Page 1

Chapter

One

October 1994

I shot up from the metal bench, screaming at the top of my lungs with the rest of the fans in the ice rink. The roar of the crowd surged, a symphony of cheers, stomping feet, and clanging cowbells reverberating in my chest.

“Sharla! Did you see that?" Crystal shook my shoulders, nearly spilling my Coke. "I can't believe he made it!" She adjusted her toque, her pink-tinged hair flicking out over her neck and ears.

I laughed, replaying the last thirty seconds like a highlight reel. Logan was a damn good winger, but I’d never seen him pull something like that before. The blue and gold UVC jerseys blurred into a streak as Logan darted through them like a fox in a henhouse in his number eighteen jersey.

"I swear he caught the puck mid-air!" Maddie's dark brown eyes were wide as she leaned in. Her breath smelled faintly of mint gum.

I wanted to pinch myself. Logan had just scored the winning goal in the last minute of the third period against the number one college team in the country.

"Eat that, TV announcers." Crystal held up her middle finger, and I grabbed her hand, laughing.

“TV announcers? Just lumping them all together?” Maddie laughed, sweeping her dark curls over her shoulder.

I snorted. "There are professors here!"

Crystal shook her head, the tiny jewel in her nose sparkling. "I don't care. Everyone underestimated Outlaws hockey. Do you remember how much crap Logan had to deal with over the summer?"

I blew out a breath. Yes, I absolutely remembered. Logan had been in the pissiest mood ever between July and August.

I would never say it out loud, but I couldn’t actually blame the analysts for not believing in this team. With a complete overhaul of the coaching staff and losing three of their top players in the draft, they didn’t have much to go off of. Truly, if I were going to blame anybody, it would be our neighbour to the south. All those American schools headhunting with deeper pockets than Canadian universities. It wasn’t really a fair playing field.

Logan had given up three other offers by choosing to stay in Calgary, and at least part of that was because of me. He swore I wasn’t the only reason. Otherwise, I never could’ve lived with myself.

But I had two years left before I graduated with my Bachelor of Music degree, majoring in violin performance. Then, I could take that skill anywhere, and I planned to. Logan was headed for the NHL—I was sure of it—and I would be there right by his side.

"Come on." I grabbed onto Crystal and Maddie and rushed to the stairs to try and beat the rest of the crowd. We weren’t completely successful, but at least we were heading in the opposite direction.

Logan and I had a secret meeting place. We discovered it the first year he started on the Outlaws, and so far, it still seemed to be our little secret. Well, except that Crystal and Maddie always tagged along with me.

We climbed the stairs and exited to the hall that led to the main lobby then cruised around the corner and headed down. This stairwell didn’t seem to lead anywhere specific. It was probably only used for janitorial and maintenance staff. There was a door at the bottom, but a passageway behind the stairs led to a little storage area accessible to the locker rooms.

Of course, I never went into the locker room itself, but before Logan would get in the shower, he always came out to give me a quick kiss after the game. I took up my post, still flushed from the excitement.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, Logan opened the door, bringing shouts and laughter on the air with him. He still wore his maroon and gold jersey.

He darted toward me, scooping me up into his arms. "Baby, did you see that?"

"I saw. It was amazing."

"We won."

"I know." I kissed him, then laughed as he buried his face in my neck. I used to complain about his post-game sweaty hair, but now, I loved that I was the first thing he wanted to see after things went well or poorly. Whether he was angry or elated, I was his person.

He exhaled and slowly lowered me back to the ground. "Logan, seriously, that shot. I don’t even know where that came from?—"

"I was trying to deke left, but then the puck caught something on the ice and popped up, and my stick was just there, you know?"

"You were basically playing lacrosse," Crystal interjected.

Logan looked up. "Oh hey, ladies."

Crystal and Maddie laughed and waved. "Amazing game," Maddie said.

Logan nodded and brushed the hair from his forehead. "I gotta get back in there."

I nodded, grabbing his face and giving him one more kiss. "I love you, babe."

