16. Logan
SIXTEEN
LOGAN
Evander: Where the fuck were you all night?
I should be napping, but instead, I’m texting my brother on this awful flip burner phone. Who even knew they still make flip phones?
Logan: I had team stuff.
Mostly true, but I feel bad not telling him the full truth. We don’t keep secrets from each other. After getting lied to as much as our father has lied to us, we promised not to do that to each other.
Evander: which one of them are you hooking up with?
I wince.
Logan: Rude
Evander: that’s not a denial.
Logan: are you still in town?
Evander: Of course. I’m at grandfather’s. I’m not going back until I have to Sunday night.
Evander: Maybe I’ll pretend to be sick and stay longer.
Evander: Grandfather won’t make me leave if I’m sick.
Stereotypes about babies of the family are so right, and every single one of us contributed to that by babying the shit out of him.
Evander: don’t distract me!
Evander: Answer the question.
Logan: you show up because you don’t trust our phones and give me this burner to text on? I thought we weren’t trusting technology?
Maybe that will get him off my back until I’m ready to talk.
A harsh knock rattles my entire apartment, jarring me awake. I’ve only been asleep fifteen minutes when my eyes burst open, blurry vision finding my phone. The banging echoes through the place again, and I shove myself out of bed. I rub one eye with my palm as I pull open the door.
“What the fuck?” I say, finding Evander standing in front of me. “Did you run here?” I try to do the math in my head, because even running seven minute miles wouldn’t have gotten him here that fast from Grandfather’s building.
“No. I took a car so I’m not detected.” He shoves past me, ignoring that I’m blocking the doorway with my body, and drops into a seat in my living room like he owns the place.
I remind myself that he’s going through a rough time, and I did tell him he could come here whenever he needed. “Did you get new information?”
“No, but if you forgot, you told me you’d talk to me after your team thing.” He crosses his arms.
“I didn’t forget about you. I was busy.” Our definitions of busy are quite different, but I leave it at that as I shuffle to my espresso maker, turning it on to buy myself sometime to get my brain working before he forces me to admit to anything.
“This is important!”
“I understand our family falling apart is important, but I’m over dealing with it at the moment.” I shoot him a glance over my shoulder to gauge his reaction.
“Mom deserves to know. If this comes out in the press before she finds out and can leave him, she’s going to be so embarrassed. I just don’t want her to have to go through that again.”
The first time she found out, it was from pictures posted to a gossip website, and it nearly broke her. She wouldn’t get out of bed for weeks and then wouldn’t leave the house for months because she felt like everyone was talking about her. I can’t blame her. With as publicly love-dovey as they’ve been recently, it may very well ruin her. Evander was so little at the time, it affected him a lot more than it did me. Or maybe he’s just more sensitive.
“I know.” I don’t know what to do. I hate being the harbinger of my mother’s demise.
“So who from the team?” Evander is like a dog with a damn bone.
“Please. You know they’re far too young.”
He screws up his brows like he can figure this out. “Then who? And why won’t you tell me? You always tell me.”
“I promised him I wouldn’t say.”
His brows lift, and with them comes obvious curiosity. “That doesn’t sound good…”
“It’s not like that. He’s not married.” I glare at him. “You should think better of me.”
“If he’s not married, why would he care if anyone knows? He’s not like someone’s old, gross father.” He makes a face.
“I don’t chase gross. I’ve slept with him before, and it would over-complicate things. Are you done being nosy?”
“Which guy?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “The guy from the gala.”
“How did he even find you again?”
“I forgot to mention he’s my new coach,” I admit begrudgingly.
“ The guy from the gala is your new coach?!”
“Yes. Now, can we be done with this conversation?” I ask, hoping he’ll pick up on my annoyance.
“And you slept with him again?”
“Yes.”
“Why? Are you okay?”
My eyes nearly roll back into my head. “I’m quite well, thank you.”
“But I thought new and shiny was your thing? Does the coach thing change it?”
“At first, yes, a bit.”
He gestures for me to keep going. “And?”
How do I tell my brother I’d had the best sex of my life with a stranger, thought about it for months, and then fucked him again and it got better?
“What don’t you want to tell me?”
