though
Campbell was on the other side of the room with a good half-dozen
tables between them, she was as aware of her as she was the
people at her own table. It was frustrating as hell and didn’t make
sense at all, and she prayed Woodworth was going to excuse them.
She was beyond ready for this positively awful day to finally be
over.
When Woodworth saw that he had everyone’s attention, he
announced, “We’ll pick up tomorrow morning at ten with a
representative from our insurance provider to go over the options for
medical coverage as well as supplemental insurance. And then after
lunch, we’ll be heading over to the ski resort to tackle the high ropes
course! Just leave your projects where they are; we’ll get back to
them on Wednesday.”
“Like hell,” Xavier Ingram muttered as he swiped his shaggy
brown hair out of his eyes and scowled in Woodworth’s general
direction. “I’m not leaving ours just sitting out for everyone else to
copy our design.”
Emma pursed her lips to keep from laughing. She liked to win as
much as the next person, but the physics teacher was taking this
whole team-building project as a personal challenge. She tossed the
scrap of duct tape she’d been twisting into a rope onto the middle of
the table and asked, “So what are you going to do?”
Xavier grinned and held up a finger. “Just you wait,” he said as he
loped off through the tables to the front of the room where the stash
of extra building supplies was piled. He held a large box victoriously
over his head as he returned to the table, and set it down on an
unused chair with a triumphant, “There! Whack it all in the box, and
we’ll seal it up.”
“What’s to stop somebody from coming by and opening the
box?” Beca teased.
Emma laughed and arched a brow at Xavier as if to say, Yeah.
What then?
“Have ye a little faith,” Xavier sassed as he motioned for Isabella
Ayala, one of the school’s two Spanish teachers, to set their device
into the box. The rest of their in-progress pieces joined the main
build, and then Xavier sealed the box with the roll of duct tape
they’d been given. “Treat it like it’s evidence from a crime scene,” he
explained as he grabbed a sharpie from the middle of the table and
signed his name over the seal, “and we’ll know if anyone broke into
the box.”
“And how many crime scenes, exactly, have you worked?” Emma
couldn’t resist teasing.
“Actual experience is unnecessary.” Xavier waved her question off
with a dramatic eye-roll that would have made his students proud.
“I’ve seen every episode of NCIS and Criminal Minds. I trust their
writers did their due diligence with their scripts, ergo, from watching
their shows, I know how to work a scene.”
Beca laughed. “Alright. I guess it’s wheels up, then, team. See
you tomorrow morning.”
Emma nodded as she reached into her bag for her phone. She
had fired off a quick text to Val at lunch and hadn’t had a chance
since to see if she’d gotten a response. After the day she’d had, she
needed to vent to someone who understood just how insane the
situation was. Beca had been perfectly sympathetic when she’d
explained some of her history with Campbell in hushed tones at
lunch while she glared daggers at the woman in question who,
judging by the laughter that filtered across the dining hall, seemed
to have charmed the entire foreign language department. But Beca
was also the sweetest person on the planet and completely
incapable of holding a grudge, so she didn’t exactly get it, either.
Emma sighed when she saw that her lock screen was
frustratingly pristine and free of any alert banners, and she shook
her head as she dropped it back into her bag.
She’d really been hoping Val would have gotten back to her by
now.
“Everything okay?” Beca asked in a low voice.
“Yeah. Fine.” Emma’s gaze drifted to Campbell, who was smiling
at something Hal Giovanni was saying, and she bit her lip as she
looked back at Beca. “I’m just gonna get out of here. Try to clear my
head a little.”
“My legs are still dead, but Dash would totally go for another run
with you if you want the company.”
Emma smiled. “Thanks.” She squeezed Beca’s wrist and added, “I
might take you up on that offer.”
She waved at Woodworth as she made her way to the door, and
took a deep breath as she stepped into the hallway. It was easier to
breathe, somehow, with a wall between her and Campbell, and it
continued to get better as she hurried toward the exit. She pushed
through the front doors with all of the enthusiasm of a sixth-former
who had just finished the last final of their high school career, hoping
that putting even more distance between herself and Campbell
would make it easier for her to stop thinking about her.
It seemed to work, too.
