Chapter 30
Thirty
Logan
July, Senior Year — Fourteen Months Later
The second I step through the massive double doors of the Grand Shoreline Hotel, my gaze drags upward, finding the ornate ceiling I know resides overhead.
It doesn’t take more than a second for my heart to crawl into my throat while staring at the stucco designs and gilded carvings.
Just the sight of them takes me back to a different time.
The last time I was here, in this very spot.
To the person I was with.
Despite all the months that’ve passed, I often find myself looking back at that time, and all the moments I shared with Camden.
And whenever I do, my mind chooses to focus on the night we were here.
The night of the banquet. I remember every detail of it like it was yesterday: the way he spoke about me to my family, the way he cared for me when I felt invisible.
The way he kissed me like I was the oxygen he needed to survive.
I may not have been in love with him at that moment, but I can recognize it was certainly the start of the fall. The moment my heart could no longer deny the magnetic pull it felt toward him.
My throat bobs as I swallow, and I push away the memories, locking them back in the box where they reside in the recesses of my mind. The weekend of my brother’s wedding isn’t the time or place to wallow in heartache, even if the circumstance does make it more noticeable.
I follow the signs for the restaurant where we’re having the rehearsal dinner, and find the opulent dining room situated near the back of the lobby.
Mom and Dad spared no expense on the whole weekend—despite Quinton and Oakley’s many objections—which includes renting out the entire restaurant for the evening.
It only takes a few moments to spot my brother near the bar. He’s chatting and laughing and gesturing wildly, likely in the middle of a story, with Quinton, Holden, Theo, and the rest of their friend group listening in.
Including him.
I’d know that tall, muscular form anywhere, even if it’s dressed head to toe in a midnight-blue suit rather than his typical sweats, hoodie, and denim jacket.
He’s as devastatingly handsome as he was the last time we were here, even just seeing his profile.
The shade of blue he’s wearing will undoubtedly make his eyes an even deeper navy than they already are, and his sandy hair is styled back off his forehead, looking every bit the polished AHL star he is.
He has the beginnings of a beard now too, adding to the allure he’s already dripping with, but it’s that intoxicating grin of his while he laughs at something my brother says that has my heart lurching in my chest.
Every fiber of my being is telling me to make a bee-line in his direction, craving proximity to the man I haven’t gone a single day without thinking about. My head, on the other hand? Well, it’s screaming at me to bolt in the other direction before he can notice me.
Unfortunately, I don’t get the chance to decide. As if feeling my gaze on him, Camden’s attention slides to me, and whatever he was saying to my brother and their friends cuts off mid-sentence.
As if out of a movie, all of their gazes follow his, only to land on me. And while I’d normally cringe or shrink away from all their attention and scrutiny, I hardly notice any of it.
The only thing I see is him.
Electricity crackles in the air between us, zipping back and forth while our gazes remain locked on one another, and that sensation from earlier—the one pleading for me to cross the room to him—intensifies, and I take a step forward.
Even from across the room, I catch the subtle bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows.
Do you feel it too?
The connection is broken when Theo places a hand on Camden’s shoulder, pulling his attention away from me again. I keep my distance while the two of them speak, still feeling the rest of their group watching me like a hawk—even my brother, like he’s waiting to see what move I’ll make next.
Whatever Camden and Theo were discussing ends quickly, only for Theo to shoot his gaze toward me and head off toward the tables in the back of the restaurant.
The rest of their group follows suit, minus my brother, who lingers a few feet down the bar, clearly under the guise of getting another drink.
I don’t know if he’s meant to be my emotional support or Cam’s, but either way, it doesn’t matter.
When those blue eyes find mine again, my feet move of their own accord, carrying me toward him without a second thought. His probing gaze watches as I approach, and his chin lifts slightly when I finally stop beside him at the bar.
“Well, if it isn’t Little Reed, in the flesh,” he greets with one of those million-dollar smiles.
God, he’s even more devastating up close.
For a second, I just stare at him before I manage to find my words again.
“Hey, I, uh… I didn’t know you’d be here,” I say slowly. “Uh, you know, since you weren’t at the engagement party or anything.”
Though, that fact was more disappointing than I care to admit to myself, let alone aloud to his face.
