Page 22

TWENTY-TWO

MJ

“Hey,” came Logan’s playful voice. “Try this on.”

A bundle of fabric flew at me, and I caught it midair. When I opened it, I realized it was a jersey— Logan’s jersey.

My eyes whipped up and he shrugged. “If you want to.”

I grinned and disappeared into the hotel bathroom to slip it over my long-sleeved shirt.

A thousand butterflies took flight in my stomach.

Wearing Logan Brown’s rugby jersey was not on my bingo card, but staring at my reflection in the hotel mirror, it was hard to deny that Wildhawks green and gold looked pretty damn good on me. I turned to look at my back and admire how Brown stretched across my shoulder blades.

If Trent showed up and saw me wearing it, would he care? Would I care that he cared?

A petty part of me wanted him to see me in it and get pissed off. I wanted Trent to realize that he’d messed up when it came to me. Maybe Logan was right and Trent would realize what he’d done was cruel and wrong and that what he had done had hurt me.

I shook my head. Trent’s actions had proved to me that he had the emotional intelligence of a gnat. The more likely scenario was that if he noticed, he would give Logan a hard time and rattle him before his match, or he wouldn’t give a shit.

I didn’t know which was worse.

“Ready?” Logan called from the kitchen. “I’ve got coffee to go.”

I exhaled and fluffed my hair one last time. When I exited the room, our overnight bags were stacked neatly by the door, and Logan grinned at me with one paper cup in his hand. “Looks good.”

I twirled, showing off the jersey with a laugh before accepting the paper coffee cup. “Nothing for you?”

He shook his head. “No caffeine before a match. I’ve got a pretty regimented plan on game days.”

“Ah,” I said, taking a small sip of the coffee he had made for me. “Another superstition. Remind me again how you think it’s all bullshit?”

I stifled a laugh as Logan’s flat stare bore into me. “Let’s go, Clover, before I show you just how unsuperstitious I can be. Checkout isn’t until noon.”

A delicious thrill danced through me, knowing exactly what he meant.

Logan grabbed our bags, despite my offer to help, and together we walked out of the suite and toward the elevators. He filled the drive to the field with casual conversation. Small moments were easy with Logan. It made me feel like if we had met in a different timeline, things would be so much simpler.

Reality came crashing back when Logan hit the brakes and muttered fuck under his breath. I followed his gaze to see Trent and another man standing outside the box office, arguing with the ticket agent.

Logan threw the vehicle into park. “Wait in the truck.”

Before I could even argue, he was gone. I stared in shock as Logan stomped toward Trent. I hadn’t seen him at all, except for a few pictures online when I was still stalking his social media accounts, since he’d ghosted me.

It struck me as almost funny—his hair seemed to be thinning. He wasn’t as tall as I’d remembered either. Something about him had lost its luster, and for that I was grateful. Sadly, the imaginary horns I always pictured him with were missing, but it had never felt like he was the one who’d gotten away.

It was more like I’d dodged a bullet.

From the truck, I gripped the edge of the seat, my pulse racing as Logan marched toward Trent like a storm about to break.

Trent’s casual smirk twisted into something uglier as Logan pointed at him, his jaw tight. My breath caught when Trent’s gaze sliced to me, his expression darkening with recognition.

The last time I’d seen those eyes, they’d left me feeling small and unworthy.

I could barely hear their words over the rumble of nearby engines, but the tension in Logan’s shoulders said everything. The car was parked close enough that I could just make out the faint words through the glass windows.

“What are you doing here?” Logan’s voice was clearly surprised and annoyed.

“Mav!” Trent went in for a hug, but Logan’s back was stiff and he didn’t return the embrace. Trent looked at him, confused. “What’s the deal?” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “They’re telling me there’s not a ticket.”

“There isn’t.” Logan gripped the back of his neck before dropping his hand. “I texted you this morning. Today isn’t a good day.”

Trent’s arms spread. “Come on. Don’t embarrass me. I told Mikey that we’d have club level.” The back of Trent’s hand tapped Logan’s stomach. “You can get us in.”

“I said, not today. Sorry, man.” Logan’s head moved slightly as he glanced back at the car.

Trent’s attention followed the movement, and I sat, frozen. I should have dove under the dash to hide, but it was too late.

“Seriously?” Trent gestured toward me. “Is this what it’s about? I already gave you the green light to fuck her.”

They had talked about me?

