Page 32

THIRTY-TWO

LOGAN

The cool air bit at my skin as I stood outside the hotel, the pavement slick with the sheen of earlier rain. My lungs burned from my run, but it hadn’t done a damn thing to clear my head. My legs ached, my knuckles itched, and none of it mattered.

I could still feel the weight pressing down on me, heavy and suffocating. The midweek game loomed like a shadow, but that wasn’t what had me tied in knots tonight.

It was that damn call-up. I hated disappointing people.

My chest felt tight, like I couldn’t get enough air. It was everything I’d worked for. Everything I was supposed to want, but now it felt hollow.

Dread mixed with excitement. I needed to break the news to Coach and my agent, but not before telling Julep what she meant to me.

Because choosing that meant leaving her behind and there was no way in hell that was happening.

The thought was clear, cutting through the fog like a ray of sweet sunshine.

Julep .

I’d been telling myself this was casual, that what we had was something I could leave behind if I had to. But tonight, staring at the cold reality of what leaving would mean, I knew I’d been lying.

She wasn’t just someone I cared about.

She was it for me.

The vibration of my phone snapped me out of the spiral, and I pulled it from my pocket. Her name lit up the screen, and just seeing it was enough to make my heart kick into overdrive.

“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Hey, yourself,” she replied, her voice light, almost giddy. That wasn’t what I’d expected, but it was a welcome surprise.

“You sound good,” I said, sitting back down on the bench.

“Oh, I’m better than good,” she said, her laughter bubbling through the line. “Logan, you are not going to believe what I just did.”

There was something in her tone—excitement, pride. “What’s that?”

She let out a breathless laugh. “I hosed Trent down. Like, literally. With a garden hose. He showed up at my house like some creepy specter from my past, and I let him have it.”

Her words hit me like a sucker punch and my jaw tightened. “Trent was at your house?”

“Yeah,” she said, oblivious to the way my pulse was climbing. “He had the nerve to show up on my porch, spouting some bullshit about second chances. Can you believe that? What a moron. Obviously, I sent him packing.”

The pride in her voice was palpable, and I grinned like a fool on the other end of the line.

This was her moment, her triumph.

Telling her about the call-up and the imminent implosion of my career would only overshadow that.

So I swallowed the words, burying them deep for later when we could talk face to face.

“That’s great, Julep,” I said, my voice filled with awe. “You handled it. I am so damn proud of you.”

“Damn right I handled it,” she said, her laugh softening into something warmer. “You should’ve seen his face. It was like he couldn’t believe I wasn’t the same girl he used to know.”

The image of Trent standing on her porch, daring to confront her, was enough to make my blood boil. “You really are incredible, you know that?”

“Stop,” she said, but I could hear the smile in her voice.

I swallowed past the grit in my throat as my anger toward my former friend built. “I mean it. You’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Her laugh was quieter now, softer. “Thank you, Logan.”

“Listen, I have to go,” she added after a pause, her voice still bright and buzzing. “But I’ll see you tomorrow. Go Wildhawks!”

The playful cheer in her tone tugged at the corner of my mouth despite the weight in my chest.

We hung up, her voice still ringing in my ears. I stared at the phone in my hand, the anger simmering just beneath my skin. She deserved to feel proud of herself.

But the thought of Trent standing on her porch, spouting lies and poison ... it was enough to make my vision go red.

Before I could second-guess myself, I grabbed my keys from my hotel room and headed for my truck.

The drive to Trent’s house was a blur, my hands gripping the wheel so tight my knuckles ached. It didn’t matter that it was late. It didn’t matter that I had an important match tomorrow. Logic, reason—none of it factored in. I didn’t overthink it—I just acted.

All that mattered was making sure he never came near my woman again.

His house was exactly what I remembered—dark, quiet, unremarkable. I parked haphazardly on the curb, the engine still rumbling as I climbed out. My shoes hit the pavement with purpose, each step heavier than the last as I made my way to the front door.

I didn’t knock. I pounded, hard enough to rattle the frame.

