Page 13

Peyton

" G et on the bus with me, baby," Logan growls, nuzzling my throat as we stand against the side of his truck outside the arena early the next morning. "You know you don't want to sleep without me tonight."

"You hog half the bed and ninety percent of the covers, Logan. I'll sleep just fine in that big bed all by myself."

He squeezes my cheek, biting me gently. "I'm sick. I can't play."

My body shakes with laughter. "You are such a liar."

He fake coughs, which only makes me laugh harder.

"Get your ridiculous ass on the bus, Logan. I'm not flying out with you. I have things to do."

"What kind of things?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes, actually, I would." He tips my head back, meeting my gaze. That damn smirk makes my stomach dip and spin. "You've already taken a wrecking ball to my schedule. I'd really like to know what fresh hell is going to await my return."

"Oh." I beam at him. "I'm signing you up for anger management classes."

"You wouldn't," he growls, his smirk slipping.

"I am actually." I pat him on the chest. "I already ran it by Alice and Coach this morning. They think it's a brilliant idea to help get management off your butt over punching a photographer."

"You're evil."

"You did the crime." I shrug, completely unrepentant. "Now, you gotta do the time."

"Can't I do community service or some shit instead?"

"That's on the agenda, too. We're rehabbing your image. And Alice is already collecting witness statements from everyone who saw what happened. That way, once the police report leaks, we have a whole list of people willing to stand up and say that you didn't start that fight." I narrow my eyes on him. "But this better be the last fight, Logan. I mean it."

"No can do, sweet Peyton." He brushes his lips across my forehead. "If shit goes down on the ice, I'm throwing elbows."

I roll my eyes at him. "I meant off the ice. Hockey fights don't count. Everyone knows that."

"Hockey fights, huh?" He smirks at me.

"Isn't that what they're called?"

"Sure, baby. We'll go with that."

I glare at him.

"Stop glaring and kiss me, Peyton."

"Stop being bossy and make me."

"I'll show you bossy in a…motherfucker," he growls, going rigid. "What is that prick doing here?"

I crane my head, trying to see who he's talking about, but I don't even get a chance before he practically hauls me across the parking lot. We're halfway to Charles Montaque before I see him.

Great. Just who I wanted to deal with this morning.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Montaque?" Logan growls, planting himself in front of the smaller man.

"Logan," Montaque says. "I'm not here for you."

"Don't care. You aren't welcome. We're all tired of your bullshit."

"I'm just doing my job."

"Right," Logan snorts. "Harassing our families isn't your fucking job, you prick."

"I'm not harassing your family. I've never spoken to anyone in your family, Logan. I was simply following up on a rumor for a story." Montaque's gaze flickers to mine. "There are a lot of those flying around about you right now."

"Don't even look at her," Logan says, a warning growl rumbling from his lips.

I squeeze his hand, trying to settle him down before he ends up punching someone else. That's the last thing we need right now. "Let him look," I say softly.

Logan shoots a sharp look in my direction.

"Let him look," I say again. "If he wants a story about a family so bad, I have a quote for him."

"Peyton…"

"It's okay." I smile up at Logan in reassurance before glancing back at Montaque. "Do you want my quote?"

"Uh…." His gaze flickers to Logan and then back to me. "Sure?"

Logan sighs loudly.

Montaque whips a recorder out of his pocket.

I stare at him for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. After a lifetime of silence, there are a lot of them. But maybe I already said what I needed to say. I said it to Logan last night. I've been saying it to Serena for years.

"Michael Keller may have slept with my mother," I say carefully, "But that doesn't make him my father. It takes more than DNA to do that. A man who abandons the woman he got pregnant because votes and power are more important than actual people isn't a father I want to know. I don't want to know a man who told that woman to abort their child and then walked away. And I absolutely don't want to know a man who happily tossed a scared, lonely little girl into foster care after her mother was murdered. That man is no father of mine. He never has been, and he never will be." I pause. "So people can stop asking me about him now because I don't know him. I've never met him. And everything I needed to know about him, I learned a long time ago."

"Jesus," Montaque mutters.

"He isn't the one who shaped my life," I say quietly. "And he shouldn't be the one who defines it when he never had any part of it. My mother is the one who raised me. If people want to compare me to her, I'll happily accept that comparison. She was an amazing mother. She loved me fiercely. She worked her ass off to support me. And she did it on her own because the man who lied to her about being single dropped her the second he found out she was pregnant. I'm proud to be her daughter." I swallow hard, my throat working convulsively. "And I miss her every single day."

Logan squeezes my hand. "Do you have anything else to say, baby?"

"Just one more thing," I murmur, glancing at Montaque. "People aren't stories, Mr. Montaque. We're people. The guys on this team may be famous, but they're people too. They have families and feelings. They bleed. And they deserve privacy just like I did when I was a kid. Treating them like dollar signs instead of human beings is shitty. If you want respect around here, quit doing it. It isn't earning you any points with anyone."

Montaque clicks off his recorder with a curse. "I'm just doing my job, Ms. Cloud."

"No, you aren't. It stopped being a job when you intentionally started digging, trying to expose things that aren't anyone's business just to get ahead. That isn't a job. That's you being a dick for your own personal gain." I arch a brow at him. "Believe me, I know all about men like that. I just told you about him. Do you really want to be like him?"

Montaque's face turns red. He splutters, searching for a defense, but we both know he doesn't have one. Just like we both know I'm right. He isn't digging into Logan's sister because it's the job. He's digging because he's a dick just like my father.

