Logan stared into Hunter’s coldly enraged face and saw his life pass before his eyes. “I wasn’t—”
“How dare you disrespect your teammates like that!” Hunter roared, giving him a vicious shake. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh? Who the hell do you think you are?”
Logan’s eyes darted nervously toward Reid and Viggo. They stood by the pickup like two muscle-bound henchmen with their arms folded across their chests, eyes narrowed menacingly as they glared at him.
“Give me your fucking keys,” Hunter snarled.
Logan balked. “Why—”
“Hand them over or so help me God I will gut you right here in this parking lot.”
Logan gulped hard, dug out his keys and sullenly handed them to Hunter.
After checking the stranger’s car to make sure there was no damage, Hunter grabbed Logan’s arm and steered him over to his Denali. Logan climbed into the passenger seat while Hunter slid behind the wheel and slammed the door hard enough to rock the truck.
Logan slanted him a wary look. Duchene could be absolutely terrifying when he was mad. “Where—”
“Shut up.” Hunter revved the engine and roared out of the parking lot. Reid and Viggo were close behind. Logan could feel their anger and frustration even from here. They couldn’t be any more frustrated with him than he was with himself.
Hunter jabbed a finger at him. “Stay away from her job, you hear me? Don’t let me find out you came back here to cause trouble for her.”
Logan slumped down in his seat. “I just wanted to talk—”
“Not here! Not like this!”
Logan mashed his lips together, staring out the window. “How’d you know where to find me?”
Hunter snorted. “Please.”
Logan frowned. “Where are we going?”
“To get some food in your stomach before you starve yourself to death.”
“I’m not hungry,” Logan mumbled.
“Too fucking bad. You’re gonna eat if we have to hold you down and shove a whole meal down your throat.”
Logan frowned. “Force-feeding is an illegal form of tor—”
“Shut the hell up.”
Logan put his head back against the headrest, swallowed hard and whispered miserably, “I fucked up, man.”
“That’s an understatement if I ever heard one.” Hunter shook his head, aggressively switching lanes. “You’ve been reckless and hotheaded during games. You’ve made some stunningly stupid decisions, on and off the ice. You’ve been late to practices and meetings. But you have never, ever outright shirked your responsibility. What you did today was basically tell the whole team to kiss your ass. And that won’t fly, son. Not on my watch.”
With his head still back against the headrest, Logan was too exhausted to do more than roll his eyes sideways to look at Hunter. “My shit is so fucked up right now. I don’t know if I’m coming or going.”
“I know, man,” Hunter said in a gentler tone. “I know you’re hurting like hell, and I know you’re still dealing with a shit ton of old baggage. But as your best friend and teammate, I can’t let you self-destruct like this. It’s unacceptable after everything you’ve overcome, and it’s not fair to our teammates who’ve busted their asses to get this far in the playoffs.” He hooked a sharp right turn. “You know I’ve made allowances for your behavior over the years. I went easy on you when you got ejected for arguing with the ref during the Boston game. I let it slide when you got suspended for fighting at that club. You were protecting your woman, and all of us would have done the same thing. But skipping practice and risking another suspension right before the conference final starts? Nah, bro. I can’t cut you any slack this time. Something’s gotta give. That’s why I made an appointment for you to see Sensei Tanaka this evening.”
“Your Zen master?” Logan growled in disbelief. “I don’t want—”
“Did I sound like I was asking your permission?” Hunter exploded. “I don’t give a shit what you want! You’re going, and that’s all there is to it!”
Logan clamped his mouth shut.
During a station break on the radio, a news alert announced to listeners: “Sources are reporting that Denver Rebels right winger Logan Brassard was a no-show at practice this morning. Team sources are confirming that Brassard will be fined, but no word yet on whether he’ll be scratched from tomorrow night’s opening game against the Golden Knights. The star winger is no stranger to controversy and disciplinary—”
Hunter punched off the radio and glared at Logan. “Do you have any idea how frustrating it was to be answering questions about your whereabouts the day before a playoff game?” His voice sliced at Logan like cold steel. “Don’t ever put me in that position again.”
