Undressed

by Shannon Richard

  “There’s nothing I can do.” He’d shaken his head, regret clear in his eyes. “You’re better than half the department put together, but it’s in your contract, Abby.”

  And what did a couple of months matter anyway? She’d already verbally accepted the job with St. Ignatius and, more important, there was no way in hell she could possibly work for the Stampede when she couldn’t have Logan.

  All or nothing.

  Non-stop tears or not, she wasn’t ready to give up on the all yet. That much had been made clear to her from some very wise words, from a very wise friend.

  “You giving up?” Paige had asked that morning. They’d been sitting on the bed in the guest room, their backs resting on the headboard and their legs stretched out underneath the quilt.

  “What else am I supposed to do?” Abby asked as she traced her finger around the rim of her coffee mug. “Because I don’t know. He walked out, Paige. Didn’t give me a chance to explain anything, to tell him that I chose him, before he decided it was over and he… he… just left.”

  Left her.

  It was nineteen years ago all over again and the pain was debilitating.

  “He’s not your father, Abby. This isn’t the same thing.”

  Paige knew exactly where Abby’s thoughts had drifted. Best friends had superpowers sometimes. If only they could fix broken hearts, too.

  “You sure about that?” Abby asked. “Because it feels pretty damn similar. Neither of them looked back. Neither of them cared. Neither of them fought for me.”

  Logan had just given up on her. On them.

  “Maybe you need to fight.”

  Abby’s finger faltered on the rim of her mug and she looked over at Paige, raising her eyebrows. “Fight for what?”

  “Fight for the last cup of coffee,” Paige said, holding up her mug. “Fight for the covers at night. Fight for who gets to wash the other’s back. Fight for who gets to wash the other’s front.” She grinned and waggled her eyebrows. “Fight for who gets to pick the song when you dance around the living room. Fight to not fall asleep for just one more second so you can feel his breath on your cheek. Fight for who gets to kiss the other first in the morning. Fight for the moments you get to spend with just each other, the outside world gone. Fight for the moments that you want with him. All of them. Fight for him, Abby.”

  “What if I can’t?”

  “What if you can’t? Okay, who are you and what the hell have you done with Abby Fields?”

  The laugh that burst from Abby’s mouth quickly turned to a sob. The cup disappeared from her grasp a second later, and she was pulled into Paige’s arms where she let the tears loose for about the thirty-ninth time.

  “I love him,” Abby whispered when she managed to get her breathing under control. It was the first time she’d said it out loud and it was painful to her own ears.

  “So go get him.”

  And that was exactly what Abby was going to do, just as soon as she went home and figured out her next move. Three hours in the car hadn’t revealed that.

  Nope. She had nothing.

  She’d gone over what she was going to say to him. Apologizing. Explaining herself. Anything that it took to get him back.

  The problem was she had no idea where he was. She was no longer privy to his schedule. She at least knew that he should be in town because the second game against the Bruins was the following night.

  His house was a distinct possibility, and she would head over there just as soon as she got ahold of herself.

  Whenever the hell that was.

  It was a little after five o’clock when she parked her car in her driveway and turned off the ignition. She flipped the visor down immediately and lifted up her glasses, pushing them back into her hair.

  Fantastic. She was a freaking raccoon. Proof positive that waterproof mascara was a good idea. Though she had some doubts as to whether that would’ve held up. She wiped her eyes with her fingers, rubbing off a good amount, but she could only be helped so much at this point.

  Which wasn’t all that much.

  She grabbed her purse and got out of the car. She pulled her phone out before she slid the strap onto her shoulder and headed up the path, skimming her text messages first. She’d put her phone on silent while driving, knowing she was already distracted enough without any added help.

  Paige was at the top: I love you. You’ve got this. You’re amazing.

  Her mother was next: Just checking on u. Call 2nite. Please.

  Then Gemma: Let me know if you want to get a drink to talk.

  Paige again: A-M-A-Z-I-N-G

  And a novel from Brooke who sent the longest texts of life: Everything completely cleared out of the office. I grabbed your blender out of the kitchen. Gemma already sent me the new hire paperwork. I printed it out and put it in your mailbox at home. Your mom called me to check up on you and I told her that you were okay. And Logan dropped by before I left looking for you…

  Abby stopped short as she reread those words three times, and then her eyes finally moved on to finish the text.

  … He wanted to know where you were so I told him you’d gone to Mirabelle and that you’d be back today. Pretty sure he’s going to show up at your house. Just so you know. Call if you need anything.

  She felt eyes on her a second before her head came up. And there he was, standing at her front door with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in his hand.

  * * *

  Logan hadn’t exactly been prepared for the physical pain that was seeing Abby. There were many different components to it.

  One was being so close and not getting to put his hands on her, she was only feet away. This was something he’d experienced many times over the last few months, but it was different today. There was a distance between them that had nothing to do with physical space and it had to be breached first.

  Two was he missed her. Missed her so fucking much. Four days. Four days without her. Four days thinking it was over. Four days of being a miserable asshole.

