Page 41

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Emma

I stand in the center of what will soon be my café space at Icehawk Arena, trying to absorb the reality of it.

I should be floating. Crying. Throwing a glitter bomb into the air and declaring myself the saint of cappuccinos forevermore.

Instead, I’m blinking at countertop options like Sophia just asked me to pick a favorite child.

“This one’s quartz,” she says, tapping her nail against a swatch. “Durable. Sleek. Wipes clean like a dream. But this one? Look at the texture. So rustic-chic… right?”

Rustic-chic . Sure. Just what I've always wanted.

I nod. “Mm. Very wipeable.”

She narrows her eyes at me but continues on that chit-chat that hasn't stopped since the radio interview.

I turn back toward the café space— my café space—trying to summon the magic I felt the first time I walked in here. Back when Logan was lugging in crates and grumbling about my hot chocolate vision for the kids, and I was high on the idea that something real might finally happen for me.

The room is beautiful. And now it's mine, it's even better than it was on Arena Experience Day. Open counters. Giant glass windows that look out onto the rink, gleaming with fresh ice.

There’s plumbing, for god’s sake. I don’t even have to fight anyone for water pressure like I do downtown.

This is it. The dream.

So why do I feel like my stomach’s wrapped in barbed wire?

Sophia doesn’t notice right away. She’s in full logistics mode, walking the perimeter with her tablet tucked under one arm, high heels clicking against the polished floor.

"We can install shelving along this wall for your book displays," Sophia gestures to the blank wall. "The foot traffic during games is incredible. You'll have fans lined up three-deep for your signature blends."

I nod, forcing a smile. "That sounds perfect."

"And over here," she continues, moving quickly around the room. "I was thinking we'll have a small seating area. Nothing that takes up too much space, but enough for people to linger with their purchases."

My eyes drift upward to the second floor where team offices line the corridor. Where Logan might be right now, signing papers that will send him to Seattle. Away from Iron Ridge. Away from me.

“This spot here is gold for game-day walkups,” she says.

“You’ll want to angle your promo board toward the main gate.

And weekends will be packed. Youth tournaments, family days, some charity events we’re hosting are also busy.

Delivery schedules will hit Wednesdays. Oh!

And just a heads-up, the health inspector loves to drop by when it’s least convenient. ”

I try to nod at all the right moments, but my eyes keep flicking up.

Past the hanging lights. Past the championship banners in the corridors.

"Emma?" Sophia's voice cuts through my thoughts.

"Sorry, yes. Seating area. Great idea."

She frowns slightly. "I was talking about delivery schedules."

"Right." I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "Deliveries. Of course."

Sophia continues her tour, pointing out electrical outlets and explaining health code requirements.

I make appropriate noises, but my mind keeps wandering to Logan's face this morning. His jaw clenched hard enough to crack walnuts, the worry in his eyes before he kissed me goodbye.

What if he's already gone? What if I never got to tell him that distance doesn't matter, that we can make it work?

My gaze drifts back to the second floor.

"The health department requires a three-compartment sink, but we can have that installed by next week," Sophia says, tapping her tablet. "And the countertop finishes… we have three options..."

I nod mechanically, but my heart isn't in it.

Sophia stops mid-sentence and studies me, her professional demeanor softening.

"You don't care about countertop finishes right now, do you?"

I give her a shaky smile. "I'm sorry. I should be more excited."

"This space isn't going anywhere." She tilts her head, a knowing look in her eyes. "But I'm guessing there's somewhere else you need to be."

My throat tightens. "It's just... Logan had a meeting with Big Mike today. About the trade to Seattle."

"And instead of being with him, you're here looking at sink installations with me." Sophia shakes her head and her cheeks puff out behind a deep sigh. "Listen. Dreams can wait ten minutes. Men like Logan Kane? They don't wait."

Her words hit me like a jolt of espresso straight to the heart. "You're right."

"Of course I am." She smiles. "So if he means that much to you… Go. But go now."

I hesitate for only a second, then bolt for the door, my boots echoing on the concrete floor.