I screw up my face. “I don’t remember what you asked. The sex is good. I’ve continued it. It’s a bit taboo, so I’d rather not discuss it or have you tell anyone. I’d prefer not to interfere with his life or lose my fuck buddy.”
“Wait, isn’t your new coach that Hawke guy? The one dad hates?”
“How do you know Dad hates him?”
“How do you not know Dad hates him? He ranted about the guy for months after he took his position.”
“Because I don’t pay attention to Dad’s bullshit. How fucking long ago was that?” I pull out my phone to look at the years Anthony played. “Weren’t you like zero?”
“I was little, but I remember. No wonder I’m everyone’s favorite. You really don’t listen,” Evander mutters the last bit.
“Sorry I don’t keep a diary of Daddy’s little grudges. Didn’t know there would be a test.”
“You like that Dad hates him, don’t you?” Evander wrinkles his nose, sticking his neck out to look at me closer.
“It’s a bonus.” I scoot back. “Stop being weird. You’re making me uncomfortable.”
“I guess I can’t fault you. If I knew something would piss off Dad, I’d do it too.” He sticks his nose in the air but then cocks his head, like the thought just occurred to him. “You like him, don’t you?”
“Stop making up fantasies in your own mind. It’s unbecoming.” I sip my coffee, not making eye contact.
“You promised not to lie to me!”
“I’m not lying.” I sigh, not at all in the headspace to deal with allegations like this.
“I’ve known you most of your life.” He circles a finger at my face. “I know all your expressions.”
“I enjoy the sex. Obviously.”
“But you don’t let anyone close enough to fuck more than a few times because you won’t deal with your trauma.”
“What are you, my psychologist? Christ.”
“Maybe if you went to therapy, I wouldn’t have to be!” he shoots back.
“Because I don’t need to pay someone to tell me what I already know. My kinks do just fine helping me deal with it.”
“Obviously not, since you won’t tell your brother about what’s going on with you.” He huffs, and there’s real hurt there.
“I’m telling you. We’ve slept together a few times. It’s not anything more.”
“But you’re going to keep sleeping with him. That’s why you’re telling me?” He keeps pressing.
I should have known this wouldn’t shut him up. “Yes.”
Evander narrows his eyes.
“Don’t psychoanalyze me anymore. I’m only telling you so you know where I was last night and because I don’t lie to you.” I set my finished mug aside and lean back. “So stop panicking.”
“I will if I want to.” He’s quiet for a minute. “What does this mean?”
“It doesn’t mean anything.” I lean forward, putting my elbows on my thighs. “I have a game this weekend. I need to leave shortly. If you figure anything out, I will help you, but it’s going to have to wait until I’m home Sunday.”
“I didn’t realize you have a game this weekend.” He stands and opens his arms. “Give me a hug.”
I wrap my arms around him, treating him like he’s still smaller than me. “Everything is going to be okay. Maybe it will be good for you to pretend to be sick. Once we figure this all out, Mother won’t have to go with what Dad says about school, and she might let you stay.”
He pulls back enough to look me in the eyes. “Do you think she’d let me?”
“I think so.” Or she might be easily convinced to stick it to our father. “Lay low for a few days, and I’ll see you Sunday, okay?”
He nods.
Anthony seems a bit standoffish on the flight and through team prep for the game, but I don’t read into it with the pressure of our first game. I give him space, needing it myself anyways after the conversation with Evander. Am I being so different with Anthony? I guess I am.
But I’m enjoying it. It’s probably just the forbidden aspect. Plus, I like seeing how many of Anthony’s buttons I can push and flip the switch into desperate. I’m not doing anything wrong, and frankly, I’m getting silent revenge for my mother, so I don’t see anything wrong with continuing.
I glance at Anthony as I change, only half listening in the locker room before our first game. I go through my usual routine to get my head in the right place to skate. Every player does it, and if they say they don’t, they’re lying.
“We are going to try a few different lines today to see who meshes best together, so don’t be surprised if I rotate some of you in and out—” I zone out again. “Don’t get discouraged. This is only the first game, and the lines aren’t set,” Anthony finishes, meeting my eyes and making me raise a brow.
Why does everything he says make it feel like he’s talking directly to me?
I like hooking up with him. That doesn’t mean he needs to baby me or give me special treatment.
