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Note to self: call a realtor.

Priority #1 when I get home is finding a new place. Hannah is right. I do have a one-bedroom, and before learning of her plans to move to Chicago and her need of a place to stay, I had no intention of moving. Is it over the top to get a new place? Probably. Do I have any regrets about throwing the idea out there? Definitely not.

Today is day one of the All-Star event—the draft . This year, the league is doing things a bit differently. Rather than being broken up into East versus West, they assigned four captains, each drafting players to their team.

Sitting on the ice waiting for my name to be called, I’m reminded of the two other times I waited to be drafted, only to never make the cut. As players’ names are announced, it starts to feel like those times when my future was actually on the line. It’s inconvenient that even at the top of my game, self-doubt sneaks in.

Beck earned one of the coveted captain spots, and it’s his turn to announce his first pick. Unsurprisingly, he opts for Knolls, who stands from his seat a couple of rows ahead of me and skates to his team’s designated bench beside the stage. It makes sense that he’d be picked first—he’s a skilled player, even I can’t deny that. And Beck doesn’t have the same hang-ups with Knolls that I do. To him, we’re all old college buddies and former teammates.

The other three captains make their choices without drafting me; then it’s Beck’s turn again. This time, I’m hoping not to be chosen. I like Beck, I really do, but I’m not trying to play on the same team as Knolls.

Don’t say my name.

“Our next pick is… Ryan Logan from the Chicago Saints,” he announces with a goofy smile.

Positive: At least I was drafted this time.

Negative: Looks like I’m spending more time with Knolls this weekend than I wanted.

Once I get to my spot on the bench, waiting for the rest of the players to be assigned, I look into the stands, searching for Hannah. I find her in the press box, seated close to the ice. She’s wearing a cropped sweatshirt with this year’s All-Star logo, her hair falling over her shoulder beneath a hat that hides her eyes. My baseball cap. Seeing her in something of mine does weird things to my chest.

I can’t help the tiny smile that lifts my lips. I’m still pinching myself that she decided to spend the weekend with me. Last night, after we picked up her stuff and drove back to Sunrise, we spent hours talking about everything and nothing at all. It felt like the first summer we spent together, getting to know each other all over again. And just like that first summer, the stirring in my chest returned—stronger and more insistent.

While Beck and his crew boasted about their night in a VIP lounge, surrounded by women vying for their attention, I was more than content to spend mine in my hotel suite with Hannah. And after today’s event, I have something even better planned. Technically, it’s not a date—it would be crazy to think she’s ready for that—but my heart isn’t keen on listening to reason.

My skates scrape the ice as I shuffle my feet back and forth, trying to dispel the restless energy. But no matter how hard I try to push the thought away, I can’t help but hope. Hope that maybe this time, things will turn out differently.

“Thanks for bringing my girl, Logan,” Knolls says, sliding down the bench until he’s beside me. His voice cuts through my focus on her. Fuck.

I look over at him, and yep—he’s spotted her. He’s waving up at her, a stupid, cocky grin on his face. Without thought, I swat his hand down as discreetly as possible, which isn’t very discreet. Hopefully, the twenty cameras filming didn’t catch it.

Priority #1 right now is not killing Jace Knolls. For the next three days, we’re teammates, something I hoped would never come to be again after our college tenure.

When he turns his smug smile toward me, I return it with a glare. “I don’t think she’s your girl anymore, Knolls. According to Hannah and The Stand , you’re over,” I attempt and fail to keep my tone neutral.

“Bet you’re happy. You’ve been waiting years for this, haven’t you, Logan? To pick at my leftovers. You’ve always wanted what’s mine.”

The only thing I’ve ever wanted—that was his—is her. So, he’s right on that front, but the way he’s talking about Hannah, as if she’s a thing to possess, is rapidly raising my blood pressure. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that, asshole.”

His shoulders shake with laughter. “I knew she’d run to you as soon as I cut her loose. You can fill in for me, but make no mistake, Hannah and I aren’t over. When I’m ready, she’ll come back to me. She’ll pick me, just like she did six years ago, so don’t get too comfortable.”

“Break it up, ladies,” another player chirps as he plops down on the bench between us, cutting our conversation short. It’s for the best. I’m at a loss for words and dangerously close to using my fists to communicate.

Luckily, the rest of the event proceeds without incident and our schedule is free until tomorrow, when the skills portion begins. I’m on my feet, skating toward the exit as soon as the cameras turn off, but before I reach the tunnel leading off the ice, Beck stops me. “Hey, Lo, we missed you last night.” He slings his arm over my shoulders. So much for a swift exit.

“Sorry, man. I had plans with Hannah.”

His face turns quizzical. “Hannah, Hannah… Knolls’ girl from college? No shit. You trying to hit that?”

My jaw clenches involuntarily. “First, she’s not his girl anymore, and don’t talk about her like that. Second, who talks like that?” I can’t help but laugh. Beck is one of those guys who tries too hard to be cool, which has the opposite effect.

“Ah, that wasn’t a no. Do you know what you’re doing? Do you really want to be a rebound? I know you’ve had it bad for the girl since… well, since always, but she just got out of a relationship.”

He’s not saying anything I haven’t already considered. I absolutely do not want to be Hannah’s rebound, but I’d rather have pieces of her than nothing at all. “Yeah, I know. She’s worth the risk.”

He slaps me on the back with an expression that says, you’re a schmuck . “Can you make time for your old pal tonight?”

“Also, a no.”

He lets out a huff of annoyance.

“See ya tomorrow, Beck.” I skate away, not giving him a chance to protest.

His words echo in my mind as I skate off the ice. Will Hannah always be his girl in everyone’s eyes? It doesn’t matter what the rest of the world thinks—but what about her?

That thought nags at me as I make my way toward the locker room. Most of the guys have already cleared out, leaving the halls empty. I hobble on my skates, eager to change and leave, but first, I need to find Hannah. She has a press pass, but I added her to my guest list, giving her access to the designated friends and family area where I asked her to meet me. The locker room is to the left, but I turn right, unable to shake the feeling that I need to check on her.

The hallway is silent, but as I near another corner, I hear low murmurs. Recognizing Hannah’s soft voice, I quicken my steps.