She was still acutely aware of the fact that Campbell was in the
building behind her as she skipped down the stairs that connected
Stonebridge Hall to the green, but the knowledge that she was there
didn’t feel as suffocating. The difference was pronounced enough, in
fact, that it gave her hope for the coming term. She only ever
ventured over to the main building for meals and faculty meetings,
so she should, for the most part, be able to avoid being around
Campbell.
Until the season started and she had to coach with her, anyway.
Emma shook her head. Even though she hoped that she would
have found her equilibrium with the situation by then, she just knew
that the whole coaching with Campbell thing was going to suck.
A second run hadn’t been in her plan for the day, but she knew
that she’d just keep thinking about Campbell fucking Jordan if she
sat around her apartment, so she figured it’d probably be best if she
took Beca up on her offer to borrow Dash. And, who knew—maybe
after a good hour or two on the trails with nothing to focus on but
the warmth of the sun on her skin and the sound of the wind
rustling through the leaves on the trees and Dash’s goofy smile
urging her to run faster, maybe she’d be too tired to think at all.
She was so focused on deciding which route to take for
maximum mind-numbing as she tapped her badge on the reader
outside the back entrance to Allen House and made her way inside,
that she was halfway across the common area to the stairs before
she realized that there was somebody stretched out on one of the
sofas staring at her.
“Took you long enough,” Val greeted her with an impossibly smug
smirk. “What’s cookin’, good lookin’?”
“You don’t answer my text, but you can drive out here and scare
the shit out of me?” Emma gaped at her. “How the hell did you even
get into the building?”
 Val laced her fingers behind her head and shrugged. “I was
actually going to wait outside, but Doris and her crew had the door
propped open while they were cleaning, so I asked her if it’d be
okay if I waited in here instead.”
Emma nodded. Doris was the supervisor of all the dorms on
campus, and was something of a mother-figure around the place.
She had also been the one to issue Val her tags the year before after
she’d jumped through all the required background-check hoops to
be able to stay with Emma over spring break, so it made sense that
she would be comfortable letting Val into the building to wait for her.
“I knew asking you to stay here last year was a bad idea.”
“Uh-huh, sure. Whatever you say, Miss Are-you-around-tonight-I-
really-need-my-best-friend,” Val sassed as she jumped to her feet.
“You sounded like you really needed me, so here I am. What’s up?”
“Not here.” Emma tilted her head toward the stairs and started
walking. There were a half-dozen other faculty members who lived in
the building, and the last thing she needed was for them to overhear
her ranting about the new guidance counselor. “I’ll tell you when we
get upstairs.”
“Wow.” Val jogged to catch up. “So it is serious.”
“You have no idea.” Too keyed up to take the stairs at a more
measured pace, Emma cleared them two at a time all the way up to
the third floor.
At five-and-a-half-feet, Val was at a distinct disadvantage when it
came to taking stairs at warp speed, and she swore under her
breath as she hustled to keep up with Emma. “Good christ, woman.
Slow down already.”
Emma pursed her lips as she purposefully slowed her pace. Not
that it mattered, really, because a few steps later, she was at her
front door. Val caught up just as she tapped her badge to the lock
and pushed it open, and she offered her friend a tired, apologetic
smile as she waved her inside. “Sorry.”
Val gave Emma’s arm an understanding squeeze as she made her
way into the apartment. “It’s fine, Cap.” She dropped her purse on
the kitchen counter as she made her way into the living room. “But
you are making me worried, here. What’s got you so wired?”
Emma set her bag onto the counter beside Val’s purse. “Campbell
Jordan.”
Val’s eyes widened comically. “Campbell Jordan who punched you
in the head the last time we played her? Not that you didn’t deserve
it, because you were totally pinning her goalie to the ice and
everything, but still…”
“Yeah, that Campbell Jordan.”
“Okay.” Val nodded slowly as she processed the information. “But
why? It’s been, like, literally years since you’ve seen her. The hell
has she done now to get you so worked up?”
Emma shook as she made her way into the living room and
dropped heavily into her favorite chair. “You mean besides getting
hired as Stonebridge’s newest guidance counselor?”
“Wait. What?”
Emma dragged her hands through her hair and added, “Oh, and
she’s also going to be my assistant coach for the girls’ hockey
program this year.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“I wish I was.”
“Whoa.”
Emma closed her eyes. “Yeah.”
