Page 62 of The Cutting Edge
I shake my head, banishing the memory of Logan accidentally nailing me in the head with a puck. We’ve moved past that. Today is about supporting him, being there for him. Like any semi-professional lucky charm-slash-potential-future-girlfriend would. Just like he’s been there for me.
With one last glance in the mirror, I give myself a pep talk. “You’ve got this, Coco.”
"Yeah, you do," yells Marissa from the kitchen. "Go get your man. And try to avoid any flying pucks."
"Yeah, I do not relish the idea of a return trip to the ER."
My cheeks flush at that last thought. Myman.
Marissa enters my bedroom and flops down on my bed.
"What's the protocol for wishing a good luck charm good luck on her first day at her new job? Yes? No?"
"Yes, I think. I'm pretty sure I'm going to need it."
"Good luck it is, then," she says. "Any word on when the concussion doc from USFS is going to come and check you out? No pressure or anything, but I miss you at practice. Coach Susanne is kicking my ass. Please come back and share the misery."
"I miss you too," I say. "I called USFS again yesterday to let them know I was out of the hospital, but I haven't heard back."
"Soon, hopefully."
"Do you think it's wrong of me not to tell Logan about the whole lucky charm job? It feels wrong not to tell him."
"Youcan'ttell him," says Marissa. "Girl, you signed a non-disclosure agreement. It's part of your job not to tell him. You tell him, and the Slashers could sue you for a million bucks you don't have. Or worse, Logan starts contemplating the whole lucky charm thing and you somehow screw up his hockey mojo. I think you have to just keep your mouth zipped, and trust Coach Rocco."
"I told you."
"I'm your best friend and you know I'll take all your secrets to the grave. Even the fact that you put ranch dressing on cheez doodles, which is a total abomination."
"Yeah, you're right," I say. "Not about the Cheez Doodles, obviously. It just feels kind of icky not to tell Logan."
"Hmmm… Pretend you're a secret agent on a special mission. You need to help the Slashers win to save the world and all that, yada yada."
I check the time on my phone. "Secret Agent Coco needs to report for duty… gotta run," I say, giving Marissa a quick hug. "Love you."
"Love you too," she says. "See you at the rink."
Grabbing my bag, I head out the door of the little cottage behind Mrs. Marham's house I share with my best friend.
Speaking of, I need to check in on her when I get back this afternoon. When I stopped by last night she was gone, probably at bingo, or pickleball, or what she hilariously refers to as Dirty Book Club. At 85, she has more of a social life than I do. And she’s definitely better read.
The drive to the rink is short, but my nerves stretch each minute into an eternity. Will it be weird to go back to the scene of the puck? What will Logan’s teammates think of me, other than the fact that my head is the perfect size for target practice? Will Coach Rocco fire me instantly when figures out lucky charms aren’t real, or if he sees Logan flirting with me? (Because I’m so innocent.) What if I'm not lucky at all and the win against Philly was just a total fluke?
The team needs Logan playing at his best to make it all the way to the Stanley Cup playoffs, and I need the team to keep winning if I have any chance at earning back all the training money I lost by being stuck in the hospital for almost two weeks.
The first $2500 hit my bank account this morning and it feels like all the money in the world.
I pull into the parking lot and spot Logan leaning against the wall, waiting for me. My breath hitches at the sight of him in his practice gear, all tall, dark, and sexy.
Logan pushes off the wall and strides over, a smile lighting up his face. “You came.”
“Of course.” I grin up at him, my heart fluttering. “A free dessert buffet couldn’t keep me away.”
He laughs, the sound warm and rich, wrapping around me like a cozy blanket. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been compared to a free dessert buffet, but I’ll take it.”
“That’s too bad,” I say, “because that’s literally the nicest thing anyone can say about a person."
”Well, in that case, let's head inside..”
