Down on the ice, Logan skated a few hard laps, stretching out his stride, easy and smooth. He looked good. Loose, focused. He stopped at the blue line and dropped to the ice, spreading his knees wide and . . . holy hell. That was the stretch of all stretches.
The guys lost it. Cat calling and screaming Logan’s name.
“You know he’s doing that for us!” Axel slapped his knee.
I shook my head at Shar and Maddie. Rob pretended to be mature, but his eyes were starting to water, he was fighting a laugh so hard.
The lights dimmed, and the anthem singer came out. We all stood. I balanced my plate on the ledge, pressed one hand to the poppy still on my coat while the players lined up on the blue line with their helmets off, heads bowed.
When the opening faceoff dropped, the crowd went wild. Our group whooped and hollered when Logan appeared in the third shift.
“Look at his gap control,” Chase murmured. “He’s playing deeper. Smarter.”
Maddie nodded, completely in the zone. I didn’t know what all that meant, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off Logan. No matter where the puck was, he was at the center of my vision.
Thirty seconds in, the other team chipped the puck out sloppily and tried to break out. Logan intercepted the pass at centre, pivoted hard, and without even looking, sent a perfect, saucered backhand to Rourke. Glove save ended the play but damn if that wasn’t impressive.
Later in the period, Logan was on the penalty kill for nearly forty seconds. Twice he poked pucks off sticks and then got a solid clear to earn the whole group a break.
Midway through the second, tied 1–1, Logan picked up speed through the neutral zone, took a pass just over the red line, and bulldozed past one defender at the blue line with a nasty little inside-out deke. The second defender tried to angle him off, but Logan lowered his shoulder, protected the puck with his hip, and one-handed the puck across the crease to his teammate, who flicked it up over the goalie pads for a 2-1 lead.
Our suite went berserk.
I stared down at Logan as he went to the bench, tapping gloves with his teammates. I was on the phone with him lastnight. Every night this week actually. He was just a guy, but seeing him down there . . . It sparked something in my chest.
“That’s our boy!” Axel crowed.
I wanted to record every second of our suite experience for Logan so he could watch it later.
By the third period, the score hadn’t changed, and we were all on the edges of our seats when one of the Blizzard got a penalty for tripping.
“There he is!” Bear called as Logan came on the ice.
“They’re going to put him on the kill every game,” Chase said. “He reads it so well.”
I leaned into Shar. “You okay?” It was one thing to talk about Logan every once in a while. Another to have him dominate the conversation for the night.
She smiled at me. “So good. I’m really proud of him. He’s worked so hard for this.”
Rob slung an arm over her shoulder, pulling her close.
Okay. So they were better humans than I’d ever be. But I’d known that since the second Rob got up in front of the entire student body and proposed.
Still, a sliver of guilt wedged between my ribs. Shar was fine with all of this now because it was fun and games. But what if it were real? What if something did happen between me and Logan? Would she be fine with it then?
I banished the thought from my mind. Not something I needed to worry about because Logan and I were supposed to be just friends. Full stop.
I turned my attention fully to the game, and when the Blizzard won 3-1, I nearly screamed myself hoarse.
Logan got two assists and was named first star. When he skated out for the little lap, helmet off, hair damp, his name and stats on the Jumbotron, the crowd roared.
Axel scoffed. “He needs to stop showing off.”
After the post-game milling-around, we filed out of the suite. Kelly thanked us, we thanked her back, then apologized when Axel lifted her off the ground in a hug, and followed another staff member down to the player’s area.
Logan came through the doors into the tunnel with Rourke and a couple other guys, hair damp, black dress pants and a fitted long-sleeve shirt. He spotted us instantly. Hard to miss a group that included half the Outlaws and one baby held up like Simba wearing your team’s onesie.
He grinned. “Nice digs, eh?”