After a long moment, Val laughed. “You know, that’s some
movie-type shit, Em. Seriously. Olympic hero ends up having to work
and coach with her biggest rival. I’d watch the fuck out of that.” She
laughed again. “The only thing that would make it better was if it
was a rom-com!”
“Rom-com my ass,” Emma muttered. She blinked her eyes open.
Val was stretched out on her small loveseat in a mirror image of how
she’d been waiting for her downstairs earlier, though, at least, Emma
noted, her smirk was replaced with more of an understanding half-
smile. “At this point, I’m just hoping I make it through the year
without killing her.”
 “Murder is bad,” Val agreed, the solemn tone of her voice belied
by the amused twinkle in her eye.
“Yeah,” Emma groaned. “God, this sucks! Like, it’s not enough
that she tormented me my entire fucking hockey career, now she’s
gotta show up and ruin this one, too?”
Val pursed her lips as she sat up. “Okay. I mean, I know you’ve
never liked her—and god knows the two of you used to go the hell
at it whenever we played each other—but tormented? Really? You
don’t think that’s being just a tad overdramatic?”
Emma scowled at her. “I’m not being overdramatic.”
Val arched a brow and drawled, “Methinks the lady doth protest
too much.”
“This isn’t funny!” Emma insisted.
“Okay.” Val held up her hands placatingly. “But can I ask how,
exactly, did she torment you? Because I totally get the rivalry thing—
I mean, it doesn’t get much bigger than Gophers-Badgers or US-
Canada—but I never understood why you hated her so much.”
“You mean besides scoring the goal that knocked us out of
NCAAs freshman year and then winning both gold medal games we
played against her at the Olympics?”
Val just replied with a small tilt of her head and a look that
clearly said yeah, besides that, and Emma sighed. She could bring
up the head punch thing again, or any of the other times things had
gotten especially physical between them on the ice, but Val had
witnessed all of that first-hand, and she knew she was just as guilty
in that regard. There wasn’t one specific reason that she could point
to as an explanation for why she didn’t like Campbell Jordan; there
had just always been something about the Canadian that rubbed her
the wrong way.
And, if she were honest, it also didn’t help that whenever she
skated against Campbell and the stakes were at their highest, she’d
lost.
Emma rubbed a hand over her eyes. “I don’t know, Val. And I
don’t hate her, exactly. I just really don’t like her.”
 “Okay,” Val said. “So, did you actually see her today, or did you
just hear that she was going to be working here?”
Relieved that Val wasn’t going to push her to continue to try to
examine feelings she didn’t understand, Emma said, “She’s here. I
had to show her around campus a bit before the meeting this
morning.”
“And…?”
Emma shrugged. “I didn’t kill her.” When Val just smiled at the
joke but didn’t say anything, she added, “It was okay, I guess. Just…
weird.”
“Weird, how?”
“I don’t know! I’d only ever seen her at games before. We’d
barely ever exchanged more than a nod of recognition until we got
on the ice, and then, you know, the chirping started, and she’s
always just had this knack for saying the one thing that would piss
me off to no end, and…” Emma rolled her eyes skyward. “It was just
really weird to have to act like a fucking adult and play nice.”
“Did she do that today, too?” Val asked.
“No. We both behaved ourselves. Why are you pressing me on
this?”
“I dunno. Seemed like what you needed to wrap your head
around it. You want me to stop?”
Emma sighed. On the one hand, she really needed to get her shit
together because the whole Campbell situation wasn’t going away,
but, on the other, she knew that if she kept dissecting her feelings
about the whole thing, it would only make her crazy. “I don’t know,”
she finally admitted.
“You want me to order a couple pizzas, and we can just sit and
watch TV and not talk until you decide?”
Emma nodded. “That’d be great, actually.”
Val smiled at her in a way that said, yeah, I thought so, and got
up to get her phone from her bag.
Emma grabbed her wrist as she passed and gave it a light
squeeze. “Thank you, Val.”
 Val leaned down and dropped a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Any
time, Cap.”
 “You know,” Emma growled through gritted teeth as she braced
her feet against the front of the passenger footwell, “just because
you have paddle controls, that doesn’t make you an F1 driver—
right?”
Lars laughed and took the next turn at a speed that was just this
side of insanely reckless. “It doesn’t?”