"Love you too. I think we’re all going to Ranchmans after."

I frowned. "I thought we were going home because the game was already so late."

Logan exhaled, giving me an apologetic smile. "I know, but after that? We can’t just go home. There has to be some sort of celly. I won’t be able to wind down for a bit anyway."

I grinned. "I get it, but I have that practice at eight in the morning?—”

“We don’t have to stay late. Maybe just an hour? Grab a few beers?" He gave me puppy dog eyes. "I want you there with me. This was probably the best game of my life."

I quirked an eyebrow. "I’m pretty sure you said that two weeks ago when you played?—"

"I know. I know. But I’m serious this time."

I laughed. He was so dramatic. But that was what I loved about him. He was a dreamer, just like me, even though his dreams involved ice, pucks, and sticks, and mine involved perfect soaring high G’s and handcrafted wooden bridges.

"Fine." I planted a hand on his chest. "But you’re changing the sheets tomorrow."

He grinned. "Done. I’ll even make you breakfast."

I laughed. "Don’t make promises you can’t keep."

"Eggs and bacon," he called out as he retreated. I shook my head and walked back to Maddie and Crystal.

"He’s making you breakfast? Damn." Crystal turned toward the stairs.

"No, he says that now, but there’s no way his ass is out of bed before ten o’clock tomorrow."

Maddie laughed. "At least he wants to. That’s better than most guys I know."

"I mean, just the fact that he knows how." Crystal snorted.

We trudged back up the stairs and exited the rink, jumping into Maddie’s Rabbit. It was the worst old clunker of a car, but I swear she only had to fill it up with gas once every six months.

I didn’t even have to ask if they were coming with me. Crystal only had three classes that semester, and Maddie was a bona fide genius. She studied purely to say she had when she got one hundred percent on her midterms and didn’t want to brag.

We drove across campus and parked in the student-permitted lot, then walked the two-and-a-half blocks to the restaurant. It was all street parking in that part of the city, and at this time of night on a Friday, no spots would be open until Seventeenth Avenue. It was a surprisingly warm night, but I still brought my jacket.

The sports bar was a crush of people—students packed together like sardines. Girls in tight jeans and tank tops despite, you know, Canada. Guys with backwards baseball caps and oversized jerseys.

Maddie, Crystal, and I pushed our way through the crowd, exchanging hugs and high-fives with familiar faces as we made a beeline for the back of Ranchmans.

The bar was a shrine to Douglas sports. Framed jerseys and posters of past victories adorned the walls. When they renamed the University two years prior, the colours, maroon and gold, stayed the same. Convenient.

In the back, a long table stretched out, reserved for the team. It was in a prime spot, slightly elevated on a step up from the rest of the bar floor. I always felt like I was on display, especially when I got there before Logan.

Thankfully, we didn’t have to wait long. By the time we took off our coats and got settled, the door swung open, and the bar erupted. Cheers went up, and the music was drowned out. I craned my neck as the team flooded in, Logan leading the charge. His grin was wide and infectious, and he waved to the crowd, basking in the adoration.

"Hail the conquering heroes!" Axel, one of the forwards, laughed as he parted the crowd like the Red Sea and grabbed a seat. Tim, the goalie, nodded seriously to the crowd like he’d just been knighted. He sat next to Axel, reaching for the closest pitcher of beer.

And then there was Rob.

He sat down at the far end of the table, and I couldn’t have been more grateful. I already had to see him one thousand percent more than I would have chosen to. He was Logan’s best friend growing up. Or at least all through high school. The only two things I knew for sure about Rob Thompson were, one, that he hated me and, two, he was our only roommate.

I moved in with Logan at the beginning of summer. His parents had purchased a two-bedroom apartment as a real estate investment, which got Logan out of his crappy six-person shared flat on campus. Since I was in a dumpier flat and we’d been together for over six months at that point, it made sense for us to take the leap. But what Logan had forgotten to tell me was that Rob was jumping in with us.

