Chapter 13
LOGAN
If you want the things other players only dream of
you have to be willing to put in the work those same players think is too fucking hard.
The work starts here. Today. It’s your choice.
—Logan Adler’s locker room speech before the first preseason practice of the season
There’s a different kind of energy that comes to life with the start of a new season. Last year is over. The wins, the losses, the fights, and the fuckups. None of it matters anymore. It’s a blank slate. A fresh start.
It’s meeting with the team docs for evaluations.
Being broken into groups for ice time. Your first of the official season, but unless you’re a fucking idiot, you’ve been skating all offseason too.
Not that everyone does. But that first week doesn’t lie.
There’s no hiding the assholes who got FDL all summer long.
Fat, drunk, and fucking lazy. Those are the dumb fucks who spent half their ice time puking in the trash bin because they can’t keep up.
It’s Wallies. Sprinting. Overbacks.
Conditioning like our lives depend on it because, as of today, you better believe they fucking do.
Why? Because we’ve got the best job in the entire world.
We lace up skates and hold our sticks as we soar across the ice, and we get paid for it.
If you’re good, you get canonized for it.
I might not be the best husband. And I might be working on being the best father.
But the one thing I am right now, right here, today, is the best fucking player.
The captain of the team. The top scorer in the league last year.
Others may think I’ve peaked. That there’s nowhere to go but down from here, but they’re wrong, and I’m going to prove it.
This is our season.
Our turn to win it all.
The pain is temporary. Nothing an ice bath can’t fix at the end of the day. But the glory—the respect—that makes it all worth it.
Rafe is doubled over, breathing heavy when I stop next to him and grab a water to squirt into my mouth. “What the hell is your problem?”
He side-eyes me before straightening. “Fuck off, brother.”
“Come on, man.” I drop the puck between us, pushing him harder, the way we’ve always been able to depend on each other to do. “You’re better than this.”
I shoot the puck down the ice, watching as it bounces against the back wall. “First one to the puck wins.”
“Wins what?” he asks, probably the only person I’ve ever known who’s as competitive as me, unless you count Olivia.
His eyes light up like the lights behind the net when we score.
“You set me up with Liv’s cousin.”
Fuck no. “I’m not even sure she’s stable, man.”
Shit. Wrong thing to say to Rafe. The more fucked up, the better in his book.
“Then you better skate fast.”
Bring it, brother.
“Fucking hell,” Rafe whistles as he lowers himself into the ice bath next to me after practice. “That’s cold.”
“No shit,” Wallen grumbles from Rafe’s left. “Swear to God, man. Sometimes I wonder how the hell you graduated from Boston U.”
“He fucked a lot of TAs,” I tell him and lay my head back, counting down the minutes until I can get out of here.
“Says the man fucking his agent,” Rafe mocks, and if I could reach him to strangle the dumb shit, I would.
“Don’t be a dick because you’re not as fast as me, asshole,” I bite out between clenched teeth.
“Duran?” Wallen asks, thinking Rafe’s talking about the agent I left when I signed with Liv’s agency. “You’re fucking Joe Duran?”
Yeah. My brother is a dead man.
I know we’re going to need to slowly roll our relationship out, but we haven’t talked about when or where or with fucking who, and I’m pretty damn sure Olivia won’t want it to start with my team.
Okay. Time to choose my words carefully.
“Nah, man. I switched agencies at the end of the summer.” Fuck the timer. I pull myself out of the tub and glare at Rafe.
“Come on, Cap,” Wallen jokes. “You got a girl hiding on the side?”
“Nah, man. I got a kid and a custody battle and a woman I don’t want discussed in the locker room because I respect her more than that.” Not a lie.
“Is she hot?” Wallen pushes, and I glare but nod.
“She’s a smoke show,” Rafe adds. “Way too good for his ugly ass.”
“She gonna be at the first preseason game, Cap?”
I look at Rafe, a silent warning passing between us.
I can’t afford to fuck this up. Not now when Maggie’s custody could be hanging by a thread.
“Not sure yet, Wallen.” I throw a towel at Rafe, letting him know I’m ready to get the hell out of here and head home.
And if the dumb fuck doesn’t like it, he should have taken his own truck today.
“Do me a favor and keep this to yourself, man. The custody shit I’m dealing with is tricky.
I don’t need anything making it harder.”
“Miss Maggie May? Is her momma giving you shit?”
“Not for long,” I tell him before walking out.
