What an absolute scumbag.
Even though he’s playing and won’t be able to check his messages for at least the next hour, I pull up my text thread withLogan and type away as I wait for the five people in line before me to be helped.
Me
I just had the most uncomfortable interaction. I ran into some old guy—literally—and he was such a creep. Looked old enough to be my dad, and he asked me out.
When I told him no and that I have a boyfriend, he basically said boyfriends and husbands didn’t have to be forever. Can you believe that?
I suck in a deep breath, my hands shaking slightly. The whole interaction unnerved me.
Me
I’m shaking right now. I wish you could take a break and hug me.
I’ll just pretend the next guy you bodycheck is that creeper.
I hitsendas the last person before me pays, and it’s my turn to order. I decide I could use a beer after that whole interaction and glance back toward the section entrance where I ran into Owen to make sure he’s no longer there. The coast is clear, and I release the breath I’ve been holding.
My head’s on a swivel as I make my way back to my seat. Reed’s cheering and chirping insults at the Denver Stags like a true-blue hockey fan. My heart rate settles back into a normal rhythm as I take my seat next to him.
“You were gone a while. All good?”
I nod. “All good. Did I miss anything?”
“Not really. The other team took a shot but missed. Sebastian is really good.”
“He is. I don’t know how he does it. It must be so much pressure.”
“Right?” Reed shakes his head in amazement. It’s the look of one athlete recognizing the skills of another.
I love that he gets to spend time around guys like Logan and Bash. How many kids his age get that kind of insight and encouragement from world-class athletes?
The growing noise level in the arena interrupts my thoughts, and I turn my attention back to the action. Logan, Maddox, and Griffin race down the ice, passing the puck between them, dodging the sticks and bodies of the opposing team. They make it look so easy, but I know it can’t be. I’ve never actually gone ice skating, but I’d roller bladed plenty as a kid in California, and I fell on my ass plenty of times weaving through crowded streets and sidewalks. And I never had two-hundred-pound men throwing their bodies at me in an attempt to get me off my feet.
A chant oflet’s go Roguesstarts at one end of the arena and grows like a wave rushing toward the shore until it overtakes our section, and Reed and I join in. I hiss as a big guy slams Maddox into the glass, but he manages to slap the puck over to Griffin, who hops an opponent’s stick and taps the puck to Logan, who isn’t as covered by Denver’s defensemen.
I clasp my hands together under my chin as Logan maneuvers into place and prepares to take a shot. Griffin shouts something at him I can’t make out, and I hold my breath when I notice what Griffin already has.
A member of the Stags is skating hard and fast at Logan, and there’s no way he’ll get out of the way fast enough to avoid a collision.
The crowd boos when the Stags player slams into Logan, and my boyfriend goes down. Logan twists mid-fall, his eye neverleaving the puck, extends his arm, and his stick, and before he fully hits the ice, flicks his wrist and sends the puck flying.
“No way,” Reed shouts. The moment feels like it moves in slow motion as the arena holds a collective breath.
“Oh my god,” I scream, jumping up in my seat, along with the rest of the fans, as the puck slips between Denver’s goalie’s legs, the red light flashes, and sirens blare. “He fucking did it!”
Griffin holds a hand down to Logan, helping him to his feet, and then they’re hugging and tapping the foreheads of their helmets together. Logan doesn’t seem hurt, thank goodness.
I can’t believe he made that shot.
The crowd goes crazy as the rest of the Rogues surround Logan for a quick celebration. My heart goes crazy when he turns our way and our gazes collide. His smile is downright sinful as he gives me a wink, and I swear my heart skips a beat in unison with the gesture.
“I think your boyfriend just made a shot for you, Blair-Bear,” Reed shouts next to me. “That’s so fucking cute.”
“Language,” I admonish. But I’m smiling like a fool. Because yeah, I think he did, and yeah, it is.
thirty-nine
