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TWENTY-ONE

ANTHONY

W hile I was expecting Logan to show up after he spoke to his mother, I wasn’t expecting him to be quite so chipper and dressed up. Logan had changed into a sweater and slacks that perfectly hug his body, showing off just how muscular he is. He looks like a pretty package for me to unwrap.

I step back, allowing him to come into my apartment. “You look…happy?”

“I am.”

“Did you tell your mother?”

He nods, grinning.

“What changed?”

“My mother has personally invited you to the New York game tonight.”

My eyes widen. “Your dad is the team manager. I don’t want to see him.”

“Guess who’s being fired tonight before the game?”

I balk. “He’s what?”

“When he shows up, he’s being escorted out. I figured you’d want a front-row seat.” Logan’s face lights up, and his joy is intoxicating.

I grab him and kiss his smile, wanting to taste it. “You’re fucking evil.”

“It wasn’t my idea—well, not having him escorted out, but inviting you was,” he says between kissing me.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea if I go?” I stroke my thumbs over his cheeks, looking into his eyes.

“You used to play for them, and you’re my coach. I’m not going to blow you in the owner’s box with my grandfather, brother, and mother there. So I think we’ll be okay.”

I shake my head. “Good. I’d prefer you not.”

“But the bathroom is fair game.”

“Why don’t we wait until we get back here after?”

“No promises.” He snaps his teeth.

I dig through my closet, trying to find something nicer to wear in my pile of unpacked boxes.

“You really should unpack.” Logan casually leans against the doorframe.

“I hate unpacking.” I finally come up with a flannel that’s nicer and in the team colors, so I won’t look odd. I pull it on and start to button it when Logan shoves off the door frame. “What?”

“You can’t go looking like that.”

“What?” Is he serious? “Is there a dress code?”

“No.” He scoffs. “If you wear it, I cannot promise I won’t jump you at some point.”

My lips twitch, and my chest feels a strange warmth. Could this be what happiness feels like? It has been so long, I can’t quite remember. I don’t remember anything feeling this way.

“Promises.” I grab his jaw, dragging his mouth to mine.

“I don’t need to promise. I keep my word.” It might be the sexiest thing he has ever said to me.

His grandfather sent a car, and it feels slightly awkward getting in it together, but Logan assures me it’s fine. We’re taken to a private entrance with direct access to the owner’s box.

“Look at you,” a guy says when we enter. From the look of him, he’s Logan’s younger brother and a spitting image of his father. But on closer inspection, he grins like Logan does, which isn’t like their father at all. “I can’t believe you pulled this off and added a cherry to the top. I’m Evander.” He holds out his hand, and I shake it.

“Nice to meet you, Evander. I’m Anthony.”

“I know who you are, Hawke.”

Their grandfather, Mr. Cadieux, joins us, offering his hand. “Good to see you, Hawke. I was quite happy to see you take over the Gods.” As the owner, I’d always known who he was, but we interacted with him a lot less than our coaching staff. “My grandson told me you’re a great coach.”

My gaze flicks to Logan, and he shrugs.

“It’s good to see you too, sir. Glad to see the team doing so well,” I say, feeling a little weird about the entire situation suddenly but determined to stay cool.

“I’m not mad about it!” He checks his watch. “Make yourself at home. We have a chef and personal bartender who can make you anything you want. They are very good, trust me. We’re expecting the disturbance to be here any minute. Just stand back and let security do their thing.” He winks and is just as charming as I remember him.

“Thanks,” I say, turning my attention to Logan again. “How much does your brother know?” I ask under my breath.

“He was at the bar,” Logan says nonchalantly.

“For fuck’s sake. Why are New York bars rife with youngsters?” I say softly, but apparently, it wasn’t low enough.

“Calm down, old man. The kids will stay off your yard,” Evander says all smug, having obviously heard me.

“You both must get the sarcasm from your mother.” Because their father is nothing like this.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Mrs. Cox says as she walks in, and I pray to God she didn’t hear most of that conversation.

“It was meant to be one. Thank you for inviting me.”

She gives me a bright smile. “Thank you for helping me.”

“It’s a pleasure.” I shove my hands into my pockets, because this feels like the weirdest meet the parents I’ve ever experienced.

Logan laughs softly. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I’m gonna need a big one.”

“Whiskey?” he asks, giving away he knows what I like to drink.

I scan the room like I’m about to be called out, but no one says a word. “Sure. Thank you.”

Logan asks the bartender for drinks and returns with them a few moments later, leaning in to say under his breath, “Calm down.”

I stare and mutter, “Don’t talk to me.”

He chuckles, taking a sip from his glass.

A moment later, Cox Sr. throws open the door to the box. “Why did you leave without me?” he says harshly before he realizes there are more people in the box. He narrows his eyes, assessing each of us, and when his gaze lands on me, he freezes. “What are you doing here?!”

“I invited my new coach to the game.” Logan rubs a hand down my back, getting way too close. “He used to play for Grandpa’s team. I’m sure you know.”

I don’t say anything. Mr. Cadieux did tell me to stay out of it, and honestly, I don’t know what Logan is doing. He’s walking a fucking line, pissing his dad off but also nearly giving away to his mother and grandfather there’s something going on between us. Maybe he doesn’t care? The politics of this family are wild, and I’m happy to shut the fuck up.

Cox Sr.’s nostrils flair. “You allowed this, Claire?” he asks his wife.

“I thought it would be nice to invite him when I realized you wouldn’t be able to make it,” she says coldly, but I don’t think it quite registers with Cox Sr.

His lip curls in confusion. “I’m fucking here. Why wouldn’t I be able to make it?”

Mr. Cadieux steps forward. “Because you’re no longer employed by The Dragons.”