It just makes sense. Rob can pay half the rent, and then we split the second half. That means it would only be one hundred fifty dollars a month for each of us. That was Logan’s argument, and, at the time, it was compelling. Financially, anyway.

But, sanity-wise?

The only rebuttal I could draw on was something I would never say out loud to Logan. Not because Logan didn’t already know, but because he didn’t know that I knew.

I think you’re wrong. Sharla isn’t like that.

Logan’s words still rang in my head, along with Rob’s.

All I’m saying is I think she’s gonna take away your focus. She doesn’t understand the kind of dedication and commitment this takes, bud.

And that wasn’t the first or the last time he made some smarmy comment about me. Rob Thompson hated my guts. Or didn’t think I was good enough for Logan. Either way, the day he moved out would be the day I had my own “celly.”

Logan found me and scooped me back against his chest, dropping his head next to mine. "I'm so glad you came out tonight."

I ran my fingers over the stubble on his jaw. "You know I'm only here for an hour or so."

He kissed my cheek. I rolled my eyes as he sat down in the chair next to me, shoving his hand into the back pocket of my jeans as far as he could before his fingertips hit the wooden seat. I loved that he loved touching me.

Logan was magnetic on and off the ice. He had a smile that would make you feel elated to pay double the price for some shitty T-shirt just because he’d put his hands on it. Everyone else in the bar seemed to rotate around his gravity. Well, around him and Rob, but I tried to ignore the fact that he existed.

They were like two burning suns, sucking everyone else into their orbit. When you put them together, the reaction was almost too cataclysmic to look upon with human eyes. Logan was all sunshine and golden lab energy, and Rob was his dark angel counterpart. His brooding, sarcastic balance in the force.

Someone ordered a round of shots for the table. Logan glanced over at me and already knew I wouldn't be drinking. Not only because I hardly ever did, but because if I brought up my rehearsal in the morning again, it would start to feel like verbal flagellation.

Logan held up a hand in solidarity. "Not tonight, bud."

And then there was Rob, carrying over four shot glasses between his hands. "What he meant to say was he'll take double.” Rob placed two in front of Logan.

And thus began our toxic, never-ending ritual. Me, sitting on the chair, glaring at Rob. Logan, laughing and saying things like, "Okay. I guess I can have a little," and Rob, pounding shots with him, with eyes darker and more dead inside than Lucifer's hounds.

I nudged Logan. "You don't have to."

He shrugged. It never took much cajoling. Logan was usually only raising the bar on his behaviour because I was around, which is why every single time something like this happened, it pinched the same nerve.

Sharla doesn't get it. Sharla is bringing you down. Sharla doesn't want you to have a good time and is a distraction from hockey.

Okay, so I expanded on his original statement a bit. But all of that was written in the sneer on his face. Rob thought I wasn't good for Logan, which was ironic since he was the one encouraging him to poison his liver.

I turned back to Crystal and Maddie, joining their conversation, exaggerating my hand gestures, and laughing louder than necessary. Enter phase two, where I pretended that nothing Rob did to influence Logan's decisions mattered to me.

Logan's hand stayed on me for the next forty-five minutes, either in my pocket, tucked into the waistband of my jeans, wrapped around the back of my neck, or running over the fringe of my hair that barely covered my ears.

I’d cut my hair short the previous summer after Crystal did. Logan said he liked it, but all he could talk about was how excited he was for when he could play with it properly again. The only problem? I wasn't sure if I wanted to let it grow out. I loved how easy it was to take care of—how little I had to think about it.

With the tiny pinch of Korean in my genetic code, my hair stayed straight even after a sweaty sleep. With my mother's hearty German stock, it was thick enough to qualify me for a Vidal Sassoon commercial. I also had thighs that could barrel roll a log and barely B-cup boobs, but I was counting my hereditary blessings.

Logan was in the middle of kicking field goals with rolled-up paper straw packaging and his fingers when I leaned over and said, "I'm going to head home."

Logan stopped mid-flick and turned to me with eyes that could have turned Rosie O'Donnell straight. "But I'm going to miss you."