"Emma!" Sophia calls after me.

I pause, hand on the doorframe.

"Take the service elevator—it's faster than the stairs!"

I flash her a grateful smile and burst through the door, running up the corridor with my heart pounding so fast I feel it in my mouth.

The service elevator rattles like it’s held together by spit and years of Championship-winning hope. Every second feels like a year.

When the doors finally clunk open, I sprint out like I’ve just been launched from a cannon. Through the back corridor. Past a group of stunned teenage volunteers. Around a vendor cart stacked with unopened soda crates.

I take one last turn toward the arena entrance and—

BAM.

I crash face-first into what can only be described as a human wall made entirely of solid, sweaty, six-foot-four muscle.

Strong arms wrap around me just in time to keep me from rebounding off his chest like a rogue puck. The impact knocks the wind straight out of my lungs, but his grip is steady, those massive hands splayed across my back to stabilize me.

"Whoa there, gorgeous," a familiar voice rumbles, low and breathless. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

I blink up through startled, teary eyes.

“Logan?”

He grins, winded and glowing, like he just ran a marathon through snow and chaos to get here. His hair is wild, shirt slightly damp, and there's a streak of dirt on his jaw like he wrestled the entire defensive line on the way in.

“You’re here,” I whisper, gripping his arms like they’re the only solid thing in the world.

“Was gonna say the same thing to you.” He pulls me in tighter, one hand cupping the back of my head like he thinks I might disappear. “I was coming for you. I went to Chapter & Grind. You’d flipped the sign to closed and I was standing there like a fool banging on the door.”

I hiccup a laugh against his chest. “Yeah. I had to close up.”

“You closed your café?” he asks, stunned.

“Yes.”

“…Why?”

“I needed a minute.”

He blinks. “A minute?”

“I was having an emotional episode, okay?!”

A wheezing sound comes from behind Logan, and I twist my head just in time to see Grandpa Walt shuffling toward us like he’s finishing the final leg of a heroic Olympic walk.

“ Praise be to the hockey gods, ” Grandpa Walt mutters, clutching the wall for support. He sputters a wet sounding cough into a handkerchief. “Took me limping halfway across the damn town, but I got him to you, didn’t I?”

“Grandpa!” I gasp, already moving to help steady him.

He waves me off. “I’m fine. Sprained my pride keeping up with this lunatic, though. He's the one you should be fussing over.”

Logan’s still got one arm around me, but he’s watching Grandpa Walt like he’s waiting for him to deliver divine judgment.

And sure enough, Grandpa Walt smacks Logan square on the back of the head with the newspaper he’s somehow still carrying .

“OW—Jesus, Walt!” Logan pats the back of his head. "What was that for?!"

“Focus, Kane!”

“I am focused!” Logan protests, rubbing the back of his head like a scolded teenager.

“Not on her, you’re not,” Grandpa Walt huffs, already turning for the bench by the arena wall like he’s earned his retirement medal. “I didn't come all this way to watch you stand there like a defenseman in figure skates. Now say what you came to say before I drop dead and miss it.”

Logan's eyes lock with mine, his gaze piercing with determination.

“I’m not going to Seattle.”

The breath rushes out of me like someone opened a pressure valve.

“I walked out of that meeting with Big Mike,” he says. “Told them I’m done.”

“Done?” My mouth is dry. “You mean…?”

“I’m retiring.”

His voice is steady. Strong. Like he’s never been more sure of anything.

I open my mouth, close it and then open it again. “Logan. That’s your whole life.”

He nods and shrugs those huge round shoulders that have carried years of grit, determination and hard work to get where he is in his career. And now he's standing here telling me he's giving all that up?!

“It was . But today I realized something. I’ve given everything to hockey. My time, my body, my heart. But I haven't given all of myself yet. Not the best part.” He brushes his thumb across my cheek. “The best part? I saved it for you.”

I swear I feel it in my bones . The shift. Like something clicks into place and I’m finally, fully seen.

“I was coming to find you,” I whisper, blinking fast. “I was ready to fly to Seattle every weekend if I had to. I’ve already started mentally budgeting for airport coffee and long-distance phone sex.”

