Chapter Thirty-Two
Logan
The team is struggling. I’m having the best season of my career—goals and assists in every game.
But beyond the first line, which is one of the best in the league, we’ve got no depth.
Before this season, the shallow talent pool was a problem.
Everyone knew it. The reality has never been this stark.
I could end up being the league’s top scorer, and my team might not even make the playoffs.
So when my agent calls to tell me he’s hearing rumblings of a trade, I’m not surprised.
Dalton told me at the start of the season he didn’t think I belonged in Bellerive, and I’m sure my very public and much-loved relationship with Sawyer is a deep wound.
Every time he sees pictures of her happy, I pray he feels like the loser he is.
Being with Sawyer is the equivalent of winning the cup—a once in a lifetime chance.
To squander that is the highest form of stupidity.
“Have you heard what teams the Bullets are talking to?” I ask with the phone pressed to my ear. Sawyer will be here soon to pick me up, and I don’t want her hearing any of this. Trade rumors happen, and until there’s a deal on the table, I’m not going to worry.
“You know all this, but you’re a high-value player.
Without you, the Bullets have the cap room to go after a decent second or third line.
That’s where they’re looking. They also need someone who’s good enough for your current line and doesn’t cost your price.
I’d expect a deal with quite a few moving pieces. ”
“Our record makes it so obvious that the team’s talent beyond the first line is almost zero. My line steps off the ice, and the opposition is scoring like it’s open fucking season.”
“Defense is definitely a weakness. And you’re right.
The games have all been high scoring. In the Bullets’ favor when the first string is out, and not at all in your favor for every second your line sits on the bench.
” He takes a deep breath as though bracing himself.
“How much pushback are you going to give a trade? At the start of the season, I’d have said zero.
But this thing with Sawyer Tucker seems to have legs. Would she move? Long-distance?”
Neither, but I don’t say that. If things stay as they are, I might be grateful for a trade.
If she’s going to keep the one season and done relationship rule, I can’t imagine seeing her every day, working with her, watching her fucking date other people.
I might make fun of Dalton for the misery he’s experiencing at how happy she is with me, but it’s only because if I were to end up in his shoes, the depths of my own despair are as clear as polished glass.
Watching her with someone else would be the slowest, most painful death.
Worse, I imagine, than getting to game seven in the cup match and not being able to deliver.
That would haunt me, but seeing Sawyer with someone else might well destroy me.
“I don’t know how much I’d care about a trade. Maybe a lot. Maybe not at all.” That’s as honest as I can be.
“I guess it’s good that you’re not in the ‘fuck no’ category yet in terms of a trade. Thought maybe you might be.”
“Is that all you called about?”
“Just checking your temperature,” he agrees. “And I was asked to remind you about your biological family. They’re still waiting to hear from you.”
My phone vibrates with a text. I told Sawyer I’d come down to meet her in the car rather than her coming up.
“Yeah, I’m not getting into that. If you hear anything more concrete about a trade, let me know,” I say. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Talk soon,” my agent says before hanging up.
From the back of one of the island chairs, I grab my sports coat.
Sawyer’s family is hosting a dinner to celebrate Ember and Gage’s first pregnancy, which, strangely enough, is not their first child together.
Sometimes when she tries to take me through her family dynamic, my head spins.
No one but Ava is talking to their mother, who, given the stories Sawyer has told me, sounds more like a mafia boss than a mother.
Gage’s first child was with Ember’s sister who died, and now Gage and Ember are married.
Hollyn and Nathaniel were high school sweethearts who were torn apart by lies that I couldn’t follow but had something to do with Celia, only to be reunited when Hollyn came back to the island with her younger sister, Kinsley, when their aunt died.
Ava has an on-off relationship with Officer Foster, who Sawyer thinks actually works more for her mother than Bellerive.
Maren, a super athlete, who was married once before to a gold digger, and is now a member of the royal family after her recent marriage.
And then there’s Sawyer, who went on a single date with King Alexander when he needed to find a wife, campaigned for the scum of the earth, Dalton Worthington, and is now, officially, the first woman I’ve ever been in love with.
