OneManAdvantage (18 page)

She took in the shouts of the players calling to each other,
the scrape of their skates on the ice, the smack of the puck on sticks, the
roar of the crowd. She loved it. She so did not want to quit her job. She was
still mulling that over, knowing that as long as Cody was there, things were
always going to be awkward. And probably with Logan too now. She sighed. She
needed to do what was best for everyone, which might mean giving up the job she
loved so much. Her heart squeezed at the thought.

She watched Logan barrel over the boards from the bench, the
Caribou changing on the fly, recognizing his shape and the way he moved without
even needing to see the number on his jersey.

Where were his parents? In the stands or in someone’s suite?
Ah well, didn’t really matter. He’d tried to convince her to meet them and
she’d kept putting him off and then, when they were here, it hadn’t really
mattered because he’d stopped returning her texts. And she didn’t blame him.
She’d been a bitch to him.

But this was better for both of them in the long run. They
shouldn’t have started something, even though when they’d been together it had
felt so right. It just shouldn’t have happened and he didn’t need all her
baggage dragging him down with the team.

But she couldn’t help remembering being with him. It wasn’t
just the sex, although that had been beyond hot. She’d never been that intimate
with any other man, letting him see so much of what was inside her. No, the
intimacy had extended outside the bedroom too, even though she’d refused to let
him take her out places. They’d kind of jumped past that “dating” stage and had
been comfortable hanging around her place, eating, talking, laughing and yeah,
having lots of hot sex. But the most intimate thing of all that they’d done had
been when he’d taken her skating.

Her heart still turned over in her chest every time she
thought about that. How he’d known that would make her happy. How he’d set it
up, kept it private, how he’d not only watched her but had skated with her,
shot the puck with her, let her be totally herself in front of him without
worries about being seen as an unfeminine jock.

She brushed her fingers over damp eyes even now, remembering
that. God. She missed him.

Logan flew past her and she shrank back a bit, not wanting
him to see her watching, but he was intent on the puck, focused on his game. A
Chicago player charged up behind him and slammed him into the boards and Nicole
winced. But Logan knew how to take a check and immediately resumed his fight
for the puck. The whistle blew for a faceoff.

Logan took the faceoff in the defensive end, won it and
snapped the puck over to Adam, who took off with it toward the Chicago net. He
passed it back to Logan and she watched their play, like choreography, planned
and rehearsed and awesomely beautiful. Just like she’d thought they would be
together. Logan drove hard to the net with the puck and she went on to her
tiptoes to try to see down at the other end. The crowd roared in anticipation
of a goal, then groaned when Logan apparently failed to put the puck in the
net. Then the whistle blew and all she could see was a crowd of players as a
little skirmish happened down near the other net. The crowd hushed and the
atmosphere in the arena changed in an instant from excitement to anxiety.
Nicole felt it like goose bumps, her skin tingling. She craned her neck, still
on her toes, trying to see what was going on. Murmurs ran through the crowd.
She turned to people in the seats behind her. “What happened?” she asked.

“Not sure,” the man said, standing, as was everyone else
now. “It’s Heller. He’s down.”

Her blood turned to ice water in her veins. “Logan? Or
Jase?”

“
Our
Heller,” the man said. “Logan. Shit. He’s not
moving.”

Chapter Eighteen

Joe, the head athletic therapist for the team, jumped onto
the ice and ran toward the other end.

“
Tabarnac de câlisse,”
Nicole breathed. “Sweet Jesus
and Mary.” Her heart crashed against her ribs and her hands started to shake.
Panic filled her brain. What should she do? She wanted to run to the other end
of the arena to get a better look, but by the time she got there, he’d probably
be up and gone back to the bench. Hopefully. God. What if he didn’t get up?
What the hell had happened? There’d been so many injuries on the team and so
much talk about concussions and brain injuries and…nausea churned in her
stomach, rose up to her throat, and she lifted a shaking hand to her mouth.
God, oh god, she had to do something.