Logan’s smile tilts crooked. “You would've done that for me?”

“Yes, you idiot.”

He groans and pulls me into him again. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You don’t , ” I agree jokingly, laughing through the tears. “But you get me anyway.”

He kisses me, his mouth covering mine in a fierce, unapologetic embrace. It's full of everything we haven’t said and everything we have . My knees nearly give out, but he’s there, arms wrapped around me like a fortress.

“God, I love you,” he murmurs against my mouth. “I’ve never loved anything like I love you.”

He kisses me again, and this time it’s slow. Final. Certain.

When we break apart, Grandpa Walt claps loudly just as Sophia appears from the door of my café down the corridor. In the rush of my search for Logan, I've apparently done a full lap of the arena.

"I thought I heard voices out here!" Sophia sings, pushing through the door of my new café space with a dramatic flourish. She freezes mid-step when she sees Logan and me tangled together, his massive arms still wrapped protectively around my waist.

"Oh!" Her professional demeanor cracks as she takes in the scene—me with tear-streaked cheeks, Logan looking like he's run through a hurricane, and Grandpa Walt perched on a bench with the smuggest grin I've ever seen. "I'm... interrupting something, aren't I?"

"You're fine," I say, though I don't move away from Logan.

Sophia's gaze darts between us, her marketing-brain visibly connecting dots.

"So... I'm guessing you've heard about the win? The arena space?" She gestures to the doorway behind her. "I was just showing Emma the layout options."

"I heard on the radio," Logan says, his voice rumbling through his chest and into mine. "Couldn't be prouder."

"Well, this is perfect timing then," Sophia says, her professional polish returning as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "We were discussing next steps, and I'd love your input too, Logan. Especially since—"

"I'm not going to Seattle," Logan interrupts, his voice firm but gentle. "I just told Mike I'm staying."

Sophia's perfectly sculpted eyebrows shoot up.

"You... what?" She blinks rapidly. "But the trade—"

"Isn't happening," Logan finishes.

I twist to look up at him, still not quite believing it myself.

"He's retiring," I explain, the words feeling strange in my mouth.

"Retiring?" Sophia's jaw actually drops. She recovers quickly, though her eyes are still wide. "Logan, that's... wow. Are you sure? This is a major decision."

"Never been more sure of anything," Logan says, not taking his eyes off me.

"Except maybe that my granddaughter's worth it," Grandpa Walt pipes up from his bench, folding his newspaper with a satisfied snap.

"Damn right she's worth it," Logan says, giving a nod to Grandpa Walt while cautiously watching the newspaper tapping against his palm.

His eyes lock back on mine, that intense blue gaze making my heart flutter like it's the first time all over again.

"Besides, I was thinking I might stick around and help renovate that café space for you."

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh, you were, were you?"

"Yeah." His mouth quirks into that half-smile that makes my knees weak. "I know how much you enjoy watching me fix things around your shop." He leans closer, his voice dropping to a rumble only I can hear. "Taking charge. Moving heavy things. Getting all sweaty."

Heat rushes to my cheeks.

"Logan!" I hiss, acutely aware of my grandfather, who's probably already heard too much, sitting just feet away.

"What?" He blinks innocently, but his eyes dance with mischief. "I'm just saying I'm good with my hands."

Grandpa Walt snorts loudly, and Sophia suddenly becomes very interested in her clipboard.

I roll my eyes. "You're really going to help me build Chapter & Grind 2.0?"

"I'll build you whatever you want, Coffee Witch." His tone shifts, the teasing edge softening into something more sincere. "Shelves. Counters. Coffee bars. A new life." He shrugs those massive shoulders. "I'm all in with you. Whatever you want."

I rise up on my tiptoes, pressing my lips to his. The kiss is soft, tender, a promise of its own.

"Well, then… I couldn't think of a better handyman," I whisper against his mouth, "to help make my every dream come true."

His arms tighten around me, and for a moment, it's just us… standing in the middle of an arena that suddenly feels like home.