Heat crept up my cheeks. Logan stepped forward, dangerously close to Trent’s face. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but his body language was clearly threatening.

With a shake of his head, Trent walked away, hitting Logan in the shoulder as he passed. Clearly he was pissed about what had happened, and his glare was directed at me.

I sat, frozen as he walked toward the row of cars. When he neared me, I could hear him, clear as day: “Fucking cunt.”

In an instant Trent was on the ground. Logan had tackled him from behind, and I screamed.

I pushed open the car door. In the next space over, on the cold parking lot asphalt, Logan was straddling Trent, and a hard punch landed to his face. I screamed again as blood spurted from Trent’s nose. Logan reared back, and another punch connected with Trent’s rib cage.

Logan’s fist connected with Trent’s face a second time, the crack of bone against bone echoing in the chilly air. “Say it again,” Logan growled, his voice low and menacing, as he pinned Trent to the ground.

Trent heaved and spat blood onto the asphalt. “All this for her? She’s not worth it.”

Logan’s fury erupted, and he grabbed Trent’s shirt collar, yanking him up. “You don’t get to talk about her like that.”

His knuckles had tightened, ready for another swing, when my panicked voice broke through.

“Logan, stop!” My hands were on his shoulder, my voice trembling.

My words seemed to pull him back from the edge. He glanced at me, his chest heaving, then released Trent with a shove that sent him sprawling.

Logan was on top of him again. “If I see you near her again, I won’t stop next time.”

I stepped forward but was shoved aside by two security guards as they pulled Logan off a moaning Trent. They could barely contain him as he shrugged them off and lunged toward Trent again.

“You keep your fucking mouth shut,” he shouted at Trent.

Trent’s angry gaze flicked my way as he wiped blood from under his nose.

“Don’t look at her, you look at me.” Logan was seething. “Go home.”

As Logan was yanked away by the security guards, Trent stood and took a cheap shot, cracking him in the jaw.

Furious, Logan lunged forward, but the two guards barely held him back. By now a small crowd was gathering, and the scuffle had drawn everyone’s attention. The last thing Logan needed was someone taking a video of him beating the shit out of his best friend in the parking lot before the match.

I stepped between them as Logan spat on the ground before taking a step forward.

“Stop.” I pressed my palms into his solid chest and tried to shove him backward.

Trent stood behind me, laughing, as tension dripped from Logan. His chest moved with heavy breaths, but I couldn’t get him to budge.

He pointed at Logan as I stood, helpless between them. “You are unbelievable, man.”

Logan’s stare was cold and hard as Trent turned and started to walk away.

“Mr. Brown.” A man wearing a suit and looking entirely pissed off stared at Logan. “My office. Now.”

Logan shrugged off the security guards and wiped the small drip of blood coming from his lip. My fingers moved to inspect it.

“I’m fine.” His tone was cold and clipped. He watched as the man walked away and the security guards followed.

“Who was that?” I asked quietly.

“The club manager.” He pressed a finger to his lip again and sighed. “Fuck.”

I searched his face, but his expression was unreadable. When he started walking, I kept up but stayed quiet by his side. The guard at the entrance didn’t bother asking for identification, and we slipped through the gate.

We walked down a long hallway until we came to a private set of elevators. An attendant used a key card to open the elevator.

“Hey, Phil.” Logan tried to smile, but it was pinched tight. “The big boss wants to see me.”

Phil nodded and gestured for us to enter. If he noticed the red mark on Logan’s jaw or his bloody lip, he didn’t mention it. Then he used his key card again to punch in our destination.

We rode in tense silence. When the elevator doors opened, we stepped out and Logan turned to me. “I should only be in there for a few minutes.”

“Okay.” I tried to sound supportive and hopeful. Logan’s mouth was set in a grim line, and he only nodded before turning away.

I wiped my hands down the front of my jeans. The hallway was undecorated and windowless. I couldn’t hear anything after Logan knocked on the large wooden door and slipped inside. Minutes ticked by, and I started to worry that he was going to get into serious trouble for starting a fight in the middle of a parking lot.

Would he be fined? Kicked off the team?

Each scenario felt worse than the last.

Still, I replayed in my mind the moment when Trent called me a cunt and Logan tackled him for it. A heady buzz moved down my back and settled between my legs.

It was unhinged, but also ... really fucking hot.

No man—even the ones who were related to me—had ever stood up for me like that. A primal part of me found the sheer masculinity intoxicating.

