Chapter 21
OLIVIA
I heard someone say two wrongs don’t make a right.
They obviously don’t know me.
I’m not worried about the math not mathing.
I’m making a point, not a right.
Fuck off.
—Olivia’s Secret Thoughts
The last vestiges of summer seem to have come to an end as October rolls in and brings the cooler air, and more importantly, the impending hockey season with it.
The Nobles are playing their last preseason game tonight, and as much as I loathe to do it, Maggie and I sit in the family room with Waverly and possibly my least favorite person, Jasper, to watch Logan and Rafe hopefully kick some ass.
Even if it’s just for a few minutes before my hockey hottie husband is pulled from the ice.
Typically, starters don’t play much during preseason games.
It’s more of an opportunity for those players trying to make the final cut to show what they’re made of than it is for someone like Logan.
With one of the biggest contracts on his team, it makes no sense for management to risk their captain getting hurt in a game that has no bearing on the season.
I don’t typically watch this team because I don’t have any players on my roster that play for them. Although now, I have more of a vested interest.
The team comes out for warm-ups, and the camera pans the ice, catching that interest as he stretches. Logan’s pale-blue uniform is nearly the same color as his eyes. And damn, this man is gorgeous on any given day, but out there, on the ice, in that uniform . . . Yeah. My husband is incredible.
“Do you see Daddy, baby?” I point at Logan on the TV, trying to get Maggie excited, but she basically ignores me like I’m annoying her. Who knows, I probably am. She wasn’t happy about her dinner or her bath tonight, and she looks about five minutes away from needing to go to bed.
“You trying to upset her, St. James?” Jasper grumbles and picks Maggie up. “Want to confuse her?”
“What?” I stare at him in horror. “No. I wasn’t—”
“You weren’t thinking,” he bitches, and Waverly stands, probably wanting to get the hell out of here like I wish I could. For as much TV as Logan likes to watch, the man doesn’t have one in his bedroom or I’d be watching the game there instead.
“You know, Jasper.” I stand and plant my hands on my hips, looking for any advantage I can get.
“I’m not sure why you hate me so much, but if you could please not express it in front of Magnolia, I’d appreciate it.
” I’m proud of myself. That was nicer than he deserves and definitely nicer than the ass has been to me.
“Does that haughty tone usually work for you, St. James?”
I swear to God I’ve never met anyone who wields my last name like an insult as often as he does.
“What the hell is your problem?” I groan, trying to keep my temper in check for Maggie’s sake. Jasper and I are long overdue for this argument. “What have I ever done to you?”
“Nothing.” He stands with Maggie on his hip, neither of us paying any attention to the TV. “I just don’t like you. Girls like you are predictable. You think because you’re a Kingston, you’re better than us. That Logan’s lucky to have you. That we’re beneath you.”
“What the actual hell, Jasper?” I keep my voice low as Maggie lays her head on her uncle’s shoulder.
Shit. It’s probably time to put her to bed, but what am I doing instead?
Arguing with this ass. “What have I ever done to make you think that? And before you answer, really think about it. Have I ever given you the impression I think I’m better than any of you?
Because I don’t think that. I never have.
Logan and I had our issues to deal with, but since I’m here, married to him, I’d say it’s safe to say we worked through them. ”
It’s not a complete lie. We have worked through them, and what was left of them, we might have fucked through, given the way we’ve been unable to keep our hands off each other since the wedding. Safe to say, it’s been a fun week.
“I don’t trust you, St. James.” This man might be technically handsome, but I swear to God, he has an ugly fucking attitude. “You cost him—”
“Stop.” Waverly walks back into the room with a bowl of popcorn in one hand and a pink tumbler with a giant straw in the other.
“She didn’t cost him anything. Logan fucked up.
He trusted the wrong agent, and Olivia was better.
He said it. Rafe said it. Even Pops said it.
Why are you still holding a grudge, Jasper? She’s the reason Maggie’s still here.”
“I wouldn’t exactly—” Waverly levels a glare at me that even I’d call impressive, and I shut up.
“Get over whatever bug has crawled up your ass, Jasper. She’s not Neviah.
She’s not playing with him the way that whore played with you.
She’s here. And she loves him. Any fool can see it.
She loves him and Maggie, and more importantly, your brother loves her.
Now shut up, give her Maggie, and sit down.
The game is about to start, and I’m tired of this shit. ”
I stand, shocked, my eyes locked on Waverly.
Not because she stood up for me, although, that is a little shocking, but because of what she just said. I don’t love Logan . . . do I?
And he . . . he doesn’t love me.
My head spins.
I’ve never been in love.
Not even close enough to wonder if it was love. So how do you know? I mean, the incredible sex can’t hurt, but that’s not enough, right?
“Olivia,” Waverly says loudly enough to get my attention. “Do you want me to put Maggie to bed?”
I look from her to Jasper and shake my head as I hold my arms out. “Come here, Maggie May. Let’s go to bed.”
She lifts her head from Jasper’s shoulder and holds her arms out for me, and like the damn cartoon Grinch, I think my heart just expanded ten times.
