“Go?” Betty shoved her chair back and walked around the table, her long legs eating up the distance in a few seconds. She winked at Billie as she moved past her and stood in front of Logan. “Don’t go. We can catch up. It’s been what?” She leaned back and glanced at Billie.
Billie wanted to yank on her head, grab a huge chunk of hair and twist for maximum pain. She wanted to throw her sister to the ground, to punch and scratch and—
“Seven years?” Betty continued silkily.
Logan glanced from Betty to Billie and she knew he was thinking about that night. His expression was unreadable and he looked like he’d just about reached his limit.
“Yeah, it’s been a while,” he answered in a clipped tone. His eyes met Billie’s. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Betty whirled around, her eyes feverish and that sick feeling in the bottom of her gut hit Billie hard. Something was coming her way—something bad—and she couldn’t stop it.
“Oh, I get it.” Betty-Jo grinned as she looked around the room. “This makes sense now. Bobbi and’—she made a face—‘Gerald. You and Logan.”
She smiled at Billie. A cold, self-centered smile that left Billie sick to her stomach. She knew that smile and what it meant. The shit was going to hit.
“Wow. You finally snagged him. Congrats.”
Silence followed her words and Billie glanced at Bobbi, but her sister looked too shocked to say anything.
Herschel stood in the doorway, unsure whether he should proceed or retreat and Gerald just stood like an ass, an empty plate in his hand while he waited for the dessert to be served.
“What do you mean by that?” Logan asked, his voice low, his eyes narrowed.
Betty shook her head. “Holy cow, you men are dumb.”
“Betty,” Bobbi warned, but as usual the third and most reckless Barker triplet didn’t heed anyone’s warning unless she wanted to. And right now? She sure as hell wasn’t listening to anyone’s advice save whatever demons crawled inside her.
“Billie-Jo has been in love with you ever since she was a teenager.”
Billie’s eyes stung. She gazed at her sister and breathed, “Don’t.”
But the sister that she used to admire, the one who had balls bigger than any guy she knew…bigger than Bobbi even, smiled cruelly and shook her head. She didn’t care. At all.
“Oh, yes,” Betty took a step back. “She used to go on and on about you. Logan
this, and Logan that, like you were some sort of God or something. But you weren’t, were you Logan.” She moved back a few inches and leaned her hip against the table. “You were no different than any of the other guys who sniffed around my boots. You didn’t care about Billie,” she laughed. “Hell, I bet you didn’t even know she existed. She wasn’t the Barker who was easy and loose. I was.”
Logan stared at her, his face dark, his expression pissed off. “I’m assuming there’s a point to all this? Because I sure as hell don’t want to re-hash our past.”
Oh, God. Billie needed to sit. She needed to sit before her legs gave out. Every hard and crappy scenario she’d envisioned could not come close to where this train wreck was heading. She had no idea how Betty knew what she’d done. But she did.
Billie glanced at Logan but he was focused on her sister.
[i]I should have been strong enough. I should have told him[i].
“Why not?” Betty said harshly, ignoring Bobbi’s curse and sidestepping as Bobbi lunged toward her. “The only past we have is you wanting me and, well, me rejecting you.”
A muscle worked along Logan’s jaw.
Betty bit her lip and stared up at him coyly. She glanced at Billie, and Billie was shocked to see anger there. Anger and something else. It was that something else that was lethal.
“Don’t you want to know who you slept with at the Christmas party? Because it sure as hell wasn’t me, even though,” her voice shook a bit. “Even though several guys were more than happy to ask for the chance that you got.”
Logan’s eyes widened slightly and he looked toward Billie, but she stared at her feet. She was unable to move, incapable of derailing the train.
“Twins,” Herschel said roughly. “Let’s just have some cobbler and—”
“It was Billie.”
“Shit,” Herschel sighed.
Billie wanted to die. Logan turned to her and she finally got up enough nerve to look into his eyes, but what she saw there wasn’t warm, or soft or fuzzy. It was hard, unforgiving.
