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“Well, did Kylie break up with him? No, she didn’t. Because she loves him, and she’s willing to stand by him no matter what.” I’m angry now. So angry I shoot to my feet, fighting the urge to smack some sense into him. “So what makes you think I won’t stand by you?” His silence irks the living fuck out of me. “You know what, John? Screw you.” I struggle to control my breathing. “Clearly you don’t know me at all if you think I’m the kind of person who would give up on a relationship the moment it hits a few obstacles.”
“And just in case my reaction to your idiocy didn’t make it clear where I stand with us, then let me spell it out for you.” I whirl around to scowl at him. “I love you, you stupid jackass.”
I let out another groan. “What if I lost her for good this time?” Garrett and Tucker instantly shake their heads. “You didn’t,” Garrett assures me. “How can you be so sure of that?” “Because she told you she loves you.” “You stupid jackass,” Tucker adds with a grin.
“How do I fix this?” I ask, sighing. “Quick. Write her another poem,” Garrett suggests. I scowl at him.
A strangled cough fills the airwaves. “Um. Uh, thanks for the offer. But yeah, I want her.” He pauses. “I’m in love with her.”
“I’ve been in love with her for a few months now,” he continues, and his husky confession reinflates my heart. “I didn’t tell her because I didn’t want to scare her off by saying it too soon.”
“Anyway, this girl…she’s the love of my life. She’s smart and funny and unbelievably compassionate. She forgives people even when they don’t deserve it. She—”
“It’s everything else that matters most.” A shadow crosses my peripheral vision. I turn my head expecting to see Daisy or Morris on the other side of the glass door. My breath hitches when my gaze locks with Logan’s. He’s on his cell phone, wearing faded jeans and his hockey jacket, and his blue eyes shine with sincerity.
“Wait—we’ve been talking to John Logan?” Evelyn shrieks. “Wait—you’re talking about Gretchen?” Pace exclaims, his gaze darting like a Ping-Pong ball from me to Logan. “No, I’m talking about Grace,” Logan says, smiling at me through the glass. “Grace Elizabeth Ivers. The woman I love.”
“Anyway, I’m hanging up now,” Logan tells the hosts. “I’m pretty sure I can take it from here.” The line cuts off, and I shoot a panicky glance at the switchboard. Shit. The show is still on the air. I’m supposed to put on the next caller. To my relief, Morris appears, giving Logan a friendly thump on the arm as he hurries into the producer’s booth. “Go,” Morris orders. “I’ll cover the rest of the show.” “Are you sure?”
He grins. “That was always the plan. Who do you think screened the call, Gretch?” He points to the door. “Go.” I don’t need to be told twice.
I don’t plan on ever breaking up with you.” “Good. Because I’m never breaking up with you.” He brings one hand to my cheek, stroking it with infinite tenderness. “Actually, I think I’m going to marry you one day.” Shock jolts through me. “What?” “One day,” he repeats when he sees my expression. “I mean it, Grace, I’m in this for the long haul. You still have two years left at Briar, and I’ll be in Munsen during that time, but I promise you, I’ll come see you as often as I can. Every available second I have will be yours.” His voice thickens. “I’m yours.”
“I meant every damn word, gorgeous.” He hesitates. Visibly swallows. “Hannah was trying to describe love to me last semester. She said it feels like your heart is about to overflow, and that when you love someone, you need them more than anything else in the world, more than food or water or air. That’s how I feel about you. I need you. I can’t stand the thought of being without you.” He releases a shaky breath. “You’re the last person I think about before I go to sleep, and the first person I think about when I open my eyes in the morning.
“You think that’s funny?” he says sadly. “No, I was thinking it’s a damn shame you didn’t put everything you just said into the poem you wrote me.” A tentative smile lifts his mouth. “You liked that, huh?” “I loved it.” My heart constricts. “I love you.” The smile widens. “Even after I acted like a stupid jackass today?” “Yep.” “Even though I’ll probably act like a stupid jackass again?
“Question.” His eyes twinkle. “Hit me.”
“Chad Jensen came to see me yesterday.” My head swings back toward my father. “What? Are you serious?” Why the hell would Coach talk to my father? Dad nods. “He called ahead, asked if he could stop by for a chat. I said sure, why not, and he came by yesterday evening.” I’m still battling my shock. Coach Jensen drove out to Munsen and met with my father?
Dad raises his gaze to mine again. “You should’ve told me you didn’t declare.” “What difference would it have made?” “A huge one,” he snaps. “It’s bad enough that I woke up the other morning wearing clean underwear and all tucked into bed like a fucking child, with the knowledge that my twenty-one-year-old son is the one who put me there.” His head shifts to Jeff. “And that my other son is running my business because I’m too much of a mess to do it myself. But now you’re telling me you’re passing up the chance to play for the goddamn Bruins so you can take care of my sorry ass?”
“But I’ll do it. I’ll do it, and it’ll stick. You know why? Because I’m your father.” Shame pours off him in palpable waves. “My kids shouldn’t be taking care of me. I should be taking care of you.” He gives me a hard look. “You shouldn’t be giving up your dreams because of me.” He turns to Jeff. “And neither should you.”
“And you…” My father’s bloodshot eyes zero in on me. “You better make it to that Providence practice. Jensen said it’s pretty much a tryout, so don’t screw it up.” I’ve been silent for so long it takes me a moment to find my voice. “I won’t,” I say hoarsely. “Good. I expect you to tell me about it when I call you in two weeks. You probably won’t hear from me before that. Not during the detox.” His voice is equally hoarse. “Now get outta here, John. Your brother says you’ve got shit to do today. Jeffrey, we’ll talk shortly.”
“John.” His voice stops me before I reach the doorway. “Yeah?” “You’ll give me a signed jersey when you make the team, right?”
“Okay, I need to ask you something, and no bullshitting me.” Hannah leans in close again. “Do you really love hockey now, or is that just the line you’re feeding Logan?” I press my lips together to keep from laughing. “Well, I don’t hate it. And I definitely don’t find it as boring anymore, but…” I lower my voice “…I’d still rather watch football.”
And if I’m being honest, Logan’s father is growing on me too. He’s been sober for nearly two years now, and he seems determined to keep it that way.
“It’s so funny,” Hannah muses. “Garrett told me that he and Logan have talked about the two of them in Bruins jerseys ever since freshman year.
“I guess some dreams really do come true.” I follow her gaze, a smile touching my lips as I watch the man I love in the uniform he loves, flying across the ice to the roar of the crowd. “Yep,” I answer softly. “I guess they do.”
