Page 32

THIRTY-TWO

If I thought my game-day suits made me uncomfortable, this tuxedo, complete with a bow tie, makes me feel downright claustrophobic. But it’s worth it when Hannah descends the stairs in a blood-red evening gown. The silky fabric clings to her curves, and the slit on one side offers an unobstructed view of her smooth legs. Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

Her hair is pinned to one side, cascading over her shoulder in an old Hollywood style. The color looks slightly darker, more brown than blonde, with whatever product she’s used to keep it in place.

“Wow, you look stunning, Sunshine.”

“You clean up nice yourself,” she says as she fusses with the tie at my neck. She looks up at me, her grassy green eyes locking onto mine, and her red-tinted lips curve into a smile. My chest feels tight with a mix of nerves and anticipation, and my dick gives a twitch of appreciation. I think about my hockey stats to calm myself. A hard-on would be difficult to hide in these pants.

I help her into her coat and, with my hand on her hip, lead her out to the waiting car. The Hockey Fights Cancer event this year is at The Blackstone Hotel, just a fifteen-minute drive south of our place. We step into the lobby, with its dark wood-paneled walls and brass accents, our attire complementing the art deco style.

Hannah’s eyes sparkle as she takes in the space, and mine light from the sight of her. I can’t wait to spend the night by her side. Even more so, I’m eager to get her home and out of that dress. Fuck, I’m a lucky bastard.

It’s hard to believe that just a couple of weeks ago, this event was our goal—to show off our fake relationship. Now, everything is different.

Hannah glances up at me, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “What has you looking so smug?”

“You. You’re mine.”

“Am I?” she says with a breathy laugh. “Since I’m yours… want to get your girlfriend a drink?”

Girlfriend . I love the sound of it, even if her tone is teasing. We might be here under the guise of getting under her ex’s skin, but I’m hopeful that soon enough, I’ll be able to call her that without the “fake” label attached.

“I’d like nothing more. Margarita?”

“Yes, please.” She flashes me a bright smile as she tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

I kiss her cheek, murmuring a promise to be right back.

I make my way to the bar and lean against the lacquered surface, waiting for the bartender. I sense a presence behind me. “Funny seeing you here, Logan.” Knolls’ voice instantly puts me on edge.

I turn and he’s standing there, elbow resting on the bar top, with a self-assured look plastered on his face. “Knolls.”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying getting under my skin. “Sorry to crash your date .” His smirk widens, as if he’s waiting for a reaction.

I knew he’d be here, but actually seeing him instantly kills my good mood. It feels like every time something good happens, Knolls is there to ruin it.

He always has to one-up me. It’s been that way since college—every time I achieve something, he finds a way to belittle me or do better.

We enter the draft together, but he’s the one who gets picked.

I tell him how I feel about Hannah, but he weasels his way into her heart.

I sign a million-dollar contract, and he signs one for three.

For once, I have her, our second chance, and he’s doing everything he can to ruin it. Our goal was to rub our relationship in his face , I remind myself.

“Nah, it’s all good. Eyeing her from across the room is as close as you’ll ever get to her again, so enjoy the view.” I tip my head in Hannah’s direction, unable to keep the venom out of my voice.

“We’ll see,” he says with a sardonic laugh. “You should enjoy it while it lasts.”

The urge to swat him away like a fly is strong. “Why’re you here, Knolls?”

“Oh, come on now, I can’t ruin the surprise, can I?” His voice drips with mock innocence. What the fuck is he up to now?

I keep my gaze fixed on the bottle of Macallan on the shelf in front of me, avoiding the smug expression I’m sure he’s wearing.

Luckily, the bartender finally makes his way down to take my order. Unluckily, Knolls is still hanging around. “Getting her drunk on tequila? That’s always a good move. Loosens the stick that’s usually lodged up her ass. She’ll fuck?—”

“If you value your new set of teeth, you’ll shut your fucking mouth.” My hands clench into fists.

He laughs, satisfied with his ability to get under my skin.

The bartender returns quickly with my drinks, and I drop a twenty in the tip jar before heading back to Hannah without saying another word to Knolls.

I loop my arms around her as I approach from behind, and she leans back into me. Placing the drink in her hand, I keep an arm around her, bending down to whisper in her ear, “He’s here.”

Her body tenses. “You mean the voodoo doll that I created and cut the legs off of after you fell asleep last night didn’t work?”

The sip I just took nearly spews out of my mouth as I suppress my laughter. “I’m afraid not.”

“Ugh,” she says, though her face relaxes into an easy smile.

“Let’s not let him ruin our night, okay? I already told him to enjoy the view of you from his side of the room.” My eyes drop down her frame, still tucked in front of me. “Might’ve let my inner caveman show?—”

She cuts me off with a quick kiss to my lips. “I kinda love your inner caveman.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. Our first speaker will be taking the stage in a moment.” The coordinator’s voice comes over the loudspeaker.

