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Emily pulls her car into an open slot as close to the field as she can manage, the animated sounds of children and their parents drifting in through her open window. She scans her eyes across the green and finds the only two reasons she was willing to get out of her bed this early on a Saturday.
In a rare moment of privacy, she decides to indulge herself. He’s dressed in a plain blue t-shirt and jeans, a far cry from the suit and tie she sees all week. It’s almost indecent, witnessing this stripped-down version of him. The version that always seems to elicit runaway fantasies of lazy, hazy nights draped around each other. Even from this distance, she can see him wiping sweat off his brow with his forearm, and a pang of yearning tugs sharply in her stomach.
Gathering two coffees in hand, Emily makes her way towards the lawn chairs she’s come to recognize, Jack’s duffel bag placed between them. She drops her coffee into her allotted cupholder and turns when she hears her name called.
“Hey buddy!” she exclaims, kneeling down immediately to be eye-level with the sandy-haired boy running towards her.
“Emily! You came!’ Jack gives her a broad grin, showing off the latest lost tooth. “Dad said I’m going to play forward today.”
“Woah, that’s awesome! I know you’ll be great. Are we still getting pancakes after the game?”
Jack offers an enthusiastic and unequivocal “Yes!” and they high-five to seal the deal.
“Let’s go find your dad.”
He’s reviewing his clipboard some distance away, brows furrowed in a familiar way that makes her smile. He takes his role of soccer coach as seriously as he does everything else in his life; Emily’s even made it a point to tease him about it. But she also can’t help the undercurrent of affection she feels watching him care so deeply about his son’s interests, knowing that if Jack decided to quit soccer tomorrow and take up orchestra his father would undoubtedly be equally invested.
She starts to walk towards him, Jack’s hand in hers, when she abruptly stops at the sight of an attractive woman approaching Hotch.
He greets her with familiarity, an ease in their interaction that makes something thud painfully in her chest. The woman’s blond hair is pulled back into an artful bun, her smile displaying a set of perfectly straight, white teeth. And while Emily is not one to compare herself to other women, she can’t help but frown at her own faded Yale sweatshirt and shorts when this woman in trendy athleticwear places a manicured hand on Aaron’s forearm and laughs.
“Emily?” She feels a tug on her arm and meets the questioning look on Jack’s face.
“Sorry, Jack. Let’s go.”
By the time they reach Hotch, the woman is still holding onto his arm, and he’s sporting his dimple as he matches her smile. Emily forcibly tamps down her irritation, pasting a friendly smile on her face.
“Emily.” Hotch turns towards her, the wrinkles near his eyes crinkling in that way she loves. She pretends to ignore the ripple of satisfaction she feels when his body shifts towards her, forcing the blond woman’s hand to drop down to her side.
“Emily, this is Julie. Her son plays on Jack’s team. Julie, this is Emily.”
Julie doesn’t hide her appraisal of the brunette standing in front of her. Green eyes scrutinize Emily head to toe, finally gracing her with a pleasant smile. “Nice to meet you.” Glancing between Emily and Hotch, she asks politely, “How do you know Aaron and Jack?”
“Oh, I work with, uh, Aaron,” Emily stumbles at the same time Hotch smoothly replies, “Emily’s a good friend.” The two glance at each other, equally bemused, but they’re saved from further questions by the referee’s whistle asking the teams to begin gathering for the start of the game.
Julie shifts her attention towards the Hotchner boys, wishing them a good game and leaving Emily with one more curious look before walking away to her own setup on the sidelines.
“I’m glad you came.” Hotch’s voice pulls Emily’s eyes away from Julie’s departing figure. She looks up to see him smiling at her, standing closer than she expected.
“Me too.” Her knuckles accidentally bump into his chest, and she finally remembers the coffee still in her hand. “For you.”
His fingers trace over hers as the cup transfers hands. “Thank you.”
The whistle blares once more in the background, followed by an impatient voice, “Dad!”