“You?” he asked hoarsely. “It was you that night?”
Her heart was beating so hard that she felt lightheaded. For a moment her vision blurred, but she realized it was because her eyes were filling with tears. She tried to swallow the huge lump in her throat and she honestly thought that if she didn’t sit down right now, she’d pass out.
She managed a quick, small, nod.
“Say it,” he took a step closer. “Say it out loud.”
Billie cleared her throat and forced herself to speak. “It was me.”
“Un-fucking-believable.”
She winced.
“I don’t,” he began and ran his hands through hair. “I don’t get you,” he said finally. “I felt like a dick because I thought I’d slept with your sister.” He leaned closer and she winced at the coldness in his eyes. “I told you the other night and you said nothing.”
She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing.
“You pretended to be your sister so we could have sex? How fucking screwed up is that? Who does that kind of shit?’”
“I,” she licked her lips and made a gurgling noise. She wanted to make him understand but the words wouldn’t come.
“That’s pretty fucking sick.” Logan glanced over her head. “Sorry for the language, Herschel.”
When his gaze rested on Billie once more it was all she could do to not cry. To not fall at his feet in a puddle of sorrow and pain.
“I came to the house the next day, the day after that party and it was you who answered the door. Hockey girl. You lied to my face.”
She nodded. What could she say? It was the truth.
“Who else have you screwed?”
She stared at him, not understanding.
“Don’t expect me to believe you didn’t pull that kind of crap with other guys.”
Pain lashed across her chest and she dug her fingers into the palm of her hand in a bid to stay focused. [i]Don’t break down in front of him[i].
“And now? Us together? Is that just an extension of some perverted game you girls play with each other? ” He turned to Bobbi. “You knew about this?”
When she didn’t answer his mouth tightened. He took a step back and Billie’s heart broke in half at the disgusted look he sent her way.
“You guys are all crazy. Total fucking nut bars.” His eyes touched on each Barker until he settled on Billie. “I thought you were different. I thought that,” his eyes flashed. “I knew getting involved with you was going to bite me in the ass.”
“Logan,” she said unsteadily.
“We’re done.” And then he was gone.
Billie was shaking when she turned to Betty. “Why would you do that? Why?”
For a moment Betty said nothing. Then she shrugged. “Because I could. Because as my therapist has told me many, many times, the truth will set you free.”
“Oh, my God, you’re so full of shit, Bets,” Bobbi said.
“I hate you,” Billie whispered. “Why did you even come home?’
Betty’s smiled faltered for the first time, disappearing altogether as she crossed the room and grabbed the bag she had set on the floor.
“Truth?” she said casually.
“Why stop now,” Bobbi muttered.
“I came home because my ex-lover stole all my money, my modeling contracts were cancelled because I couldn’t prove that I was clean, and my agent fired me.” She shrugged, “I came home because I had nowhere else to go.”
Chap
ter Twenty-eight
There was something satisfying about designing a custom bike, or car or any vehicle for that matter. Coming up with the idea, the meat and potatoes that would make the vehicle different and exciting. Drawing the idea and getting it down on paper. Searching for the materials. The right leather. The right paint. The right chrome.
It was all in the details and it was something Logan looked forward to. Starting a new project and presenting it to his team.
Except it wasn’t working real well at the moment and tiredly, he sat back in his chair and glanced up at the clock.
It was noon. Thursday. Thanksgiving Thursday to be exact.
His cell phone vibrated and he grabbed it off his desk, wincing at the terse message from his mother. Leave it to his mom to not mince any words.
[i]You better be lying in a ditch somewhere[i].
Nice. He frowned and tossed the cell back without sending a reply.
The shop was quiet—closed for the holiday—and at the moment it was the only place he wanted to be. He couldn’t stand being in his house. It still smelled like Billie. Some of her clothes were there, and that stupid ass Bugs Bunny toothbrush she’d bought at the dollar store.
