Chapter 16 Mel #2
Erica and I had a video chat tomorrow. She wanted a full recap of the graduation party. Meanwhile, I had to figure out how to stay sane in this house. I’d planned to watch the game from home, but the thought made my skin itch. I searched: Where to watch NHL games in Sacramento tonight?
The answers: bars.
A sports bar? For a girl who used to barely know a puck from a pancake? Apparently, yes.
I texted Sam.
Me: Hey, are you okay?
Sam: Yep. What’s up?
Me: Wanna go to a bar with me to watch hockey?
Sam: Damn, Mel. That new job’s rubbing off fast. \*puck emoji\*
Me: Oh Yeah! I’m all in \*champagne emoji\* It’s nice to feel excited about hockey. Wanna tag along?
Sam: Can’t miss it!
We left the house in bar-appropriate outfits—jeans, cute tops, light makeup, hair down, casual flats. Matching Tahoe West jerseys would've been perfect, but we didn’t have any.
“Since we’re doing this, let’s make it count,” Sam said as we parked downtown.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning we’re picking a fancy, hype bar. This is probably my only fun until I come out of prison in three years.”
I glanced at her, catching the shift in her tone. “You’re so smart, Sam. Residency will fly by, and before you know it, it’ll be over.”
Her breath hitched. “It’s just… this is the first time I’ll live this far from everything I’ve known my whole life.”
I was expecting another joke, but she stared ahead, fingers tapping slowly against her thigh. “It’s weird. For years, you’ve been my emergency contact, the person who knows when I’m lying.” She gave a short laugh that didn’t sound like her. “Baltimore feels so far away.”
“I get it. But it’s only for a time.” I reached across the console, and we sat there, hugging. “I’ll miss you too.”
She let go first, clearing her throat. “Feeling childish right now.”
“It’s okay. But you got this. Baltimore is only one flight away.” I patted her arm. “Now let’s go find that fancy, hype bar.”
We found a neon-drenched sports bar pulsing with energy. Beer, fries, and noise hit us as we stepped inside—the clink of glasses, the roar of overlapping games, a pulse that made me exhale.
“Whoa,” I murmured. “This is what I needed.”
We squeezed toward a side corner that had just cleared out. A football fan group had taken over the back area, shouting, throwing a ball in between them and waving small flags.
“Nice. Now we can see the screens,” Sam said, sliding into a seat.
I scanned the wall of screens—no hockey. Figures. A couple of guys in matching jackets sat at the bar, already razzing each other over scores. Another guy with hair sticking out from under a low-brimmed cap, broad shoulders, and a relaxed stance looked familiar from behind as he checked his phone.
“I’ll be right back,” I said to Sam, slipping through the crowd toward the bar.
“Hey,” I called to one of the bartenders, “any chance we can get that screen switched to the Tahoe West game?” I pointed to the one facing our seats.
“Absolutely,” she said, already reaching for the remote. “You want to order something while you’re here?”
“In a minute. Thanks.”
As I turned back, the broad-shouldered guy at the bar was already looking at me.
“I thought that was you.” I stopped short as Logan faced me. “Watching hockey, huh?” he asked, eyes on the screens.
“Hi. Yes. You, too, apparently.”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Home’s boring as hell.”
I smiled. “Not a sit-on-the-couch type, even with a bruised shoulder and ego?”
“You got that right.”
“How’s the shoulder by the way?”
“Eh, getting there. Kinda sucks being sat out. ‘Precautionary’, they said.” His voice was flat, probably tasted bitter too.
“Head up, soldier. The season’s long.”
He chuckled. “You’re not wearing your assistant badge. I feel misled.”
That made me laugh. “Hey, I couldn’t miss the heart-pounder about to start. I came to watch with my sister.” I nodded toward Sam.
His gaze followed mine. “Mind if I join you two?”
“Not at all.” We rejoined Sam. “This is Logan, one of the guys,” I told her.
She gave a polite wave. He slid into the seat beside her, me on his other side.
“The game’s on in five. First round’s on me,” he said, flagging a server.
This was a side of Logan you didn’t see rinkside: charming, relaxed. Working with him in player development, I knew there was more to him than trash talk, highlight reels, and the whirl of energy he brought to the ice.
He ordered beer and a fancy-looking share plate. I got a cocktail, and Sam grabbed a nonalcoholic brew.
The game was a roller coaster. Neither team could afford a loss, but somebody was going down—and it sure wasn’t going to be Tahoe West if I had anything to say about it.
Every time the camera caught Sean, my pulse skittered. It wasn’t the first time I’d watched him on TV, but tonight, he felt very much like my personal problem in HD.
We traded goals, and my heart raced out of my chest each time one of our players took the puck. Both teams were very close in game percentages, and after barely holding still, the game ended.
We won.
I jumped up, high-fiving Logan while he and Sam pulled off a celebratory side hug.
“What a freaking ride!” he shouted.
“No kidding.” I exhaled, pulse pounding.
He grinned. “One more round, and we’re Western Conference champs. That’s the Campbell Bowl, baby.”
Sam leaned in. “Is that the silver thing that looks like a spaceship that had a baby with a salad bowl?”
Logan laughed. “Pretty much. Having a baby is exactly what it’d feel like. Win it, and you get a shot at the big one—the beast. We’re so close.” He knocked his knuckles lightly against the table.
My eyes stayed glued to the screen. The postgame interview was next. Logan excused himself to hit the restroom.
“That was intense,” Sam said through a yawn.
“Breath-holding, heart-pounding. Happy we came through.”
“Me too,” she said.
Logan returned and we left the bar. He walked us to the car, hands stuffed in his pockets, the night air softer than the icy blast inside. After goodbyes, Sam drove us home, windows open. I leaned my head back and watched the city lights blur past, the echo of the win humming in my chest.
But it wasn’t just the game. It was him. That rush, that extra heartbeat, that pulled under my skin—I’d been feeling all of it for Sean. As if he needed some invisible force from me to make it tonight.