Logan swallowed hard, his chest aching as he stared out the window for a long time. “She exploded like a supernova,” he whispered.
Hunter frowned at him. “What?”
“That day at your house when we were meditating together. I saw Jupiter in a vision. She was glowing so brightly, like a beacon in the dark. I started running toward her. Faster…and faster. Just as I reached out my arms to hug her…she burst into stardust.” Logan swallowed tightly and closed his eyes. “It must have been a sign. Our relationship…what we had was too good to last.”
Hunter said nothing more as he drove to Dunwoody’s. Reid and Viggo parked beside them.
When the four of them entered the diner, Mrs. Dunwoody took one look at Logan, clucked her tongue and gave him a soothing hug. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. Trouble don’t last always.”
Logan was too depressed to argue with her.
They piled into their booth and placed their orders, not talking much. When the food came, the guys made him eat every last morsel on his plate, their eyes fixed on him with grim, watchful intensity. They radiated menace, leaving no doubt in his mind that they would deliver a no-holds-barred beatdown if he even thought about not complying.
When their plates had been cleared away, Reid leaned forward across the table, his blue eyes lasering into Logan. “So here’s what’s gonna happen at morning skate tomorrow. Before we hit the ice, you’re gonna stand up before the guys and apologize for putting yourself above the team.”
“I can do that,” Logan mumbled.
“Damn right you can. And you will.” Reid rapped his knuckles on the table. “First thing tomorrow. Got it?”
Logan nodded sullenly.
Reid finished his drink, set the glass down and folded his hands on the table. “Look, man,” he said gruffly, “I’ve been in your shoes before. You guys remember how I fucked up with Nadia and almost lost her. I know what it’s like to make a split-second dumb decision that you immediately regret. I was in bad shape when I thought Nadia would never take me back, so I definitely understand how you’re feeling right now. But you’ve gotta hold it together, man. Self-destructing won’t change anything. Give Meadow time to work through her feelings. If you guys are meant to be together—which I think you are—then she’ll forgive you when she’s ready.”
Hunter and Viggo nodded in agreement.
Logan crossed his arms, leaned back in the booth and stared broodingly out the window.
A few minutes later, Mrs. Dunwoody brought them generous slices of her famous caramel apple pie. “Just wanted to give you boys a sweet sendoff and wish you good luck on tomorrow’s game,” she said with a twinkling smile.
They thanked her enthusiastically and dug into their warm slices of pie, groaning in appreciation. Even Logan managed a few delicious bites.
Mrs. Dunwoody beamed and patted his back. “When are you gonna bring your pretty little girlfriend around again? Ambrose and I really enjoyed meeting her.”
An awkward silence fell over the table.
Mrs. Dunwoody looked around at everyone’s downcast eyes and then nodded wisely, rubbing Logan’s back with gentle, soothing motions. “Do you know what I saw when I looked into Meadow’s eyes? I saw goodness and warmth, such a beautiful
spirit. I also saw an old soul. Life has brought her so much pain and sorrow. Trust doesn’t come easy for her, and she probably thinks happiness is reserved for everyone but her. But God brought you together for a purpose. You’re each other’s miracles. So you need to nurture her soul, Logan. Be a rock she can depend on. Be that safe harbor she needs. Water her like a precious flower, and when she blooms, she’s going to make you happier than you’ve ever imagined. And you’re going to do the same for her.”
By the time Mrs. Dunwoody finished speaking, Logan wanted to put his head on her lap and bawl like a baby. Even the guys looked visibly moved by her words.
She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and hugged him close. “Don’t give up on her,” she whispered into his hair. “Don’t give up on yourself. And don’t ever, ever give up hope.”
* * *
Mrs. dunwoody’s affirming words were like a lullaby to his battered soul. When he got home and crawled into bed, he was able to fall asleep for the first time in two days.
