by V. K. Sykes
“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 off 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.
Time sped up.
Billie bent low, her legs spread wide, hands on her stick, ready to pounce.
The opposing team had pulled out all the stops. He recognized at least two hot shot former Jr. players. Guys that had cut their teeth in Canada. Guys that had most likely just missed the cut to play in the big league.
He also saw Seth.
Logan chewed on his mouth-guard. He didn’t like this set up. He wanted to be out there to take care of the Longwood situation once and for all. He put his glove on the door handle, but the puck dropped before he could do anything.
Billie won the draw, her clean, quick jab sending the puck back to Shane, who passed it to Danvers.
And then she was on the move. The way she skated was poetry in motion. Effortlessly. Gracefully. She wound around an opposing forward, keeping away from the boards as she skated toward center ice.
Seven seconds.
Danvers skated forward, but lost the puck at center ice, a quick poke from the other team.
Four seconds.
The puck deflected off someone’s skate and somehow Shane scooped it up and he immediately passed it up the middle, while the wingers checked and fought to clear a path for Billie.
Two seconds.
She was there, with Longwood on her ass. He jabbed her legs, hacking at the back of her calves, the dirty son-of-a-bitch, but she held on to the puck and let loose a hard wrist shot that beat the goalies extended leg, to land behind him.
The buzzer went.
The entire bench erupted in cheers and Logan tossed his stick, but his grin faded when he saw that Longwood wasn’t stopping. Logan was over the side of the bench in an instant, screaming Billie’s name, but with the noise all around she couldn’t hear him.
Longwood hit her hard and she didn’t have a chance.
The fury that rolled through Logan when he saw her crash into the boards was something he’d never felt before. In that moment he understood what it felt like to want to kill a man, because if he had his way, that’s exactly what he’d do.
His teammates went crazy, as did the entire crowd.
Shane grabbed Longwood and hauled him away but all Logan saw was Billie, crumpled up on the ice along the boards.
And she was still.
The linesman stood over her, his lips moving but Logan couldn’t hear shit from the roaring in his ears. He reached her side a second later and fell to his knees, his heart in his throat.
“Billie! Jesus Fuck. Are you all right?”
The linesman was yelling for a trainer, or anyone with medical experience, while the referee was yelling at Logan not to move her.
And all he could do was stare down at the woman he loved. A woman he’d walked away from without giving her the chance to explain and he knew that if something happened to her, he’d never forgive himself. She would be his biggest regret.
Something hot pricked the corners of his eyes and he kneeled down, his voice hoarse.
“Billie, don’t you dare flake out on me now.”
Was that a flutter behind her eyelids?
“Billie?” His hands were on her shoulders.
Her eyes flew open. “You’re late,” she said and then she winced. “Holy shit that felt like a freight train.” She struggled to sit and yanked off her helmet. “Was it Longwood? Because I’m going to—”
But she didn’t get a chance to say what she was going to do.
Logan pulled her close and shut her up the only way he knew how. He opened his mouth and kissed her, pouring all of his hurt and anguish and love into one kiss. He held her carefully, as if she was breakable. As if there weren’t inches of padding and equipment between the two of them. As if they were the only two people inside the entire arena.
Because to him, she was the only one who mattered.
When he finally ended the kiss and pulled back, her mouth was bruised and her eyes were wet.
“You scared the shit out of me,” he said haltingly.
“Oh, Christ,” Dearling mumbled, “Forest is a pussy.”
Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “I know how to take a hit, Forest. I kept my head up and my shoulders squared, but…” She exhaled softly and a shudder rolled through him as he felt her warmth against his cheek. “But what I can’t figure out, is how to ask you to forgive me. I don’t know how to explain what I did or why,” her voice broke and he thought his heart was going to snap in two.
“Shut up, kid, so we can get the hell out of here and work on it together.”
He stood and helped her to her feet, as the crowd clapped thunderously, yelling congrats and screaming their approval. He watched her face glow as she smiled up at her father, who thankfully was clapping and hollering along with the rest of the Barkers—save for the missing in action, Betty.
Logan slipped Billie’s hand into his and eventually was able to lead her from the rink. He kept his promise too. He took her back to his place—after politely declining Thanksgiving dinner with his folks—and it took damn near the entire weekend for them to work out their issues.
It was the best long weekend they’d ever had.
Epilogue
It seemed like a hundred thousand multi-colored lights were draped across the top of the old arena. They twinkled and glowed amidst the steady snowfall—their bright colors somewhat subdued because of it. It had been snowing since noon and now, six hours later, there was a considerable amount of the white stuff on the ground.
There was a carnival atmosphere that permeated the air—kids running and laughing, throwing snowballs and ducking from the inevitable retaliatory missiles. Parents milled about, snagging hot chocolate passed out by Kendall and the rest of her teammates, while Frank Talbot and his wife replenished supplies.
