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I was playing the long game. And that meant showing up for Logan, showing that we could be together despite the distance, the travel, and the pressures of our careers. It had only been three days since I’d seen her, and I was already trying to figure out a way to see her again.

I didn’t want to wait until this summer, though I was looking forward to her being in LA for several months. It might be mid-April, but June felt like an eternity.

“I don’t know how superstitious you are,” Boone said as I started stripping off my gear. The jersey came first, then chest pads, cut-proof shirt, all tossed in the bin. “But I’m convinced the other night is part of what gave us luck tonight.”

“The other night…” I said, wondering what, specifically, he was referring to.

In the past, I’d had teammates who’d had all sorts of superstitions, from meticulous pregame routines to bizarre rituals. Levi had always taken a four-minute ice-cold shower exactly forty minutes before the start of a game. He insisted it got him in the right headspace. One of my former teammates on the Raccoons, the goalie, had his helmets hand-painted and wouldn’t wear them unless his college mascot was on there somewhere. Boone had a few quirks, but that was nothing unusual. At least nothing that had stood out to me.

I removed my skates, covering the blades with my guards, then moved on to my lower body. I removed my pants, leg guards, and other gear until I was down to my moisture-wicking base layer.

Boone cleared his throat. “The other night with KT…” He gave me a meaningful look.

“Oh. The Snapping?” I bent forward to grab something from the floor to hide my smile.

“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and I’d never seen Boone too shy to ask for something, especially when it came to sex. “I think we’re going to have to repeat that before every game.”

I barked out a laugh. “Yeah. That’s not happening.”

Even if it had been logistically possible, I didn’t want to share Logan—not with Boone or anyone else.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because it was a one-off.” He could take that to mean what he wanted to.

“It doesn’t have to be…”

“Boone,” I chided.

“Come on, please.” He pressed his palms together as if in prayer, flashing me puppy-dog eyes. “Will you at least ask her?”

I chuckled and returned my attention to my phone, letting him hang there.

Me: I think I might be more superstitious than I realized. And when I said you’re my lucky charm, I meant it.

This was for me, not Boone.

KT: Meaning…

Me: Meaning, I’m going to need a repeat of the other night before every play-off game.

KT: You’re going to have to be more specific.

I smirked. Logan knew exactly which night I was talking about. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Me: This jog your memory?

I sent her a picture of the two of us, one we hadn’t shared with Boone. In it, you could see a little more of her face, just above her chin. And she was smiling. It was one of my favorite pictures we’d taken—because of that smile. The one that said she was happy and safe, cared for and cherished. And she knew it.

KT: Ah yes. Now I remember.

Me: That’s a relief. I was scared all the orgasms had wiped your memory.

KT: That’s a very real possibility. I was pretty blissed out.

Me: So you’d say I was successful in getting you out of your head and into your body?

KT: Yeah. I think so, but we’ll see how my game goes tonight.