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She blinked a few times, hands on my chest, frozen in time. Her hair fell down around her face like a curtain. “Oh my god.” She shifted her hips, and I knew she could feel my hard-on. “You’re—” She swallowed hard. “You’re real. This is real.”

“Of course I’m real.” I chuckled, mostly to disguise my discomfort. What had she thought I was—a hologram?

“This isn’t a dream?” she asked, glancing down at my chest and then back up to my face.

“Why? Do you dream of me often, KT?” I teased, unable to hold back a smug grin. Because fuck. Yes.

She glared at me, the earlier peace shattered. I wanted to laugh at her outraged expression, but I didn’t dare.

Instead, I kept one hand on her hip and tucked the other beneath my head. “I don’t know why you’re acting so surprised this is real. You’re the one who climbed into bed with me.”

“In my bed. Look around, Carson, this is my room.” She slid off me, and I felt the loss of her immediately.

“Your…room?” Suddenly, I felt a lot less confident. “Your bed?”

I squinted at the items around the room, trying to make out the details. Had I accidentally crashed in Logan’s room? No wonder it had smelled so good. Because it smelled like her.

Fuck.

“Sorry.” I rolled out of bed. “I didn’t mean to…” I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand, having to get close to even find it. I stood and turned to leave, only to run into something at the end of her bed. “Ow. Shit.” I winced.

“Wow,” she said. “I know you’ve told me your vision sucks, but I half thought you were exaggerating. You really can’t see jack shit without your contacts, can you?”

I shook my head, grateful that she believed me. That she recognized I’d made an innocent mistake.

“I didn’t know which room was the guest room,” I said, feeling the need to defend myself. “So I took a guess. The other one had clothes or something all over the floor.”

She groaned, pushing out of bed. “I’m so sorry. I forgot that Kylie sent me a bunch of stuff to sign for a fundraiser. It’s scattered over the floor because I need to send them back to her, and I didn’t realize I was going to have company.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling a little better. A little less at fault.

“Do you think you can find your way to the bathroom without injuring yourself?” Logan asked with genuine concern.

“I’ll manage,” I said in a gruff tone.

I made it to the bathroom without further incident. I closed the door and let out a deep sigh, bracing my hands on the edge of the counter. Jesus. How could I have made such a massive mistake?

It wasn’t just about sleeping in the wrong room, the wrong bed. It was the fact that I’d completely misread the situation, and it wasn’t the first time. Only this time, I hoped it would be less disastrous. I hoped it wouldn’t ruin my relationship with Logan, even if this past twenty-four hours had made me realize how much I wanted something more than friendship with her.

I took a shower and changed back into my clothes from the night before. When I returned to the living room, Logan had a cup of coffee waiting for me.

Now that my contacts were back in, I had no trouble seeing the pinkish tint to her cheeks as she offered me the mug and said, “Sorry. Here I was blaming you, when it was my fault.” She laughed, a nervous edge to it. “Kylie would probably tell me it’s karmic justice for me taking so long to get the jerseys back to her. And my mom would probably tell me that I should’ve been a better host. How can I expect a guest to know where the guest room is if I never show them?”

I laughed, feeling more at ease. “How is your mom?”

“She’s good. Eager for grandbabies, meddlesome as ever, but good.”

“Really?” I tried to picture it, especially knowing how hockey-oriented their family was. “Hockey first” had always been their family motto, and I knew how proud Logan’s parents were of her and Levi.

Sometimes I hated that I no longer had a relationship with my family, especially at the holidays. I’d always loved celebrating Christmas together, but now I had my own traditions. When I’d played for the Raccoons, I’d typically hosted a feast for any of my fellow teammates who were around. But this year, I was going to spend Christmas Day with Georgia and her family. Apparently, Daniel had started a similar tradition when he’d taken over as general manager for the Hawks.

And on Christmas Eve, I always partnered with a local charity to deliver gifts. This year, I was going to volunteer at a local Santa’s Village to help distribute food and toys to families in the community. I always loved seeing the way the kids’ faces lit up when they received their gifts.

I may have created my own traditions for a holiday that typically revolved around family, but that didn’t take the sting out of other events. I’d always dreamed of having my family sitting in the arena at my game, cheering me on. Instead, I had the front office give away my tickets to fans in need—sometimes they needed a fun night out, an escape from a reality that included hospital stays and treatments. Sometimes, the tickets went to a family who wouldn’t otherwise be able to afford them.

It sucked—not having family to spend Christmas with or cheer for me in the stands. But the Hawks’ annual family day before the start of the new season was by far my least-favorite event of the year. Because it was yet another reminder of everything I’d lost.

But then I’d remember what my dad had done, and I’d realize I was better off without him.