He hadn’t seen or talked to her since the big blowup Monday night, though Shane had made a point to tell him that the team had won their Tuesday game, both games on Wednesday and that they’d be playing in the championship against the team that Seth Longwood had joined.
Shane hadn’t pushed Logan when he’d told him that he wasn’t interested in playing in the tournament. He hadn’t said anything about Billie either. It was a guy thing. They didn’t believe in getting all touchy feely.
His gut churned at the thought and he swore, kicked his chair back and stood. Logan was wound tighter than he could ever remember, his muscles corded tight at his neck and his fists continually balled at his side. When the hell had Billie-Jo Barker come to mean so much to him?
And what the hell was he going to do about it? He couldn’t trust her. Hell, he didn’t even know if he [i]knew[i] her.
The door to his office opened and he glanced up, his jaw un-clenching when he spied Shane.
“You look like shit,” Shane said, and pointed to the empty bottle of whiskey on his desk. “You drank that by yourself?”
Logan sighed and ran his hands across the stubble that shadowed his jaw. “What do you want, Gallagher? Don’t you have a game to get to?”
“Yeah, I do. We could use you.”
He shook his head. “Nope, not interested.”
“I see.” Shane walked into the office. “Because you’ve got so much more interesting things to do? It’s fucking Thanksgiving and you’re here? I bet Mama Forest isn’t too happy about that.”
Logan shrugged. “She’ll get over it.”
“Sure,” Shane nodded. “After she kicks your ass.”
The fuse that had been sizzling all week burned hot inside him. Logan had had enough and he wasn’t in the mood for anyone other than Jack Daniels. “What the hell do you want, Gallagher?”
“I talked to Bobbi last night.”
“Like I care.”
“She’s worried about Billie.”
Logan arched a brow. “Like I care.”
Shane grinned at that. “Well, here’s the thing, Forest. You’re full of shit, and that’s not all.”
“Don’t you have a game to get to?”
“Yep,” Shane nodded, “and if you had your head screwed on properly you’d come with me. The team needs you on D. You’re like a fucking wall in front of the net and this team we’re playing? They want Billie’s ass but good.”
“You’ve made it to the finals without me, so I’m thinking you guys are doing fine and Billie…”
“Billie needs you.”
Logan stared at his friend, took in the leather jacket, punched up jeans, week old stubble and hair that hadn’t seen a barber in months. What the hell was he up to?
“Since when did you become Billie’s personal cheerleader?”
“Since you broke her heart.”
His head snapped up at that. “Since I…” Gallagher was on drugs. He had to be. “Since I broke her heart? Christ, Shane what the hell have you been smoking? You more than anyone knows the Barker girls aren’t good for guys in general. Have you forgotten what Bobbi did to you?”
Shane’s face hardened. “We’re not talking about Bobbi.”
“No, we’re not.” The anger inside him was hot and fierce. “We’re talking about the other Barker. The one who pretended to be her sister so she could have sex with me. I had hot, dirty, sex with Billie in Brad Cole’s bedroom and the entire time I thought I was screwing her sister. She was a fucking virgin for Christ sake. I can’t wrap my head around that.”
He grabbed the whiskey bottle off his desk, swore when he realized it was empty and tossed it in the garbage. “Did they plan it together? Was it all a game to them? What kind of woman does that and then doesn’t say anything?”
“The kind of woman you never would have noticed. Billie was never wild like Bobbi and she sure as hell wasn’t as easy as Betty pretended to be.”
Logan scowled and shoved his hands into the front pocket of his jeans.
“She’s the woman that you’re in love with.”
Logan stared at his friend as if he had lost his mind.
He opened his mouth to protest—how the hell could he be in love with a woman who not only had tricked him years ago, but in his current world, drove him crazy and to the point where he couldn’t concentrate because all he did do was…
[i]Think about her[i].
