Chapter 25
Jasmine
Logan takes my hand as we walk up the porch steps. His grip is firm, and I hold on tight. The porch light is on, and the windows glow yellow from inside. I can hear muffled voices and the clatter of dishes through the front door. He squeezes my hand once and rings the bell.
The front door opens, and Cat Shaw is standing in her hallway in a cream blouse and pearls with a dish towel over her shoulder. Her eyes go to our hands first, then to my face. Her smile locks in place.
“Jasmine.” She says my name like she's reading it off a card. “What a lovely surprise.”
“Hi, Cat. Thank you for having me.”
“Of course. Come in, come in.” She steps aside and gestures us through the door. Her eyes cut to Logan for a fraction of a second — a question, an accusation, something — and then she's moving toward the kitchen, calling out that everyone is in the dining room.
The house smells like roasted lamb and rosemary. The hallway is the same as I remember — family photos on the wall in matching frames, a coat rack by the door, hardwood floors that creak in the same spots they creaked fifteen years ago.
I used to walk this hallway barefoot comfortably. It was my home away from home. Now, it feels like I’m walking to my own execution.
George is in the living room. He stands when we enter, and his face does something I've never seen on George Shaw before. An expression of utter shock. Logan’s father is the most composed person I know.
“Jasmine,” he says and extends his hand. He schools his expression back to normal. “It's good to see you.”
“Good to see you, too, George.”
He nods once and sits back down. That's the extent of George Shaw's welcome.
Nolan saves us. He comes bounding out of the kitchen with a beer in each hand and a grin that fills the room.
“Jasmine! No way!” He puts the beers down on the table and wraps me in a hug that lifts me off my feet. “It's been years. You look amazing. Logan, you didn't tell me you were bringing Jasmine.”
“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Logan says.
“Mission accomplished.” Nolan steps back and looks at me with open, uncomplicated warmth. “How are you? What are you doing now? Tell me everything.”
“She's a lawyer,” Logan says.
“A lawyer? That's awesome. What kind?”
“Corporate. I handle sponsorship contracts.”
“For the Renegades,” Logan adds.
Nolan's eyebrows go up. “You work for the Renegades? That's incredible. Does that mean you come to the games?”
“She does,” Logan says, and his hand finds the small of my back.
Dom appears from the kitchen, and his face breaks into a wide smile. “Jasmine. I was hoping it would be you.”
“You knew?”
“I had a feeling when Logan said he was bringing someone.” He hugs me and then steps back and reaches for the woman beside him. “Jasmine, this is my fiancée, Sarah.”
Sarah is petite with kind eyes and a warm smile. She extends her hand and I take it. “I've heard so much about you,” she says. “Dom talks about you all the time. The girl from the old neighborhood who became a big-shot lawyer.”
“I don't know about big-shot,” I say.
“Take the compliment,” Dom says. “Sarah doesn't give them out easily.”
“That's not true,” Sarah says, swatting his arm. “I'm very generous with compliments. I told your mother her lamb smells wonderful.”
“That's survival, not generosity,” Dom murmurs so Cat can’t hear.
Sarah laughs. I like her immediately. She's wearing a simple blue dress, flats, and her hair is pulled back in a ponytail.
She leans in close to my ear. “I'm so glad you're here. It's nice not to be the only outsider at the table.”
Cat calls us to the table. She's made a big effort tonight, which means she had time to prepare after Logan's call yesterday. She knew he was bringing someone. She just didn't know it would be me.
The lamb is perfect, and the potatoes are golden and crisp. The salad has pomegranate seeds, feta, and a dressing that tastes homemade. Cat Shaw is a wonderful cook. She always was. Still, sitting at this table eating her food while she watches me from the other end is a specific kind of torture.
The first half of dinner is fine. George asks Logan about the Carolina game. Logan gives him a short rundown. Nolan tells a story about a road trip mishap with the Runners that makes everyone laugh. Dom talks about his thesis, and Sarah mentions they've started looking at wedding venues.
Cat visibly stiffens at the mention of the wedding but says nothing.
I eat my food and answer questions when they're directed at me.
Nolan asks about the firm. George asks a surprisingly detailed question about sports sponsorship law that tells me he's been reading about it.
Dom asks how I'm finding the Renegades organization, and I tell him they're a first-class operation.
Cat pours wine, smiles, and is the perfect host. But she doesn’t directly speak to me once.
Halfway through the main course, the conversation turns to Logan's career. George brings up the contract talks that are coming up next season. Logan's current deal expires in eighteen months, and the negotiation window opens soon.
“It's a critical time,” George says. “This season sets the tone for the rest of your career. You need to be focused.”
“I'm focused, Dad.”
“I know you are. I'm just saying that the season matters. Everything you do on and off the ice will be part of the negotiation.”
Cat sets her wine glass down. “Your father is right. This is the most important stretch of your career, Logan. You need to surround yourself with people who understand that.”
For the first time since dinner started, she looks at me across the table.
“Jasmine, you must see this in your work.
The players who succeed are the ones with partners who devote themselves to supporting their careers.
It takes a certain kind of commitment. The travel, the schedule, the media, the pressure — it's not a life that works unless everyone is all in.”
The words are delivered with a smile. The tone is warm and conversational. She could be talking about the weather, but every person at this table knows exactly what she's saying. Sarah's fork pauses over her plate, and Dom's jaw tightens.