Wolfe runs us through our warm-ups, and Anthony looks like someone pissed in his corn flakes when we sit back down. He won’t meet my eyes. Great. I scan the crowd and spot my parents sitting right in front. A small crowd gathers around my father, who’s playing celebrity. I roll my eyes and don’t wonder about Anthony’s mood anymore.
If the man puts me in a bad mood, I can’t imagine what he does to Anthony. He gives us some last-minute tips then calls out names. I wait to stand until he gets to mine, but it never comes. I stare at him long after the guys get on the ice and the puck is dropped, but he doesn’t spare me a glance.
So it’s going to be that way. I’m not exactly mad, but I know there’s a reason for this, and he didn’t tell me. How many opportunities did he have? Am I wrong for thinking I deserved this? I’ve done everything he has asked me to do without complaint.
Is he making some sort of point?
Could us sleeping together have the opposite effect on him? Not that I’ve ever wanted or expected special treatment, but I was recruited by Rex to fill this specific place on the team. There isn’t anyone better, even if I have my faults.
It’s a painful three minutes watching Raven unable to keep up. Anthony isn’t anything like I expected him to be coaching. He sits for the most part, calm and collected, even when Raven doesn’t get back on D and Wolfe is scored on in a brutal two on one.
I grind my teeth, eyes boring into the back of Anthony’s head. He swaps half the line but doesn’t say my name. Finally, he pulls out one of the Ridgeways and puts me in on the wrong damn side. I shoot him a side glance as I hop the wall. Do I look like a damn lefty? He avoids my gaze.
Great. Now I have to play not my position and try to pull something out of my ass to prove myself to him. I don’t dare even look at my father. I know he’s furious. I can’t wait to hear about it after the game.
“What are you doing over there?” the other Ridgeway asks when I take his brother’s place.
“Don’t fucking ask me,” I say through my teeth, but we don’t have time to talk it out, because Wolfe stops a shot on goal and we’re sprinting back.
He passes it up to me, and I spin around my defender, finding Ridgeway open in the middle. The defense crashes, and the goalie manages to claim the puck.
Fuck.
I sprint back to help with D, but that’s how most of the first period goes. We’re just playing fucking catch up. Coach leaves me in until the last thirty seconds and then puts the other Ridgeway back in.
Great. I don’t get a fucking chance to play with the both of them and see our chemistry on the ice.
I’m beyond pissed when we retreat to the locker room between periods. I sit as far away from Anthony as possible while he gets out his little white board. I’m not even listening. I close my eyes and rest my head back, sucking in slow, deep breaths, regaining my control. This is one game. I don’t let anyone push me to anger—not my fucking father and not Anthony.
“Cox?”
I open one eye. “Yes?”
“Tired? Were you up too late this weekend?”
I bite back the first thing I want to say. You tell me, your dick was inside me. Instead, I say a much milder, “I slept plenty. I even made that early added practice.” My words earn me a few chuckles from the guys, who quickly try to mask them.
Anthony scowls. “That’s not what I meant…”
“I’m great. Just focusing on my game before we go back out there.”
“Can we have a word?” he asks.
I shove to my feet and follow him into the training room.
He closes the door behind us. “Why are you ignoring me?”
“I wasn’t aware you were talking to me.”
“You had your eyes closed, not paying attention to me.” Anthony clearly wants to pick a fight.
“Feeling guilty?” I ask, a smirk growing on my lips.
“I won’t ever feel guilty over the way I choose to coach my team.”
“I’ve not said a word about your coaching, and yet here we are.”
“Because I can tell you’re off.” He raises his voice.
I don’t take the bait. “I haven’t said a word. If I wanted to say a word, I would after the game. Do you need me to do something different?”
“You can’t act this way around the team.”
“Act what way?”
“Like nothing matters to you.” He got me there.
“I’m not letting you take my peace, especially when you didn’t give me a fucking heads up about benching me.” I stay calm, because I refuse to be the hot head my father was as a player.
“I hadn’t decided the line up until yesterday.”
“You had me alone for a few hours. Why didn’t you bring it up?” I ask, my spite getting the better of me.
“What did you want me to say? Pause the blow job so we can have a serious conversation?”
“It would have been fucking nice to have a heads up.”