He thought about the way her eyes lit up when she smiled. Or the way she tapped her foot aggressively when she was thinking. He thought of her excitement when she’d told him about her new hockey school, and of the way her brow furrowed when she was skating full steam ahead with two hulking men between her and the net. He thought of how the color of her eyes changed when she kissed him and how that little noise she made in the back of her throat made his insides feel like liquid heat.
What it felt like to hold her and listen to her heart slow down.
Logan sat down in his chair and exhaled a long, ragged breath.
“Look,” Shane sighed. “I don’t know much. I’ve screwed up a lot, done a lot of things I’m not proud of including the way I handled the whole Bobbi mess.”
Logan glanced up at his friend.
“I didn’t want to come back here, you know that. I wasn’t in a good place and as far as I was concerned I was better off in Detroit where I couldn’t hurt anyone that I cared about. But when you called me you told me something that stuck.”
“What was that?”
Shane zipped up his leather jacket. “You told me that everyone deserves a second chance and I’d be a total fuck up if I didn’t at least come home and try to make peace with my past.”
Logan looked away, not ready to deal with the intensity in his friends eyes.
“I don’t know if you and Billie can work through whatever the hell it is you need to work through, but man, life is short. Look at their father for Christ sake. The guy is in his early fifties and most days he can’t remember that his wife died over twenty years ago. Do you think if he had a second chance with someone, or was in the position to give someone else a second chance, he’d blow it?”
Shane shook his head. “No way. He’d grab hold of it and hang on for dear life.”
A moment of silence passed between the two men and Logan didn’t know how to respond. There was no way he could verbalize the crap floating in his head.
“We play at three. You do what you have to do, Forest.”
Logan watched his friend leave. He sat in his office for a long time—how long? He didn’t know but his cell buzzed and broke through the funk and he grabbed it up. Another text from his mother.
[i]Which ditch are you in?[i]
He stared at the message. Ran his fingers over the words and then suddenly shot to his feet.
He glanced at the clock and swore. He’d been twiddling his thumbs, feeling sorry for himself, for nearly two hours. It was just after three and the Angry Pirates were on the ice.
Billie was on the ice.
He pressed the button that dialed his mother’s phone and raced from his office.
Logan reached the Perani Arena in Flint in record time. Home to the North American Hockey League’s ‘Michigan Warriors,’ it was a large complex, one he’d been to several times for games. He grabbed his gear from the back of his truck and rushed inside, his long legs eating up the distance in no time. A woman directed him to the dressing rooms, her frown following him all the way back, but he ignored her. He could hear the cheering crowd and felt the crisp electric air as one of the employees let him into the Pirates dressing room.
“Dude there’s like five minutes left.”
“Anyone get hurt?” He fired over his shoulder, already pulling off his shirt.
“What?”
“Who’s winning?”
The guy smiled. “The team with the hot chick at center.”
By the time Logan was dressed and his skates laced up the clock was ticking. He eyed the board at the end of the rink as he ran toward the player’s bench. The entire left side of the arena was filled with familiar faces. He spotted young Kendall and her teammates jumping up and down beside Mr. Talbot and his wife. He saw Duke and Jackie Everets, Gerald and Bobbi.
Herschel and Trent—hell even Trent had made it out. His parents were there, having arrived just after him and he saw them chatting with Connor.
Logan yanked open the door and moved onto the bench, his eyes on the ice. Billie circled center, waiting for the other team to complete their shift change. Shane and Danvers were on D, while Strombley and Dearling were on wing. It was a good line. A fast and hard line.
Well, except for Dearling.
“Holy shit, the princess decided to come out and play.”
Logan ignored the ribbing coming from some of the guys and glanced at the scoreboard once more. The game was tied and there was ten seconds left.
Billie circled once more and rolled her neck, her eyes drifting over to the bench. He gazed at her, his chest tight, throat nearly closed up.
Offside Page 22