“We’ll make sure you’re all safe,” Ryder says. He’s the one who suggested getting bodyguards for Blair and Reed. After everything blew up with Lexi and our former coach last season, Ryder hired a bodyguard for her. She was getting too much public attention, and it made them both nervous.
“Everything will be fine.” Madds tracks the guys on the ice, handing out fist bumps when the line changes again and our teammates file onto the bench. “For now, keep your heads in the game. Being distracted won’t help anyone.”
“You’re right,” But my eyes still wander over the crowd, snagging on every sign that says things likeI love #27orMarry me, Logan. I used to think things like that were kind of funny. Weird and awkward, but mostly harmless.
They don’t feel so harmless, now. Every sign with my name on it and some declaration of love feels like a potential threat to me, Blair, and Reed.
Shaking my head, I force myself to look away from the crowd and focus on the ice. And when the shift changes again, and it’s our line’s turn to get back on the ice, I’m resolved to win for Blair and Reed. I won’t let some crazy fan with an obsession take anything away from us. Not my girl, not our ability to go out with my team after the game, and not a win.
“Hey, angel.”The world slows down as I wrap my girl in my arms. Squeezing her tight, I bury my nose in her hair and inhale the floral fragrance of her shampoo. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” she says. “Good game tonight.”
“Thanks. It was a close one.”
“Yeah, man, I was a little worried in the second period,” Reed says as I pull away from his sister and drag the kid into a group hug.
“Me too,” I admit. “Luckily, Bash was on top of his game. The Blizzard didn’t go easy on us, that’s for sure.”
“What’s that one guy’s problem?” Reed asks.
I don’t even need to ask him who he’s talking about. “Chase Bowen? He and Ryder are kind of rivals. It’s not as bad as it used to be, but there’s some history there I’m not fully in on.”
“He’s a dick,” Ryder grumbles, having heard our conversation as he greeted his fiancée.
Lexi giggles. “He is, but don’t worry, he has his own little hate club to make sure he knows it.”
Blair arches an eyebrow. “Hate club?”
“My besties live in Chicago, and they go to games whenever they can. They make new signs each game to torment him.” Lexi’s eyes twinkle with glee at that. I’ll never forget the game she and her best friend, Rachel, showed up with signs calling Chase Bowen’s manhood into question. I doubt Bowen’s forgotten, either. He was fucking pissed.
“You still want to go to Chasers?” I ask Blair and Reed. Although I want to hang out with everyone, part of me also hopes they’ve changed their minds. It’s safer in the privacy of their apartment, but I won’t ruin the night by voicing my hesitation. Between me and the rest of the guys, we’ll be able to keep them safe. That doesn’t mean I’m happy about the possibility of letting our stalker anywhere near them.
“Yeah,” Reed says enthusiastically. I already know Blair won’t want to disappoint him.
“All right then, let’s go.”
I keep my head on a swivel as we walk to my SUV, when we walk into Chasers, and as everyone makes room for the three of us in the booth. We’re in the middle this time. No one will get close to Blair or Reed tonight.
I laugh and joke around with my boys, but I can’t quite relax. There are too many people here. Too many eyes and phone cameras turned our way.
“You okay?” Blair asks softly, her warm palm coming to rest on my thigh.
“Yeah. Just a little on edge, I guess.”
She nods, resting her head on my shoulder. “Me too. I just want all this stuff with the stalker to be over.”
“Same. After the game, Coach said the team thinks they’re getting closer to figuring out who it is. Hopefully, we can put this behind us soon.”
“Yeah.”
We lapse into silence, Blair’s head on my shoulder and her fingers linked with mine. I turn to kiss the crown of her head when my gaze connects with a blonde woman near the bar. There’s something familiar about her that tickles the edges of my awareness. But then Ryder asks me something, and by the time I look back, she’s gone.
I scan the bar for her, and no less than six other women catch my eye, smiling flirtatiously at me. All of them look vaguely familiar because all of them are probably regulars. Hell, there’s a chance I slept with one or two of them before meeting Blair.
That’s what makes all of this so frustrating. I can’t help thinking this is my fault. I spent years flirting with women, bringing them to bed, and I did my best to make sure each and every one of them knew there was no future with me. But how many of them hoped I’d change my mind? How many of them said they were fine with it while secretly harboring delusions that we’d end up together? If I’d kept it in my fucking pants more, maybe we wouldn’t be in this situation. Because odds are, the woman who’s sending Blair threatening messages is a woman I’ve slept with.
Which means I’m partially to blame.
