Chapter 125 Chapter 124
Harper POV
The Ice House feels different in the morning.
Quieter.
Last night it was loud and chaotic — teammates coming and going, laughter echoing down the hall, doors slamming somewhere in the distance.
Now it’s just the low hum of a refrigerator and the muffled sound of skates scraping somewhere far below in the arena.
I sit on the edge of Logan’s bed, twisting the hem of his T-shirt between my fingers.
It smells like him.
Laundry detergent and something warmer underneath.
I shouldn’t like that as much as I do.
Logan is in the shower again — this time a quick one before practice — and the bathroom door is cracked open just enough that I can hear the water running.
My mind keeps replaying the conversation from earlier.
Not the whole thing.
Just the parts I heard.
That girl.
Distraction.
Is she a secret or public?
I hadn’t meant to hear it.
When I stepped out of the bathroom earlier, I just caught the tail end of it. Logan sitting up in bed, phone pressed to his ear, shoulders tight like he was bracing for a hit.
His voice had been low.
Controlled.
But the tension in it was unmistakable.
I hadn’t heard everything.
Just enough.
Enough to know his father hates the idea of me.
Enough to know Logan’s life isn’t just his own.
Enough to know I might be standing in the middle of something that has been building long before I walked into it.
The shower shuts off.
My stomach flips immediately.
God, get it together.
He defended you.
He didn’t hang up and walk away.
He didn’t apologize for you.
Still.
My chest feels tight.
Because I also heard the part where his father said I could cost him everything.
The bathroom door opens.
Steam spills out into the room as Logan steps back in, running a towel through his hair.
He’s wearing sweats now, his hockey bag already sitting by the door like the rest of his life is waiting outside.
He stops when he sees me watching him.
For a second neither of us speaks.
Then he smiles slightly.
“You’re thinking too loud.”
I blink.
“What?”
“That look on your face,” he says, tossing the towel aside. “It means your brain is doing Olympic-level overthinking.”
I exhale softly.
“Maybe.”
He walks over, slower now.
Careful.
Like he’s approaching a situation that could go sideways if he moves too fast.
“Talk to me,” he says.
The gentleness in his voice makes my throat tighten.
I glance down at my hands.
“I didn’t mean to overhear earlier.”
His shoulders stiffen slightly.
“How much did you hear?”
I shrug faintly.
“Enough.”
A beat of silence stretches between us.
He runs a hand over the back of his neck.
“Yeah… that sounds about right.”
I swallow.
“Your dad thinks I’m going to ruin your career.”
Logan lets out a quiet breath.
“He thinks everyone ruins my career.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“It’s honest.”
I look up at him.
His expression isn’t angry anymore.
Just tired.
Tired in a way that makes my chest ache.
“You’ve been dealing with that your whole life, haven’t you?” I say quietly.
He shrugs one shoulder.
“Pretty much.”
The casual tone doesn’t fool me.
Logan Shaw has been carrying his father’s expectations like a second jersey since he was a kid.
“I don’t want to be the thing that makes it harder for you,” I say softly.
His head snaps up.
“You’re not.”
“But he—”
“I don’t care what he thinks.”
The words come out sharper than he probably intended.
Then he sighs, rubbing his forehead.
“That’s not true,” he admits. “I care. I just hate that I do.”
My chest tightens.
“Logan…”
He sits down on the bed beside me.
Close enough that our shoulders touch.
“My whole life,” he says quietly, “every decision has been measured against one thing.”
“Hockey.”
“Yeah.”
The word sits heavy between us.
“And now there’s you.”
I don’t know what to say to that.
So I say the only honest thing.
“I don’t want to be a problem.”
His head turns toward me immediately.
“You’re not.”
“But I also don’t want to be a secret.”
The words come out before I can stop them.
The room goes very still.
Logan studies me for a long moment.
“I know.”
“I mean it,” I say softly. “I can’t be someone you hide.”
His jaw tightens slightly.
“I don’t want to hide you.”
“But you also don’t want to blow up your relationship with your dad.”
He exhales slowly.
“That relationship was complicated long before you showed up.”
A quiet laugh slips out of me.
“Well, that’s comforting.”
His mouth curves faintly.
“I’m serious.”
He leans back slightly, looking at the ceiling like he’s trying to untangle something inside his head.
“My dad thinks everything has to fit into a plan,” he says.
“And you don’t?”
“I did,” he admits.
The honesty in that makes my chest squeeze.
“And now?” I ask.
He turns his head, meeting my eyes again.
“Now I’m starting to think some things might be worth messing up the plan.”
The words make my pulse skip.
Dangerous.
Hopeful.
Terrifying.
I search his face carefully.
“You don’t have to prove anything to me right now,” I say quietly.
“I know.”
“But I meant what I said.”
His brow furrows.
“When?”
“In the hallway,” I remind him. “I want to be a choice.”
His expression softens.
“You are.”
“Not because you’re confused.”
“I’m not confused.”
“Not because you’re jealous.”
A small smile touches his mouth.
“I was definitely jealous.”
I roll my eyes.
“That’s not the point.”
He reaches for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine again like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“The point,” he says quietly, “is that I chose you.”
My breath catches slightly.
“And you chose me.”
I glance down at our hands.
“Technically Lila helped.”
He laughs under his breath.
“I should’ve known she was involved.”
A comfortable silence settles over us for a moment.
Then Logan sighs.
“I have practice in twenty minutes.”
Reality again.
I nod.
“Then you should go.”
He studies me.
“You’re leaving?”
“I have class.”
“And a sorority house full of girls who are probably already dissecting the auction.”
That earns a small grin.
“Oh, that’s definitely happening.”
I stand, smoothing the shirt I’m wearing.
Logan stands too.
For a second we just look at each other.
Last night felt like a turning point.
This morning feels like a test.
He reaches out and brushes his thumb lightly across my cheek.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod.
“I think so.”
“Think?”
I shrug softly.
“This is new territory.”
His expression warms.
“Yeah.”
I hesitate.
Then I lean forward and kiss him.
Soft.
Quick.
But certain.
When I pull back, his eyes are a little darker.
“Good luck at practice,” I whisper.
He squeezes my hand once before letting go.
“Good luck surviving Lila.”
I laugh as I grab my things.
But as I step toward the door, one thought lingers in the back of my mind.
Logan might not want to hide me.
But wanting something and fighting for it…
are two very different things.
And something tells me that fight is coming.