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Hard Shot
+ Ports >
“At least let Walter drive you home,” Alek suggested. “Emma and I can meet you at the arena later.”
To their surprise, Franklin agreed without protest–a sign of fatigue more concerning than any medical report. After seeing him safely to his car with Walter, Emma and Alek stood alone on Harvard’s historic
campus.
“Congratulations, Ms. Mitchell, MBA,” Alek said, wrapping his arms around her waist.
“Thank you, Mr. Volkov, for enduring this marathon with me.” Emma leaned into his embrace, finally allowing herself to feel the full weight of her accomplishment–and the exhaustion that accompanied it.
“One more celebration to navigate,” Alek reminded her. “Tonight’s game. Then perhaps we can discuss a much–needed vacation.”
“Vacation?” Emma looked up at him suspiciously. “You haven’t taken more than two consecutive days off in the three years I’ve known you.”
“People change,” Alek said, a curious note in his voice. “Sometimes they realize certain moments deserve special attention.”
Before Emma could probe further, her phone rang–the arena’s emergency line. Her celebration would have to
wait.
Game Five’s intensity matched the occasion–tied series, home ice advantage, playoff advancement hanging in the balance. The Blades had battled back from an early deficit to force overtime, where they now fought for the crucial victory.
Emma watched from the owner’s box, professional composure masking the exhaustion of her graduation day. Franklin sat beside her, oxygen increased but eyes sharp as ever, analyzing each play with the strategic mind that had built his business empire.
“Defensive pairing is mismatched,” he noted as Montreal gained the offensive zone again. “Hanson’s speed can’t compensate for Murphy’s positioning issues.”
“Coach is working with limited options after Williams‘ injury,” Emma replied, though she’d observed the same problem. “We’re maintaining shot suppression despite the mismatch.”
The game continued into a second overtime, tension mounting with each passing minute. Emma found herself standing for the final minutes, unable to remain seated as her team fought for the decisive goal.
When it finally came–a beautiful passing sequence culminating in their rookie center’s one–timer–the erupted. Emma maintained professional restraint despite her desire to cheer, exchanging satisfied nods with her grandfather and the board members present.
“Conference finals,” Franklin said with evident satisfaction. “Not bad for your first full season as owner.”
“The work’s just beginning,” Emma replied, though pride colored her voice. “Four more wins to reach the championship round.”
As the celebration continued below, Emma noticed her grandfather’s breathing becoming labored despite his increased oxygen. “Grandpa? Are you alright?”
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“Just excitement,” Franklin waved dismissively. “Old heart working overtime.”
+ Points
But his complexion had taken on a greyish tinge that alarmed Emma. She caught Alek’s attention across the box, gesturing subtly toward Franklin. Alek immediately grasped the situation, moving to Franklin’s side.
“Perhaps we should have the medical team check you, sir,” he suggested with diplomatic firmness. “Standard
protocol after an exciting game.”
Franklin started to protest but stopped, a flicker of pain crossing his features. “Perhaps that would be prudent,” he admitted–a concession so uncharacteristic it sent fear coursing through Emma.
The next hours passed in controlled crisis mode. The arena’s medical team stabilized Franklin before transferring him to Massachusetts General Hospital, where cardiac specialists confirmed a minor heart attack-“minor” only in medical terminology, not in its implications for a man of Franklin’s age and condition. By midnight, Emma sat beside his hospital bed, having changed from graduation finery to comfortable clothes Alek had retrieved from her apartment. Franklin slept, monitored by machines that beeped reassuringly in the quiet room.
“You should rest,” Alek murmured from the doorway. “He’s stable, and tomorrow will be challenging.” “I can’t leave him,” Emma replied, though exhaustion weighted every word.
“Then at least take a break.” Alek offered his hand. “Walk with me to the cafeteria. Fifteen minutes.” Reluctantly, Emma allowed herself to be led from the room, leaving Walter to watch over her grandfather. In the deserted hospital corridor, the day’s emotional extremes finally caught up with her.
“I can’t lose him, Alek,” she whispered, voice breaking. “Not yet.”
“You won’t.” Alek’s certainty provided needed anchor. “Franklin Mitchell is too stubborn to leave before he’s
ready.”
Emma smiled despite her fear. “The doctor said he needs to significantly reduce his involvement with the team. No more late games, no stress, limited work hours.”
“He won’t like that.”
“No.” Emma sighed. “But he’ll have to accept it, which means I need to take on full leadership immediately, not the gradual transition we planned.”
Alek studied her face. “You’re ready.”
“I know.” The realization came with surprising certainty. “Academically, professionally, personally–I’m finally ready to stand completely on my own.”
“Not completely alone,” Alek reminded her, squeezing her hand. “Unless you want to be.”
Emma looked up at him, struck by something in his tone. “What does that mean?”
Alek seemed to consider his words carefully. “It means I had plans for us–after your graduation, after playoffs. Plans that might need adjustment given your grandfather’s condition.”
“What kind of plans?”
“The kind that involved my thinking room at the cabin.” Alek’s meaning was clear, causing Emma’s breath to catch. “But those plans can wait until timing is better.”
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The reference to his almost–proposal months earlier at the cabin warmed Emma despite her worry for Franklin. “Some things are worth waiting for,” she said softly.
+ Points >
“Exactly what I keep telling myself.” Alek kissed her forehead. “Now, let’s get you some terrible hospital coffee before you collapse.”
As they walked hand–in–hand through the quiet corridors, Emma found herself in a strange emotional space- concern for her grandfather balancing against pride in her accomplishments and anticipation of Alek’s postponed plans. The day that had begun with academic triumph had evolved into something more complex but equally significant.
Whatever challenges lay ahead–her grandfather’s health, full team leadership, her future with Alek–she would face them with the confidence of a woman who had proven herself not just to others, but more importantly, to herself.
The slapshot had been taken. Now she just had to follow through.
