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Chapter Fourteen

Logan

T he locker room chatter hasn't stopped all week.

It's not the usual pre-season energy either. Not the kind that gets the guys hyped for the first puck drop.

No, this is different. Heavier. Like we’re all waiting for something to explode.

I sit on the bench, lacing up my skates after the morning practice, trying to keep my focus. It’s been three days since Emma and I first slept together.

And fuck… I still can’t get the taste of her out of my mouth.

The sex with her is insane. But it's more than that.

Yeah, it’s wild, and hot, and messy as hell.

But it’s also the way she looks at me afterward.

The way we just lay there, talking about her business ideas, talking about whatever shit Coach has put me through that day.

We talk about our childhoods, our families, and everything else that's brought us together.

I've never talked so damn much in my life, but somehow, I still can't get enough of her.

“Yo! Kane, you deaf?”

I look up to see Connor standing over me, towel slung around his neck.

“Practice is over. You plan on hanging out here all day?”

I grunt, yanking my laces tighter. “Just taking a breather.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You’ve been in a good mood lately. Almost like you’ve got a secret.”

I shrug, keeping my face neutral. I’ve already taken enough shit from the guys after they spotted me leaving Emma’s the morning after our first night together. I don’t need Connor grilling me on top of it.

The chatter around the room shifts, the tone getting darker like it has been for days. Ryder’s at the other end of the bench, nudging Blake with his elbow.

“You think it’s true?” Ryder says, voice low. “That someone’s getting moved?”

Blake just shrugs. “Could be anyone. Coach won’t say shit, and management’s all tight-lipped. But the way Big Mike’s been acting... something’s definitely up.”

I try not to let my brain go there.

But Connor nudges me and gives his head a jerk in my direction. “You worried, man?”

I shake my head. “Nah. Not until there’s something to worry about.”

He grunts in agreement, but I can tell he’s thinking the same thing.

A few of the younger guys are looking over, trying to gauge our reactions. I keep my face blank, focused on tying the perfect knot in my laces.

Coach Brody steps into the room, his voice cutting through the noise. “Alright, ladies. Listen up! I don’t give a shit what the rumors are saying. You’re all Icehawks until I hear otherwise. Now stop acting like scared little punks and focus on the season ahead.”

There’s a round of muttered agreement, but the tension doesn’t dissipate.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out, hoping for a distraction, but what I get is a damn near heart attack.

It’s a text from my brother, Nate. I haven't heard from him for almost a year.

I read the text: Fishing trip this weekend? All three of us at the old cabin. You in?

I huff out a breath, rubbing a hand over my face.

It’s tradition, well, at least, it's used to be.

The Kane brothers would always head up to the old forest cabin before hockey season kicks off. Just us, some cheap beer, and whatever fish we’re lucky enough to snag.

But the idea of being away from Iron Ridge right now... away from Emma...

I glance down at the text again.

Yeah, maybe I do need the distraction. Just a couple of days away from the noise of the locker room. But I also hate the thought of not seeing her.

I tap out a quick reply.

Not sure yet. Let you know.

I grab my stuff and head out. My body’s worn from the drills, but my mind’s buzzing with thoughts of her. I know exactly where I’m going.

Because every day for the past three days, I’ve ended up back at Chapter & Grind right after practice.

And every night, I’ve ended up in Emma’s bed.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around the text from Nate when I park outside Chapter & Grind.

My phone buzzes again, but this time it’s from Emma. “Upstairs. Door’s unlocked. Bring your hot self.”

A low chuckle rumbles from my chest.

Climbing the narrow stairs, my heart picks up speed like it always does when I know I’m about to see her. The last few days have been a blur of early practices, the guys’ chatter about trades, but mostly, it’s been Emma.

I reach the top step and knock once before nudging the door open.

“Hey—”

Emma’s standing in the small living room, barefoot, wearing yoga pants that cling to her legs and an oversized sweater that slips off one shoulder. Her hair’s in a messy bun, and she’s holding a wooden spoon like she’s mid-stir.

My mouth goes dry.

“Hey,” I murmur, stepping inside and kicking the door shut behind me.

She grins, all soft and sweet, and gestures around. “Welcome to today's version of chaos.”

I take a slow look around. I've always liked it up here. It’s... cozy.

Soft yellow light from mismatched lamps. Potted plants hanging from hooks and set on the windowsill. A cluttered bookshelf teeming with paperbacks and notebooks. The couch is draped with a colorful quilt, and there’s a hockey romance novel lying facedown on the cushion.

