Page 37

Thirty Seven

Ava

T he night Logan came back to Chicago, the whole city felt different.

The streets were quiet, blanketed in fresh snow, the glow of streetlights reflecting off the icy pavement. I had been sitting on my couch for the last two hours, pretending to go through emails, but my brain refused to focus.

Not when I knew he was coming.

Not after everything that had happened.

I had spent days wondering if I had done the right thing, if we had done the right thing. I knew exposing the scandal was necessary, but I had underestimated how much it would cost Logan. Watching him struggle, seeing him lost without the game, was it worth it?

And now, I was stuck in limbo myself.

I had turned in the biggest story of my career, but instead of feeling victorious, I felt... directionless. I had no idea what was next. No new assignments. No job offers. Just silence.

When my phone vibrated with a single text

Logan

Outside

My breath caught. I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed my sweater, slipping it over my tank top before heading for the door. Logan stood just outside my building, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He looked exhausted, his hair slightly messy from the flight, but his eyes locked onto mine like I was the only thing keeping him steady.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then, quietly, he said, “Can I come in?”

I nodded, stepping aside as he walked in. They walked the few flights to her apartment in slience. She didn't dare speak until they were safe inside her apartment walls. As soon as she unlocked her front door, Logan set his bag down and ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily.

“I signed it.”

I turned to face him fully. “A Contract? What did they offer you??”

“Yeah.” He let out a rough laugh, shaking his head. “Eight years. Sixty million. And full control of my public image, which is just a fancy way of saying I signed my life away.”

My lips parted slightly. “Logan…”

He sat down heavily on the couch, rubbing a hand over his face. “They need a golden boy,” he muttered. “They need someone to fix their reputation. Just like what started our whole arraignement. And they picked me.” He let out a breath. “It’s a hell of a lot of pressure.”

I sat beside him. “You can handle it.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I think I can.”

I studied him carefully. He looked… lighter. Maybe not fully at peace, but no longer weighed down by the uncertainty of the last few weeks.

“You got your sport back,” I said softly.

He met my gaze, something flickering in his expression. “Yeah.” Then, after a beat: “But what about you?”

I blinked. “What about me?”

Logan leaned back, watching me. “You’re the one who broke this story. You should have media companies fighting for you. What’s next?”

I let out a slow breath, sinking further into the cushions. “I don’t know.”

Logan’s brows furrowed. “No job offers?”

“Oh, there have been offers,” I admitted. “But none of them feel… right.”

He tilted his head. “Why not?”

I sighed. “Because all they want is this version of me. The journalist who blew up the NHL. Every meeting I’ve had, every email I’ve gotten, it’s all about this story. About me being the girl who took down the league.”

His expression shifted, something unreadable in his eyes.

I shrugged. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my career chasing scandals. That’s not the kind of reporter I wanted to be.”

Logan was quiet for a long moment. Then, softly, he said, “So don’t be.”

I exhaled slowly, my gaze flickering to his. “It’s not that easy.”

His lips quirked. “Sure it is. Do what you want, not what they expect.”

I huffed a laugh. “Says the guy who just signed away the next eight years of his life to the league.”

He smirked. “Yeah, well. I got something out of it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

His smirk softened. “I got you.”

My chest tightened.

Logan wasn’t perfect. He was stubborn and reckless and sometimes said things without thinking. But when he meant something, when he wanted you to know it, he didn’t hold back.

I swallowed. “You haven’t lost me, Logan.”

Something in his posture eased. He exhaled and reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine.

And for the first time in days, I knew—really knew—that everything would be okay.

***

The United Center was packed. It was the teams first game back together. Not a single empty seat in the arena. The energy was electric, even though this game didn’t count for anything. No points. No Cup run. But to the fans? To Chicago? This game meant everything.

And to Logan? This was his return. He played like a man who had something to prove.