Hannah and I make our way to our table, which thankfully doesn’t include Knolls. Instead, Dylan Beck is on my right. He’s solo, but a couple of other guys from the league are there with their partners, along with my agent, Mike. He’s the one who coordinated our attendance.

“Hey, bud, good to see you,” Beck says, giving me a friendly pat on the back. He glances over my shoulder at Hannah, his brows raised in question.

Leaning back, I introduce them. “Hannah, you remember Beck, right? I played with him at Rumford. And Beck, Hannah, my girlfriend. ” It really doesn’t get old.

His brows meet his hairline before he quickly relaxes his features. “Wow, so it’s finally happened? Good for you guys.”

“Thanks, man,” I reply, while Hannah exchanges equally polite pleasantries.

The announcer’s voice echoes through the space again, cutting off our conversation, but Beck leans in and whispers in my ear, “Happy for you, man.”

“Thank you all for coming out tonight to support Hockey Fights Cancer. We appreciate everyone who has donated and those who have helped spread our message. Your support means a lot, even with our blunder of holding the event on the day of the trade deadline…”

The crowd laughs. Thanks for the reminder, lady. It’s the trade deadline, and there’s still no word on my contract extension. There've been nonstop trade announcements—typical for the deadline day—but none involving the Saints. On the bright side, there haven’t been any talks about me being traded. So, silver lining?

Hannah’s hand runs up and down my thigh in a comforting gesture. She knows how hard the last few weeks have been for me, not knowing what the future holds career-wise. We haven’t discussed what it would mean for us either. I guess we should cement our relationship status first. But I think we’re both avoiding thinking about the possibility of me moving, preferring to hope everything works out.

When I tune back into the announcer, she’s introducing the Saints’ general manager. I knew he was set to speak tonight; he has personal ties to the organization’s mission and has been a longtime supporter. His speech starts like most others. “Good evening, everyone. On behalf of our entire organization, I want to thank each and every one of you for being here tonight as we come together for Hockey Fights Cancer. Cancer affects us all in one way or another. Whether it’s a loved one, a friend, or even one of our own players or staff, we’ve all felt the impact of this disease. Tonight is about more than just hockey. It’s about joining together as a community to support those who are battling and those who love them?—”

When he starts to veer off the expected path, my body tenses, and Hannah’s hand on my thigh grips tightly. “As Grace pointed out in her introduction, tonight is the trade deadline, and we’ve kept our fans in suspense by not making any trade announcements today. However, we have one we’re excited to share, and it involves our next speaker. He’s an athlete who defines speed, skill, and leadership on the ice. As captain of the Dallas Spurs, he’s inspired fans with his relentless drive, sportsmanship, and unwavering commitment to excellence. Off the ice, he’s just as dedicated to making a difference, using his platform to raise awareness and support for important causes like this one . ”

I know what he’s going to say before the words leave his mouth, and it takes effort to keep my face from revealing my feelings. “The Saints are proud to announce the acquisition of one of the greatest players of our generation, Jace Knolls.”

He continues with his complimentary remarks, but my ears ring, and I don’t catch much of what he’s saying. Before I know it, Knolls strides to the stage, and my stomach twists.

Under the bright lights, his shit-eating smile sparkles all the way to the back of the auditorium. And when his eyes search the crowd and finally land on me, he winks.

Fuck.

As the speeches wrap up and they begin to serve the first course, Hannah wordlessly excuses herself to grab us drinks at the bar. My agent doesn’t waste any time sliding into her abandoned seat.

“Well, I guess we know what the hold-up was. They must’ve tied up quite a bit of cash in their salary cap to make that happen.”

He doesn’t know the complicated history between Knolls and me, so I don’t hold his nonchalance against him. “So, what now?” I ask, bracing myself for an answer I’m not sure I want to hear.

“I’ll reach out to the office on Monday and see if I can get any insight into what they’re thinking. We should probably start reviewing the list of teams you’re open to, just in case.”

That’s exactly what I was afraid of. Unlike the Metro Division, where teams are just a stone’s throw from each other, the closest teams to Chicago are Detroit, St. Louis, and Nashville—all a plane ride or hours’ drive away. There aren’t any teams on my “wish list” because my only wish is to stay here, in Chicago, with Hannah.

But what are my other options? I’m too young to retire; I could have another ten years left in me if I avoid injury and stay in shape. What else would I even do? Coach hockey? Become a hockey commentator? Whatever it is, it would have to involve hockey because I don’t know anything else.

A small hand lands on my shoulder, and then a glass of amber liquid is placed in front of me. Hannah leans in, brushing her lips against my ear. “I thought you could use the hard stuff.”

I turn my head and kiss her softly, hoping to ease the knots in my stomach, but they remain stubbornly tight.

“Here you go, little lady,” Mike says, standing to hold out the chair for her.

She sits with a polite smile, then turns toward me, our knees knocking together. “We’re going to figure this out, okay?”