Billie wiped a snowflake off her face and stood back, pride swelling in her chest at the sight of the newly minted sign that hung above the main doors, Barker’s School of Hockey Instruction & Training. She still couldn’t believe things had moved so fast. Permits had been fast-tracked, the ice had been installed, and less than a month after the idea had first taken hold, she was up and running.
“Looks good, kid.”
A warm hand slid beneath her scarf and gently kneaded the back of her neck as a hard male body stood behind her. She leaned into him—eyes still on the sign—and sighed. “Hmm, that feels good.”
“Good,” he said, his ot
her hand wrapping around her waist as he moved in closer to her backside.
Billie smiled. “Just so you know, my boyfriend isn’t exactly the type of man who likes to share.”
“Smart man.”
Shivers exploded along Billie’s neck as lips grazed her bare skin. His mouth was near that spot—the one that drove her crazy and she shifted slightly so that access was easily granted.
“He is a smart man and I love him like crazy, which is why I can only let you keep doing that for, maybe another half an hour or so.”
When warm lips nuzzled her just below her ear, she closed her eyes and would have fallen on her ass if not for the large, strong…
“Jesus, why don’t you two find a room?”
Billie opened her eyes to a scowling Shane, who stood a few feet away, hands shoved into his pockets, his wide shoulders hunched forward in black leather. He shook his head and turned to the building.
“Nice job, Barker.”
She grinned and grabbed Logan’s hand, from where it was settled against her ass, and yanked him forward. “Thanks. It’s pretty exciting.”
Several young boys arrived for the grand opening—all of them with skates thrown over their shoulders and sticks in hand. They waved to Billie and strode inside, several girls following in their wake, along with a healthy dose of giggles and shoving.
“Hey, Forest,” Shane said. “How come the Pirates don’t have any puck bunnies?”
Logan linked his hand through Billie’s. “Speak for yourself Gallagher.”
“Come on, Logan. Let’s go inside.” She glanced at Shane. “You coming?”
Shane’s expression was unreadable and he shook his head. “Nah, I just wanted to come by and congratulate you in person. I’ve got a date.”
Billie was surprised but didn’t show it. “Who’s the lucky girl?” Shane had been an absolute bastard for the last two weeks—ever since Bobbie and Gerald announced their engagement.
“A bottle of Jack and a little blonde bitch named Pia.”
Okay, this was new.
“Who?”
“Shane adopted a dog.” Logan said.
“I didn’t adopt the damn thing, she just won’t go away.”
“Okay,” Logan said. “Whatever you say, Gallagher. Are you still coming over for Christmas Eve? Billie here is going to try and cook.”
“No,” Billie tugged Logan’s hand and they started forward. “Billie is going to buy a bunch of pre-made food from the grocery store and throw it in the oven.”
Logan grinned at his buddy. “Aren’t I the lucky one?”
Shane nodded. “You are one lucky son-of-a-bitch and I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Billie watched him disappear into the dark and snow and she shivered as Logan slid his arms around her.
“Do you think he’ll be all right?”
“He will,” Logan answered. “Eventually.”
“Good,” Billie said as she brought his hand up to her lips. “Because I hate seeing him so miserable.”
Logan kissed her again and glanced up at the sign. “I love you, kid.”
She grinned. “I’m not a kid, Logan Forest, and if you’re real lucky, I’ll show you exactly how grown up I am later when we’re alone.”
Logan led her inside the arena and just before they were accosted by half of New Waterford, it seemed, he ducked low, his warm breath caressing her cheek. “I’m going to hold you to that, Barker.”
And he did.
The end
I hope you enjoyed OFFSIDE! Please read the first chapter in book 2, Collide, now available everywhere!
Chapter One
The moment Bobbi Jo Barker uttered the word ‘yes’ she knew it was a mistake. And just like the first time she’d reached for that damn bottle of tequila—back when she was just fourteen—she knew it would bite her in the ass.
But she wasn’t fourteen anymore and she wasn’t dealing with the after effects of a cheap bottle of tequila. Nope. As her gramps Herschel would say, she was ‘all growed up’ and had been for a long time. So why the hell did she feel so scared?
Because you agreed to marry a man you don’t love.
Oh, right. There was that.
The panic that heated her insides—the one that would send her over the edge—reared its ugly head and for a moment Bobbi was afraid all was lost. She was afraid that she wasn’t strong enough to do what she needed to do—marry Gerald Dooley, the man who could give her what she wanted—so she reverted to an old childhood remedy. She closed her eyes and counted.
One. She inhaled and shook out her hands.
Two. She exhaled and shook out her hands.
