Chapter 35
LOGAN
There are two options for avoiding Wilson before practice today. Either go really fucking early and keep myself busy, or slide in right before we start.
The latter is riskier, because if I’m late, I’m fucked.
So I get to our practice facility a full hour before we’re needed on the ice, and after grabbing a smoothie, I make myself scarce until it’s time to lace up.
I spend the time while I’m hiding scrolling back through our text messages.
As I read them, I spin my ring on the chain around my neck, thinking about the way Frankie’s sweet pussy looked as she made herself come.
And then it’s a spiral of horny thoughts. The look on her face when she comes apart for me, over and over again. The way she holds my gaze, because what we have is fucking precious. How good that perfect cunt felt clenching down on my cock when we were together.
I’m not blushing, exactly, but I do feel a certain way. Protective, emotional.
I’m so fucking tempted to put my ring on my hand. It’s where it belongs. But I can’t invite questions, so I tuck the chain back under my base layer shirt before I get changed.
As soon as I get on the ice, Wilson blows his whistle and gestures for me to come over.
So much for staying low profile.
“Didn’t see you when I came in,” he says when I stop in front of him. He says it conversationally, arms crossed, his expression unreadable, but I know it’s a trap.
Nothing I ever do will be good enough for this man. My fucking father-in-law, apparently. “I was here.”
“You’re a leader on this team, Granger.” He doesn’t call me Lego. Didn’t like it the first time we met, when he was hired on mid-season last year to replace the last guy who couldn’t get us into the playoffs. He’s strictly used my last name ever since.
“I understand.”
“On the road trip, you were always on the third bus.”
Yeah, because I was avoiding the fuck out of him. “I hear you, I should be on the first bus.”
“I’m always on the first bus.”
“Without fail,” I say.
His eyes narrow. “The attitude isn’t necessary.”
What the fuck. Is the attitude in the rink with us? But I don’t fucking care today. I’ll stand here and agree with him all day long. Tonight, I get to hear about his daughter’s day, and make her laugh, and tease her about her pretty blush.
I give him a blank stare and try to figure out what part of his grouchy, narcissistic jerk is genetically connected to the ray of sunshine who made my birthday so damn special.
“If you get here sooner, you can be more of a leader in the room. If you’re a leader in the room, your teammates trust you more as a leader on the ice. You get away with too much by trying to do it all yourself.”
I’ve heard this lecture before, and it makes no fucking sense. I am a leader, both in the room and on the ice.
And most goals I score are literally through teamwork. I also have way more assists than goals. Wilson’s system is a complete team, five-man unit game, designed to take away chances from our opponents, and we don’t have enough strong two-way players to pull that off.
But what do I know?
I nod with as little attitude as humanly possible. Blank blank blank.
He blows his whistle in my face, dismissing me as he gathers the team up. “We only won on the road because of luck. Tomorrow, we’re going to win if we stick to the system.”
Practice is shit.
The system is shit.
The only redeeming part of the day is getting to do the school visit, brightening the day of local kids—and then sending those photos to Frankie.
Logan
As requested, photographic evidence that I’m really great with children
Frankie
This is so cute
Frankie
And funny that you think you need to prove to me that you’re good with kids
Logan
Just in case you want babies at some point in the future
Frankie
Wow, this conversation escalated quickly
Logan
No pressure
Frankie
Do YOU want babies at some point in the future?
Logan
If they’re born with a stethoscope tattoo and a reckless embrace of life’s best adventures, absolutely
Frankie
We haven’t mastered in utero tattooing yet
Logan
Ah, then in the far off future maybe
Logan
But I have faith in medical science
Frankie
That’s the right answer
Logan
Maybe we can talk about this more tonight
Frankie
I’m probably stuck at the hospital pretty late
And late on the west coast is extra late here.
I don’t stay up. I was tempted, and of course, I made it clear she could just wake me if she wanted to talk about hypothetical future babies.
But I knew if I was going to win despite the stupid fucking Wilson system, I needed my rest. And we have all the time in the world to talk about that sort of thing later. We have nothing but time stretching in front of us.
I go to bed early.
I wake up to an adorable string of text messages from Frankie about all the things she did while I was asleep.
Then I go to the rink, and make my presence felt early. I endure Wilson’s judgement, and execute his system exactly as he wants me to.
We still lose to Hamilton, in our own barn.
The next night, I don’t go to bed early. I make sure I stay up late to talk to Frankie.
The next game, I avoid Wilson until the last possible second. I slip my wedding ring onto my hand just before I put on my gloves. And I start to play my own game. Fuck his system. Fuck his coaching.
Fuck him.