Emma swore and tightened her grip on the oh-shit handle above
her door. She didn’t know much about cars, but she was fairly
confident that Lars’ Cherokee had not been designed to be driven
this aggressively. “Tell me why I agreed to go to CrossFit with you
today?”
“Because Campbell Jordan showing up here has made you
twitchy, and you needed to blow off some steam?” Lars shot her a
grin. “I mean, that’s why Becs told me to drag you along, anyway.
I’m used to it by now, but she’s never seen you go into full-on
competition mode first-hand before, and you’re kinda freaking her
out.”
“I’m not twitchy,” Emma huffed. “And how can I be in
competition mode if there’s no competition?” The way he just
shrugged in answer to her question annoyed her more than the fact
that she apparently hadn’t managed to hide just how thrown she
was by Campbell showing up at Stonebridge. She sighed as she
admitted, “It’ll be fine. I’m, like, trying to reach a state of inner
peace with the whole thing…or something.”
 Lars nodded and slowed to a much more sedate speed as he
made the turn from the county road onto campus. “And how’s that
going for you?” he asked as he waved to Fred, the security guard
working the front gate that morning.
Emma shrugged and stared out her window at the empty sports
fields that lined the main road into campus. Just thinking about the
barely-veiled air of competition that crackled between them every
time they were forced to interact was enough to set her on edge
even now, and she honestly couldn’t believe that Beca had seemed
to be the only one to pick up on it. “Fine.”
Lars shot her a look that said he wasn’t at all convinced, but
instead of pressing for more, he changed the direction of their
conversation. “Bummer that Tracy wasn’t at the gym today. We
could have maybe gotten you a date to take your mind off of the
whole having to work with your most hated rival thing.”
Emma chuckled. A relationship was the absolute last thing she
had the time or energy for at the moment—especially while she was
trying to figure out how the hell she was going to work with
Campbell. “Maybe next time.”
“I’ll try to start paying attention to her routine so we can make it
happen,” he promised.
Emma looked back out the window as they rounded the back of
Allen House and arched a brow when she saw that a large white
shipping container was occupying two parking spaces beside her car.
That certainly hadn’t been there when Lars picked her up earlier.
“Hey. Looks like you’re getting a new neighbor. Any idea who it
is?” Lars asked as he pulled to a stop behind the gap between
Emma’s car and the container.
“With the way my luck’s going lately…I’m honestly afraid to
guess.” Emma grabbed her gym bag that was on the floor between
her feet. She just hoped that, whoever it was, they were quiet. The
French teacher who’d had the apartment across the hall from her
the year before had been unable to listen to any music that wasn’t
blasted at full-volume, and Emma had been beyond relieved when
she learned that she was being moved to a different house this year.
“Thanks for the ride, Lars.”
“Any time, Em.” He punched her lightly in the shoulder.
“Seriously.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she promised as she reached for her door
handle. “Give your wife and your dog a kiss from me.”
“You got it. You, Val, and Jon still coming over around five?”
“As far as I know,” Emma confirmed as she climbed out of the
car. “Val says he’s supposed to get back sometime this afternoon,
and then they’ll come out.”
“Cool.”
Emma nodded. After what had been one of the longest weeks of
her life, she was definitely looking forward to letting loose and
hanging out with her closest friends for the night. “Let me know if
you guys need me to bring anything other than dessert.”
“Will do,” Lars agreed with a smile.
Emma slammed her door shut and offered him a small wave
before he pulled away. She tossed the strap of her bag over her
head so it cut across her chest, and tucked the bag behind her back
as she made her way between the gleaming white moving pod and
her blue Crosstrek so she wouldn’t scratch the paint. Even though
she’d had it for close to a year now, it was the first brand new car
she’d ever bought, and she was determined to keep it looking like it
had just rolled off the showroom floor for as long as humanly
possible. Curious as to who, exactly, was moving into her building,
she couldn’t resist sneaking a peek at the pod’s contents when she
reached the front. Not that it did her any good. The stacks of boxes
and handful of pieces of what looked like Ikea-grade furniture could
have belonged to anybody.
“Hey, sweet. Another pair of hands,” a voice called out happily.
“You can carry a box or eighty, right?”