She turned and pushed her way back to the lower-level
corridor, past security, past the media people, and she ran, her footsteps
ringing off the concrete floor, echoing off the cinderblock walls. She dodged
other Caribou staff, jogged past the Zambonis and around the bend, her breath
coming in sharp, hard pants.

Mon ostie de saint-sacrament de câlisse de crisse!
He
had to be all right. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been looking at her
with that pissed-off, hurt expression. He’d been so excited to tell her his
news about being made captain. She’d only realized as she was walking away and
he told her not to say anything because nobody else knew yet that he must have
come to see her straight away after talking to Scott. He probably hadn’t even
called his parents or his brothers to tell them. He’d come to her first and
she’d been a bitch to him.

She’d been more concerned with someone seeing them, knowing
about them, than she had about what was happening with him. She’d let him down.
And for nothing. Because it didn’t matter who knew or what they said, if
something had happened to him. That was the last thing in the world that
mattered. She had to have the chance to tell him that, to apologize, to tell
him how proud she was of him and what he’d done since joining the team. She’d
tell him she was leaving so he wouldn’t be dragged into her crap again. She had
to tell him.

She ducked into an entrance, pushed through the crowd that
had accumulated there to watch the drama on the ice. “What’s happening?” she
panted, as she tried to squeeze past someone. “Is it Logan?”

“Yeah. He’s moving. But not much. Christ, looks like he’s in
pain.”

“Oh fuck.” She said the words, then covered her mouth,
earning a strange glance from the man who’d spoken. She swallowed the fear
choking her. She shoved her way rudely past someone else to get to the glass.
Joe knelt on the ice right beside Logan, who was on his back on the ice,
writhing, one arm crossed over to hold the other. Oh no! A wave of pain washed
over her as if she was the one injured.

Most other players had returned to the bench, but she
noticed Jase Heller hovering not far away, gnawing on his mouth guard, which
was hanging out of his mouth.

She peered over the boards, through the glass, trying to get
a sense of what was happening. She gulped down more nausea, her heart in her
throat. Logan was tough. He knew how to take a check, she’d just seen evidence
of that. She had no idea what had happened though. Had someone hit him? Tripped
him? He’d been driving to the net, looking as if he was going to score. What
the fuck?

The net was off its mooring. Had he hit the net?
Sacrament!

Hockey was such a dangerous sport! Why did she love it so
much again? This was stupid! He should not be lying on the ice like that.

The murmurs of concern from the crowd swelled around them.
Then Logan shifted on the ice. Joe gestured and a couple of other players came
and helped him get to his feet. He was on his feet. That was good. But they
were hustling him off the ice pretty fast and he was hunched over in agony,
which told her this was serious. He wasn’t going back to the bench.

The crowd started applauding, everyone still on their feet.

Wide-eyed, she turned and shoved her way back the way she’d
come, fighting for breath. She ran back toward the players’ bench and the
dressing room, arriving there as they practically carried Logan off. “Oh god,”
she said and followed them into the dressing room.

“Hey,” someone said to her. “You can’t come in here.”

“Oh yes I can.” She ignored him and tried to follow Logan.

Someone grabbed her and stopped her. “Hey. Nicole.” Travis,
one of the assistant trainers.

“No. I need to see him.”

“He’s okay.”

“He’s
not
okay!” She struggled to get free.

“Stop, stop. Listen, you gotta let us look after him.”

She knew that. She knew that. They knew what they were
doing. But still…

“Stay here. Let me go see. I’ll come right back and tell you
what’s happening.”

She wanted to cry out of fear and frustration. “Fine.” She
watched Travis disappear into one of the training rooms, hands clasped
together. People were running in and out. Dr. Stewart, the team doctor, an
orthopedic surgeon, came in. The game had resumed, judging from the distant
sounds of a huge shudder of a body check into the glass and the cheer of the
crowd.

“His parents are here,” Travis reported to those inside the
room where they’d taken Logan. And she heard her name too.

