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Chapter Twenty-Five

Emma

I should be used to this by now, waking up beside my very own Hockey God, tangled in sheets that smell like both of us.

His arm is heavy around my waist, his breathing still deep and even. In the soft glow of dawn, he looks younger, the hard lines of his face softened by sleep, his dark hair a mess against my white pillow.

But my heart still skips when his fingers twitch against my skin, unconsciously pulling me closer.

I trace the line of his jaw with my fingertip, memorizing the rough stubble, the curve of his mouth, the tiny scar near his temple from some long-ago hockey fight.

His eyes flutter open, blue and hazy with sleep.

"Mmm," he rumbles, voice thick. "Morning, Coffee Witch."

"Hi," I whisper back, suddenly shy under his sleepy gaze.

He shifts, rolling me beneath him in one smooth motion, his weight delicious and solid above me.

"Been awake long?" he asks, pressing a soft kiss to my shoulder.

"Just watching you sleep. Like a total creep."

He laughs, the sound vibrating through his chest and into mine. "Creep all you want, gorgeous. I'm all yours."

All mine.

The words make my chest tighten with wanting and fear. So much fear.

Fear that after today, after Big Mike's meeting, he won't be mine anymore. Not really.

But I push those thoughts away as Logan's lips find my neck, his stubble scraping deliciously against my sensitive skin. His hands slide down my sides, cupping my hips, thumbs making lazy circles that send shivers racing across my skin.

I arch into him, my body responding immediately to his touch. He takes his time with me, his mouth trailing hot, open kisses down my neck, across my collarbone, between my breasts.

His touches are reverent, almost worshipful, like he's savoring every inch of me.

When his lips close around my nipple, I gasp, my fingers threading through his hair, holding him there. "Logan..."

"I've got you," he whispers against my skin. "I'm right here."

His hand slides between my thighs, finding me already wet for him. He groans against my breast, his fingers teasing my clit.

"So ready for me," he says, voice rough with want. "Always so perfect."

When he finally pushes a finger inside me, I cry out, my hips bucking into his touch. He adds a second, stretching me deliciously as his thumb circles my clit with just the right pressure.

"Please," I whisper, not even sure what I'm begging for.

More of this.

More time.

More of… him.

He shifts to tower above me, looking down at me as he positions himself between my thighs, the hard length of his big cock pressing against my soaked entrance.

Our eyes lock as he pushes inside, slow and steady.

"Emma," he breathes, voice cracking. "God, Emma."

We move together in the quiet morning light, our bodies finding that perfect rhythm we've discovered in each other. It's not hurried or desperate like last night in the storage room.

This is something else. Something tender and raw.

His hands cradle my face as he thrusts his hips, his gaze never leaving mine. I see everything there in those ocean-blue eyes.

All the words he doesn't say. All the fears that mirror my own.

"I love you," I whisper, my voice breaking. "Logan, I love you so much."

He leans down, his forehead pressing against mine.

"You're everything," he says, his voice rough. "Everything I never knew I needed."

He shifts the angle of his hips, fucking me harder until he gets the spot just right. I moan, move my hips with his, clinging to him as my nails dig into the solid muscles of his back.

"Let go, baby," he urges, his rhythm never faltering. "I've got you. Always got you."

He follows me over the edge, his body tensing above mine, my name a ragged groan torn from somewhere deep in his chest.

For a long moment, we stay locked together. Logan presses soft kisses to my face, all over it. My forehead, my eyelids, the corner of my mouth, before carefully rolling to the side, tucking me against him.

I lay my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slowly return to normal.

In this moment, wrapped in his arms with the morning sun warming our tangled limbs, I can almost pretend that everything will be okay. That nothing will change. That we can stay in this perfect bubble forever.

Then… his phone buzzes on the nightstand.

The sound shatters the quiet, and I feel Logan tense beneath me before he reaches for it.

"It's Big Mike," he says, scanning the message. His voice is carefully neutral, but I can feel the tension radiating through him. "Meeting's been moved up. He wants me at the arena now."

My heart sinks. I try to find words, but they catch in my throat.

Logan sets the phone down and turns back to me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Hey. It's going to be fine, okay?"

I nod, not trusting my voice.

He kisses me again before sliding out of bed. I watch him move around my small apartment, gathering his clothes, tugging his jeans on, pulling his t-shirt over his head.

I should say something. Beg him not to leave. Make him promise that no matter what happens, we'll figure it out.

