Chapter 27

TWENTY-SEVEN

Annie

"You need cheering up."

I shove my hand into the bowl of popcorn. "No, I don't."

I'm wrapped in a fuzzy blanket on the couch, binge watching Night Stalker on TV. What better way to distract from a crushed and bleeding heart?

Dramatic much, Annie?

"Come on, you've been moping for days."

"So? Let me mope."

"No. You're coming out with me. Come on, get dressed."

"I don't want to go out. It's cold. It's snowing. I want to eat popcorn and watch true crime shows."

"Let's go skating."

I lower my chin and give him a look. "We skate every damn day."

"Not at Bryant Park. Come on, it's a New York Christmas experience. It's all decorated and there's shopping kiosks and food and music. It'll be fun."

I pout. It does sound kind of fun. "But I don't want to have fun. I want to wallow in misery."

"You can do that later. Get your skates. We can show off and impress people."

Okay, he got me. "Fine." I heave a sigh and throw the blanket off. I'm wearing flannel pajamas at one in the afternoon on a Sunday. I go into my room and change into black fleece leggings and a pink turtleneck sweater.

I eye my reflection in the mirror. I don't care how I look at all right now, but it's not like me to go out without at least a little makeup. So I brush my hair and slap on some mascara and lip gloss. Then, bundled up and carrying our skates, we set out walking toward Bryant Park.

"It's actually not that cold." I turn my face up to the few softly falling flakes. "I guess."

"It's nice. Very Christmassy."

It definitely is. Christmas decorations are everywhere. As we walk down Sixth Avenue, we pass Radio City Music Hall, extra bright with its lit-up tree, and the giant red Christmas ornaments. White lights strung in trees twinkle in the low afternoon light. I have to pause to take in the sight since it's my first time in New York at Christmas. It's beautiful.

We arrive at Bryant Park and I marvel over all the kiosks set up with food and shopping, more strings of white lights everywhere. People throng through the space and as we near the big skating rink, music reaches our ears. I have to admit the sight of a skating rink does lift my spirits.

We lace up our skates and hit the ice. At one end, a colorful Christmas tree sparkles and glows, and blocky skyscrapers tower around the park. The pale sky feels low and a few gentle snowflakes drift around us. Ivan takes my hand and we set out on a brisk lap around the ice.

I'm still sad and worried and hurt. But the ice under my blades and the chill air whooshing on my face feels good. I love skating so much.

As we head back toward the Christmas tree, I see an unusual sight—a hockey player in a jersey and hockey skates.

"You can't play hockey here," I say out loud.

"Nope. You definitely can't," Ivan agrees.

I recognize the Bears logo on the jersey, and then I recognize the size and shape of that player…it's Logan.

My heart leaps into my throat. Open mouthed, I glide toward him as my feet stop moving.

Ivan keeps skating, tugging me along.

"What is happening?" I stare at Logan and our eyes meet as we draw nearer together.

He smiles. That beautiful, tempting smile that melted me from the moment I met him years ago. "Hi."

"Hi."

Ivan releases my hand. I glance at him but he's skating away. "Hey…" I turn back to Logan. "What are you doing here? And dressed like…" I gesture.

"I want to skate with you."

"Oh." I blink.

"Will you skate with me, Annie Bang?"

"Um…okay."

He takes my hand and a new song starts. It's Calum Scott's "You Are The Reason."

I remember this song. I remember dancing to it at Club Crystal. With Logan.

Logan moves beside me and slides an arm around my waist, taking my other hand like he knows what he's doing. I'm gazing up at him as I set my hand on my waist, over his, and we start skating forward.

"I learned a few things," he says as he leans forward and lifts his right leg into a spiral.

Mystified, I follow him, lifting my own right leg as we glide. I remember the first coaching session, where I got him to do a spiral. He was so pissy and resistant. And wobbly. Well, he's still wobbly, but better.

I follow his lead as he slowly lowers his foot back to the ice and we skate again. Then he does a half swizzle to face me and change our hands so his right hand grips my right and his left holds my left, our arms crossed.

"Waltz jump," he says.

I laugh out loud as I take the hop, then tighten my core as he tries one. And he does it! We do a few of those, then he releases one of my hands and moves to the side. I watch him as I pump and swizzle in small moves, again following his lead, and then he turns toward me into a spread eagle and takes my hand and we spin together. Yes, it's slow, yes, it's wobbly, but it's figure skating and he's doing it and I love him.

