The Mistake — Vk Elle Kennedy

They sat in silence for a long minute. Logan stared at the amber liquid in his glass. Romi stared at him.

Romi raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been moping for three weeks. It’s November. The season’s started. We have a game tomorrow. And you’re sitting here getting drunk alone while your teammates are at the party down the hall.”

That was his brand. And for two years, he’d been perfectly content playing that role for Grace, his high school sweetheart.

“I’m not doing anything,” he muttered, shoving the phone under a cushion. The Mistake Vk Elle Kennedy

Logan’s hand moved before his brain caught up. He caught her wrist. Gentle. Just enough to stop her.

She shook her head, standing up quickly. “Don’t. I’m not saying this because I want you to—I’m just saying it because someone should. You’re not broken because she left. You’re just… looking for love in places that don’t know how to give it back.”

“You know what your real mistake was?” she said finally. They sat in silence for a long minute

Romi had always been there. On the sidelines of his games. In the kitchen at 2 a.m., making him grilled cheese after a bad loss. Rolling her eyes at his terrible jokes but laughing anyway.

Not in the way his best friend Dean was—all swagger and sharp grins, collecting hookups like hockey trophies. No, Logan was the quiet kind of wanted. The steady boyfriend. The guy you brought home to your parents after the bad boys had their fun.

John Logan was used to being wanted.

For a long, terrifying second, she didn’t move.

How had he missed it?

“What if,” he said slowly, “I stopped looking in the wrong places?” Romi raised an eyebrow

Then she smiled—small, crooked, the one she only ever gave him—and said, “About damn time, hockey boy.”