Thank fucking god Alex and Dalton were such duds.
“That was quite a look on your face when you came out of the building,” Sawyer says as I slide into the passenger seat.
“Giving myself the SparkNotes recap of your family dynamics before we’re sitting around the dinner table. Is your father coming to Nathaniel’s house?”
“In a show of solidarity for our mother, he never attends the sibling get-togethers without her.” She gives me a sideways glance with a hint of a smile.
“Honestly, I don’t think he ever cared all that much about family events.
It was easier for him to say yes to my mother.
Avoided a fight. Now, he’s still avoiding a fight by staying on her good side.
If he wasn’t a serial cheater, I might even think he loved her. ”
“Are all families fucked-up?”
“In some way, probably,” Sawyer says. “How many families have you met that seemed without issue?”
“Chayton and his dad get along great. Folded me right in,” I say, watching Bellerive’s coast zip past through the window.
“They might be the only ones.” Of course, like me, Chayton’s mom also died.
It was one of the things we bonded over.
But he remembered his mom, and I could never decide if that was better or worse.
“Still getting pressure to meet your mom’s family?”
“Another comment about it tonight. But if they’re fucked-up, I don’t need that.”
“That’s not really your worry, is it?”
“I’ve been lied to enough in my life.”
“I’ve been thinking about this,” she says, “An easy way to find out if they’ll tell you the truth might be to ask them to write a letter explaining what happened with your mom from their point of view. Maybe their version won’t match exactly, but you’ll know if the big stuff does.”
I turn to face her, and then I run my hand along her thigh and give her a little squeeze. “Your brain is a wonder.”
She lets out a laugh and catches my hand before I can take it back. “You liked that?”
“Liked? Nah. I loved it. I love all of you,” I say without hesitation.
After I finally said it, it’s like I can’t help telling her all the time all the things I love.
And yeah, that might make the end harder, but I can’t imagine the end of us being any fucking harder than I’m already anticipating.
For the rest of my life, she’s going to be the woman I compare every other woman to.
I lift up her hand and kiss her palm. “I love all of you.”
I’ve been with Sawyer and her siblings before, but normally it’s just one at a time.
To be around them all is like being in the middle of a game of tennis, and the ball is just teasing comments being volleyed back and forth at a speed I can barely follow.
Most of the serves land inbounds, and there are very few kill shots.
The lines are clearly defined and seem to be respected.
For me, it’s strange being immersed in such a big, generally happy group.
They gel. The same way a really cohesive team might.
Which has never been my experience—there’s usually one prick ready to puncture an otherwise positive atmosphere in the dressing room.
Their light ribbing is the first time in a long time that I do kind of wish for more of a family.
Or maybe it’s just my mom’s family waiting in the wings that’s making me reconsider.
Chayton and his dad are the only people who’ve ever felt like family to me.
Holidays and special occasions were quiet with just the three of us, and I thought I liked that best.
Maybe I just liked our trio because I didn’t know any better, never experienced anything more. The foster homes I moved in and out of were often chaotic or not well managed. I wasn’t lucky enough to land in a house that ever felt like my home.
Then I met Chayton’s dad at thirteen, and he cared about me. Most of the initial caring was because of hockey, but it was the first time someone who didn’t have to take notice of me saw me—really saw me—and liked what they saw. From there, my life went up and up and up. Because of them.
I ease my hand along Sawyer’s thigh under the oversized dinner table that we’re all seated around while catering staff mill about keeping everyone happy. Her family history is rich and deep, and I love that she’s included me.
“Too much?” she whispers, leaning close.
I brush my lips across her cheek and then whisper back, “Never enough.”
She gives me a delighted grin when I draw back. “Liar.”
“Never enough of you.”
She searches my expression before saying, “I believe that.”
“Good. It’s the truth.”
“Logan,” Gage says from across the table. “Hockey gossip says there might be a trade. Give us the inside scoop.”
“You know as much as me,” I say, raising my glass of water and taking a sip. “Rumors every year.”
“Rumors about who?” Sawyer asks, her expression still amused.
