I have a sinking feeling I’m about to get grilled. Turns out, I’m right.
As soon as we’re seated with drinks in front of us, Saint turns to me. “What’s your deal, man?”
It’s not the smoothest sentence that’s ever been uttered, but hockey players aren’t known for their sensitivity.
My eyebrows shoot up. “My deal?”
Saint shrugs. “Yeah, your . . . situation. Everything okay now?”
I relax a little, realizing his intentions are good. He’s just worried about me, I guess, and this is his way of showing it. When my gaze moves to Alex, I can see the same look of worry reflected in his eyes too. It’s more touching than I expected to realize my teammates have been worried about me.
For some reason, my mind snags on a memory of Summer. She told me once that I’m lucky I have so many people who care about me.
“Everything’s . . .” I want to say okay, but the word won’t come out. It gets stuck in my throat and doesn’t budge. After several seconds of awkward silence, I finally manage to string a few words together. “I don’t know, to be honest.”
Saint nods. “That’s fair.”
“Your family? Your mom? How are they?” Alex asks.
I let out a slow exhale. “My dad’s departure has left a huge hole in my family, and it’s . . .” I pause and draw another breath. “Well, it’s going to take some time.”
The guys nod.
“But that’s not what’s bothering you?” Saint asks.
I shake my head. When did hockey players get so perceptive? “Not really, no.”
They wait patiently as we sip our drinks.
“I met someone. Her name is Summer. And I . . .” It’s so crazy, I can barely say the words. “I’m in love with her.”
Saint’s eyes widen at my unexpected announcement. “That’s great. Right?”
Alex tilts his head to the side, watching me.
“She doesn’t feel the same.”
“Shit,” Saint mutters, and I nod.
I wish I could stop thinking about her. Wish I could move on and just focus on my career and my family like I’m supposed to. My life would be so much easier if all I cared about was hockey.
Summer is the one who told me we shouldn’t gloss over things. She wanted total honesty, wanted me to tell her all of it. All the ugly, messy truth. What about now? Am I supposed to call her and admit the depth of my feelings for her? Admit that I feel heartbroken and numb and awful every second of every day?
When I left Boston for Colorado, I was torn up inside with constant worry and guilt rioting through my veins. Now that I’m back and supposedly better, I’m torn up for a very different reason.
I never expected to fall in love with Summer, but that’s exactly what happened.
I barely keep up with the details of the conversation happening between Alex and Saint. Apparently, there’s some beef between Saint and our captain, Reeves. But to be honest, I’m too distracted to care. Why? Because I’ve just made the decision to visit Summer when I return to Boston.
One last time, I’ll open myself up and give her my full truth. Total honesty, just like she requested of me.
I’ll tell her how I feel, and if she rejects me again, then that’s it. I’ll move on.
23
* * *
LOGAN
It wasn’t difficult to get Les to give me Summer’s address, which I have mixed feelings about. He shouldn’t give out her personal information, but I may have implied that I needed it for counseling purposes, so perhaps I can’t blame the guy. Maybe he thought he was only doing his job.
It’s a twenty-minute drive across town, and then another several minutes before I locate a parking spot. It’s just after seven on a Wednesday evening. The sky is dark, and the night air is freezing as I approach her building on the sidewalk.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Her apartment building is in an area of town I’m not familiar with, and to be honest, I don’t ever want to visit again. There’s a liquor store on the corner with bars in the windows. A pawn shop and a laundromat flank her building on either side. Across the street is a bail bonds storefront.
This is a rough area. I don’t like the thought of Summer living here alone, no matter how affordable the rent is.
Expecting the building’s front door to be locked, I press the buzzer, but it doesn’t work. So I try the door, and to my surprise, it isn’t locked, so I let myself into the building.
The hallway smells like tobacco and is filled with doors lining both sides. Her apartment is number eighteen, and I head up the stairs and find her door. There’s a mat outside the front door with the word HOME written on it, but the O is a heart.
An unexpected pang of emotion hits me. Realizing that this is it—this little apartment is her home where she cooks and sleeps alone every night—is a sad thought. Summer deserves so much more. She deserves the world. Someone who loves her. A family to call her own…
I lift my hand and knock twice on the door, hearing footsteps approach on the other side. There’s no peephole in the door, and I realize that showing up here unannounced may surprise her. And not in a good way.
I knock again. “Summer? It’s Logan.”
She twists the lock and the door opens. “Logan?”
The first sight of her is like a soothing balm to my soul. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and she’s wearing plaid pajama pants with a baggy T-shirt. But she’s beautiful.
“Hi,” is the only word I can manage.
Her brown eyes widen with surprise. “What are you doing here?”
It’s been weeks since I’ve seen her. I’ve been from Colorado to Boston to Toronto to Calgary and back to Boston again. And I thought of her through every mile and in every time zone.
“This is your place,” I say, rather than responding to her question. Because the total honesty that she’ll want from me isn’t something I’m ready to give her just yet. Maybe because the threat of rejection is still possible and very real.
She steps aside and motions for me to enter. I make my way inside, scanning the room as I take it all in. Her place is a tiny efficiency with a futon bed. It’s cold, with none of the warmth or personality I would expect of her home.
“Have you lived here long? It’s pretty . . . spartan.”
She inhales through her nose and wanders toward the windows. “It’s clean, and it’s what I can afford right now.”
“Of course. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
Damn, I’m already off on the wrong foot.
“It’s okay,” she says, turning to face me.
Her eyes have a faraway look in them, and I realize for the first time that she looks sad. It’s an expression I’ve never seen her wear before, and I don’t like it. I want to see her smile, hear her laugh. I rub at an achy spot in the center of my chest.
“Would you like to sit?” she asks, motioning to the futon sofa.
I nod, and we take a seat.
I don’t know where to start, so I do the only thing I can think of. “You asked what I was doing here. Total honesty?”