I grin and lift a brow Jasper’s way. Hell, I’m proud of myself for not telling him he’s such an ass, he can’t even charm the little girls, let alone the grown women, but it would be a lie.
This little girl loves her uncle, which means he must have some redeeming quality.
No fucking clue what it is, so it must be buried pretty damn deep. But I’m going to trust that under his asshole exterior, it’s there somewhere, waiting for the right person to bring it out.
I take Maggie from his arms, and she immediately drops her head to my chest and tangles her fingers in my hair. “I’ve got you, ladybug.”
Jasper kisses her head and backs away, then drops down next to Waverly and grabs a fist full of popcorn.
“Hurry up, Liv. You don’t want to miss it.”
I nod and head out of the room, surprised when I press my lips to Maggie’s forehead and feel the warmth against my lips. “You feeling okay, sweetheart?”
She bats her eyes, and I take my time getting to her room, then take her temperature. 100.5. Not too high but still a fever.
Hmm . . . I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Brynn as I drop onto the glider and keep this little ladybug on my chest.
“Livvy?” she answers on the first ring. “Why aren’t you watching the game?”
“How do you even know there’s a game, Brynn? It’s preseason.” My shoulders relax a little, and I drop my head back and kick my legs up.
“Married to a hockey coach, remember? Did you think he wasn’t going to watch Logan’s game? I think he’s already trying to decide whether he can leverage you to get Adler on his team.”
She’s a pain in my ass, but damn, I love my sister.
“The game’s on downstairs, but I was calling for you, not hockey.” I run a hand over Maggie’s dark curls, and her eyes close. “Maggie has a fever.”
“How high is it?” she asks, and I hear her murmur something to Deacon before most likely walking into a different room. A minute later, the line goes quiet, and I no longer hear the TV. “Is it over a hundred?”
“It’s 100.5,” I whisper as my nerves race. “What do I do?”
I hate this. I hate not knowing.
How am I a stepmother who doesn’t know what to do?
Please don’t let me mess this up.
Tears burn the backs of my eyes, and it doesn’t matter that I know I’m being silly or that I’m fully aware I’m spiraling, I force those bitches to stay in place, willing them not to fall. “Do I need to call the pediatrician?”
“No. I guarantee there’s Children’s Tylenol somewhere in that house.
My guess is either the kitchen or her bedroom.
Probably tucked inside whatever basket or shelf you keep the diaper supplies in.
Can you check?” Her voice is cool, calm, and even.
Like this really isn’t a big deal, and it thankfully bolsters my confidence.
Slowly, I stand, careful not to jostle the already sleeping one-year-old, and move to the massive dresser with a changing table built into its center, looking through the white wicker basket where her diapers are stacked.
“Okay, diaper cream, wipes, diapers, lotion. Ah-ha . . . found it,” I tell her as I locate the Children’s Tylenol.
“Perfect. It’s been a hot minute for me, so read the bottle and give her the recommended dosage. Then check her in another hour or so and see if the fever has gone down.”
“How are you so calm, Brynnie?” I swear my hands are shaking while I read the directions.
“You get used to it, sis. As they get bigger, so do their problems.” She sighs like she’s remembering something specific. “Keep me on the line while you give her the meds. I want to make sure she takes it okay.”
Oh great. I hadn’t even thought of that.
“Thanks, Brynn. I feel like a crazy person.”
“You’re not, Livvy. You’re a mom. Welcome to the club.”
I look down at the sweet girl asleep in my arms, wishing I was her mom and hoping I don’t mess up being her stepmom.
Ihave absolutely no idea what time it is when I open my eyes and find Logan staring down at us.
“Hi,” I whisper, my voice hoarse as I kiss Maggie’s head, relieved she feels cooler now. “Did you win?”
He narrows his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his tired lips. “Yeah, 2–1.” He runs his hand along the back of Maggie’s head, then cups my cheek. “What are you doing in here, sweetheart?”
“She had a fever,” I murmur and close my eyes again. Pretty sure I’ve barely slept. “Feels like it broke though.”
“Livvy . . . have you been to bed yet?” Logan’s smile is replaced with concern as he lifts Maggie from my heavy arms and rocks her for a few minutes before placing her in the crib.
“No. I brought her up here as the game was starting, and she was warm, so I called Brynlee, and she walked me through what to do.” Logan holds his hands out for me, and I take them and let him pull me to my feet, not expecting it when he lifts me into his arms and carries me into our room.
“How high was it?”
“100.5,” I tell him and wrap my arms around his neck. “I’ve taken it two more times, and both times it’s been 99.”
“Sweetheart, you spent the entire night with her? That’s barely a temp. You could have gone to bed.”
I lay my head on his shoulder, exhausted. “I didn’t want to leave her alone.”
He lays me in our bed and pulls my leggings down. And judging by the look of wonder in his eyes, he realizes for the first time since he walked in that I’m wearing his jersey.
I watch with rapt attention as he strips out of his suit, down to his boxers and climbs in behind me, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face in my hair. “Not sure what I did to deserve you, Olivia, but I’m not sure I’m going to be able to let you go.”
“Good,” I whisper into the quiet night. “I’m not sure I want to be set free.”
And that scares me more than anything ever has.