But all too soon, he was dragged out of the dark cocoon of slumber by an annoying sound.
The doorbell. Someone was ringing his fucking doorbell like the building was on fire.
Groaning and cursing, he rolled out of bed and scrubbed his hands over his face, then trudged out of his room and down the hall.
When he yanked the door open and saw the Duchess standing there, he scowled. “What the hell do you want?”
She smirked. “Hello to you too, grumpy.”
“I was taking a nap, and now I probably won’t be able to get back to sleep. Thanks a fucking lot.” He looked behind her, saw the Louis Vuitton suitcase and gave her a bleary glare. “What the hell are you doing here?”
She rolled her eyes. “What do you think? I talked to Mom yesterday morning and she says you’re not returning her calls. Her bestie Trish told her all about the shitstorm in Canada and now she’s worried sick about you.” Cynara smirked. “Just be glad it wasn’t Meadow’s father on your doorstep. From what I hear, he’s not too happy with you right now.”
“Coño.” Logan left Cynara standing at the door and stalked off toward the kitchen. “How the hell’d you get up here anyway? You don’t have a keycard.”
“Didn’t need one. Your concierge was most accommodating.” She wheeled her suitcase inside and closed the door behind her. “Never thought I’d say this, pretty boy, but you look like shit.”
Logan scowled over his shoulder. “Are you here to gloat? Did you come to tap dance on my fucking grave?”
She took offense. “Really, Logan? You think I enjoy seeing you miserable and pathetic?”
“I don’t think. I know you do.” He stalked into the kitchen and yanked open the fridge, pulled out a jug of beetroot juice and took a long swig.
Cynara entered the kitchen and made a disgusted face. “I see you still drink right out of containers like an uncouth pig.”
He flipped her the bird and shoved the beet juice back in the fridge, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and glared at her. “So you just hopped on a plane and flew halfway around the world to be a pain in the ass? Don’t you have a dissertation to write?”
She shrugged. “It’s not going anywhere. Besides, I could use a change of scenery.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean? I hope you’re not planning to stick around.”
“What if I am?” She gestured around her. “It’s not like you don’t have enough room to accommodate me.”
“That’s not the point,” he growled. “I’m not in the mood for houseguests, especially uninvited houseguests.”
“Well, I’m here now so deal with it.” She gave a haughty sniff. “If you get me a ticket, maybe I’ll even go to your game tomorrow for moral support. What are big sisters for?”
“Gee, don’t do me any favors,” Logan said sarcastically. “And newsflash: The game is in Vegas.”
Her jaw dropped and she blinked stupidly. “Are you telling me I could have flown home instead of coming here?”
“Bingo.” He smirked. “Bet you feel like a real dumbass right now.”
She scowled, flapping a hand in the air. “I knew you guys were playing the Golden Kings—”
“Knights. Golden Knights.”
“Whatever! Anyway, I just assumed the first two games were here!”
“Nope.” He sneered mockingly. “See, that’s what happens when you don’t follow hockey. You end up flying into the wrong city like a fucking idiot.”
“Bollocks,” she hissed. “I knew I should have told Mom I was coming.”
“Why didn’t you?” Logan grumbled, dropping heavily onto a stool at the center island.
“I was waiting to see what condition you were in.” She folded her arms, leaning her shapely hip against the edge of the counter. “Seriously. I wanted to make sure you hadn’t fucked or drank yourself to death. I know how you love to anesthetize your pain with cheap pussy and booze.”
He flipped her off.
She laughed. “I’m just saying, Logan. Your coping strategies aren’t the best.”
“Yeah, well, thanks for your concern, but I’m fine.”
“Bullshit,” she retorted. “Anyone can see you’re most definitely not fine. You’re so far from fine—”
He held up a hand. “I get it. I’m a fucking wreck. What’s it to you?”
She shook her head at him. “Pendejo.”
He scowled. “Vete al carajo.”