Emily chuckles, “I think that’s your cue, Coach Hotchner.”
“We'll meet you at halftime.” He shoots her a wink and a smile and lifts his coffee in a silent, second thanks as she walks back to her chair.
She spends the next forty minutes cheering for her favorite soccer player, jumping to her feet when Jack scores the first goal of the game, and wonders exactly when watching grade-schoolers kick a ball around a muddy field had become the highlight of her week.
It had started four months earlier. After a case in Houston left her shaken, Hotch found her alone on the jet, and Emily upheld her promise — “ I’m having a bad day.”
He said nothing for a while. The jet filled with their team, took off, and landed in its usual fashion. But just as she pulled her bag out of cargo and began to exit, he said, “I promised Jack if I made it back before bedtime we’d go for some ice cream. Would you like to join us?”
She didn’t, not really. What she wanted was to curl up on her couch with two fingers of the absurdly expensive whiskey Dave had gifted her.
But it was rare, exceedingly so, for Hotch to extend an invitation into his private world, and so she accepted.
When she arrived at the ice cream parlor, Jack greeted her as Ms. Emily, accepting her presence with a polite smile. She told him that calling her Ms. Emily made her feel old, so since they were now friends, he should call her Emily and she would call him Jack. At that, he grinned so widely that she couldn’t help but do the same. Her preferred flavor of cookie dough seemed to pass another unspoken test, Jack excitedly asking for a cone of the same.
An hour passed with pleasant, if a bit reserved, conversation between the two adults while Jack chattered away, eating up the silence. With each new dribble of ice cream on his chin, he told them stories of his friends at school, the experiment he did that day in science class, and a detailed recount of Charlotte’s Web, which he and his father planned to finish later that night.
An hour passed, remarkably, without a single thought of Doyle passing through her mind.
When they separated, at the moment before they turned to their respective cars, Emily grasped Hotch’s arm and whispered, “Thank you.”
It was two weeks later when Emily ran into the Hotchner boys at the park on a Saturday morning run, surrounded by a dozen other children running around in red nylon jerseys. So she was invited to watch her first soccer game, cheering Jack on and glancing occasionally at Hotch who was shouting encouragement and direction from the sidelines.
It was surreal, observing this glimpse into his everyday life. And when the game concluded, and Jack immediately ran up to her and wrapped his arms around her legs in a hug, she could only feel grateful that her Saturday plans had taken a detour.
It continued that way for the next few months. Hours stitched together, here and there, and Emily found that the restless fluttering that followed her around for the last year slowly began to dissipate.
On more than one occasion, she voiced her worry that she was intruding, overstaying her welcome in these moments that should be between father and son. But Hotch was quick to assure her that it couldn’t be farther from the truth, joking that Jack found her more entertaining than he could ever hope to be.
She wondered if she should be scared at how easy it all was. How they enveloped her into their little circle, no questions asked. How movie nights and soccer games and pancake breakfasts had eased that chaotic thing inside her that made her want to run and run fast.
She wondered why when Jack asked her to read him his book before bed one night, she didn’t panic at the thought of being needed and wanted by someone. Instead, when he had finally fallen asleep, and she smoothed the hair away from his forehead, she felt the weight of contentment settle in her chest.
She wondered how she could have been so blind to it, to him , for all these years. What she felt grew slowly at first, then consumed her all at once. When movie night turned into a glass of wine on his couch, and she was suddenly aware of the heat of his arm resting on the back of the sofa. When their goodbyes turned into goodbye hugs, and she could feel the imprint of him on her skin for hours afterward. When he smiled the way he did when she showed up on his doorstep, and she could imagine, just for a moment, that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
All she did know, all she was certain of, was that somehow their presence in her life made her feel more at home than she had felt in a long time.
For all the day before had been marked with violence and near-tragedy, the night of JJ’s wedding can only be described as idyllic.
Centerpieces of purple and white flowers sit on decorated round tables under a canopy of lanterns and string lights. Soft jazz floats through the backyard, as the guests mingle on the grass as they wait for the bride and groom to arrive.
