Eli elbows Max. “You owe me five bucks. I said they’d kiss before New Year’s.”
Max rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to his temple. “I’m sure they’ve done more than that, but it’s none of our business.”
I glance at Logan, who’s trying and failing to hide how smug he looks about all of this. His fingers brush mine, just once, before dropping back to his side like he’s easing off the gas—but the heat still lingers between us.
“I’m getting another drink,” Daniel announces, already dragging Luke with him. “You two—don’t suck face too hard without us.”
“Or do,” Luke adds over his shoulder. “Live your best life, babes!”
Logan turns to me, grin crooked. “This is gonna be a thing now, huh?”
I shake my head, still smiling. “Yeah.Ourthing.”
I may have beena little tipsy on the atmosphere last night.
The lights, the music, the way Logan looked at me like I hung the damn stars—it was easy to let myself forget the world outside Riot. Easy to let my guard down. Too easy to feel safe.
And it’s not that I regret coming out to my friends. Not even close.
It’s just… It changes things.
I can’t expect them to keep it quiet forever, and once thenews travels through the team—hell, even just the locker room—it won’t take long before reporters sniff it out. A whisper turns into a question. A question into a headline. And if that headline’s big enough…
The NHL.
I shove the thought away before it can root too deep. It doesn’t matter. I play well. That’s what they’ll see. That’s what theyhaveto see.
Next to me, Logan shifts under the covers. Bare chest, messy hair, that sleepy little crease between his brows as he blinks at me like he already knows I’m spiraling.
He presses a kiss to my cheek, then the corner of my mouth, then finally lands on my lips. Warm. Reassuring. Familiar in a way I’m still getting used to.
“You’re in your head,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb along my jaw. “Regretting last night?”
“No.” The answer comes too fast, too sharp. I pull in a breath and say it again, slower this time. “No. I don’t regret it.”
His eyes stay on mine, quiet and steady, as if he’s waiting for the rest.
“I just…” I trail off, dragging a hand through my hair. “Telling my friends was easy. They're not family. I still have to tell my dad. And my sisters.”
His brows pull together slightly, not in judgment—never that—but in quiet understanding. His fingers drift down my arm, slow and careful, grounding me.
I exhale. “We’ve got three weeks at home, so I’ll tell him during the break. I promised I’d be home for Christmas, and I can’t hide anymore.” I glance at him. “Not when I’ve gotthis—you. Us.”
Logan leans in again, presses a softer kiss to my lips this time, like he hears the ache underneath all the bravado.
“You’ll get there,” he says against my mouth. “And when you do, they’re gonna be proud. Not just because of hockey. Because of you.”
I nod, throat tight.
Because yeah—Ihopethey will be.
But right now, having him here, skin warm beside mine and heart steady under my hand, that’s enough.
TWENTY-NINE
LOGAN
There’ssomething about my mom’s kitchen that still feels like the safest place in the world. The smell of cinnamon and roasted chicken wraps around me the second I walk in. And having Todd with me this time makes it even better.