“Your boy,” Gage says. “If the team trades him, Bellerive can have more than one functioning line. They definitely don’t have that now.”
“What?” Sawyer turns to look at me, and her expression is curious, but there’s something in her eyes that tells me she might be hurt. “Why would they trade you? Where would you go?”
“They’d trade me because I take up a lot of the team’s salary cap. If I’m gone, they can get more players and draft picks to deepen the bench.”
“Where would you go?” she asks again, her voice tight.
“Wherever they tell me to go. That’s how I ended up here.” I say it like the trade wouldn’t be a big deal.
“Did I step in it?” Gage asks, angling his glass between me and Sawyer.
“I just didn’t know,” Sawyer says, and her tone is stiff.
“At this point, it’s unlikely to happen until after this season is over.”
We stare at each other for a beat because this isn’t the time or the place to be having this conversation, and I can’t read how much, if at all, she cares that I could be off the island at the end of the season.
“Okay,” Ember says with false enthusiasm. “Who wants dessert?”
I’ve gotten the silent treatment before, but this is the first time I’ve cared.
As soon as we’re alone in the car at the end of the evening, I’m tempted to call her on it.
It’s kind of bullshit. She’s the one who’s said all along that we’re done at the end of this season.
If that’s not what she wants, she needs to tell me.
If it is what she wants, she’s got zero reason to be pissed at me or anyone else for seeking a trade.
“You’re mad because…” I start when the silence is only making me mad in response.
“I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t have told me.”
“I don’t understand why you’d care, since the trade would happen at the end of the season.”
“Of course I would care, Logan,” she says, and as soon as I hear the tears in her voice, the tension in me eases.
“You were the one who wanted us over at the end of the season, doc. That was never me.” But this time, I keep the bite out of my tone.
“We’re at different stages in our lives.”
“Not drastically different.”
“I want a healthy relationship with marriage and kids sooner rather than later.”
“Are you implying our relationship isn’t healthy? Because that’d be news to me.”
“No, I just…” She lets out a deep sigh. “Do you want to be traded?”
“Do you want me to be traded?”
“Oh my god. Can we not? Can you just give me a straight answer?”
“Being traded is neither here nor there to me at the moment.” I shrug. My answer isn’t really honest, but it’s not exactly dishonest. She must know she’s the biggest factor in whether I’d want to stay. “If I got traded to a team in cup contention, that would be a good career move for me.”
“Is that likely?”
“Don’t know. I just found out about the trade rumors right before you picked me up. Every year there are rumors. That’s what happens when you’re worth a lot of money and the team you play for is generally not good.”
“The Bullets are—”
“Going to be lucky to make the playoffs at the rate we’re going.”
“You’re one of the top scorers in the league. The whole league.”
“Yeah, which is why the team’s overall performance is such a red flag.
” The irony, somewhat, is that Dalton wanted me to play like shit at the start of the season so he could justify trading me.
That had been my line of thinking too. I didn’t think I could play better, but I knew I could play worse.
No team wants an expensive star player who isn’t performing like a star.
Instead, I got Sawyer, who’s made me infinitely better on and off the ice, but the end result is the same. I’m worth more as a trade with the shape the team is in right now.
“You think they’ll trade you.”
“I think there’s a very good case to get rid of me for those who’d like to see me gone.”
“If you were traded you’d go?”
“What choice do I have? I didn’t want to come here. It’s the nature of the game. You go where you’re wanted.”
“It just doesn’t seem right to me,” she says, and her voice is watery again. “That you can play so well and they just get rid of you.”
“You made me too good, doc.” I raise her hand and kiss the back of it because I hate when she seems sad. This conversation is leaving a bitter taste in my mouth, too, but I’m trying hard to hide it. “Lots of people will want me now.”
“That’s awful,” she whispers. “I don’t even want to think about it.”
But to me, that’s just hockey. What bothers me is how clear it is that she has some kind of attachment to me. She won’t admit it. She won’t tell me she wants me to stay. Or even that us, beyond this season, is any kind of priority for her.
So I won’t fight a trade, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to forget moments like right now when I feel so close to her and still so fucking far.