I smirk, picking up the newest addition to her upstairs living quarters.

“Some light reading?”

Emma’s cheeks flush, and she lunges for the book, tucking it under a throw pillow.

“It's research ,” she insists. “For understanding my target audience.”

“Uh-huh.” I step closer, dropping my bag on the floor. “You know, you could just ask me. After all, I already am a real life hockey God.”

She rolls her eyes, but I see the shy smile she’s fighting to suppress. “I like to get into the mindset. Plus, it’s fun.”

I brush my hand over her hip, tugging her against me. “You think about me when you’re reading them?”

Her breath hitches, and that blush gets even deeper. “Maybe.”

I lean down, nuzzling her neck. “You’re something else, Coffee Witch.”

Her fingers twist into the front of my shirt, but just as I’m about to kiss her, something hisses from the kitchen downstairs.

Emma’s eyes widen. “Oh crap! The sauce!”

She darts away, and I follow her downstairs and into the kitchen. The scent of tomatoes and garlic fills the space, and I spot a bubbling pot on the stove.

Emma’s already reaching for the spoon, stirring vigorously. “I’m making pasta. I swear I didn’t mean to burn it.”

I snort. “Maybe I should’ve brought takeout from Ridgeview.”

She shoots me a look over her shoulder, but her lips twitch. “I can cook! Just... not always well.”

“Need a hand?”

She hesitates, clearly wanting to prove herself, but finally sighs. “Yeah. Do you... know how?”

“My mom taught me some basics. Nothing fancy, but she made sure I won’t starve.” I grab the cutting board and start chopping the veggies she’s pulled out. “What are we making?”

“Pasta with marinara. I wanted to try homemade sauce, but... as you can see, it’s turned into a bit of a disaster.”

I glance at the pot, where the sauce is thicker than it should be. “Maybe add a bit of water. Thinned-out sauce doesn’t mean failure.”

She huffs, but follows my advice, adding a splash. I keep chopping, feeling more at ease than I have all week. The quiet between us is comfortable, her little hums as she stirs making my chest feel lighter.

“So, how’s the plan for the Arena Experience Day coming along?” I ask.

Her eyes light up. “Great! I’ve been working on the hockey-themed bookmarks, plus some little pucks with stickers to giveaway, and I even found some kid-sized Icehawks jerseys for prizes. You gonna sign them for me, Hockey God?”

I can’t help but grin. “Anything for you. Seems like you’ve thought of everything.”

She shrugs, stirring more gently now. “I just want it to be fun. A chance for kids to see hockey and books from a different angle. Story time, crafts... it’s gonna be adorable.”

I nod, impressed. “You’re amazing.”

Her face softens. “We'll see. I really want that café space.”

I set down the knife and move to wrap my arms around her from behind. I rest my chin on her shoulder, inhaling the light, sweet scent of her.

“I know you do. Like I said, you’re amazing. You put your heart into everything you do. And that’s why I know people love it.”

She leans back against me, relaxing.

“Thanks, Logan,” she whispers. "Really. You're helping so much."

My phone vibrates again in my pocket, and I pull it out to check the screen.

Another message from Nate. Come on, man. It’s tradition!

Emma glances at me curiously. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I murmur. “My brothers. They want to go on the annual fishing trip up to the old cabin before the season starts.”

Her face lights up. “Oh, Logan! That sounds fun. You should go!”

I snort and nearly bring up the chatter around the locker room. With all this trade talk going on, I'm not sure the timing is right.

“I can’t just take off. Besides... I’ve been... busy. Helping you.”

She turns in my arms, hands on my chest. “You deserve a break, Logan. You work harder than anyone. And family traditions are important.”

I huff. “It’s just fishing. Nothing fancy.”

“I’ve never been fishing,” she admits, biting her lip.

I raise an eyebrow. “Never?”

She shakes her head. “Nope. But I like the idea of you with a fishing pole. Very rugged.”

I snort, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Maybe you should come?”

Her mouth parts slightly, and for a second, she just stares at me, almost like she’s trying to figure out if I’m serious.

“Wait... you actually want me to come? With you and your brothers?”

I shrug, but it’s casual on purpose. Inside, my chest’s thumping like I’m about to take the ice in overtime.

“Yeah. Why not?”

She blinks, looking almost nervous. “It’s just... kind of a big deal, right? Introducing me to your family?”

Shit. I hadn’t thought about it that way.

I just feel so comfortable around this woman that I can't bear the idea of not seeing her every day.