Emma frowned as she turned to find its owner, and then bit her
lip to keep from swearing when she saw who it was. Because if
Sophie Scott, Canada’s star defender, was climbing into the shipping
pod like she owned it, that could only mean that Campbell Jordan
was somewhere nearby. “What are you doing here?”
“Helping Campbell move, of course.” Sophie grinned at Emma as
she picked up a box and held it out to her. “Here.” She threw a wink
at the USA Hockey stamped on the front of Emma’s navy blue tank.
“Put those Captain America muscles of yours to work, eh?”
Emma reflexively grabbed the box even as she gaped at Sophie.
Sophie laughed. “What?” She wiped her hands on the tail of her
heathered red tee and turned back toward the stacks of boxes
behind her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Emma shook her head. No, not a ghost. Just the undeniable truth
that the Fates weren’t done fucking with her yet. And what made
the whole thing worse was that she actually liked Sophie, so she
couldn’t even take out her anger on their choice of messenger.
“Hey, Soph,” Campbell called out from behind her.
Emma adjusted her grip on the awkward-sized box as she turned
to look at her.
Campbell’s lips curled into a frustratingly familiar smile that
bordered on a smirk when she spotted Emma, and she pulled up
short and added, “Oh. Hey.”
Like Sophie, Campbell was wearing a faded Canadian national
team tee, black shorts, and running shoes. The irony of the three of
them repping their teams so far from a competition was enough to
make Emma smile. Which, she hoped, was masked at least some of
the disbelief in her voice as she asked, “You’re moving into Allen?”
“Gee, sound a little more excited about it,” Sophie teased,
making Campbell snigger as she dropped another box on top of the
one Emma was holding. When Emma grunted in surprise, she asked,
“Too much?”
Emma shook her head. The added weight from the box labeled
‘BOOKS’ was close to being too much for her to manage, especially
since the workout she’d been put through that morning had been
upper-body heavy to help get Lars into shape for his upcoming
WheelWOD competition, but she’d never admit it. “Yeah. No
problem. Wanna throw one more on?”
 Sophie nodded and half-turned back toward the moving pod.
“I’m sure I could find something.”
Campbell arched a brow at Emma as she said, “Pretty sure there
are a few more boxes of books in there.”
“Of fucking course there are,” Emma muttered.
Sophie and Campbell laughed, and it was all Emma could do not
to roll her eyes. “You’re hilarious,” she deadpanned. The boxes she
was holding were getting heavier by the second, and the sooner she
could offload them, the better. “Which apartment are you in?”
“Three-D.”
Emma took a deep breath, silently praying for strength. Of
course. Because it wasn’t enough that Campbell was going to be
living in her building, she had to be right across the hall from her. It
was enough to make Emma wonder just what it was she had done
in the past to warrant karma coming around to kick her ass this hard
now. “Right. I’ll take this up, then.”
“You don’t have—”
“I’m literally across the hall from you,” Emma cut her off, glad
that she managed to keep her tone light. She really was trying to
keep things civil. “So, I’m going up there anyway. And these are
getting heavy. Is your door open, or do you want me just to leave
them in the hall?”
Campbell’s brows lifted ever so slightly as she replied, “Door’s
open, so whichever you’d prefer.”
“And then get your ass back down here when you’re done,”
Sophie instructed. “I’m gonna need some help with this furniture,
and her knee can’t handle it.”
“My knee can handle it fine,” Campbell argued.
“Says the woman who spent last night with an ice pack on said
knee because she decided to double her time on the elliptical for
some stupid reason,” Sophie sassed.
Campbell, Emma noted, looked slightly embarrassed about that
detail being shared, and she wondered what had pushed Campbell
to such extremes.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
exclaimed,—O thou who beyond recovery hast captivated my soul,
the glance of thine eye has opened a wound in my bosom which will
not be cured to the end of my life!
I love, I love an adolescent, and my passion burns like a flame at the
bottom of my heart. When love glided into my bosom, scarcely did
the tender down shade the cheek of my lover. Oh, I love! and it is for
thee, my well-beloved, that my tears flow; and I swear by Him who
created love, that my heart has never known tenderness but for thee!
I offer to thee my first flame.
