Page 86 of The Cutting Edge
I scoff. “And you didn't think being dishonest and manipulative might offend me more?”
“I was wrong,” he says quickly. “So wrong, and I'm sorry. I never should have gone behind your back. I was too focused on the end result, on making myself feel less shitty for hurting you and potentially destroying your last shot at the Olympics to consider how my actions might impact you, and that was unforgivable.”
His admission deflates some of my anger, but the hurt remains. Yes, I needed the money. Yes, his deception most likely saved my skating career. But it was wrong. I fold my arms more tightly around myself. “I don't need you to take care of me. I'm not some fragile thing that needs to be handled or provided for. And I don't need someone I trust keeping secrets from me.”
“I know that,” he says, eyes pleading. “You're the strongest, most independent woman I've ever known. But I couldn't stand the thought of you giving up on your dream because of me. I just wanted to make things right, and I chose the worst possible way to do it. Can you forgive me? I promise, I'll never deceive you again.”
"Is there anything else I need to know? Anything else you've done behind my back?
His hand flies to the back of his neck, eyes cast downward. Oh no. There's more.
"I may have incentivized the USFS doctor to review your file in a more, uh, timely matter."
"What does that mean?"
"Playoff seats. Turns out he's a fan."
This hits me hard. Logan knew I'd been dying to get back into the rink, and that the USFS was taking its sweet time to clear me to train again — but he also knew that my return to training meant I'd have a whole lot less time for being his lucky charm. And he did it anyway.
He sacrificed his dream for mine.
No man has ever done that for me.But it's more than that. Everything hits me in a rush — he's not wrong, I never would have let him give me money if I'd known, and getting hit in the head with the puck would have effectively ended my chances at competing at the Olympics.
My need to do everything myself, to not allow anyone else to help me, would have meant the end of my dream. All Logan did was try to fix what he'd broken.
I stare at the floor, tears burning my eyes. How am I supposed to stay mad at him when he's so infuriatingly sweet and sincere? When all he's ever done is care about me, even in the most misguided of ways?
The Slashers are just a few games away from winning the Stanley Cup, and there’s not a player in the league in that position who would change the status quo – but here he is on my doorstep, asking for my forgiveness, no matter what it costs him.
What has all of this cost us?
With a shuddering breath, I meet his gaze. “I already have.”
A slow, hopeful smile curves his lips. He tentatively takes my hand, the warmth of his touch chasing away the last of the chill that's lingered inside me all evening. “Then can we start over? I don't want any more secrets between us. I want to do this right, if you'll give me another chance.”
My fingers tighten around his. “On one condition.”
“Anything,” he says fervently.
“No more hockey pucks to the head,” I say with mock sternness, unable to hold back my smile. “Oh! And you’re going to have to share my lucky necklace.”
“Deal. No more pucks. Shared custody of your necklace. No more secrets. Just you and me, together.”
The orchids dangle between us, a peace offering and promise. This time when Logan offers them to me, I take them.
And I take him, too.
Chapter thirty-nine
Logan
Theroarofthecrowd is deafening as I skate onto the ice, my heart pounding out of my chest. We're up against the wall, up 3-2 in the finals against the Penguins. But one wrong move and the Cup is gone.
The second I lead the team out onto the ice, the announcer calls my name and number like he has a thousand times before – but this time is different. Suddenly the arena is pounding with the sounds of the song “Kiss Me” as the jumbotron replays that moment in Philly when I drew a heart for Coco on the plexiglass.
Cam and Zayne crack up as they circle the rink behind me, which is lucky because I’ll know exactly who to give shit to later.
The crowd is here for it, and the camera scans the stands looking for Coco. And when it finds her, the arena goes nuts.