We come out of the spin and he skates backward doing some crossovers, focused but smiling at me. "Waltz jump," he says as he releases my hands, and I do a small solo jump. Then he does the same, feet actually leaving the ice, and, arms outstretched, he lands it! I laugh again with delight. He does a small turn, takes my hand, and holds it up so I can turn as well.

He skates backward again, arm outstretched and holding mine and he does another spiral as he faces me. I lift my leg too, so amused and yet proud as he glides backward, leg not high but definitely off the ice.

As we skate, I improvise a few more turns and we free-style a bit to the music until the song ends and he pulls me into him. I spin and he wraps he arms around my waist and I lean against him. I tilt my head to look up at him, smiling so hard my face hurts.

Applause breaks out around us, and I come out of my fog of enchantment and glance around. "Oh my God." People are smiling and talking and I realize everyone stopped their own skating to watch us. And a lot of them are holding phones up.

Logan grins. "We're popular."

"No one knows who I am." I cover my face with a mittened hand. "But everyone knows who you are."

"That's okay." He shrugs, takes my hand, and we skate to the boards where Ivan is waiting. With a phone in his hand that he apparently just used to video record us. He's grinning, too.

I shake my head at him. "What did you do?"

"I only did what Logan asked. It was all his idea."

I look up at Logan. "You wanted to learn to figure skate?"

"Yeah. Just enough to do a little routine with you. Ivan taught me."

"He's a fast learner," Ivan says, pocketing his phone. "Well, I gotta go. Bye!"

Wide-eyed, I watch him leave, then look back at Logan.

"Did you listen to the song?" he asks.

"Sort of. You know I like that song."

"It's an apology. But I want to say the words, too. I'm sorry, Annie."

Something spins in my chest, hot and soft. "About what?" I whisper.

"You were right. I was a coward."

My eyes are fastened on his face. For him to admit that he was afraid…a rush of emotion swamps me.

"I hated how upset you were about your mom's reaction to us being together. I knew you didn't want your family to know about us. And…I was scared I wasn't good enough for you. I'm sorry I hurt you. Christ. Don't look at me like that." He reaches out and pulls me closer, pressing my face to his chest. I hear his heart thudding rapidly. "I'm sorry. I thought it was for the best."

"I know," I mumble into his jersey. I pull back and look up at him.

"You do?"

"Well, I dad have the thought that maybe you didn't really care that much. Or you didn't want to be mixed up with Bang family shit."

One corner of his mouth quirks up. "Too late for that."

"But I know how your dad made you feel. I know you didn't believe that you could trust me." I eye him warily, still not sure if he does trust me.

"I do trust you," he says in a low voice. "Your mom told me about the video you showed everyone. About how you showed them I lost an edge and actually fell on Jensen."

What? My mom told him? When? I stare at him.

"And I realized you didn't have to do that. And I realized I was a fucking idiot." He leans his forehead against mine. "I trust you."

I nod slowly, my throat thick.

"I talked to me dad," he continues.

My eyes widen. "You did? Oh wow."

"Yeah. I knew I had to do it. I told him why it bugs me so much when he criticizes me." He recounts details of his conversation and ends with the heart-wrenching revelation that his dad felt like Logan didn't need him anymore. "And I guess I sort of don't need him. But then again…"

"We always need them," I finish for him. "I know. I feel like that about my mom. She's been interfering and making me crazy, but…that was why I told her about us. Because she's my mom and I wanted her to know that I was falling in love."

We gaze at each other for a long moment, oblivious to people skating around us. "You're falling in love?" he asks quietly.

I nod.

Eyes still locked, he says, "So am I."

Then we're kind of surrounded as people tell us how great that was and ask for autographs. Logan's autograph.

"Hang on," he mutters. "We'll get out of here as soon as we can."

"But I want to do that again."

"Uh…"

I laugh. "Kidding." I just want to hear him tell me again that he's falling in love with me.

When we can finally escape, we find our boots and change out of our skates. Logan takes off his jersey and folds it into a bag he has. "Sweating like a pig." He pauses. "I'm not actually sure that pigs sweat."

"Did you know that sweating is a human superpower?"

His smile is slow and sweet. "No."

I nod. "It is. It allows us to survive almost anywhere. It's an evolutionary wonder. A highly efficient way of cooling. And it's way better than how vultures stay cool."

He chokes on a laugh. "Okay, how do vultures stay cool?"

"They poop on their legs."

"Okay. You're right. It is better than that." He regards me with fond amusement. "Thanks."

"So you have another superpower."

"Along with making you come so hard you see Saturn?"

