Chapter 28 Logan
LOGAN
“Where the hell are you taking me?”
Nathan sounds exactly as he looks. Suspicious, annoyed, and hot as hell in the hoodie I definitely want to yank off him.
I glance over at him, fighting a grin. “Relax,” I say, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. “You’re gonna love it.”
He side-eyes me from under his hood, arms crossed tight over his chest. “Not sure how I feel about you showing up at my room at two in the morning and telling me to get dressed.”
“And yet…” I shoot him a look as I take the turn onto the side road I scoped out earlier, the tires of Austin’s truck crunching over snow. “You still came.”
His mouth presses into a flat line. “Only because you dropped to your knees and said please.”
I glance at him, smirking. “I seem to recall you saying please.”
He glares out the window, but his ears are pink.
Outside, everything’s white and still. I love this time of year. Kinda makes it feel like the whole world is holding its breath.
We only got back from his parents’ house yesterday, and it feels like we’re still there, in his childhood bedroom. Something shifted between us since then, but neither of us have brought it up.
New Year’s Eve won’t stop replaying in my head. We decided to go out to some random countdown downtown, packed with strangers, loud music, and overpriced hot dogs.
None of our friends were there. No one knew us at all. Which meant, for a few hours, we weren’t Logan and Nathan. We weren’t a secret. We were just two people in a crowd. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder as the countdown started. Ten. Then five. Then one.
And when the fireworks went off, he turned to me, tugged me in by the collar of my coat and kissed me.
Right there, in the middle of the crowd. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he didn’t care who saw. Like maybe—for that one, heart-stopping second—he wasn’t scared.
And when he pulled back, he looked at me like he was feeling everything I was and whispered Happy New Year against my lips.
I almost told him I loved him, then.
Almost said it at Christmas, too.
And I’ve been trying like hell not to say it again ever since.
He stares out the window as the lake comes into view, a broad stretch of frozen white framed by pine trees shining under the moon. It’s quiet out here. Peaceful. Just a couple benches, a rough parking lot, and us.
Nathan’s eyes linger on the ice, then slide to me, his brows slightly furrowed. “Are you taking me on a date?”
“No,” I lie easily, letting out a scoff as I shut off the engine and grab the duffel bags from the backseat. “It’s just two hockey players going for a skate.”
He doesn’t say anything, but still gives me that flat Nathan look that says he’s not buying it.
“You brought me on a date,” he repeats, quieter this time. I don’t know what to make of it. Does he like the idea? Hate it?
“I brought you to skate,” I tell him, bumping my shoulder into his.
“Somewhere you don’t have to think about anyone watching and just have fun.
” That earns me a small blink. “Also, maybe I did bring a thermos, marshmallows, and some good hot chocolate in case you wanted to sit after and talk. Sue me.”
I roll my eyes which makes his lips twitch, but he still doesn’t move, doesn’t even glance away from me.
“Come on, Hayes. I even packed your skates. You can’t reject me and leave me with the mental image of your size thirteens in my Bauer boots.”
He lets out a snort and shakes his head, opening the car door.
I do the same, the cold biting as I walk around the car, seeing his cheeks and the tip of his nose getting pinker by the second. I want to kiss it. Kiss him everywhere.
“This seems like the perfect murder spot,” he mutters, arching a brow.
I huff out a laugh. “Would I really go through all this trouble just to off you?”
He gives me a deadpan look. “Honestly? Probably.”
I bump his arm and toss him his bag.
We sit on the bench, lacing up. The air’s so cold, I feel the burn in my fingers, but it feels good. Feels good being here with him, because even though I lied my ass off and told him this wasn’t a date, this sure as shit is a date to me.
When I glance over, Nathan’s just staring at the lake, his fingers still on his laces.
“You okay?” I ask.
He nods, then exhales, his breath visible in the air. “Yeah. It’s just been a while.”
“What, like a week?” I laugh, shaking my head. “I visibly remember being woken up at the buttcrack of dawn for us to skate with your dad.”
“Since skating just for myself,” he corrects.
I pause, my brows shooting up.
“I love hockey. But for the longest time…” He pauses, pressing his lips together. “I don’t know. Every time I’m on the ice, it’s about what comes next. What I can do to be the best, how to impress scouts, what happens if I get injured or don’t make it.”
My jaw tightens as I remember how stubborn he was about his injury a few months back, and now it makes sense.
He blows out a breath. “It feels like there’s never a version of it that’s just for fun anymore.”
“There are no scoreboards out here,” I tell him. “No pressure, either. Just us and the ice.”
He looks at me for a few seconds, and then he nods, his lips lifting into a smile.
We finish tying up and step out onto the ice. It groans faintly under our weight, but it holds. I grin as I start skating because I love the first marks the blades leave on fresh ice. It’s like drawing on glass.
I glance up at him, smiling a little, and it hits me how fucking much I like looking at him. Broad shoulders, deep brown eyes, the line between his brows that’s practically permanent from him focusing so much.
Fuck, Hayes. What the hell have you done to me?
