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“I didn’t want to come back here, you know that. I wasn’t in a good place and as far as I was concerned I was better off in Detroit where I couldn’t hurt anyone that I cared about. But when you called me you told me something that stuck.”
“What was that?”
Shane zipped up his leather jacket. “You told me that everyone deserves a second chance and I’d be a total fuck up if I didn’t at least come home and try to make peace with my past.”
Logan looked away, not ready to deal with the intensity in his friends eyes.
“I don’t know if you and Billie can work through whatever the hell it is you need to work through, but man, life is short. Look at their father for Christ sake. The guy is in his early fifties and most days he can’t remember that his wife died over twenty years ago. Do you think if he had a second chance with someone, or was in the position to give someone else a second chance, he’d blow it?”
Shane shook his head. “No way. He’d grab hold of it and hang on for dear life.”
A moment of silence passed between the two men and Logan didn’t know how to respond. There was no way he could verbalize the crap floating in his head.
“We play at three. You do what you have to do, Forest.”
Logan watched his friend leave. He sat in his office for a long time—how long? He didn’t know but his cell buzzed and broke through the funk and he grabbed it up. Another text from his mother.
[i]Which ditch are you in?[i]
He stared at the message. Ran his fingers over the words and then suddenly shot to his feet.
He glanced at the clock and swore. He’d been twiddling his thumbs, feeling sorry for himself, for nearly two hours. It was just after three and the Angry Pirates were on the ice.
Billie was on the ice.
He pressed the button that dialed his mother’s phone and raced from his office.
Logan reached the Perani Arena in Flint in record time. Home to the North American Hockey League’s ‘Michigan Warriors,’ it was a large complex, one he’d been to several times for games. He grabbed his gear from the back of his truck and rushed inside, his long legs eating up the distance in no time. A woman directed him to the dressing rooms, her frown following him all the way back, but he ignored her. He could hear the cheering crowd and felt the crisp electric air as one of the employees let him into the Pirates dressing room.
“Dude there’s like five minutes left.”
“Anyone get hurt?” He fired over his shoulder, already pulling off his shirt.
“What?”
“Who’s winning?”
The guy smiled. “The team with the hot chick at center.”
By the time Logan was dressed and his skates laced up the clock was ticking. He eyed the board at the end of the rink as he ran toward the player’s bench. The entire left side of the arena was filled with familiar faces. He spotted young Kendall and her teammates jumping up and down beside Mr. Talbot and his wife. He saw Duke and Jackie Everets, Gerald and Bobbi.
Herschel and Trent—hell even Trent had made it out. His parents were there, having arrived just after him and he saw them chatting with Connor.
Logan yanked open the door and moved onto the bench, his eyes on the ice. Billie circled center, waiting for the other team to complete their shift change. Shane and Danvers were on D, while Strombley and Dearling were on wing. It was a good line. A fast and hard line.
Well, except for Dearling.
“Holy shit, the princess decided to come out and play.”
Logan ignored the ribbing coming from some of the guys and glanced at the scoreboard once more. The game was tied and there was ten seconds left.
Billie circled once more and rolled her neck, her eyes drifting over to the bench. He gazed at her, his chest tight, throat nearly closed up.
She saw him and for a moment, time did that weird thing where it stopped. She exhaled and nodded as the referee said something but she didn’t take her eyes of him.
The players were in position.
He nodded, hands gripped to his stick, every muscle in his body on fire with the need to react—to do something.