He laughs as he circles his finger around the rim of his glass of dark liquor.
“Ah, yeah. I tried to, but it didn’t line up with our schedule, unfortunately.” One corner of his lips pulls up in a wry smirk before he adds, “You know the life of a hockey player. Time isn’t exactly our own during the season.”
His cavalier response stuns me for a second. I don’t know what I was expecting, walking into a conversation with him after all this time, but it certainly wasn’t this obvious amount of indifference. It’s a fucking knife to the gut.
Maybe I really was alone in these feelings.
The thought only drives the knife in deeper, slicing through my resolve, but I force a smile all the same.
“Speaking of… How is the AHL treating you? I saw you were drafted by the Blaze.”
He blinks, cocking his head. “So you’re keeping up with hockey these days?”
Only one player. And he was drafted in the first round, just like Louis said he’d be.
But I don’t say this either, of course. Instead, I just wave my hand and offer, “Well, it’s kinda all anyone in Chicago, and at Leighton, is talking about. It’d be hard news to miss.”
He nods slowly before taking a sip of his drink, only for his gaze to drop to the counter.
“Uh, yeah. Fair,” he concedes before clearing his throat. “But it’s good, you know. The team is great; we vibe pretty well. I’m just biding my time to see when they’ll call me up, if at all.”
“I’m sure they will. They’d be stupid not to.”
He nods again, a smile on his lips when he thanks me, but there’s a sadness in his gaze when it returns to mine—a flicker so brief, I almost miss it. It’s a wishful kind of longing, and it’s disarming to see, even for a moment.
Because he’s the one who ended it, the one who broke up with me before disappearing into the ether.
But maybe it’s because he’s feeling how awkward this is too. I mean, it’s like we’re strangers attempting small talk, when in reality, I know him more intimately than anyone else. Not only his body but his fears and dreams and mind and…fuck.
And his heart.
It’s the part of him I know best of all. Maybe even better than I know my own.
“Well, you look good,” I murmur, and he offers me another tight smile.
“Thanks. So do you.”
God, this is painful.
All I want is to run my fingers through the stubble along his jaw as I kiss him, not sit here and stumble through…whatever this is. Or at least grab his hand and drag him away from the prying eyes I can feel on us, if only to find somewhere else for us to talk.
My lips part, ready to ask him just that, but he downs the rest of his drink in a single gulp and then sets the empty glass on the bar top.
“Well, I better hit the can before dinner starts. Wouldn’t want either of the grooms killing us for holding this show up.” His gaze holds mine for the briefest second, and he offers me another smile. “It was good to see you, Logan.”
Logan.
Never in my life have I hated hearing him say my name. It lacks the teasing, playful lilt of being Little Reed. It’s missing the reverence like when he calls me Lo. But I’m neither of those things to him anymore.
My name is just an agonizing reminder of that fact.
I watch as he walks away, ducking out of the restaurant entirely rather than heading to the bathroom near the entrance.
Part of me wonders if the comment was just a lie to get out of the awkward small talk, and truthfully, I wouldn’t blame him if that were the case.
It just sucks, knowing this is the point we’ve come to.
Movement out of my periphery has my gaze leaving Cam’s retreating form, only to find my brother sliding up beside me against the bar, staring at the restaurant entrance too.
“Hey,” I murmur, feeling the word catch in my throat a little. “Are you ready for this weekend?”
Oakley’s gaze flashes back to me, lingering on my face in that assessing way of his. It’s one of the many traits he acquired from Dad that I never received, and it’s made even more apparent by the words that leave his mouth next.
Words that have nothing to do with the question I just asked.
“You’re in love with him.”
“What?” I ask.
“You, with Camden,” he says, setting his drink on the bar top. “It wasn’t fake for you either.”
My stomach lurches, the gravity behind his statement hitting me like a ton of bricks.
“He told y—” The words cut short before leaving my mouth, another realization slamming into me right after the first. And this one? Well, it damn near leaves me breathless.
“What do you mean ‘fake for me either’?” I ask slowly.
The muscle in Oakley’s jaw jumps a couple times, tension radiating from him in waves. And fuck if it doesn’s set me on edge. Because if the word either is any indication, then I’ve been missing a massive piece to the puzzle of how this all fell apart.