“I’m not telling you you aren’t starting with my dick in your mouth.” His jaw flexes with his words, and I love how I’ve gotten to him.
“Why not? At least I wouldn’t be able to talk back.” I make a show of eye fucking him.
His expression falters in shock, or maybe he’s fighting amusement. “Is that what you want this to be?”
“What are you talking about?” I hold on to my calm, even though it would be so easy to give into lust and forget about anything but how he makes me feel when he’s inside me.
“Do you really want this to be honest?” he asks carefully.
“Isn’t it already honest? We aren’t doing this under any pretenses or making it more than what it is. Sex is inherently honest.” I never let anyone bait me, even with a stupid reply.
“The sex is honest, but the rest of this isn’t. It’s a fucking fantasy.”
“What about this is a fantasy?” I laugh, unable to hold it back.
“I’m your coach. We can’t keep doing this.” Is he really choosing to have this conversation with me right now?
“Why not? It’s clearly not getting me any special treatment.” The smart ass leaks out.
“Because this will go south. You’re already mad I didn’t start you.”
I laugh right in his face. “Me frustrated about not being on the line I want has nothing to do with us hooking up.”
“You expected to start.”
“Of course I did. I’m one of the best players on the team. We both know that. Rex recruited me to fill a space on that line.”
“You have things you need to work on. You know that.” He’s serious, and I can’t believe it.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come onto your team perfect.”
Is this revenge against my father? I don’t even care if it is. The man deserves it, but he should just be honest with me about it.
“I won’t start you just because we fucked. You can’t expect that.”
“I never fucking asked you to.”
“Then why are we talking about this?”
I cross my arms over my chest, not sure this is even worth talking about. “Every fucking player on the team has things they need to work on, but I’m the only one you’re hard on because we fucked. You are harder on me than any of them because we fuck. I’ve accepted that since day one, but I’m not going to accept you doing worse by me because you think someone will notice some imaginary special treatment.” My words shut him up.
He opens his mouth but shuts it, taking a minute to articulate what he’s going to say. “I’m hard on you because I know you can improve and you have the potential to be the best. Better than your father. You’re so fucking short sighted, you don’t see it. If you put half the work into hockey as you did into getting me into bed, you’d be unstoppable.”
“One has nothing to do with the other.”
“They do. I see how hard you do some things. You don’t take no for an answer.”
“It’s different,” I say, my tone warning him not to go there.
“It’s not fucking different, Logan.” His use of my first name makes me wince. “You’ve been considered the best in the youth league for too long, and it has made you stagnate.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” I shake my head and step towards the door.
He gets in my way. “Why can’t you see it?”
“The difference is: I wanted you, so it’s not work.” I don’t know how he’ll react to the truth, but I’m not going to keep having this argument with him.
“What do you mean? You keep chasing me. Every time I’ve tried to say no—” It finally clicks. “What are you saying?”
“I want you, so it’s fun to chase you. I don’t want this to stop.” I lift my shoulders. I shouldn’t have to spell it out for him. If he can’t get it through his head, it’s not my fucking problem.
He narrows his eyes like he’s doing calculus. “So I’m worth the effort, but you think hockey should just be handed to you?”
“No, I work hard in hockey—I just don’t care as much about it.”
He still has the fucking impossible math problem look. Fucking jocks. “You don’t want to be better than your father?”
“I don’t plan on going pro.”
His mouth falls open like I’ve just confessed to murder.
“Don’t fucking say it.” I try to shove past him, but since he has about fifty pounds on me, he doesn’t move even an inch.
“But Logan.”
I hold up a hand. “I get what you think, but every day, I see my father and know I don’t want that. Hell,” I gesture at him. “I don’t want to be bitter and unhappy either. I don’t need the money. I don’t want the fame. I’m perfectly happy without those things. I’ll miss the game, but I don’t need to over-complicate my life and watch it go to shit.” I don’t give Anthony time to reply. I know he’d give anything to go back to professional hockey, so my feelings are an insult. But he’s not going to change my mind. “We have to go. We’ve already been in here way too long, and I’m going to be fucking asked about it.”
He steps aside and lets me out of the room.
The entire team is staring at me when I come around the corner.
Fucking great.