  The kicker to it all? The pain that was the worst? Seeing how much he’d hurt her. She already had a fair complexion, but today her skin was paler than pale. Her shoulders were slumped, like she was about to cave in on herself. Her blue eyes red rimmed, her makeup a mess beyond anything he’d ever seen.

  But she was his mess. His beautiful mess.

  “Hi.” Her voice cracked on the word and he was pretty sure his heart had as well. “How long…” she whispered thickly, the words getting stuck. She shook her head before she tried again. “How long have you been here?”

  “About an hour. Brooke didn’t know when you were getting back. I was prepared to sit out here all night.”

  “All by yourself?”

  “I have Jack,” he said, holding up the bottle that was in his hand. “He’s great company.”

  “What are you planning on doing with that?” A small smile tugged the very corner of her mouth, but it didn’t get any further.

  “I thought we could talk.”

  “About?”

  “Everything. Open the door, Red. Let’s go inside.”

  She nodded and moved past him. He wanted more than anything to reach out and touch her, wanted to pull her into his chest and press his nose to her hair to inhale her. But he’d just have to make do with the subtle scent of her shampoo on the air when she walked by.

  It wasn’t enough.

  The lock clicked and they stepped inside.

  Again he had to consciously stop himself from closing the small space between them. Had to stop himself from putting his hands around her waist and leaning down to kiss her neck.

  She walked through the hallway and to the living room. He went to the dining room table where he set the bottle of Jack down while Abby settled her things on the sofa. She hesitated for just a second, taking a deep breath, before she turned to look at him. Her eyes met his, a wealth of sadness in those deep blue depths.

  “Brooke told me that you actually quit the Stampede
before you were fired.”

  “Yeah.” She braced her hand on the back of the sofa as she shifted from one foot to the other.

  “Truth: why did you quit?”

  She stopped fidgeting and her breath caught in her throat, her entire body freezing for just a moment. He was sure it was the phrasing of his question that caught her off guard, and he didn’t miss the hope that flared in her eyes. It took her a second to find her voice.

  “Many reasons. But mainly? Because I couldn’t be with you and do my job at the same time. The information on Madison in your file wasn’t the first place I came across it. I found the pictures of her in your dresser when I was looking for my clothes.”

  “You did?” That was new information. Information he didn’t know how to feel about.

  “She was beautiful you know? Madison. She was a stunning little girl, looked so much like you. And she was somebody that I wanted to protect, too. I picked you, Logan. I chose you. I shredded the stuff on her that was in your file. I quit because I wanted to be with you. I realized it was an all or nothing thing, so either way I had to leave. I couldn’t get the all working there, couldn’t be with you in every way doing that job. And I didn’t think that the relationship was going to work if we couldn’t fully be together.”

  “So all or nothing.”

  “All or nothing.” She nodded. She made a move to go to him, but her step faltered. She was unsure of herself. Unsure of him. So instead of reaching for him she continued to hold on to the sofa for balance. “I’m sorry, Logan. I never, ever wanted that to happen.” She shook her head, her bottom lip trembling as tears welled in her eyes. Her gaze dropped, and her hand tightened on the back of the sofa, her fingers pressing into the stuffed gray fabric.

  He crossed the space to her, closing the distance between them. His palms itched to feel her and he gave into his instinct, reaching out and running his hands up her arms. He pulled her to him, her hold on the sofa moving to a hold on him, her hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt.

  She looked up at him, the tears falling freely from her eyes now. He moved one of his hands to her face, running his fingers across her cheeks and wiping away the fresh tracks that trailed down her skin.

  “I know that you didn’t want that to happen.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, I do. And I’m sorry, too, sorry for all of it. I should’ve given you the chance to explain. I shouldn’t have walked away, an action I won’t be repeating. Because you are my future, Abby.”

  Her sharp inhale of breath had her entire body moving with the action. “I am?”

  “God I hope so. Because having hope for the future is something that I haven’t really thought of in years. Something I didn’t care to think about again until I met you. But I want that with you. I want it all. Nothing? That isn’t an option.”

  He leaned down, the need to taste her lips overwhelming everything else. And the second his mouth was on hers, he never wanted to stop. Her hands were in his hair as she eagerly accepted his kisses. His arms wrapped around her back, pulling her off the ground easily and sitting her down on the back of the sofa.

  “Truth: when I was nineteen years old, I got my girlfriend pregnant. Cassidy never wanted Madison, and made that point perfectly clear. But I loved my daughter from the day I found out about her. She was perfect. Sweet and beautiful and kind. She was everything to me.”

  He let go of Abby, something that was beyond painful in that moment, and took a step back. But he had to do this, had to remove all the barriers, tell her everything. He reached behind him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt before he pulled it off and threw it to the ground.

  “Truth: the tattoo on my back is not for Michigan. It’s for Madison.” He turned slightly so Abby could see his shoulder blade.

  She reached out, not saying anything as she traced the black ink on his skin. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard as he savored her touch, focused on the path of her fingers. Up then down, then up and down again.

  “Whenever I’d wear anything with the M on it, she’d say M for Madison and giggle like crazy. So it’s for her. Truth: she was my life and when she died it destroyed me.”