Cox Sr. sputters. “What? I’ve taken this team to an incredible place. What grounds do you have to fire me?!”

“Adultery,” Claire adds. “If you remember, there’s an adultery clause not only in our prenup, but also with the team because of your past transgressions.”

“Precisely,” Mr. Cadieux chimes in.

“This is preposterous! Claire forgave me.” He’s not even looking at his wife, only Mr. Cadieux. It’s clear who he respects. “And you know what I do for this team.”

“Claire forgave you because you claimed to stop, that never happened. And you don’t add anything anyone else can’t. You were a good player, but you’re a mediocre manager.”

“I gave my career to this team. I am a fucking asset. My number is on the fucking wall. You retired it.”

“To appease you. Your over-inflated ego has no place here. Security will escort you out. Don’t come back, or I’ll make sure you’re seen for who you are.” Mr. Cadieux looks almost bored saying it.

“You invited him here on purpose, didn’t you?!” Cox Sr. yells.

“Happy coincidence,” Mr. Cadieux says.

While everyone’s attention is on Cox, Logan subtly steps closer to me, brushing our shoulders. I wouldn’t think anything of the gesture if I didn’t catch Cox Sr.’s reaction.

“I’m going to have your fucking job, Hawke. They may be taking my team, but I have pull in the community.”

“Cause any more trouble for my daughter or my grandsons, and you’ll regret it,” Mr. Cadieux says.

Security drags Cox Sr. out, and he doesn’t get another word in. Logan moves back to his original place without notice. Artful, but I can’t help the dread at picking a new fight with Cox Sr.

I blow out a breath when things settle. “Should I be worried about my job?”

Mr. Cadieux shakes his head, glancing between me and his daughter. “I don’t know what his issue is with you here, but I’ll make sure they understand the money they are expecting when my grandson graduates won’t be coming if they do any such thing.”

“Thank you.”

“I have some stuff to handle,” Mr. Cadieux says. “Enjoy yourselves. I’ll be back for the puck drop.” He’s the type of owner who never misses a game.

Claire follows him out, leaving the three of us alone in the box.

“He holds up.” Evander gets a drink then tells the bartender and chef we’ll call if they’re needed. They both leave.

“I thought you were there?” I ask.

“We were both pretty drunk, and you never know with old dudes.” Evander shrugs.

Logan flips him off. “I have exquisite taste.”

“It’s fine, I guess. Not for me.” Evander takes his drink to one of the oversized armchairs.

Logan slips his hand in mine and leads me to the other.

“Do you think that’s a good idea? They’ll be back.” I hesitate when he sits.

“We’ll know.” Logan waves me off. “I thought you wanted to do things other than fuck?”

Asshole.

“Using my damn words against me.” I give him a flat look.

“You do it to me.” He crosses an ankle over his knee, not at all uncomfortable. It’s easy to tell he grew up here. “I didn’t mean get me fired.”

I wasn’t comfortable even when I played here.

“Your job is safe now. See what I did there?” Was this his plan all along? I wouldn’t put it past Logan. He made me bullet proof with his grandfather behind me.

Short of pictures of us going viral or player complaints eliciting public outcry, the school would leave me alone.

I glance out of the glass. “What if someone photographs us?”

“It’s not like the other boxes. It’s one way. The owner needs privacy for sensitive meetings,” Logan says like it’s common knowledge, and maybe it is. I’ve never thought about it.

I sit next to him. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asks, putting a hand on my thigh.

“For letting me witness all that and making my job secure.”

“Keep fucking me, and it’s worth it.”

“You know that’s for me too, right?” I say dryly.

Evander shudders and averts his eyes. “Can you two cut the sexual tension for five minutes to help me un-fuck my current life situation?”

I look at Logan for context.

“He’s being forced to go to boarding school in Switzerland because my father thinks it will make him a better hockey player. It’s been a big fight since he started going last year. It’s miserable,” Logan fills me in then turns to his brother. “Have you not talked to Grandfather about enrolling in a school in the city?”

“He says he’ll help me with Mother if I give him a good reason and an alternative.”

“There have to be better schools in New York.”

“Not really. Canada is top over here, but really, the best are in Switzerland, Finland, or Germany.”

“There are good NHL players,” I say.

“And more of them are from Canada than the US,” Logan adds. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s what we can convince them will be best for Evander.”

“Why don’t you get a say?” I ask.

“We don’t ask people what they want in this family. We make business decisions for them.” There’s a painful tone to Logan’s voice.

“How did you get to play for the Gods?”

“It was Mother’s alma matter,” Evander says before Logan can answer. “It was a battle of his school against hers, and only because he knew Dad couldn’t shit talk it since Mom went there. But when he found out you were coaching, he tried.”

Logan’s head snaps around to look at his brother. “Did he?”

“Yep. Mother wouldn’t hear it.”

“Couldn’t you do the same?” I ask Evander.

“Not a shot. Dad let Logan begrudgingly go because he sees him as a ‘worse’ player, but he will fight tooth and nail about school while they are battling custody.”

“Money will win that fight, but how long will it take? And Dad has an argument to keep you in your school for stability until it’s all hammered out.” Logan exhales. “You’ll be a bargaining chip.”

Evander pinches the bridge of his nose. “Thinking gives me a headache. Why does he have to care?”

“We’ll get it worked out. I promise.”

When the car drops us back off at my apartment, I can tell Logan is drained. For as much as an extrovert as he is, it’s been an emotional day, and then he had to act normal.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You’re not leaving.”

He lifts a brow. “We have practice in the morning. I don’t have a change of clothes, and there were quite a few pictures of me taken at the game today.”

“I’m serious.” I don’t know how I’m going to work it out, but I don’t want him to leave right now.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” I hold the door open for him.