The door swung open, and there he was, freshly showered in a white T-shirt and basketball shorts, his face twisting into a smirk that screamed unbothered. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he drawled, “Well, well. Mr. Amazing himself. What brings you here, Mav? Come to defend your prize? Finally tired of playing house with my leftovers?”

I stepped closer, my voice low and intense. “You showed up at her house. That’s your first mistake. Opening this door was your second.”

I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. My fist connected with his jaw, sending him stumbling back into the house. Trent recovered quickly, his arrogance fueling his aggression as he threw his first punch, a wild swing aimed at my ribs. I dodged easily, years of training and instinct giving me the upper hand.

“You son of a bitch,” I growled, stepping inside and slamming the door shut behind me. The sound of knuckles against flesh filled the space, the metallic tang of blood in the air as adrenaline coursed through me. “You went to her house?”

“She called you, didn’t she?” he said, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. His smirk was gone, replaced by something darker. “Of course she did. That’s all she knows how to do—run to the nearest man to fix her problems.”

“You don’t get to talk about her like that,” I said, my voice low and dangerous.

“Why not? I knew her first—better than you ever will,” he spat, his eyes narrowing. “You think she’s some kind of saint? She’s a clingy, needy little girl who doesn’t know how to let go.”

I grabbed him by the front of his shirt, slamming him against the wall. “She’s not the girl you used to know. She’s a woman who stood up to your sorry ass and sent you packing.”

He shoved at my chest, but I didn’t let go. “What’s your deal, Logan? You playing the hero? Or is this just another trophy for your collection?”

The words hit harder than they should’ve, but not for the reason he thought. He wasn’t wrong about the trophies—that was all my life had been for years. Chasing the next win, the next title, the next shiny thing to make me feel like I was enough.

But MJ? She wasn’t a trophy. She was everything.

“You’re pathetic,” I said, my voice steady as I pushed him back, letting go of his ripped shirt. “You don’t even see it, do you? She doesn’t need you. She never did. She doesn’t even need me. But she chose me. Because I’m not like you. I don’t tear her down to feel big. I build her up. That’s the difference between us.”

I turned, ready to walk out and leave him to his misery. But the next thing I knew, pain exploded across my jaw. The force of his sucker punch made my head snap to the side, a metallic tang flooding my mouth.

For a moment I stayed still, rolling my jaw as Trent stood there, his chest heaving, that cocky smirk already creeping back onto his face. “What’s the matter, golden boy? Can’t take a hit?”

I ran my tongue along my teeth, making sure none were loose, before turning back to face him, my voice low and steady. “You really should’ve thought that through.”

He didn’t have time to respond before my fist connected with his gut, doubling him over with a groan. As he stumbled back, I landed a clean punch to his cheekbone, sending him crashing to the floor in a heap.

I spat blood on the floor next to his face.

“Stay away from her,” I said, my voice like steel. “If I hear you went near her again, I won’t stop next time.”

He glared up at me, his lip split and his breathing ragged. “She’ll never stay,” he sneered, his voice dripping with venom. “What do you even have to offer? You’ve got nothing but rugby, and even that won’t last forever.”

I turned my back on him, his words rolling off me like water. “She’s not yours to talk about. Remember that.”

My hand gripped the doorknob, and I hesitated, looking over my shoulder one last time. “And don’t think for a second this is about us. Whatever we had—friendship, camaraderie—it’s done. I see who you are, Trent. And there’s no coming back from that.”

The drive back to the hotel was quiet, the adrenaline slowly fading as the reality of what I’d done sank in. My knuckles throbbed, and my chest ached, but I didn’t regret it.

Ending things with Trent—whatever scraps of friendship we had left—felt like cutting out a piece of my past I didn’t need anymore.

All that mattered now was her.

MJ’s voice played in my head, soft and teasing, the way she’d sounded on the phone. She was happy tonight, and I’d do anything to keep her that way.

Even if it meant leaving behind everything I thought I wanted.

Because for the first time in my life, I knew what really mattered.

And it wasn’t a trophy.

It was her.