“How long are you gonna stay pissed, man?”
I side-eye Rafe, who’s reclining in the passenger seat. “How long until we get home?”
“Come on. If I can’t give you shit, who can?”
“How about you not talk about my personal life as it crashes and burns around me?” I look at the screen in the Escalade and ignore another text from Monica. She’s freaking the fuck out because I won’t let her see Maggie before we go to court Friday .
“You not answering Monica?”
“Olivia said to let the lawyers deal with it, so I’m trusting her to know what she’s talking about. It’s not like we’ve spent the last year overly civil unless she actually showed up to see Maggie. So it’s not like I’m being any different than I’ve been most of Maggie’s life.”
“What else is Liv saying?” The fucking tone in his voice grates on my nerves.
“Seriously, did you just wake up and decide you were going to wreak fucking havoc today, man?” He’s been more like a puppy dog than a professional all day. “Did you get laid last night or something?”
“I’m not the one with a hot wife in my bed,” he counters, and my hands tighten on the wheel.
“Yeah well, my wife is on a plane to Seattle right now. Hopefully, she’ll be back in time for court Friday.”
“The fuck? What do you mean hopefully?”
“She said she will. I’ve just got this bad feeling.” I don’t want to focus on it, considering I can’t even fathom losing. “She drives me crazy.”
Rafe opens the window, and cool air kicks up through the SUV as he reclines further. “Crazy can be fun.”
“Not this time.” Not that I don’t wish it was, but my little ice queen shut that shit down quick.
“Listen, Logan. Not knocking on it because I am too, but you’re used to easy women.
Women who throw themselves at you because you’re Logan Adler, captain of the New Jersey Nobles.
They see you on the ice, and they want you.
They don’t expect anything, and they sure as shit don’t make you work for it. Liv’s not like that.”
My patience is wearing really fucking thin. “When did you become a Liv expert?”
“Not an expert. I just pay attention. And your girl is easy to read if you’d bother to pick up the book.”
“I swear to God, Rafe, if you don’t get to the point, I’m gonna make you walk the rest of the way.”
“Fine. Answer me one question.” He grabs his water bottle and waits for me to look his way. “Are you into your wife? She’s smart and hot and good with Maggie, so no judgment if you are, but are you? Or are you just fucking around?”
“First, don’t talk about Liv being hot, asshole,” I warn him, and he grins.
“And there’s your answer. You like her.” Smug bastard. “So stop acting like Maggie when we take her stuffed cow away from her.”
“She’s not my toy, you ass. She’s my wife, and we have a deal.” I debate telling him more, but it’s Rafe. Ass or not, he’s who I talk to. Always has been. God fucking help me. “I suggested we change the terms, and she wasn’t having any of it.”
“Do you hear yourself?” he laughs as I turn onto the Triple Crown’s private road. “No woman wants to talk contracts. That’s not a turn-on. Not even for your wife. They want more.”
“More what?” I ask, regretting it the minute I say the words. Rafe hasn’t been in a serious relationship in years. “And how the hell would you know?”
But Olivia doesn’t want more.
She refuses to admit there’s even a possibility of more.
He looks out the window at Pops on his favorite Arabian horse, Midnight, and sighs.
“Just trust me. It’s less about contracts and talking and more about showing and showing up.
” We stop in front of the garage, and Rafe opens the door and looks at me.
“And stop worrying she’s going to no-show Friday.
This one is different, man. She’ll be there. Have a little faith.”
A little faith . . . What a fucking joke.
Olivia
“Listen, baby—” If the words weren’t bad enough, the hand Austin Stromreou just placed on my knee would have been what sealed the deal.
As professionally as possible, I remove his hand instead of his balls like I wish I could do, and inch as far away from him in the back seat of the SUV as I can. “Olivia.”
He licks his lips as if I’ve just issued a challenge. And this is why this guy was arrested for assaulting his girlfriend in the elevator of a hotel. Stupid, entitled prick. “Why you all the way over there, Ol-iv-ia?”
He overly annunciates every single syllable of my name, and I cringe. “Austin, please tell me you realize how serious this is. The league isn’t going to just sweep this aside.”
“Isn’t that why you’re here?” He closes the distance between us, and my stomach roils. “To make this vanish?”
“They have you on tape assaulting her, Austin. I can’t make that disappear. I can only mitigate the fallout.” And I’m not sure I even want to do that.
