Page 92 of Wicked Minds
“Oh my god! What the hell is wrong with people? It’s only a game.”
Logan’s casual shrug infuriates me. No one should have to put up with that. We’re only human. We make mistakes, and I don’t honestly understand how anyone can hold Logan’s actions against him, especially if his coach and team didn’t.
“Hockey fans, like in any other sport, can get caught up in the drive to win. The highs and lows. It means everything to them in much the same way it does to the team. It had been years since Halston had even had a shot at making it to the Frozen Four, and they needed someone to blame. I was that someone.”
He fidgets as he frowns down at the tabletop, running his fingers over the fork tines in an un-Logan-like gesture that illustrates how much the attitude directed toward him those two weeks still bothers him.
“But yeah, it changed my perspective. Made me realize how easily people’s attitudes toward you can change. Then, after we won the Frozen Four, those same people who were spitting on me were now patting my back. I saw it all for what it was… fake. I smiled and pretended to soak it all up, but it was empty. Hollow. The only real things in my life are my family, my team, and Royce and Grayson.” His eyes shift back and forth between mine, soft and vulnerable. “And you.”
Swallowing past the lump of emotion in my throat, I’m at a loss for words as I drink him in.
“Good morning, folks. What can I get for you today?” a waitress interrupts, the heavy bubble of tension surrounding us popping with her appearance.
“Oh, erm…” I quickly scan the menu.
“We’ll take your waffle stack with all the toppings, a plate of French toast, a portion of scrambled eggs, the breakfast burrito, fruit platter, and…” His eyes scour the menu board as I gape at him, wondering who the hell else is joining us. “The hash browns, two strawberry milkshakes, a pumpkin spice latte, and a cappuccino, please.”
“Certainly. I’ll get your drinks right away, and the food will be out shortly.”
“Thank you.”
“Logan,” I hiss when the waitress walks away. “That iswaytoo much!”
“Whatever you don’t eat, we can box up and eat later.”
“Later? Logan, you ordered enough food to feed your entire team.”
He only smirks and I shake my head at him. “I really need to teach you proper portion sizes. The local grocery store is probably having a field day with you buying out half the shop every few days. You realize I end up giving half of it to food shelters?”
He simply shrugs a shoulder. “It’s yours to do what you want. Besides, it’s an integral part of my apology tour.”
“There’s an entire tour?” I tease with a half-smile. “And, uh, how many stops are you planning on this tour?”
“It’s an open tour; the number of stops is undecided. I’ll make as many of them as I have to to win you back.”
Tilting my head, my expression is serious. “You know I’m not a trophy to be won, right?”
Logan’s hand immediately wraps around mine on top of the table, and he leans in. “Fuck, baby, you are so much more than some stupid trophy. You’re not a fleeting goal to achieve. You’re the one who makes reaching those goals so much more meaningful.
“You’re the only person I’ve felt this connection with. The only one who sees me. Who reminded me that amongst the fake smiles, there can be genuine ones too.
“You’re the person I want beside me for every achievement and happy moment, but you’re also the one I want to share my losses with, wallowing in the hard times. And I want to be that person for you, too. I want to be the one you talk to when you’re angry, whose shoulder you cry on when you’re sad, who you run to when you ace a test.”
“You’re my person, Riley, and I know I don’t deserve to be yours yet, but I swear I’ll prove that I can be that person for you as well.”
After a breakfast that made me regret my decision to wear skinny jeans today, Logan and I spent the rest of the day wandering around Halston. Although I had done a bit of exploring when I first moved here, it mainly had been to find the local grocery store and laundromat and to get a feel for the area I was living in.
Nothing like today, where we stop to do some window shopping and wander into quaint little local shops. A bag swings from my hand, holding a gorgeous pink, herringbone weave blanket Logan caught me admiring.
My footsteps unintentionally slow as we pass a bookstore, and I spy the latest fantasy novel that has been blowing up a storm online since its release a couple of months ago. I haven’t been able to justify the cost of buying it, but I pause to admire the gorgeous cover, fantasizing about how pretty it would look on my shelf.
“Why don’t we go in?” Logan suggests, already stepping into the doorway.
“Oh, that’s okay. I was just looking.”
With a smirk and shake of his head, he tugs me inside, and I’m enveloped in the intoxicating aroma of aged paper, ink, and the subtle traces of countless stories just waiting to be read.
“You like to read?” Logan asks, perusing the shelf in front of him with curiosity.
