Page 48 of Wicked Minds
Wide-eyed, I turn to Ava, who bursts out laughing. “Oh, next girls’ night, I’m getting someone to babysit so I can ply you with alcohol and find out what spicy secrets you’ve been keeping.”
“No, Mommy!” Isabella protests. “I wanna come too!”
“Definitely not, Izzy baby. These are adult secrets. Not for your ears until you’re at least thirty-five.”
The three of us are transfixed to the screen as the game gets underway. Logan has a new cheerleader in Isabella, who spends most of the first period standing directly in front of the TV, jumping up and down every time he has possession of the puck and screaming when he makes a goal.
By the time they leave, Isabella has exhausted herself and is fast asleep in Ava’s arms. We had so much fun painting our nails and doing face masks once the game was over. Closing the door behind them, I saunter back to the sofa, picking up the remote and unmuting the television before pulling a blanket around me.
The station is replaying a post-game press event from earlier tonight, and I turn up the volume.
“Logan, I think everyone noticed tonight that you didn’t have Astor written on the back of your jersey. Who’s the special person you played tonight’s game for?”
Logan, already grinning like he won the Stanley Cup, says, “Well, John, for now, I’ll just say that she’s a pretty special person. In fact, she’s become the most important person in my life recently, and tonight, I just wanted to show her that.”
The room erupts into chaos as everyone begins firing questions at him. I’m only able to make out a few, asking for a last name and if Logan is officially off the market, but Logan ignores them all as he lifts his hand, saying goodnight to the room before walking off the stage.
As the TV moves on to the next program, I get lost in my thoughts. I did tell Logan his words didn’t mean anything, so Iprobably should have guessed he’d show me in an entirely Logan way.
Chewing on my lower lip, I grab my phone and pull up our message thread. I haven’t texted him since the day Royce brought me home, and I take my time typing out a message.
Me
Interesting game tonight.
A split second later, his name flashes up on my screen as he calls, and I hesitate before clicking accept.
“I was hoping you were watching.”
“Oh, you know, the TV was on in the background. So it just so happened to come on.”
“Uh-huh, if that’s the story you need to tell yourself, Shortcake.”
Huddled up on my sofa, my blanket wrapped around me and my phone balanced on my knees, I say, “You put my name on your jersey.”
I can practically hear the smile in Logan’s voice. “I put your name on my jersey, Riley.”
“Aren’t I supposed to wear your name? Isn’t that the thing that girls do?”
He groans. “Baby, don’t go giving me mental images like that. I’m trying to be good here, and the thought of you in my jersey is like fucking kryptonite.”
I chuckle, before bringing us back to the topic at hand. “Why did you put my name on your jersey, Logan?”
“Because I want everyone to know how gone for you I am. I don’t give a shit about puck bunnies or other girls or any of that. I’m off the market. Even if it takes you years to forgive me,I’m still not interested in anyone else, and I want them to know it. I wantyouto know it. More than that, I wore your name on my jersey because it’s you I’m thinking of every time I step out on that ice. You’re the one motivating me to push harder, to go faster. To be better. And maybe I wanted a little bit of you with me when I’m out there, even if it’s just your name on my jersey.”
My throat is raw when I swallow.
“It sounds quiet where you are. Aren’t you out celebrating?”
“Nah, I wasn’t feeling it tonight. And might have been hoping you’d message. Royce, the asshole, deleted your number from my phone.”
“He what?” I’m shocked, even as warmth floods me at knowing Royce went that far for me. “I was a little impressed with your self-control. I expected you to bang my door down my first night back here.”
“Hey, I do have some self-control. Although even I can admit I wouldn’t have been able to resist messaging you if he hadn’t done that. I’m memorizing your number, so I can just put it back in if he pulls that stunt again.” He falls silent for a moment. “He said you wanted space… I was trying to respect that.”
“I know,” I respond sincerely. “Have you heard anything from the scouts that came to your game?”
There’s a momentary pause on his end, before I hear him clearing his throat. “Nothing that I’m interested in taking.”
