Emma didn't care about decorum. She didn't care if Kyle needed space or time; he had two days of that. She needed to apologize. She needed to make this right.

The game had been a disaster. The Suns beat them six to zero despite the home ice advantage. She hadn't seen a game played so poorly since their 2010-2011 season, where they came in under five hundred - which meant they didn't break even with the amount of games they played. That was when Ken Brown fired the coach and brought in Henry Wayne to coach. Things started turning around at that point; they never made the playoffs but at least they played better.

To be honest, Emma had no idea what she could do to tell Kyle she was sorry. She knew she needed to put herself out there but not in a way where it put him on the spot or made him uncomfortable. She kissed her father on the cheek once the game was over and headed into the team store to see if there was anything she could get for him.

Which was stupid since Kyle had everything he could want and wasn't particularly materialistic.

Her eye caught sight of an adorable polar bear with a Newport Gulls home jersey on. She couldn't help but smile at it? And for a minute, she imagined it in the corner of an oak crib, keeping a sleeping baby company. On a whim, she decided to buy the bear, using her season ticket holder discount, and went down to the locker rooms to wait for Kyle to emerge from the locker room.

When she got there, Harper and Zach were just leaving.

"Em, what are you doing here?" Harper asked, furrowing her brow.

Emma tilted her head to the side. "I'm here to see Kyle," she said as though it was obvious.

Harper and Zach glanced at each other before Zach murmured, "Emma, he took off right after Cherney released us. I think he wanted to go home before the media asked to interview him."

"Oh." She felt her cheeks burn with frustration at the fact that they knew something she didn't about her boyfriend. She felt like an idiot, a fool. She was angry with Kyle for ditching her and angry with herself for causing this tension between them in the first place. "Okay, well, I'll check on him then."

"That's probably a good idea," Zach agreed with a nod. "He needs all the love he can get."

Emma pressed her lips together and looked away.

"Do you want us to walk with you to your car?" Harper asked, her voice soft and compassionate.

Emma looked at her friend and squeezed the bag holding the bear. She shook her head, forcing a smile on her face. "No," she said. "No, I'll be okay. Thank you, though."

Harper pressed her lips together and squeezed her forearm. "Call me when you're home," she murmured.

Emma nodded. She couldn't find it in her to respond.

She huffed a sigh and decided she could figure out what to do on her way to the car. She needed some space anyway, from everyone. She needed to figure out what was right for her - and for the baby. Telling Kyle had to be done, no matter what. She knew she needed to find the right time, of course. Being in the middle of a fight wasn't going to help the situation at all, considering she had kept something from him which started the original fight in the first place. He also might think she was lying in order to trap him in their relationship if he was contemplating leaving her after her idiotic mistakes.

She hoped not. She hoped not more than anything. Space, yes, fine, take as much space as he needed. But to break up?

Her eyes started to tear up and as she emerged from the elevator, she took a breath and tried to control herself. She needed to make sure she didn't look as wrecked a she felt.

Regardless of all of that, she had to tell him. Because he needed to know. He needed all of the information so he could make the right decision.

And she owed him that much.

By the time she reached her car, she knew she wanted to meet him at his place. She just hoped that he would be open to seeing her. 

She parked in his driveway where she always parked, on the right side of the garage because he always parked on the left side inside his garage. She pressed her lips together and inhaled deeply, curling her fingers into fists and balling them up by her hips. She followed the paved pathway up to his front door and reached up to knock...

...before hesitating and slowly dropping her hand back down at her side.

Was this the right thing to do? Should she really be here?

He already had a rough night and considering all they had been through, she highly doubted she was the first person he even wanted to be.

"But this isn't about hockey," she mumbled to herself and placed a hand over her stomach. She couldn't even imagine something was actually growing inside of her body. Besides her new breasts, her morning sickness, and her emotions, she didn't feel pregnant. Sometimes, she actually forgot - as bad as that sounded.

But then her breasts would twinge or she would start tearing up at a car commercial or she would dash to the nearest toilet. Almost as though the baby was reminding her that it was there, deep inside her pelvis, waiting to meet her in the next nine months.

Kyle was going to find out eventually. Whether her raging hormones, her bigger boobs, or her belly, he would realize what was going on and their tiff from a couple of days ago would be nothing to what it would be. 

"Courage," she whispered to herself. "Have courage."

She took another deep breath and this time, forced herself to knock on his front door without thinking about it.