I grin. "Yes."

He leans in closer. "I love doing that."

Heat flushes through me, making me nearly as sweaty as he is. "I love it, too."

"Let me buy you a hot chocolate somewhere."

"How about we take it back to your place?"

"Great idea."

We take a taxi to his place and on the way I open Spotify and read the lyrics to the song we skated to. My throat squeezes up and my eyes sting.

"I wrote that song," he says.

I laugh-sob and lean against him.

"Well, I could have. It says what I want to say to you."

At his apartment, I'm greeted by an ecstatic Teemu. "Hello! Hello!" I crouch down to greet him. "How's my favorite pupper? Have you been a good boy?"

He licks my face and I laugh, and then I go with them for a short walk to the park. Back in Logan's apartment, it's warm and cozy, and we (all three of us) snuggle up on the sectional with our hot chocolate and lots of kisses and more talk. He tells me about talking to his teammates and how they got him to see what was going on inside him. "And your mom helped, too," he adds.

"Oh yeah! My mom! When did she talk to you?"

"She came to see me."

"What? When?"

"A couple of days ago."

"She flew to New York to see you? And never told me?"

"Yep. She also apologized." He strokes my hair. "For interfering and trying to fix up you and Ivan."

My head jerks up. "She apologized to you? And not to me? Jesus!"

"Settle down, I'm sure she'll talk to you about it, too." He smiles. "She also apologized to me for misjudging me."

"Oh." I stare at him wide-eyed. "Really?"

"Yeah. She says the family will give me a chance because they love you and they want you to be happy. So I'd better make you happy."

I bite my lip on a smile. "I agree." Then I touch his face. "You do make me happy."

"You make me happy, too." He catches my hand and kisses my fingers. "That's when I realized how badly I fucked up. Because you went to all that trouble to try to convince your family I'm a decent guy even though I told you we should break up. I was an idiot."

"Yeah."

He laughs.

"No, you weren't. You thought you were doing it for me, to save me from the wrath of my family. That was actually very noble of you."

His face softens.

"Just misguided," I add.

He chuckles, then sobers. "You were so upset after your mom found out about us. I thought…you didn't want your family to know about us. And that wasn't enough for me. Anymore."

"I did want them to know. That's why I told my mom. Yeah, I didn't like it that she was mad. But that wasn't about me. I was mad for you ."

"She said you defended me to your brothers. Showed them that video."

"I didn't want them to hate you for something that you don't deserve. Even if we never got back together, I wanted that for you."

"Yeah." He exhales. "Yeah, that. Christ, Annie. You make me feel like maybe I am worth it. Like maybe love is real."

"It's real." I look into his eyes. "I love you. No matter what."

"You know what made me love you even more?"

I blink. "What?"

"Ivan told me where you were when Jensen got hurt."

"Ohhhh. Yeah."

"Seoul."

"Yeah. At the Four Continents Championship." I drop my gaze to his throat. "Ivan and I were about to compete when I heard Jensen was hurt and in the hospital."

He makes a rough noise in his throat.

I lift my eyes to his again. "It's okay. We went on. We did fine. It was hard, but part of being a champion is being disciplined."

"I hate that. I'm sorry."

"I know you are. Now."

"You are an amazing woman. So strong. I watched you getting thrown across the ice, spinning in the air, letting Ivan lift you over his head while he's twirling on skate blades. Jesus." He swipes his forehead. "You are absolutely fucking fearless."

My heart swells up so huge in my chest it's in my throat and I can't breathe.

"I figured if you could do shit like that, if you could compete after finding out your brother's in the hospital, if you can get over injuries and concussions, and start a new career, then I could talk to my dad about not being an asshole to me."

I break into a huge smile. "I inspired you."

"Yeah, you did. And I love you for it."

"I love you, too. I know that was hard. And I love how brave you are. How strong you are to set your own path." I set my fingers on his cheek and lean into him for a long, slow kiss. His mouth moves on mine, firm and confident, and my belly flip flops with need. He does this to me every time. Just a kiss…a touch…a word.

"I love that I can be myself with you," he says in a low voice. "And feel safe."

My eyes sting. "Yeah. I feel the same."

"You told me once you trust me. And I wasn't sure why. But want to deserve your trust. I'll do whatever I can to deserve that."

"Me, too." I blink back wetness. "I missed you."

"Me too." He kisses me again, then takes our empty cups and sets them on the table. He reaches for me and pulls me onto his lap and I snuggle in closer, as close as I can get, and it's never close enough. I press my breasts against him, open my mouth to his seeking tongue, and slide my hands under the collar of his sweater to find warm, smooth skin.