She turned around, and through the open door saw a couple
standing there. That had to be Logan’s dad, looking so much like him and his
brothers, not quite as big, with graying dark hair. The tall, short-haired
woman beside him looked tense but amazingly calm.

Nicole let out a shuddery breath. She moved toward them.
“Are you Mr. and Mrs. Heller?”

“Yes.” They didn’t even really look at her.

“I’m trying to find out what’s happening,” she said. “I’m
Nicole Lambert. I…I…” She lost it then. She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t
anyone to Logan. She couldn’t call herself his girlfriend. What she wanted to
say was, “I love him.” But she just stood there, choked up, blinking at them.

“Nicole,” the woman murmured.

She swallowed. “I…I work for the Caribou,” she said. “In Communications.”

“Nicole Lambert.”

“Yes.” She bit her lip. Her eyes met Mrs. Heller’s. She saw
her own fear and anxiety reflected there, along with a small sympathetic smile.
Mrs. Heller put out a hand and squeezed her arm.

“Nicole.”

She looked up at hearing her name behind her. Travis poked
his head out. “C’mere.” She hustled across the carpet, with a glance at Logan’s
parents, tension vibrating through her body.

“Come in. He wants to see you.”

“Oh god.” He was dying. He had to be dying. That was why he
wanted to see her. She covered her mouth with her hands, then gave her head a
sharp shake and tried to school her expression into something that wasn’t going
to terrify him.

He was on his back on the examination table, bare-chested,
his short hair damp, his face pale. “Hey,” he said when he saw her. “What are
you doing here?”

She wanted to fall on him and weep with relief and gratitude
that he looked okay. She tried to speak but couldn’t get words through her
thick throat. He reached his right hand out to her, his left arm at his side
with a pillow between it and his body. She took his big hand with both of hers.
“I was worried,” she whispered. “Jesus, Logan, you scared the crap out of me.
Us. Your parents are here too.”

“I know. How’d you know?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Are
you okay?”

“Dislocated my shoulder. They popped it back in. I’m good.”

Joe snorted. “Riiiight.”

Logan tried to roll his eyes but he still looked a little
weak and dazed. “They want me to get an x-ray. In case I broke something.”

Her knees almost gave out at hearing this diagnosis. “Not
your head? You didn’t hit your head?”

“No. I guess I might have blacked out for a few seconds from
the pain. That got everybody freaked out.”

Now a tear did slip from her eye. “Oh god.”

“Fuck me, that hurt,” he added. “Jesus.”

She rolled her lips in and held them pressed tightly
together while her eyes overflowed.

“Hey,” he said. “What’s with the tears?”

“I love you.”

The room went all still, all the people buzzing around them
doing their jobs suddenly quiet. Logan’s eyes went wide. Neither of them even
looked at the others though, just focused on each other, their gazes locked.

“Fuck, Nic,” he breathed. “Now? You’re doing this now?
Really?”

She nodded. She knew what he meant—so many people around,
everyone listening to them, watching her break down and cry, telling him she
loved him. Everyone knowing.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice broken. “I don’t
care. I just…god, Logan. I’m so sorry.”

He gave her a weak smile. “Hey. It’s okay. Don’t cry now,
I’m fine.”

“We have to take him for an x-ray,” Joe said. “The doctor
reduced the shoulder already, but we need to check for fractures. Tomorrow
he’ll get an MRI. But I think he’s gonna be okay.”

She nodded and let go of his hand. “Do you want to see your
mom and dad?”

“Eh…go tell them I’m okay. Let’s get this over with. I guess
I’m done for this game.”

“You’re done for a while, I’m afraid, dude,” Joe said.

“Shit.”

Nicole left the room and stumbled out into the hall where
Mr. and Mrs. Heller waited with admirable patience. “He’s okay,” she said, and
then blackness started closing in around the edges of her vision. She put out a
hand against the wall, but it wasn’t there.

