Shock. This is shock, I think distantly.
Because I’ve married one of my dad’s hockey players. Not just one of. I’ve probably married hisstarhockey player, although it’s hard to be a star on such a bad team.
As he sinks into a deeper sleep beside me, I look him up.
Logan Granger, of the Granger family. Growing up, when my dad was a fourth line enforcer, Logan’s dad was a superstar who broke records and won Cups. Over and over again.
I think all of his brothers also play in the NHL.
I can’t name them all, but I’mawarethat “the Granger brothers” are a whole thing in hockey, and I knew one of them played for Buffalo.
A year ago, my dad was hired there as the new head coach. I haven’t paid any attention to his team.
I probably should have, if only as a self-protective mechanism.
If my father finds out that I secretly married one of his players, he will never forgive me. And worse, he will never let Logan forget that I tried to ruin his life, the way I ruined Mikhail’s chances at a hockey career a decade ago.
CHAPTER 9
LOGAN
Eight hours later
I stand there, staring at the hotel room door like a stunned ox for thirty seconds too long after Francesca escaped out of it, before my brain kicks into gear.
No. Absolutely not. We’re not strangers. We’re married, and last night meant something. I felt it, and I know she felt it too.
I race after her into the hallway, but I’m only wearing a towel and she’s already gone.
Catching the hotel room door before it clicks closed, I dart back inside.
How the fuck am I going to find her this morning? I don’t have her number. I added myself to her contacts, but she never texted me. Fuck.
Her ring glints at me from the bedside table, abandoned by my disappearing bride.
I pick it up, and a slice of a moment from last night comes into
Thelicense.
I grab my jacket, but the folded up piece of paper isn’t there. I see red as my phone buzzes with a text from the team captain.
Jonas
Where the fuck are you? Third bus is ready to leave.
Logan
Food poisoning, maybe? Can’t make morning skate but I’ll be at the team meeting after.
It’s not even a lie. I feel like I might throw up. And I can’t go to skate when I need to find Francesca.
Jonas
Gross. Call Coach.
I’m definitely not doing that.
And if I get benched, I get benched, but I bet morning skate is going to be a dog’s breakfast for everyone who is hung over. Coach is going to play me and just be mad about it.