From the moment the puck dropped, Logan was everywhere—winning faceoffs, controlling the rush, cutting through defenders like they were nothing. He landed a clean, brutal check against the boards that had the entire arena roaring, then turned around and fed a perfect pass to Jaymie for the first goal of the night.

By the second period, he had scored once on a breakaway and again off a sharp-angle rebound, his signature goal celebration igniting the crowd.

The Hellblades dominated from start to finish, playing with the kind of reckless freedom that came when there was nothing left to lose.

It wasn’t about points anymore. It wasn’t about standings or playoffs or the Cup.

It was about pride. About proving that no matter what had been taken from them, they were still here.

When the final buzzer sounded, sealing a 5-2 win, the entire arena was on its feet. The sound was deafening, the energy electric.

I stood in the press section, my notebook tucked under my arm, watching as Logan skated to the center of the ice, tapping his stick against his shin guards in a small, familiar habit. His teammates swarmed him, Jaymie skating up behind him and smacking him on the helmet.

“Look at you, Bennett,” he said, smirking. “Back from the dead.”

Logan grinned, shoving him playfully. “You’re stuck with me, Prescott.”

Jaymie rolled his eyes, but I could see the truth in his expression—he was glad Logan was back.

And Logan?

He looked happy.

Not just relieved. Not just holding it together. Happy.

Then, suddenly, as if he sensed me watching, he turned.

Even from a distance, I felt it the second his eyes locked onto mine.

My breath caught.

Logan grinned, then started skating toward the bench, shoving the gate open. His gaze never left me as he raised a hand and motioned me down.

My stomach flipped.

He couldn’t be serious.

Beside me, I felt movement. I turned just as Mallory leaned in, her arms crossed over her chest, smirking like she already knew what was about to happen.

“Go,” she murmured.

I blinked. “Go where?”

Mallory lifted a brow. “Come on, Ava. He’s looking at you.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering. Sure enough, Logan was still waiting, still motioning for me to come down. The crowd was starting to notice, heads turning in my direction, anticipation crackling in the air.

I hesitated. “Mallory..”

She rolled her eyes, nudging me forward. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Mallory huffed a laugh. “Ava, stop thinking and go.”

I took a shaky breath, then, before I could talk myself out of it,s tepped forward. And the second my foot hit the ice, the entire arena erupted.

I hesitated, but the moment I took a step forward, the crowd caught on.

People were cheering. Jaymie skated by and whistled loudly, making Logan grin.

I sighed. “I swear to God, if this is some prank—”

But before I could finish, Logan grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the ice.

I let out a small gasp, nearly slipping in my boots, but his arms steadied me immediately.

“What are you doing?” I laughed, breathless.

He didn’t answer. Just looked at me like I was the only thing in the world.

And then—right there, in the middle of the ice, with thousands of fans watching—Logan Bennett dropped to one knee.

The arena erupted.

My breath completely stalled in my chest.

“Ava Carlisle,” he said, like it was only the two of us in the entire arena. “You are the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me. You stood by me when I had nothing. You saw me when I couldn’t even see myself.” He exhaled. “You’re my first call. My last thought. My everything.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. My breath hitched as he flipped it open, revealing the most insane diamond I had ever seen.

It wasn’t delicate. It wasn’t subtle. It was huge, a flawless, round-cut diamond that caught the light from every angle, set on a platinum band that gleamed under the arena lights. The stone was bold, commanding, undeniably Logan, not some dainty thing, but something with weight, something that said this is forever. Tiny diamonds lined the band, catching the ice’s reflection, making it look like it belonged in a museum instead of a ring box. It was stunning. It was ridiculous. It was perfect.

“I don’t want to waste another second,” he said. “Marry me.”

The entire stadium was chanting now.

"Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!"

I let out a shaky laugh, my hands still covering my mouth. And I threw my arms around his neck, and whispered the only word that mattered.

“Yes.”

The crowd exploded into cheers.

But all I could hear was the sound of my heart beating with his.

And for the first time in my life, I knew I was exactly where I was meant to be.