  He opened his eyes as he turned to look at Abby again. When her hand fell from his shoulder, he felt the absence of her touch everywhere. So he grabbed her hand, bringing it to his mouth and placing a kiss on her palm. He put it over his heart as he took a step forward, making space between her legs. He reached down with his free hand holding on to her waist for dear life, because if he held on to her he could do this.

  “She was four when she was diagnosed. She was a little uncoordinated, couldn’t walk on the sidewalk without finding a crack. But more and more bruises started to show up, so I took her to the doctor.” His eyes burned and his throat constricted. “Six months, that’s how long she had after she was diagnosed. Cassidy was long gone, and I had my parents and Adele and Liam, but my daughter was gone. She was just gone.”

  He blinked, the tears falling.

  “Logan,” she whispered as she reached up, her hand cradling his jaw.

  “Truth,” he said as he leaned into her touch. “You brought me out of a darkness that I’ve been living in for eight years. Made me feel something again. So many moments that had my heart beating out of my chest.” He gently squeezed the hand that was still placed over his heart. “The night of the charity dinner and you walked in wearing the sexiest red dress I think I’ve ever seen in my life. When we were in Mirabelle and I found you on the other side of the door at the inn. The first time I saw you when you walked into the Stampede locker room. But I think the real moment was when you crawled up on my lap at the cabin and told me I could have my way with you. That was when it happened.”

  “When what happened?” She rasped her thumb across his stubbled beard as she looked up at him.

  “When I fell in love with you. It just took me this long to figure it out.”

  “Truth: that’s when I fell in love with you too.”

  At her words his heart kicked hard in his chest, proving his point exactly. She made him feel alive again. He lowered his head, his mouth hovering inches above hers.

  “Truth: you’re it for me, Abby Fields.”

  “Truth: as you are for me.”

  He opened his mouth over hers, sealing their words with a kiss.

  Epilogue

  Strip, Shoot, or Truth… Part Two

  Valentine’s Day: One Year Later

  Abby Fields grinned as she stared across the table at Logan James, trying to figure out how anything that had happened in the last year was even possible.

  But it had been the best year of her life.

  She was madly in love with a gorgeous man, living with him in a beautiful house in Jacksonville, and currently half-naked in a cabin with said man in the mountains of Tennessee. Snow fell steadily right outside the window, a blanket of white. But she was nice and warm in her bright red lace panties and bra, complete with garter belt.

  The heat had a lot to do with the fire that blazed behind them, but she attributed the flush to her skin to the man sitting on the other side of the table. Logan was just down to his jeans, one more strip and he would be gloriously naked.

  He shifted in his seat, the firelight making his skin glow as he moved, and leaned back folding his arms across his chest. He gave her that wicked grin, the one that promised it was only going to be a matter of time before she was flat on her back and he was pushing inside of her. It was the same one he’d given her on the private jet they’d taken up here, the flight that initiated the pair of them into the mile-high club.

  Logan had insisted that they come up to the cabin on the anniversary of their first night together. The Stampede had won an early game that morning, and as they had a day off before their next practice, he wanted the time with her in the snowy mountains.

  All alone.

  Who was she to argue?

  It was different being in a relationship with him when she wasn’t constantly
traveling with the team. They made time where they could, when they could. She was able to fly out for some of the away games and spend a few nights with Logan on the road. Gemma was pretty understanding and Abby was able to get her work done from a hotel room, no problem. Plus Brooke was awesome, and just as efficient as ever.

  And as it turned out, Logan and Abby still spent a lot of time together for work. Logan had started a charity in Madison’s name. He was in and out of the hospital pretty often, visiting Abby for lunch and the patients in the cancer ward with Jace and Andre and quite a few of the other players. Most of the kids were too young to recognize them as Stanley Cup winners, not knowing anything about hockey.

  But Logan had never cared about the fame. A fact that made her love him all the more.

  “So what’s it going to be, Red?”

  Her eyes darted to the shot glass in front of her, where what had to be a three-karat diamond ring glistened. It had an intricate band, forming figure eights all around, and tiny diamonds in the gaps on either side.

  Abby stood up and reached for the glass, fishing the diamond ring out and wrapping it tightly in her fist. She walked to the other side of the table, her red heels echoing across the wood with each step.

  Logan scooted his chair back, giving her just enough space to stand in front of him. She climbed up onto his lap and straddled him, settling herself on the erection straining the front of his jeans.

  “I’ll never get over seeing you in red lace,” he said as he skimmed his palms up her thighs.

  “Good.” She grinned as she grabbed one of his hands from its upward ascent. She pulled it between them, placing the ring in the center. “Ask me again.”

  His hand closed over the ring and he moved, wrapping his arms around her as he stood. His chair slid back along the wooden floors, and he sat her down on top of the table.

  A second later his lips were covering hers, his tongue dipping inside her mouth. And then he was pulling back, his body lowering as he got down on one knee in front of her. He grabbed her left hand, sliding the ring onto her finger before he looked up into her face.