LOGINAllieThe celebration continued long after the final whistle.Music filled the private team area while players, coaches, and families crowded around tables covered with food and drinks. Someone had brought out a second trophy for photographs because the first one was already covered in fingerprints and spilled champagne.Chase stood in the centre of the room with his teammates.His hair was still damp from the shower, and the collar of his shirt remained open. Every few minutes, someone pulled him into another photograph or congratulated him again.He smiled.Not the controlled smile he gave reporters.A real one.Warm.Exhausted.Happy.I remained near the doorway for several seconds, watching him.Months earlier, I would have measured the room differently.Counted cameras.Checked whether I looked good enough beside the athletes and their partners.Wondered whether Logan approved of what I wore or whether I was standing close enough to support his image without taking too much atten
ChaseI saw Allie enter the family section less than a minute before the opening ceremony ended.For most of warmups, the seat beside Mia had remained empty.I tried not to watch it.Failed.Nadia sent updates through team security, but they contained only facts.The hearing had started.Allie had delivered her statement.The judge was considering the restraining order.No information about how she felt.No certainty that she would come.I told myself it did not matter.She had faced Olivia that morning.She did not owe me an appearance at a hockey game after standing inside a courtroom with the woman who had invaded her home.Then the private entrance opened.Allie appeared beside Mia.Her hair was pulled back, and she still wore the dark suit from the hearing beneath my team jacket.She looked tired.Pale.But she was there.Our eyes met across the arena.The tension inside my chest loosened.Allie placed one hand over her heart.I nodded once.The lights brightened.The announcer c
AllieThe victim statement waited on my laptop for three hours before I wrote the first sentence.I sat in the home office with my hands resting on the keyboard while the blank page stared back at me.Outside, Chase’s security team moved through the morning routine. Cars arrived. Calls were answered. Plans changed because Olivia’s legal team had requested a public hearing on the same day as the deciding playoff game.The timing felt deliberate.My lawyer said it probably was not.Court schedules did not care about hockey.Trauma did not either.Chase stood near the office window already dressed for the arena. His suit jacket remained folded over one arm. He should have left fifteen minutes ago.“You are going to be late,” I said.“I have time.”“No, you don’t.”“Coach knows.”“That is not the same as permission.”He crossed the room and stopped beside my chair.“You do not have to write it today.”“The hearing is today.”“Your lawyer can request more time.”“And Olivia’s team will say
ChaseThe series became tied after the fourth game.Two wins each.One deciding match left.Every sports network called it the biggest game of my career.That was not true.I had played championship finals.International matches.Games where one mistake followed a player for years.But the media did not care about accuracy when pressure sounded better.They cared that Logan and I were tied.That Allie had chosen me.That Missy had been seen with him.That one final game could be turned into proof of everything.Who was better.Who had won.Who had lost.I tried not to read any of it.That became difficult when the headlines appeared on every screen inside the training facility.RYDER OR CARTER: WHO OWNS THE RIVALRY?ONE GAME TO SETTLE YEARS OF HATE.WILL ALLIE HARPER WATCH HER PAST DEFEAT HER FUTURE?Coach switched off the television before practice.“No one owns a rivalry,” he said.Noah sat near the bench with his shoulder supported in a sling.“They should print that on shirts.”Co
AllieThe charity meeting ended later than expected.By the time the final committee member left, most of the building had become quiet. Volunteers carried empty coffee cups and presentation folders toward the elevators while the foundation director remained inside the conference room answering one last call.I stood near the reception desk, checking a message from Chase.CHASE: Practice is running late. Security will drive you home.I smiled.Months earlier, that message might have sounded like an instruction.Now I understood the difference.He was giving me information, not deciding for me.I replied that I would wait downstairs.Then the elevator opened.Logan stepped out alone.My body reacted before my thoughts did.Not fear exactly.Awareness.The old instinct to measure the distance between us.Check the doors.Look for cameras.Prepare for whatever version of Logan had arrived.He noticed me and stopped.For several seconds, neither of us spoke.He wore a dark team jacket and
MissyThe restaurant was quiet enough that no one shouted Logan’s name when we entered.That had been one of my conditions.Public, but not crowded.Visible, but not exposed.Logan chose a small restaurant near the edge of the city with dim lighting, simple wooden tables, and no private entrance. Tara checked the location before I left, then reminded me three times to share my live location.Chase knew where I was too.He had not asked for the name of the restaurant.That restraint probably cost him several years of his life.Logan stood when I approached the table.He wore a dark sweater and no cap.No disguise.No attempt to become Luke.“Hi,” he said.“Hi.”His gaze moved over me briefly.“You look beautiful.”I paused.Compliments were allowed.Comparisons were not.“Thank you.”Relief softened his face, as though he had worried even that might cross a boundary.He pulled out the chair.I raised an eyebrow.“Is that too much?”“It is a chair.”“I am checking.”“You are becoming ne