I open my mouth to respond, but Logan gets there first.
“Mom, stop.”
The table goes quiet.
“Don't do this,” Logan says. His voice is calm, but there's steel underneath it.
“Don't sit at this table and tell Jasmine she needs to prove she's worthy of being in my life.
Don't use words like commitment and devotion to make her feel like she's not enough. I know what you're doing. You did it ten years ago, and it’s not going to work this time.”
Cat's smile falters. “Logan, I was simply pointing out what she needs to know.”
“You were doing exactly what you did when we were eighteen. You told her that hockey families aren't easy and it takes a certain kind of woman. And then I left, and she spent ten years thinking she wasn't enough because my mother told her so.”
George puts his fork down. “Logan, that’s enough.”
“No, Dad. You had your turn ten years ago. You told me that relationships can wait, and I listened because I didn't know any better. I'm not eighteen anymore.”
The dining room is silent.
“Jasmine is the woman I love,” Logan says. “I have loved her since I was sixteen years old. Walking away from her was the worst decision of my life. She didn't deserve what happened, and she didn't deserve what Mom said to her. I'm not going to sit at this table and watch it happen again.”
“We were trying to protect your career—” George starts.
“You were trying to control my life. There's a difference. Dom figured that out years ago. It took me longer.”
Dom looks up and meets Logan’s gaze.
“Jasmine is part of my life,” Logan says. “She's not going anywhere. You can welcome her, or you can lose me, but those are the only two options. I'm not asking for permission, and I'm not looking for approval. I'm telling you how it is.”
He picks up his fork and takes a bite of lamb.
The silence stretches for ten seconds. Then Cat picks up her wine glass and takes a long sip. George clears his throat and reaches for the potatoes.
Nolan breaks first. “So, Jasmine, do you handle player contracts too or just the sponsorship side?”
I could kiss Nolan Shaw. “Mostly sponsorships, but I've worked on player contract negotiations at other firms.”
“That's so cool. Can I call you when my agent is being an idiot?”
“Anytime.”
The conversation resumes. It's stiff and careful, but it moves. Dom asks Logan about the upcoming road schedule. Sarah tells me about a restaurant in the city she wants to try. Nolan carries the table with his usual energy, filling the gaps, keeping the noise level up.
Cat doesn't speak to me again for the rest of the evening. She clears plates, serves dessert, and fills water glasses. She does it all with her perfect hostess smile firmly in place.
We leave at nine-thirty. Logan hugs his brothers at the door, shakes George's hand, and kisses Cat's cheek. She pats his arm and says, “Drive safe, sweetheart,” and doesn't look at me.
I say thank you for dinner. Cat says it was lovely to see me. Neither of us means it.
The car ride is quiet. The lights of Long Island fade behind us. Logan has both hands on the wheel and his eyes on the road. I lean my head against the window.
I'm not angry. I'm sad. A deep, heavy sadness that sits in my chest like a stone. Cat looked at me across her dining table tonight and saw the same girl she dismissed ten years ago. It doesn't matter that I'm a lawyer now, that I built a career and a life.
Cat looked at me and saw a distraction. A woman who doesn't belong in her son's life.
I’m glad that Logan stood up for me, and it should make me feel better. It does, in a way. But it also makes me sad because Logan had to choose. He had to tell his parents that the woman he loves matters more than their opinion.
That’s sad, and I hate that his relationship with his parents will never be the same. I don't want to be the reason Logan loses his family. Even a family as difficult as the Shaws.
They're his parents. They love him badly, but they love him. And now there's a crack in that foundation, and I'm the fault line.
“You're quiet,” Logan says.
“I'm processing.”
“Talk to me.”
“You were incredible tonight. What you said to your parents — I've never had anyone stand up for me like that.”
“But?”
“But your mother's face, Logan. When you were talking, her face just closed. She shut down. And your father didn't say a word after you finished. You drew a line with them, and I'm glad you did, but I'm also sad that you had to.”
“They needed to hear it.”
“I know. I just don't want to be the reason your family falls apart.”
“You're not. The cracks were there long before you came back into my life. Dom saw them years ago. I was just too obedient to look.”
I reach across and put my hand on his arm. “Can you drop me off at my apartment? I need to be alone tonight. I'm exhausted.”
He glances at me. “You sure?”
“I'm sure. I just need a bath, my own bed, and some quiet. It's been a long day.”
“Two trips to Long Island will do that to you.”
I groan. “Don’t remind me.”
He drives me to the West Village. He double-parks outside my building and turns to me. “Are you okay? And I mean actually okay, not Jasmine-says-she's-okay-but-isn't okay.”
“I'm actually okay. I'm just tired, and I need to sit with everything that happened today. My mom this morning, your parents tonight. It's a lot.”
“I know.” He leans across and kisses me. “Call me before you go to sleep?”
“I will.”
I grab my bag and my coat and walk into my building. In the elevator, I lean against the wall and close my eyes. My feet hurt from the heels, and my jaw aches from smiling through dinner. My heart aches for reasons I can't organize into neat categories.
I run a bath. Hot water, lavender oil, the lights off. I sink into the tub and let the heat loosen my muscles. Cat has this total, unwavering belief that I don't belong in her son's life.
I close my eyes and let the water hold me.