I melted, running my hands through his hair as he pulled me off my chair to stand next to him. He wrapped his arms around my waist and squeezed, making me feel like I was a paper doll. With one movement, he could tear me in two.

"I'm so proud of you," I whispered.

"Wait up for me?"

I nodded. This interaction ushered in stage three, where he pretended he wasn't going to be home at two in the morning, and I pretended I would be naked in the bed with my CD of Usher playing on the stereo. We both knew it wasn't going to happen, but it felt right to fantasize in the moment.

I left with Crystal and Maddie, and by the time they dropped me off, my eyes already felt like they'd been rubbed out with sandpaper. I went inside, checked that I had my folder of music and violin ready to go for the morning, then sped through my bedtime routine and popped Logan’s mix tape into my boombox.

I turned the volume on low and drew in a deep breath. I had the song order memorized by now. When Can I See You by Babyface was first, and just hearing the opening chords lulled me into relaxation. Then it was Can You Feel the Love Tonight by Elton John, I Swear by Boyz II Men—I still couldn’t decide which version I liked better, this or the original by John Michael Montgomery—and Breathe Again by Toni Braxton. Amazingly, the songs only got better from there. Janet Jackson, Mariah Carey, Celine Dion, Bryan Adams, The Pretenders.

To this day, I’m still shocked Logan remembered every single song I obsessed over on the radio that fall semester. Crystal, Maddie, and I hung out with the hockey team nonstop. I can’t remember exactly how it started. Crystal had Axel in her class or something? Anyway, they became our social circle. Hanging out on campus, parties on the weekend, games—so many games.

It was exactly what I’d hoped my university experience would be. Like every American rom-com I’d watched in high school, minus the cheerleading. But when Logan handed me this mix tape at the bonfire that night? He become more than just one of the hot guys I flirted with. Because I did flirt with a lot of them. Rob included.

My jaw tightened. That still didn’t make any sense to me either. Rob talked to me back then. We sat together at movies, after parties. One night we’d even stayed up late playing air hockey, laughing our asses off with Logan and Bear.

Logan and I getting together changed everything.

I rolled over, pulling the comforter to my chin. I did take up a lot of Logan’s time now. Rob probably just wanted his friend back. I guess I could understand that. A little. But it had been almost a year. When was he going to get used to this new setup?

My thoughts drifted until I finally slept, deep and silent until movement on the bed dragged me up from the depths. I tensed, my heart jumping into my throat. My hands gripped the pillow, clenching so tight my knuckles cracked.

"Oh, hey, babe. Are you awake?"

Logan’s voice. It was him. Endless Love was playing by Mariah and Luther Van Dross. That meant we were at the end of the mix tape. I was home. I was safe.

I drew a deep breath, trying to orient myself. "Hey."

His hands were immediately on me, sliding under my cotton tank top and flattening over my stomach. The sour scent of alcohol wafted over me.

"You're home." I barely got the words out before Logan tugged on the sheets and rolled over me. I wrapped my arms across his waist. "Logan, what time is it?"

"I don't know. I missed you."

"That's sweet, but what time is it? I have to be up at six-thirty."

He exhaled, his breath hot against my neck. "I tried to come home early so I could be with you."

I recognized the sulk in his voice. He got like this. After using all his energy, being raucous with his teammates and everyone else, he came home to me tipsy and drained.

"Logan—”

“I promise I'll be fast. I just need you right now."

And those were the magic words.

His lips dragged over my shoulder, his fingertips reaching up and scrubbing along my scalp. I was too groggy to think straight. But with the heat of his body seeping into me and his legs threading between mine, how could I say no?

I dropped my hands from the bare skin of his back, and he shifted his weight so I could pull off my underwear. He fumbled for a condom in the nightstand drawer, knowing that, despite the fact that I was on the pill, I would not want to get out of bed to clean up.

"Thank you. I love you, Sharla," he mumbled as he tore at the wrapper.

I was already predicting a migraine by eleven o'clock tomorrow morning. But he was worth it. Logan was always worth it.