Hell, even just ask him to call me the second the meeting's over.

But I can't seem to speak past the lump in my throat.

Logan comes back to the bed, fully dressed now, and leans down for one last kiss. "Have a good day, gorgeous. I'll be back before you miss me."

I manage a smile that feels brittle. "Too late."

His eyes soften, and for a second, I think he might say something else. Something important. But then he straightens, grabs his keys, and heads for the door.

"Logan," I call just as his hand touches the knob.

He turns back, eyebrows raised in question.

Fight for us. Fight to stay. Please don't leave me.

The words stick in my throat, because who am I to ask him to put me above his career? Above the thing he's worked for his entire life? Would he ask me to give away my bookshop?

No way.

So instead, I swallow hard and say, "Good luck."

He nods, eyes serious. "I'll call you."

And then he's gone.

***

Two hours later, I'm behind the counter at Chapter & Grind, going through the motions just like I do every single day.

Grind beans. Pack filter. Pull shot. Steam milk. Smile. Repeat.

But my mind's a million miles away. Or more specifically, about seven minutes away at the Icehawks' arena, where Logan's future—our future—is being decided without me.

"Earth to Emma!" Grandpa Walt waves a hand in front of my face, his bushy eyebrows raised in concern. "You've been stirring that same cup of coffee for about two minutes now, dear."

I blink, realizing he's right. The poor customer waiting at the end of the counter looks vaguely concerned.

"Sorry!" I force a bright smile, handing over the drink. "Got lost in thought for a second."

Mrs. Henley gives me a curious look but takes her latte with a nod.

"You've been 'lost in thought' all morning," Grandpa Walt says once she's gone. "What's eating at you, kiddo? Yesterday was a triumph! You should be walking on sunshine."

I bustle around the counter, wiping surfaces that are already clean, stacking books back exactly how I had them before I opened.

"Just tired, Grandpa. It was a long day yesterday."

"Mm-hmm." He doesn't sound convinced. "And it has nothing to do with a certain Icehawk who's been glued to your side for weeks now?"

I shoot him a look. "Has anyone ever told you that you're annoyingly observant?"

"Yes, actually. Your grandmother used to. Daily." His eyes soften. "What's wrong, Emma-bean?"

I sigh, leaning against the counter. "Big Mike called Logan in for a meeting this morning. About the trade rumors."

Understanding dawns on his weathered face.

"Ah. And you're worried they're true."

"Wouldn't you be?" I fiddle with a stack of napkins. "If they trade him to Seattle, that's... that's it. We're done before we've really started."

"That's a mighty big assumption, don't you think?" Grandpa Walt crosses his arms. "Love doesn't just vanish because of distance."

"Easy to say when you're not the one facing it," I mutter.

"Emma Carter." His tone makes me look up. "Your grandmother and I spent the first three years of our marriage with me overseas in the Navy. All we had were letters that took weeks to arrive. And you know what? We made it work."

I swallow hard. "That was different."

"Was it? Or are you just scared?"

Before I can answer, Ethan bursts through the door, his face flushed with excitement. "Emma! Big news! The radio just announced—you've won the Community Outreach Program!"

My heart skips a beat. "What?"

"Yeah! They said Chapter & Grind is officially expanding to Icehawk Arena. They want to interview you!" He's practically bouncing. "This is huge, Em!"

I open my mouth to respond, but the door flies open again with the force of a hurricane, sending flyers fluttering from the nearby table like startled birds.

“You didn’t tell her, did you?” Lucy barrels in, out of breath and glaring daggers at her brother. “You did, you asshole! That was supposed to be my news to tell!”

Ethan throws his hands up. “You were still brushing your hair and changing your shirt!”

“Because I didn’t want to look like I crawled out of a dumpster when I told her she’s a freaking superstar!” she snaps, then turns to me with an exasperated huff. “Congratulations, by the way. Even though this goblin beat me to it.”

“Wow, heartfelt,” Ethan mutters.

I should be elated. This is everything I've worked for—validation, expansion, a chance to grow my little business into something real. Something permanent.

But all I can think is: Logan should be here for this.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. For a heart-stopping moment, I think it might be him.

But it's Sophia: Call me. Urgent.

I step outside, the cold morning air biting at my cheeks as I hit dial, the sound of Lucy and Ethan's ongoing argument fading behind me.

"Emma!" Sophia's voice is electric with excitement. "You did it. You won. The arena café space is yours!"

"I... wow." My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears.