Offside (29 page)

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.”

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.