Emily is talking to Penelope and Derek, commiserating about Kevin’s arrival with Gina, when she sees them. Her breath catches as he walks into the room, their eyes finding each other immediately.
“Emily!”
Jack runs into her legs, wrapping his arms tightly around her. She freezes when she catches the questioning looks from the others, no doubt wondering where this familiarity came from, when exactly Emily became the first person Jack runs to in a room.
It’s not that she and Hotch have been trying to hide…whatever it is they’ve been doing. But it’s always felt like something precious, unspoken. Something to be sequestered away just for them.
Emily gently ruffles Jack’s hair, bending down to smile at him.
“Hey, Jack. Don’t you look handsome?”
He beams up at her, telling her that his dad had to buy him a new shirt because he’s grown so big.
Behind them, Hotch clears his throat and says, “Jack, don’t you want to say hi to Derek and Ms. Penelope?”
Jack turns to wave, one hand still firmly holding onto Emily’s.
As Derek kneels down to high-five Jack, Emily looks at Hotch, and he smiles at her, a bit sheepish, as if he knows this interaction will undoubtedly raise questions from their inquisitive friends later.
Derek invites Jack to go look at the fountain outside, and Jack pulls gently on Emily’s hand, asking her to go with him. When they walk away, she glances back over her shoulder, and Hotch is still smiling. He gives her a small nod, a promise that they would find each other later.
The ceremony is lovely, JJ walking down a petaled aisle on her mother’s arm towards the flowered archway where Will and Henry wait for her. She stands next to Hotch and Jack, only too aware of the way his shoulder softly brushes against hers the entire time.
Dancing follows dinner, and everyone is passing partners around with each new song that plays. Emily’s dancing with Dave, laughing as he spins her in a circle, when she hears Hotch tell Jack it’s time for bed.
“Come on, Jack, you can go sleep in one of Uncle Dave’s bedrooms.”
“Can Emily take me?” Jack asks, his voice uncharacteristically plaintive, betraying his tiredness.
She and Dave pause their dance, the latter overhearing the same question, and Hotch meets her eyes.
“I can take you, buddy,” Hotch hesitates, looking up to meet Emily’s eyes.
Jack turns to find her and directs his plea to her, “Please Emily?” and her heart squeezes.
“Of course, little man, let’s go.” She holds her hand out for him.
“Emily, you don’t have to—” Hotch tries to interject, but she shakes her head.
“Don’t be silly. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Emily and Jack walk hand in hand into the house, and she can feel the confused looks on her back as they leave the party.
They find an empty bedroom easily, and Emily tucks him into the plush bedding, smoothing his hair away from his eyes out of habit.
“Emily?”
“Yes, Jack?”
“Are you going to marry Daddy?”
Emily’s eyes widen, her heart starting to hammer, as she wonders if she’s done this all wrong, somehow confused this young boy with her presence in his life. “What— what do you mean?”
“Daddy told Uncle Dave he loves you. And when you’re in love, you get married. Like Ms. JJ and Will. Right?”
His expression is earnest and sincere, and Emily feels like the floor has fallen out beneath her.
“Jack,” she asks slowly, “what exactly did you hear your dad say to Uncle Dave?”
Jack’s eyebrows furrow, a remarkable likeness of his father. “I heard them before. Before we ate dinner. Uncle Dave was talking about you. He asked Daddy if he loved you, and Daddy said yes.”
Emily can’t stop the burst of hope that blooms in her chest, or the smile that appears on her lips, even though a part of her is reminding her this could all be a misunderstanding.
But it’s enough for her, enough that she knows she has to ask.
“Don’t worry, Jack. Your dad and I are going to talk about this.” She bends down to hug him, brushing a kiss against his forehead. “Now you go to sleep, okay?”
“Okay. Good night, Emily.”
“Sweet dreams, little man.”