“Hey now,” Mr. Heller said, sounding very far away. Hands
caught her as everything went dark and the floor hit her hard on the butt. “Put
your head between your knees.”

“Oh my god,” she moaned, bending forward. “I am not a wuss.
Seriously. I don’t cry and faint over stupid little things.”

She thought they might have laughed. A gentle hand rubbed
her back, pushed hair off her now damp face. Her entire body sweating, she
fought for air as her vision gradually cleared.

“How embarrassing,” she said.

“It’s okay,” Mrs. Heller said. “Is Logan really all right?”

“Yes. I’m just so…relieved. He dislocated his shoulder.
They’re just x-raying it.”

“Oh.”

Nicole heard the relief in her voice. “You’re very calm
about this.” She peered up at Mrs. Heller.

“I’ve been through this a few times,” she said dryly. Then
she blew out a breath. “Okay. He’s okay.”

“I played hockey. I know how it goes. I don’t freak out over
every little bump and bruise. Usually.”

“I played hockey too,” Mrs. Heller said.

Nicole’s head snapped up. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Oh. Wow. Cool. So yeah, it was just, we kind of had a fight,
and I was a bitch, and I never told him I loved him.” A wave of heat scorched
her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know you.”

Mrs. Heller smiled. “I think he might feel the same about
you.”

Oh…

“Let’s get you up off the floor,” Mr. Heller said. “You’re
attracting a little attention.”

Nicole looked up and saw familiar faces in the hall around
them. Shit. There was Greg Barnes from ESPN and Jack Chambers from the
Minneapolis Daily Mail and the new guy from Versus.

Well,
merde
. “Hey, guys,” she said feebly.

* * * * *

Logan was pissed beyond belief at being injured, but he had
to admit he was enjoying the attention from Nicole. She took him back to her
place after the game, after he’d seen his folks and assured them he was okay.
Semi okay. They’d given him some heavy-duty painkillers and muscle relaxants
that made him a little dopey. He was happy to be in Nicole’s bed again, but
sadly wasn’t up for much besides sleeping.

“Wanna talk to you,” he mumbled as she tucked him into bed.
“I’m mad at you.”

“I know. I’m mad at me too. But we can talk tomorrow. Here,
take your meds.”

“I love you, Nicole.”

She kissed his mouth, rubbing her face against his. “I love
you too. And I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

She smiled and snuggled in against his uninjured right side,
which was very, very nice, even if she was wearing flannel pajama pants and a
long-sleeved shirt instead of being naked.

She drove him to the hospital for the MRI the next day,
since he’d left his Jeep at the arena and she didn’t think he should be
driving. He dismissed her concerns, but let her chauffeur him around.
Apparently he’d been lucky and hadn’t done serious damage. His rotator cuff
looked intact, but he’d been warned there likely was some minor tearing. He was
going to be damn sore and need to wear the sling for at least a few days and do
some physical therapy. He was used to that. He wouldn’t be playing for a while,
though.

Then Nicole drove him to the arena for the practice, where
he hung out for a while and talked to Scott while she went to the office.

“And once again, I guess you probably want to make someone
else captain,” he said to Scott.

Scott sighed. “This is fucking bad timing. But we’ll just
keep Bobby and Adam alternating captain for the next while until you’re back
playing again.”

Logan nodded. “Thanks. Sorry about this.”

“Shit happens. Just need to get you well.”

He managed to drive himself to Fedor’s place to get some of
his things, then went back to Nicole’s condo and let himself in with the key
she’d given him. He grinned at the ecstatic greeting he got from Silvia and
bent to rub her little head. Alone in Nicole’s place for the first time, he
wandered around and snooped through her things, looking at pictures, books, her
medicine cabinet, interested in everything about her.

She’d blown his mind last night, although he had to admit
his mind had been more than a little woozy from pain and drugs. But Jesus,
she’d blurted out the fact that she loved him in front of the whole training
staff and god knew who else. He grinned. It sucked to be out of commission, but
damn, there’d been one good thing that came of it.