Page 65 of Overtime Goal
His eyes glittered. “Ready, Lo? Let’s go make some magic.”
26/
riley
Logan’s bedroomdoor had been closed when I went in after our breakfast talk. I’d stared at it, wishing he’d open it, but not sure what I’d say if he did. After barely sleeping the night before, I was dead on my feet, so I finally went to my room and collapsed onto the bed.
Sometime later, the sound of the shower from Logan’s bathroom had pulled me awake. A glance at the clock told me it was after three. Damn, I’d slept for hours. I sat up and listened, but decided to stay in my room. Seeing him dressed up for Quinn would’ve broken me completely. I’d already watched him walk away from me twice, and I couldn’t do it again. Instead, I turned over, curled into a ball, and let sleep pull me back under.
Then I was at Warrior Arena.
But not like usual. Everything was off, like someone had muted reality. The light was both too bright and too dim. A flower-covered arch was at center ice, and its delicate white blossoms swayed even though there was no wind. A ref stood beneath the arch, holding a book like he was about to drop it instead of a puck. The stands were packed with people, but instead of cheering, they were silent, apparently waiting for something to happen.
My teammates were in home jerseys, lined up on the ice in two neat rows near the arch. I stood off to the side in my road jersey, wondering what the hell was going on.
The arena speakers crackled, and one of our pregame songs started playing. Logan and Quinn came out of the tunnel, holding hands. They glided across the ice toward the arch, their faces bright with smiles.
No. Oh my God, no. They were getting married.
I pushed off hard, and the sound of my blades slicing through the ice was deafening in the hushed arena.
Logan and Quinn stopped as I skidded to a halt in front of them, spraying a wall of snow between us.
“Riles?” Logan’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here? We didn’t send you an invitation.”
“I don’t care. You can’t do this. Please, Logan. Don’t.”
He looked at me like I was crazy, but his eyes were soft and sad. “I have to try, Riles. I need to be happy. You do too.” He nodded toward the stands. “Go up there and find a woman. You can hook up in the locker room during the ceremony. Maybe she’ll be the one.”
“Jesus, no! Please don’t do this. I love you, Logan. I love you.”
Quinn pushed me aside, and they skated off toward the end of everything.
“Logan!” I screamed. “Please don’t do this. I love you.”
I jolted awake with a gasp. My heart was pounding, and my skin was damp and clammy. I was sitting up in bed, panting and still begging Logan not to marry Quinn.
And holy fuck, I meant what I’d said in the dream. I loved Logan.
Why hadn’t I realized it sooner? What the hell game had I been playing? I didn’t know what label fit me, and I didn’tfucking care. All I knew was I needed Logan Grayson like air. I was afraid that if I didn’t find him now, I’d lose him for good.
Losing him to that fucking asshole Quinn Weaver would not happen. He was as slimy as they came, on and off the ice. Logan had still been reeling from the disaster with Quinn when we first got to know each other. I’d have liked to take Weaver into a dark alley and beat him until he couldn’t move, but I held off. That was my dad’s MO, and I’d decided years before never to be like him.
The whole Weaver family was nuts. Once, after a game in Seattle, I picked up someone I thought was a puck bunny and took her to a hotel. Too late, I found out her bag was full of video and sound equipment, and she wanted to record our hookup. When I told her I wasn’t into it, she lost her shit.
She already had her jeans around her knees and was fingering herself. “If you want to get your dick wet, you’ll be into it tonight.”
“I’m fine with it staying dry,” I shot back, grabbing my jacket.
“Your loss,” she yelled as I walked for the door. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
I stepped into the hallway and called over my shoulder, “Pretty sure I do, and I think I dodged a bullet.” I left the door wide open behind me.
I had no idea who she was until the next time Seattle came to Buffalo. Play had stopped for a penalty, and Quinn leaned over and said, “I saw Skye, my cousin, a few weeks ago. She said she picked you up after a game last November and had a terrific time.”
What the fuck? I never knew how she spun that story, but she’d already gotten all the time I was ever going to give her. Between her antics and the way Quinn treated Logan, it didn’t take a genius to know that family was toxic.
A chill shook me from head to toe. I couldn’t believe Quinn was the man Logan had gone to meet. Surely Logan wasn’t considering jumping back into bed with that weasel. Had he lost his fucking mind?