“Do the job I pay you for,” he basically yells in my face before all six-foot-seven inches and two-hundred-and-eighty pounds of this asshole gets out of the car, leaving me to wipe the spit he managed to spray from my skin.
Some days, I really am tempted to open my own firm.
One where I get to pick who I work with and what I’m willing to do.
Today would be one of those somedays.
My phone vibrates, and I pull it from my bag before getting out of the car and smile when I see Serena’s name appear. “Hey. What’s going on, bougie Barbie?”
“I’m trying to decide what to wear to Ryker and Delaney’s wedding, and I need to ask a favor.”
“Name it.” The grand foyer of the hotel is filled with wall-to-wall people, milling about, checking in, having a cocktail at the bar, and yet my eyes are immediately drawn to my client as he walks to the elevator with an arm wrapped around the same woman he assaulted less than thirty-six hours ago.
I’m not sure who I’m more upset with.
Him or myself.
“You’re bringing Logan, right?”
“Wait—what?” I ask, having clearly missed something. “Bringing him where exactly?”
“To Ryker’s wedding. Your parents and siblings know you’re married, and they know you want it kept low-key. They’ll respect you not wanting to upstage Ryker, but they’re going to expect him to be there with you.”
Shit. She’s not wrong.
I hang back a few feet and wait for Austin to get on the elevator and for the doors to close before stepping up and reaching for the button.
“I guess I am. I hadn’t really thought about it. I’m too busy trying to get through this week to worry about next week.” I fly home tomorrow, have court on Friday, and a meeting with the partners on Monday. “Wait . . . what’s the favor?”
Serena mumbles something on the other end of the line that I can’t make out before her voice cracks. “I need a date.”
“Why?”
“Don’t be dumb, Liv. He’s going to be there. I can’t go alone. Not now. I need a buffer.” Shit. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own world, I hadn’t even thought about hers.
“That makes sense. Okay, a date.” I step onto the elevator, hoping the call doesn’t drop. “Who do you want to take?”
“I was thinking I could ask Rafe.”
“Be sure you know what you’re doing, Serena.” It’s not the first time I’ve said these words to my best friend, and I have a bad feeling it won’t be the last.
Once I talk Serena off the proverbial ledge she’s taken up residence on for months, I step into a piping-hot shower, scrub every inch of my body that feels dirty, just thinking about the disgusting player I helped today, change into my comfiest pajamas, and call Logan, slightly annoyed with myself that I’m looking forward to hearing his voice.
“Hello.” Okay, that’s not exactly what I was expecting him to sound like. “Shit, Liv, is that you?”
He hits the screen, and a FaceTime request comes through.
“Hey,” I answer as an image I’m beginning to know all too well flashes in front of me. Logan, shirtless, lying on his back in bed. A faint light filtering in between the curtains because this man never remembers to shut them. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking about how late it is there.”
“Nah, it’s good. How’d it go today? Did you save the day?” He scratches the scruff along his jaw, and my hand itches to replace his.
I wrap my white sweater around myself and prop my phone on my knees. “I wouldn’t say I saved the day. More like helped an asshole out of a bad situation he created.”
“You don’t sound thrilled, Liv.”
“I’m not. But we don’t have to talk about that now. How was training?” I can’t help it. I don’t want to talk about my client or his issues. I’d rather hear about Logan’s day and how things are going there. “How’s Maggie?”
“Training was good. The first day back is always rough, but nothing I can’t handle. Maggie’s new tooth still hasn’t broken through, so she’s been cranky all day.” His face softens. “Do you think we’re going to be good Friday? Should I be worried?”
“I spoke with Nina earlier, and we think the judge might grant some kind of visitation, but we’re both confident that we have a good case to minimize the amount.
We’re not giving up, Logan. No one is taking Maggie from you.
” That little girl deserves the world. The one her daddy has given her, not some stranger who thinks she’ll make a fun accessory.
He sighs, exhaustion lining his tired eyes. “Monica called again.”
“Did you answer?” My chest tightens. Please let him have listened to me.
“No. You said not to.”
I blow out the breath I was holding, relieved and a little impressed. “You’re doing the right thing, Logan.”
“You’re going to be there, right, Liv?” He moves the phone slightly, and I get a quick shot of his bare chest and all eight of his deliciously defined abs. The ones I’d like to trace with my tongue.
“Absolutely.” I lick my dry lips and try to get my thoughts back in order. “I’ll see you soon. Go back to sleep.”
“Sweet dreams, wife.”
“You, too, husband.”