When the night deepens its shadows, it is to imitate the blackness of
thy curling locks; when the day shines in its purest splendour, it is to
recall to mind the dazzling brightness of thy countenance: the
exhalations of the aloes are less sweet than the perfume of thy
breath; and the lover, enamoured of thy charms, shall pass his life in
recounting thy praises.
My best-beloved comes forth, but her countenance is veiled; yet at
sight of her all minds are bewildered. The slender branch in the
Valley of Camels becomes jealous of her flexible and attractive form.
Suddenly she raises her hand and removes the curious veil which
concealed her, and the inhabitants of the land utter cries of surprise.
Is it a flash of lightning, say they, which illuminates our dwellings? or
have the Arabs lighted fires in the desert?

Number Probable
Number
Names Names of Commanders of Tents
of
Persons
of Tribes. of Tribes. in each
in
each
Tribe.
Tribe.
El-Ammour Soultan El-Brrak 500 5,000
Mehamma El Fadel Eben
El-Hassné 1,500 15,000
Melhgem
Would Aly Douhi Eben Sammir 5,000 50,000
El-Serhaan Adgham Eben Ali 1,200 12,000
El-Sarddié Fedghem Eben Sarraage 1,800 18,000
Benni
Sellamé Eben Fakhrer 2,700 27,000
Sakhrer
El-Doualla Drayhy Eben Chahllan 5,000 50,000
El-Harba Fares El-Harba 4,000 40,000
El-Suallemè Auad Eben Giandal 1,500 15,000
El-Ollama Taffaissan Eben Sarraage 1,400 14,000
Abdellé Selam Eben Mehgiel 1,200 12,000
El-Refacha Zarrak 800 8,000
El-Wualdè Giandal El-Mehidi 1,600 16,000
El-
Hammoud El-Tammer 5,000 50,000
Mofanfakhr
El-Cherarah Abedd Eben Sobaihi 2,300 23,000
El-Achgaha Dehass Eben Ali 2,000 20,000
El-Salca Giassem Eben Geraimess 3,000 30,000
El-Giomllan Zarrak Ebn Fakhrer 1,200 12,000
El-Giahma Giarah Eben Mehgiel 1,500 15,000
El-Ballahiss Ghaleb Eben Ramdoun 1,400 14,000
El-Maslekhr Faress Eben Nadjed 2,000 20,000
El-Khrassa Zehayran Eben Houad 2,000 20,000
El-Mahlac Nabec Eben Habed 3,000 30,000
El-
Roudan Eben Soultan 1,500 15,000
Merackhrat
El-Zeker Motlac Eben Fayhan 800 8,000
El-Bechakez Faress Eben Aggib 500 5,000
El-Chiamssi Cassem El-Wukban 1,000 10,000
El-Fuaher Sallamé El-Nahessan 600 6,000
El-Salba Mehanna El-Saneh 800 8,000
El-Fedhan Douackhry Eben Ghabiaïn 5,000 50,000
El-Salkeh Ali Eben Geraimess 3,000 30,000
El-Messahid Nehaiman Eben Fehed 3,500 35,000
El-Sabha Mohdi Eben Heïd 4,000 40,000
Benni
Chatti Eben Harab 5,000 50,000
Dehabb
El-Fekaka Astaoui Eben Tayar 1,500 15,000
El-Hamamid Chatti Eben Faress 1,500 15,000
El-Daffir Auad Eben Motlac 2,300 23,000
El-Hegiager Sellamé Eben Barac 800 8,000
El-
Khrenkiar El-Alimy 3,000 30,000
Khrezahel
Benni Tay Hamdi Eben Tamer 4,000 40,000
El-Huarig Habac Eben Mahdan 3,500 35,000
El-Mehazez Redaini Eben Khronkiar 6,000 60,000
El-Berkazè Sahdoun Eben Wuali 1,300 13,000
El-Nahimm Faheh Eben Saleh 300 3,000
Bouharba Alyan Eben Nadjed 500 5,000
———— ————
102,000 1,020,000

THE END.

FOOTNOTES:
[A] According to Arab law, murder is compensated by money; and
the sum is fixed according to circumstances.
[B] This bottle was taken with all the rest into Egypt.
[C] An Arabic expression implying extent of dominion.
[D] A title of a Turkish officer, used in derision by the Bedouins.
[E] Turban of ceremony, (Turkish.)