"I love how you turn me on."

"Mmm. Me too." I tip my head back so his mouth can move over my throat. "I need you."

He picks me up and carries me into the bedroom, then sets me gently on his bed. I pull my sweater off and wriggle out of my leggings as he undresses, too, right in front of me and I drink in the sight, his body a strongly muscled shadow against the faint light coming in the bedroom door.

He moves over me, kneeling between my legs, his hand on the middle of my chest pushing me to my back.

"I need you inside me." I lift my knees for him and watch him, my gaze traveling over his broad chest, tapering down to a narrow waist, his abs defined, his thighs big with his knees spread wide on the bed. I reach for him now, wanting to touch him again, to feel that male arousal, and he watches with heavy-lidded eyes as I stroke him, then let my fingers slip beneath to cup him.

"Aw, Annie." His jaw tightens.

"Fuck me. Please, Logan."

His eyes flare with heat at my words and he takes himself in his hand and slides the head up and down where I'm wet and achy. Oh yes, this is what I need, him inside me, joined together in the most intimate perfect way we can be.

"Maybe we don't need a condom?" I say. "If you're okay with it. I've had tests done."

"Me too." He nods slowly. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. I trust you." My body lifts toward him and then he slides into me, easing in bit by bit, his girth stretching me wide, filling me with the most consuming, satisfying bliss.

A groan rises in my throat and I watch him, watch his face tense as he pushes in farther, taking in the sheen of perspiration building on his chest and rippled abs. So beautiful, I could look at him forever. I want this to last forever.

When he's fully inside me, he pauses, takes a couple of short, sharp breaths, then lowers himself over me. His arm slides beneath my head and he kisses my mouth, my cheek, the side of my neck, breathing me in. His panting breaths are rough at my ear, and I inhale the scent of his hair, lift my hands to his body, so big and solid, run my hands down his sides over satin skin to his hips.

"Annie." His mouth brushes my ear. "Annie."

The weight of his body, the thrust of him inside me is everything in this moment. I hold on to him, my eyes burning with tears, as he touches something so deep inside me it almost hurts with an unbearable sweetness. It's so beautiful, so softly sensuous, so deeply moving being with him like this, now that we're both sure of who we are…and who we are to each other.

"I love you." I slide a hand back up his body and into his hair. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Annie. Love…you…" He rolls his hips against me with each word, thrusting up into me, so deep, so achingly lovely. "Forever."

My heart expands and aches at the wonder of it as we rock and sigh and ride soft surging waves of sweet pleasure, filling my body, my mind, my soul. He rises onto his knees, holding my thighs as he gazes down at me, his eyes dark and hot. Our eyes meet and hold, a connection drawing out between us that shimmers and glows, surrounding us in luminous pleasure and brilliant heat. It's intense, almost too intense, but I can't look away.

"Annie. You're mine."

I smile, a slow, rapturous smile. "Yes. I'm yours." And he's mine, all mine. Pure joy and gratitude and overwhelming love for him rush through me, so huge and hot.

His hand slides up between my breasts to rest at the base of my throat in a possessive yet utterly protective gesture. We stare into each other's eyes as he thrusts once more, and again, and I lift my body to meet his, taking him deep, as deep as I can. Tears leak from my eyes at the expression on his face, the devotion and worship, the gratitude and appreciation, and I reflect it back to him, giving it all to him, giving him everything I have.

Heat pools in my core, thick and liquid, sensation surging across my skin, swirling inside me, tightening every nerve ending. A ragged groan tears from his throat and his body goes rigid. "Annie. Christ, Annie. I love you."

And he falls over me again, his hand on my forehead, holding my hair, tipping my head back so he can kiss my mouth as he pulses inside me in wrenching spasms that set off my own orgasm, burning through me in violent, exquisite flames. I hold on to him, clasping him with my arms and legs, our mouths fused.

Then we lie curled beneath the covers of his big, beautiful bed, languid and lazy and blissful. I smile when I hear his breathing change. He's asleep. I listen to his heartbeat, so strong and steady. Like him.

I felt a connection with Logan from the first day we met, years ago. I felt seen and heard with him. I felt valued.

In my life, I've felt imperfect and afraid. And Logan has, too. Maybe we didn't share our deepest, darkest fears in Peongchang…but we have now. We trusted each other enough to do that…to tell our truth, without fear of judgment. To be brave enough to show up and be honest. And that's where connection comes.