She repeated the process twice and still her nerves were hopping so badly that she was afraid she’d pass out. What a mess that would create. How the hell was she going to get through this day?
A knock at the door made her jump and for a moment she was frozen, her eyes wild as they took in the reflection in the mirror. What she saw should have reassured her. It should have told her that everything was going to be fine. Women who looked like the one in the mirror always ended up on top, didn’t they?
Didn’t they?
She supposed that if she was looking in from the outside, she could appreciate the stark beauty of the designer dress, the simplicity of the hair and the dramatic scope of the makeup.
But she wasn’t on the outside looking in. She was here, in the moment, living the dream, as most of the women in her hometown of New Waterford would say. And yet, she felt as if she was asleep, walking through a nightmare—a nightmare of her own making, mind you—but a nightmare all the same. And the thing of it was, she’d be right.
Oh God, when had everything started to feel so wrong? Dumb question because she knew the answer and since she had told herself that he was off limits today, she pushed the thought out of her mind.
“Bobbi, can I come in?”
No.
“The door’s open,” she said, happy to hear her voice was controlled. Not a hint of fear or anxiety in there. Nope. She had her shit together. This was good.
Today was going to be good.
She plastered a fake smile to her face and turned just as her sister Billie walked into the bedroom, a tall, slim vision in the crimson red dress Bobbi had ordered special from New York. Much to the chagrin of the local bridal boutique, but seriously, how could The Proper Topper, compete with New York couture?
“Wow,” Billie said, eyes wide, a grin on her face. “Sis, you look stunning. Like Hollywood stunning. Hell, you could give Betty a run for her money.”
At the mention of her other sister, Bobbi frowned, wondering where the third Barker triplet was, and, as if reading her mind, Billie shrugged. “She’s good today. Quiet. Non-dramatic. And I don’t think she’s had a drop of liquor, though” she glanced at the clock beside Bobbi’s bed. “It’s only three so things could change. There’s still time for her to get out of hand.”
“Don’t even think it,” Bobbi groaned, pressing neat, white tipped nails to her forehead.
Billie set her bouquet down on the bed—a trio of cream colored mini calla lilies that were all the rage in New York, or at least that’s what the bridal books and internet articles said—and crossed the room until she stood a few inches from Bobbi. The two sisters stared at each other in silence for the longest time, and when Billie cleared her throat, Bobbi held up her hand because she knew what was coming.
“Don’t say it Billie.” To say that her sister wasn’t fond of Bobbi’s fiancé, Gerald was an understatement.
To say that Billie didn’t give two shits about Bobbi’s wishes was also an understatement.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Billie asked quietly.
No.
“It’s not too late to change your mind.”
“Oh my god, Billie, can we drop this? It’s my wedding day for Christ sake.” Bobbi pushed past her sister and leaned into the mirror, fiddling with her pearl earrings—a gift from Gerald—as she s
ent major stink eye toward her sister.
Which Billie ignored. “But do you love him?”
Bobbi counted to three even though she knew she should have kept on until at least ten, because her temper was beginning to boil and the thing of it was? Bobbi prided herself on her control. On her absolute control of her emotions and the way she displayed them. But her sisters had always had a knack for getting under her skin, and these days it was Billie who continually pushed her. Billie who second guessed everything because, you know, the woman was in love, and that meant that she was an authority on the subject.
Billie Jo Barker and her happily ever after with Logan Forest.
Whatever.
Storybook romances didn’t happen for everyone. Bobbi had been down that road before and it had ended in disaster. Hell, disaster would be putting it mildly.
Bobbi took an extra breath—just to be safe—and turned to face her sister.
“Look, Billie I appreciate your concern but I wouldn’t be marrying Gerald if I didn’t love him.”
Wow. Good lie. She was getting good at this whole lying thing.
“I hope so.” Billie cocked her head to the side and arched her eyebrow in that way she had…that way that irritated the crap out of Bobbi. It meant that she was about to say something that would piss Bobbi off. “I just,” she bit her lip and shook her head. “I just don’t feel it, Bobbi. Not like before. Not like…”
“Not like Shane?” Bobbi bit out, angry that her sister had made her say his name. He was off limits. He had to be off limits, especially today. Didn’t Billie know that?
Billie’s expertly made up eyes narrowed, just a bit. “Yes,” she said slowly. “Not like Shane.”
“Well that would be a good thing because whatever it was that I had with Shane nearly destroyed me, Billie. You know that.”
“I just want you to be happy,” her sister said quietly.
A vein began to throb over Bobbi’s left temple. She didn’t have to see it to know it was there and she frowned, her blue eyes stormy as she gazed back at her sister. Her sister who was madly in love with a man and anyone with an eye in their head knew it. How could you not? The looks and touches and looks and touches and looks were plain old nauseating.