When the door cracked open, I stood taller. Logan’s green eyes were angry and intense as he stalked down the hallway and stopped in front of me.

“What happened?” I asked quietly.

I stared at Logan, stunned. He stood there, jaw tight, his lip bloodied, and yet he wasn’t apologizing. If anything, he looked defiant.

“I’m benched,” he bit out. “The team will have to play without me. The club has strict rules about fighting. To be honest, I’m lucky a one-game suspension is all they’re giving me. If the owner finds out, I could lose my spot on the team.”

“You’re benched?” I asked softly, my voice catching.

“One-game suspension,” he replied, his tone clipped. “Could’ve been worse.”

A relieved whoosh of air escaped me. “I’m sorry.”

Logan looked down at me. “I’m not.”

My throat tightened. He’d risked his career—his reputation—for me. “Logan, I didn’t mean?—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his eyes locking on mine. “And I’d do it again.”

My breath hitched, his words knocking the air from my lungs. No one had ever fought for me like that. Not my ex, not my family—not even myself.

My insides liquefied at his words.

Logan glanced over my shoulder. “I need to get going, though. I’ll stay to support the team, and we’re about to take the field. I need to change clothes. You can take the truck if you don’t want to stick around.”

I shook my head. “I can stay. Maria will keep me company, and I’m finally starting to understand the rules.”

A small smirk lifted the bruised corner of his mouth. “Okay. Let’s get you to your seat.”

* * *

With Logan benched, the game wasn’t as thrilling as it usually was, but I was still enthralled. From the bench, Logan jumped up, shouting instructions and pointing to his teammates. Despite the chaos of the morning, Logan was clearly in his element.

It also meant a clear view of his thighs, peeking out from his shorts, as he prowled down the sidelines.

My eyes kept drifting to Logan, his body coiled with energy as he barked instructions to his teammates. Even benched, he was commanding—his presence magnetic.

He caught me staring and quirked a small smile, the corner of his mustache lifting just enough to make my stomach flip.

My fingers toyed with the hem of his jersey. Every time the fabric brushed my skin, it reminded me of the man who’d given it to me. Not as a trophy, but as a promise.

For years I’d convinced myself I wasn’t worthy of this kind of attention. But Logan’s actions today—the way he fought for me, the way he looked at me—told a different story.

By the second half it was obvious we would need a miracle to pull off a win.

With the team struggling, Maria’s knees bounced beside me. I rubbed my mitten-covered hands down my legs as we watched the team attempt to gain ground.

The Reapers scored and Maria threw her hands up, slamming her back into the seat. “Damn it!”

I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders. “This sucks and it’s all my fault.”

Maria grumbled but shook her head. “No, the team can’t rely on just one player. They need to get their shit together. Besides, if it were Joe who punched someone for me, I wouldn’t be upset—I’d be planning my celebratory striptease.”

A white cloud puffed into the cold air as I laughed.

Maria laughed beside me. “It may be barbaric, but when a man fights for his woman, it’s so hot.”

I couldn’t disagree with her. There was absolutely no denying that watching Logan defend my honor had my inner feminist showing herself out the door.

Maria nudged me with her elbow, her grin mischievous. “So, what’s the plan, Lucky Charm? Gonna reward your knight in shining armor?”

“I don’t think I’m his woman. He’s just a nice guy.”

Maria looked me over like she didn’t believe a word I said. “Well, nice guy or not, I’ve never seen his jersey on another woman.”

The thought that I was the first woman to wear Logan’s jersey took root. Tickled by the thought, I sat back and watched the Wildhawks, all while a flurry of questions bounced around my head.

Why was I still letting Trent control the narrative?

What if one good romp with someone else was all I needed to get past it for good?

No expectations, no heartbreak.

Logan had more than proved he was a good guy—what was stopping me?

I laughed, but her words stuck with me. My whole life, I’d let people like Trent write the script—deciding how I should feel, what I deserved. But Logan was different. He didn’t ask for control—if anything, he gave it back to me.

I glanced at the field, where Logan stood, his eyes scanning the players like a hawk. He’d done his part. Now it was my turn.

Straightening in my seat, I smoothed the jersey over my thighs and made a decision.

No more letting the past define me. No more holding back. If Logan wanted me to be his lucky charm, then I’d damn well own it.

As I watched him from the field, our eyes met. The left side of his mustache ticced up, and he jerked his head.

Heat gathered in my stomach, spreading warmth to every corner of my body.

The only thing stopping me was ... me.