I vividly remember telling him there wasn’t a chance in hell I would catch feelings for him—or anyone for that matter—and now, here I am, with my heart banging against my chest anytime I look at him.
“Alright,” I say, clearing my throat as I push off and glance at him over my shoulder. “Let’s see if you still got it.”
He rolls his eyes but starts skating forward anyway, moving with that same clean, practiced ease he always has. Within seconds, he’s beside me, his shoulder brushing mine.
I bump him with my hip. “You always look so serious on the ice.”
“Someone has to take it seriously,” he mutters, though I catch the flicker of a smile. “You’re like a golden retriever on skates.”
“Thank you,” I say proudly. “I take that as the highest compliment.”
He shakes his head, but he’s smiling, and that little thing in my chest—the one that started sometime between Christmas Eve and New Year’s and… fuck… probably longer than that—kicks up a notch.
I push off again, skating ahead, letting the cold sting my cheeks. “Try to keep up, Hayes.”
He curses under his breath but follows me, matching my pace.
We circle each other and he cuts tighter, faster, closer, until we’re practically shoulder to shoulder, laughing every time one of us bumps the other.
It’s not even about the skating anymore.
It’s about how close we can get before someone breaks.
Eventually I slow down, coasting to a stop in the middle of the lake. My breath fogs the air and Nathan glides up next to me.
I nod toward him. “You still got it.”
“Of course I do,” he mutters, catching his breath. “I’m not ninety.”
“Could’ve fooled me with that hip stretch routine you do every practice.”
He shoots me a look, but it doesn’t take long before he breathes out a scoff and shakes his head.
I love his smile. Love it so much. Love how happy I can make him.
His gaze drifts to the trees and I watch as his shoulders drop in relief.
It’s like, for the first time, he isn’t thinking about all of the expectations sitting on his shoulders or what he has to do next.
He’s just thinking of right now. Enjoying himself, letting himself take a breather, and having fun.
And that’s all I wanted.
I push off again, skating ahead of him, carving wide arcs into the lake. He laughs, then chases after me, picking up speed. We loop around each other, the snow kicking up under our blades.
I cut close, brushing his side, and he bumps me back, a warning in his grin.
“Careful,” he says. “I’ll put you on your ass.”
“You wouldn’t dare. I’m your ride home.”
“I’d drag your unconscious body back to the car.”
“Romantic,” I shoot back.
He doesn’t reply, but he smiles and I skate closer until our gloves brush together. He doesn’t move away, so I take his hand in mine and tug him toward me. “Skate with me.”
His eyes flick down, then up, meeting mine. He hesitates, glancing around like he’s expecting someone to appear out of nowhere. The lake is silent except for the creak of the ice under us.
“There’s no one here,” I tell him, tugging gently on his hand. “Come on, Hayes. Skate with me.”
For a second, he just looks at me, then he exhales and gives in.
His hand stays in mine as we skate slowly over the ice. It’s easy, being here with him like this. No eyes on us. No need to hide from anyone. Just us, out in the open.
I always assumed falling in love would come with a huge realization. A slamming sensation. Instead, it crept in quietly, starting somewhere around the first kiss, settling deeper each time without me noticing.
I feel it every time I catch him looking at me. Every time the corner of his mouth lifts when he smiles. Every time I kiss him and my body relaxes instead of tightening, like this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Nathan glances over at me when he catches me watching him, the corners of his mouth lifting into a warm smile. His breath fogs in small white puffs when he laughs, and I know without a doubt I love this man.
It’s as natural as breathing.
I don’t know how he feels, or what the hell I’m going to do about it, but every part of me aches for him.
When we finally slow to a stop near the edge, I turn toward him, my breath catching a little in my throat. “Thank you again,” I say quietly. “For inviting me to your house this Christmas.”
Those usually hard, dark eyes soften. “You don’t need to keep thanking me, Logan.”
“I want to,” I say, my hands flying to his hips. “It meant a lot to me.”
“I wanted you there.” His fingers brush against mine. “You belonged there.”
My throat goes tight, but I let out a laugh. “Couldn’t go two weeks without me, huh?”
“No,” he says, his eyes locked on mine. “I’ve become obsessed.”
I suck in a breath, his words making my belly flip. “Me too,” I admit.
I step closer, close enough for our skates to brush, for his breath to warm my cheek. My gloved fingers find his neck, tracing the edge of his jaw before I lean in and kiss him.
His lips are a little cold, but his mouth is warm when it opens against mine. My hands find his coat, holding him steady as our skates shift on the ice.
When we break apart, I rest my forehead against his, our breaths mingling in the cold, but he doesn’t move away.
I wish I could tell him everything I’m thinking.
That I love him. That I’m scared out of my damn mind. That this—whatever it is—feels like the beginning of something I’ve never let myself want before.
But I’m too scared that he won’t feel the same and I’ll lose him.
We just stay there for a while, breathing the same frozen air. Then he squeezes my hand, and we start skating again, and every time our fingers brush or he glances my way, I let myself believe that maybe he feels the same.
I hope to hell it’s true.