“You go to hell. Oh, wait, you look like you’ve already set up shop there.”
Logan shot her a murderous glare, which only made her laugh.
“Sorry. I couldn’t resist that zinger. It’ll be my last one, I promise.” She gave him another headshake. “Boy, you’ve really landed yourself in the mother of all sin bins, haven’t you? Maybe I should start calling you ‘Sin Bin’ since you can’t stay out of trouble.”
Logan glared at her. “One more crack and I’m putting your ass out.”
She threw back her head and laughed.
He scowled, bouncing his leg under the counter.
Cynara sobered after a few moments, her dark gray eyes examining him until he frowned irritably and snapped, “What?”
Her expression softened. “Remember that time Mom went out of town and Dad couldn’t get off from work, so he had to take me with him to the group home? This was before you were adopted. We met for the first time that day. It was also the day Dad took all of us hiking in the mountains. Do you remember?”
Logan nodded mutely.
“You don’t know this,” Cynara went on, “but I was watching you that day. You and Meadow. I saw the way you stole looks at each other when the other wasn’t paying attention. I saw how tender you were with her, the way you helped her over the rocks so she wouldn’t hurt herself.”
“I helped other girls, too,” Logan grumbled.
“Not that I remember. You certainly didn’t help me.”
He snorted. “You had a stick up your ass. You would have refused my help.”
“Probably.” A smile softened her lips. “My point is that you’ve always been super protective of Meadow. Because of what I saw that day, I know you would never deliberately hurt her. You’d sooner cut off your right arm than cause her any pain.” She paused. “But the reality is that you did hurt her, Logan. You hurt her and betrayed her trust.”
“You think I don’t know that? It’s all I’ve been thinking about since Saturday night.” He raked his fingers through his hair, scraping hard over his scalp. “I’m not responsible for that broad hitting on me, but I knew what she was after as soon as she showed up. I should have gotten the hell out of there the second she touched me. But I didn’t, and I’ll have to live with the consequences for the rest of my fucking life.”
Cynara studied him sympathetically. “I didn’t come here to make you feel worse. I can see you’re drowning in an ocean of guilt and self-recrimination. You certainly don’t need me to pile on.”
Logan sw
allowed a hard lump and stared down at the countertop, his leg bouncing faster.
“I’m sorry,” Cynara said quietly.
His eyes snapped up to her face. “Sorry for what?”
She looked mournful. “I’ve spent so much time hating you and blaming you for my parents’ divorce, and that was incredibly unfair to you. You had a horrific childhood. You were abandoned by parents who should have been there to take care of you and protect you. You were as much a victim as I was—more, actually, because you suffered in ways I could never imagine.” Her voice softened with regret. “My anger and resentment have been terribly misplaced. I was wrong to cast you as the villain in my Shakespearean family tragedy. My father is the only one who bears responsibility for hurting my mother and me. I hope you can forgive me for the way I’ve treated you all these years.”
Logan stared at her for a long, stunned moment.
She stared back at him, her eyes shiny with tears.
When he rose from the stool, she gathered him close and hugged him tightly. It was the first time she’d ever shown him such kindness and warmth. It broke him down a little.
“I love you, brother,” she whispered.
His chest tightened with emotion. “Love you, too.”
When she released him, he was embarrassed to feel tears pressing against the back of his eyelids. He coughed gruffly to clear his throat.
Cynara sniffled and dabbed delicately at her eyes, trying to blot her tears without smudging her perfect makeup.
When they finished composing themselves, they shared a sheepish grin, recognizing that they’d just made an important breakthrough in their relationship. Roxanne would be overjoyed.
“So,” Cynara said casually, “do you want me to talk to Meadow?”
“No way. Absolutely not.” Logan paused a beat. “What would you say?”
Cynara grinned. “I’m sure I could think of something. I’m extraordinarily gifted with words.”
“True,” he agreed. “You’ve always been a master bullshitter.”
She punched his arm, and he laughed.
Sin Bin Page 69