[F] Destroyer of the Turks.
[G] Every Bedouin accustoms his horse to some sign when it is to
put out all its speed. He employs it only on pressing occasions,
and never confides the secret even to his own son.
[H] A pun not easy to translate: Serah means gone; Serhan, wolf.
[I] When a Bedouin voluntarily gives up his horse to his adversary,
he may neither kill him nor make him prisoner.
[J] Ebn Sihoud, King of the Wahabees, is often called by this
name.
[K] This imaginary princess was no other than lady Hester
Stanhope.
[L] The ceremony is called the hasnat.
[M] These chiefs were, Zarack Ebn Fahrer, chief of the tribe El
Gioullan; Giarah Ebn Meghiel, chief of the tribe El Giahma;
Ghaleb Ebn Ramdoun, chief of the tribe El Ballahiss; and Fares
Ebn Nedged, chief of the tribe El Maslekher.
[N] Female camels of the most beautiful species.
[O] An equestrian exercise with sticks, called djerids, which are
lanced like javelins.
[P] The tribe El Krassa, whose chief was Zahaman Ebn Houad;
the tribe El Mahlac, with its chief Ebn Habed; the tribe El
Meraikhrat, its chief Roudan Ebn Abed; and the tribe El Zeker, its
chief Matlac Ebn Fayhan.
[Q] Fares Ebn Aggib, chief of the tribe El Bechakez, with five
hundred tents; Cassan Ebn Unkban, chief of the tribe El
Chiamssi, one thousand tents; Selame Ebn Nahssan, chief of the
tribe El Fuaher, six hundred tents; Mehanna el Saneh, chief of the
tribe El Salba, eight hundred tents.
[R] The tribe of El Fedhan, composed of five thousand tents; that
of El Sabha, four thousand tents; El Fekaka, one thousand five
hundred; El Messahid, three thousand five hundred; El Salca,
three thousand; finally, that of Benni Dehabb, five thousand.
[S] The tribe of Beny Tay, composed of 4,000 tents; that of El
Hamarnid, 1,500 tents; of El Daffir, 2,500 tents; of El Hegiager,
800 tents; and lastly, that of El Khresahel, 3,000.
[T] At Maktal El Abed, we met two tribes, that of Berkaje,
commanded by Sahdoun Ebn Wuali, 1300 tents strong, and that
of Mahimen, commanded by Fahed Ebn Salche, of 300 tents.
Crossing the Euphrates before Haiff, we concluded an alliance
with Alayan Ebn Nadjed, chief of the tribe of Bouharba, which
reckoned 500 tents.
[U] Published by Abel Ledoux.
[V] The celebrated treatise on medicine by Ebn Sina.
[W] This Arabic letter is of a bent form.
[X] A stringed instrument.
 Transcriber’s note
Minor punctuation errors have been changed
without notice. Inconsistencies in hyphenation have
been standardized. Spelling has been retained as
published.
The spelling of the tribe El Hassnnée was
standardized to include the accent mark.
CHANGED FROM TO
“manners are “manners are
Page 11:
every thing” everything”
“Mehanna el “Mehanna el
Page 47:
Ffadel” Fadel”
“Nabbee was “Nabee was
Page 69:
armed with” armed with”
“Damascus for “Damascus for
Page 71:
merchandize” merchandise”
“me for my “me for my
Page 76:
weaknes” weakness”
“des rous of “desirous of
Page 104:
securing” securing”
“arrived at a spot “arrived at a spot
Page 110:
were” where”
Page 136: “the prayer Faliha” “the prayer Fatiha”
“enemies be “enemies be
Page 137:
extingushed” extinguished”
“cafia “cafia
Page 149:
(handkercheif)” (handkerchief)”
Page 153: “Drayhy ordered “Drayhy ordered
the Hatfé” the hatfé”
 “enthusiastically “enthusiastically
Page 158:
rece ved” received”
“Chatti Eben “Chatti Eben
Page 204:
Faress 15,00” Faress 1,500”
“Auad Eben “Auad Eben
Page 204:
Motlac 23,00” Motlac 2,300”
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NARRATIVE OF
THE RESIDENCE OF FATALLA SAYEGHIR AMONG THE
WANDERING ARABS OF THE GREAT DESERT ***

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