It didn't take long before Kyle opened the door, his short blond hair damp, as though he had just gotten out of the shower. He wore a white thermal with the Gulls' logo across it - one of her favorite shirts on him. It fit him elegantly and she couldn't help but let her eyes linger on his broad shoulders, the stretch of the anchor across his broad chest. He wore faded blue jeans and socks on his feet. This was one of the outfits he wore if he knew he wasn't going out but didn't want to hang out in his pajamas all day - or night, considering.

"Hey." His crystal blue eyes seemed surprised to see her at his doorstep and she couldn't blame him. They never really fought before, but when things got tense, they gave each other a few days to get over it and when they saw each other again, they didn't talk about whatever was bothering them.

Emma only realized now that that probably not the healthiest way to handle problems.

"Hey," she told him, trying to sound casual and not upset that they hadn't spoken in the past couple of days. "Do you mind if I..." She let her voice trail off and gestured to the door, pushing up her brows.

"Yeah." He didn't even hesitate. That certainty in her was nearly her undoing.

After what she had done to him, how could he so easily forgive her?

Her father's voice floated in homer head. 'Because he loves you more than the mistake you made,' he told her. 'He loves you more than his pride. Do you think people want to be mad at each other? Of course they don't. They want their feelings heard, acknowledged - even if there is no agreement - and they want to figure out a compromise that works best for both of them.'

"What's up?" he asked, shoving his hands into his pocket as Emma shut and locked the door behind her. 

She slowly turned around so they could lock eyes. She could see the pain and frustration in his eyes after that game and she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and pull him close so he was safe, so he knew that this what he was going through would pass. Until she realized that maybe, just maybe, she was the cause of his poor play. Maybe he could feel her withdraw on some subconscious level and he was worried about it. And instead of talking about the worry, it reflected in his play.

She gnawed at her bottom lip. She needed and fix this. She needed to fix this now.

"Before you say anything," he told her, "I've been running every morning for three miles. I'm trying to get into better shape."

Emma furrowed her brow. "You think this has anything to do with your play?" she asked, not unkindly. She pressed her lips together; she didn't want to simply react. She wanted to make sure she said the right thing, or at least, didn't allow her emotion to dictate her diction.

"This is about us. You and me."

"Oh."

Emma couldn't tell what that single word meant. She wasn't sure if he was disappointed or wary or stiff or defensive or... She couldn't tell. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe all that mattered was fixing this thing between them, removing the tension between them in whatever way she possibly could. Her head felt light. She started to feel dizzy but she pushed through her nervousness, ignoring her racing heart.

"First, I wanted to apologize," she said. "I should have told you about Broadway. I should have told you that because you deserve to know. I want to know all about you and I'm sure you want to know all about me. And I'm the one who's keeping up this wall between us because I'm afraid you're going to leave."

"Emma, I'm crazy about you," he told her. "I don't intend to leave you -"

"I know, I know," she said with a small smile, her cheeks flushing pink. "But it's still hard to wrap my mind around the forever portion of a serious relationship." She shook her head, trying to clear it. "My father has been my only constant in my life." She picked her eyes up to lock with him. "It's hard for me to trust that anyone else will stay."

"Em, I'm in it for the long haul," he told her. "Yeah, I want to talk to you about our future plans. I want to talk about trips and marriage and kids. Eventually. When you're ready."

She snapped her head in his direction. "You're ready?" she asked, pushing her brows up.

"I'm ready to start planning it," he told her. He shifted under her gaze and she realized she must have some sort of glare on her face, a judgmental look that indicated that he was crazy for even wanting to talk about it. Which wasn't going to fix things. It was her defensive mechanism jumping up to protect her when things got too serious.

Her heart started to race. She was getting lightheaded. Maybe this was too much, too soon to fix...

But no.

No.

She wanted to fix this. She needed to tell him.

"Kyle," she murmured. "I'm - I need to talk to you about something."

His eyes sharpened and there was concern pooling into the depth of blue. She wanted to take away that concern, wanted to push it off of his mind. But she couldn't. Because she wasn't quite sure how he was going to react.

"Okay," he told her, his voice a gentle mumble. "I'm ready to listen."

"It's..." She shook her head. Little dots blocked out a direct line of vision. She blinked, trying to get them to go away. "I'm not sure it's what you want to hear..."

"Tell me," he said, taking a step towards her. He furrowed his brow, cocking it to the side. "Emma... are you okay? You don't look so good."

"What?" Emma blinked but that was too much. She nearly tripped over something -

Except no. It wasn't there. Nothing was there.

That was strange.

As a dancer, she always had good balance. She never lost it for no reason.

And then, the dots turned bigger until her vision turned black and she fainted in that moment.