When she rejoins the party, she finds the man she’s looking for standing off to the side, surveying the dancing crowd as he cradles a drink.
“Do you want to dance?” Hotch seems almost surprised at the question, but he nods. Places his glass on the closest table and takes her hand in his. The song switches to something softer, slower, and they start to sway together.
Emily feels her heart thudding away in her chest, but she’s here on a mission.
“Clyde Easter called me today,” she starts, her voice casual, conversational.
“Oh?”
“He offered me a job. Head of the London office.”
She feels his shoulders tense beneath her hand, and she breathes a quiet sigh of relief.
“Is this— are you—” He takes a breath and starts again. “Congratulations, Emily. You’d be wonderful in that role.”
“Thanks.” She pulls back to meet his eyes. “I’m not sure I’m going to take it.”
The tightness in his jaw eases slightly. “Why not?”
“Actually, Jack helped me decide.”
“Jack?”
“He told me about a conversation he overheard tonight. Between you and Dave.”
He chuckles, and if she didn’t know him so well by now, she might not have recognized the undercurrent of nerves in the sound. “He’s always been a curious one. What— what did he say to you?”
“That you love me.”
He goes rigid for a moment, causing them both to nearly stumble, but recovers quickly. He’s quiet, studying her face, before he whispers, “And that helped you?”
She nods. “Because I love you too, and I decided a cross-Atlantic relationship wouldn’t be very fun for either of us.”
With that, his expression morphs entirely. Distinct relief, a hint of shock, and a newfound intensity in his gaze that makes her chest tight.
“ Emily ,” he breathes her name, and it’s like cotton candy, airy and sweet.
He searches her eyes for another moment, starts to bend down, when a loud laugh erupts from the crowd behind them.
Chuckling, he pulls away and squeezes her hand. “Maybe we should wait until we’re away from prying eyes,” his voice deep and laced with promise.
Emily agrees, though she’s sure if any of the others bothered to look in their direction, the smitten smiles on both their faces would surely give them away.
Instead, she steps into him, just on the edge of what might be considered appropriate. He takes advantage of her closeness, brushing his cheek against her temple as he says, “You look so beautiful tonight. I’ve been wanting to tell you.”
It’s almost ridiculous, the way her stomach erupts into flutters at his words and her skin starts to heat with the proximity of his body to hers and his breath on her cheek.
They separate after one song, not wanting to draw any more attention to themselves than they already have for one evening. Emily continues to dance, evading the insistent questions from Penelope and Derek, all the while feeling his eyes on her from across the dance floor and she’s all too impatient for the party to end.
When the night finally dwindles to a close and JJ and Will have said their goodbyes, he finds her in the empty hallway outside the bedroom where Jack is still asleep.
He says nothing, just tucks her hair behind her ear and cups her cheek with his hand. His lips are soft when they finally meet hers, a tender, hopeful kiss that speaks of their history, of their future, of finally.
They know they can’t linger, so he presses his lips to her forehead, then the tip of her nose, and whispers, “I love you.”
The following Saturday, Emily is woken up by a kiss against her bare shoulder instead of her alarm. She pours Jack his bowl of cereal and drinks her coffee at their breakfast table. She sits in the passenger seat as Aaron drives them to the park, Jack talking away in the backseat, far too awake and animated for how early it is.
When they pull into the parking lot, Emily spots a familiar blond waving to Aaron from a few spots away. Jack runs ahead of them to meet his teammates, and Emily takes advantage, looping her arm around Aaron’s neck and bringing his lips down to hers.
He takes a moment to respond, taken by surprise, and he chuckles in amusement when she finally pulls away. “What was that for?”
Emily just shrugs, but can’t help her glance to the left. He follows her eyes and laughs harder when he sees Julie frowning at them from a distance.
He wraps his arm around her shoulder and kisses her temple, “Feeling a little possessive, are we?”
Her hand comes around his waist as they walk towards the field, and her voice is relaxed as she replies, “As long as she keeps her hands to herself, we’ll be just fine.”