It's up to him to choose a different path. I doubt he will. Men like him rarely do. But the option is there.

"Montaque!" Coach Lariat growls from behind him. "I already told you to get the fuck out of here. Do not piss me off."

Montaque holds up his hands, shooting another glance in my direction before he mutters a curse and turns, striding across the parking lot.

"On the bus, Moreno!" Coach shouts. "We're leaving!"

"On my way!" Logan calls back to him before dragging me into his arms. His lips come down on mine in a hard kiss. "You're fucking incredible, you know that? Christ, I'm proud of you right now."

"I'm pretty proud of me too," I murmur against his lips.

He smiles, tucking strands of hair behind my ears. "You should be, baby. I hope he prints every goddamn word."

Surprisingly…so do I.

Maybe it won't make a difference, and people will still bring my father up. They'll still treat me like I did something wrong because he's rich and has the power. I don't know. But I also don't really care anymore, either. For once, I said what I should have said a long time ago. It's not my cross to bear anymore. It's his . What he does with it is his business.

I'm not shackled to his bullshit anymore.

I'm shackling myself to a gorgeous goalie, one who looks at me like I'm the center of his world. One who gives me power to be…me.

That's more than enough for me.

One Month Later

"Give me back my phone," I growl at Logan, trying to tug his arm down to reach it. It doesn't even budge. Naturally.

Why is he so ridiculously strong?

Better question, why do I always let him talk me into going out with him and the team after they win a game? It never works out in my favor.

"Nope." He smirks at me. "Not until you kiss me."

"I am not kissing you in a bar full of people, Logan."

"The bar isn't full, baby," he says through laughter. "It's just the team."

I snort. Loudly. "Unless half the team grew boobs and learned to apply a wicked cat-eye, this is not the team, Logan. It's fans who would like to fu–"

He swoops, claiming my lips in a hard kiss as his teammates laugh and cheer, egging him on. Like I said…this never works out in my favor. They're all idiots.

I bite his bottom lip, which only makes him growl and pull me closer.

I swear, there is no stopping this man. He's on cloud nine all day, every day, and nothing is bringing him back down again. It's annoyingly cute. I'm not telling him that, though.

"That's better," he sighs, his lips curving into a grin against mine.

"Can I have my phone back now?"

"No. You can work later. We're celebrating right now."

"I'm not working."

"Little liar."

"I'm not. I was reading comments on Lauren's essay," I mutter.

"That can wait until later, too," he says firmly. "You can troll the assholes of the world tomorrow."

"Oh, can I help?" Joaquin asks, rubbing his hands together. "I like fucking with assholes online."

"Of course you do," Archer sighs, sliding his arm around Wren's waist.

"Um, I seem to recall you calling someone a few colorful names online just a couple weeks ago, Mr. Captain," she retorts, poking him in the side. "What was it again? Oh, yeah." She snaps her fingers. "You said he couldn't kiss Alec Greggson's ass any harder if he was a poop stain in his underwear. And he'd be more useful to the world if he were a poop stain because at least then he'd be chafing his ass instead of–"

Archer cuts her off by kissing her.

"Stop kissing her," Micah growls, his eyes narrowed on the two of them. I don't think he's mad, though. At least, I don't think he is. He stopped being pissed after…well, never mind. That's a long story.

"Yeah, stop kissing her," River says, smirking. "I want to hear what the fuck you actually said. Because I know damn well you didn't call some motherfucker a poop stain."

Archer responds by flipping them off.

"Give me my phone," I grumble to Logan while everyone is distracted.

"No." He taps my nose. "We're living our lives tonight, baby."

That's what he always says. We're living our lives. No matter how crazy things get, he just keeps saying it. And things have gotten crazy.

Montaque shared every word of my quote about my father. Reporters showed up en masse, trying to see what else I had to say. That lasted for about two days before some other woman came forward to admit that she's been having an affair with my father for the last three years.

A leopard doesn't change his spots.

And the press never stay gone for long.

They were right back on our doorstep once Alice helped Logan draft and release a statement about Lauren. It was not complimentary to Montaque. When they mentioned the reporter trying to gain access to release her private health information, people were…shocked. They were equally as shocked to hear that he called a mental institution an insane asylum. It's been a long month for him, too.

Lauren followed up the statement by releasing a personal essay about living with schizophrenia. Her story is beautiful and tragic and so full of hope. If anyone doubted the kind of guy Logan is…well, there's no doubting him after reading what she had to say about him. I bawled like a freaking baby reading it.

Judging by most of the comments, I'm not the only one. He's going to have a whole new legion of fans in his corner soon. He deserves it. Honestly, I can't think of anyone more deserving. He's been her sword and her shield for so long. Now, he's mine too.

But he's doing it the right way this time. He's been talking to Emilia, working through his issues. It's helping. I think seeing the way most people are embracing Lauren has helped too. The world still isn't kind. There are still assholes. But it is kinder.

Men like him have made it that way. And men like him will keep making it that way. In the meantime, I'm telling off the people who are jerks. It doesn't really help, but it does make me feel better.

Logan just rolls with it, just like he does every other thing I do. It's one of the million things I love about him. I'm sure I'll find one million more. For the record, him stealing my phone is not one of them. That's just annoying.

"I'm borrowing this," I tell the team, reaching for the pitcher of beer as he tucks my phone into his pocket.

"Hell no," Jordan growls, snatching it off the table before I can reach it, making his fiancee, Sutton, laugh loudly. "I am not buying these assholes another round because Logan is pissing you off."

Everyone else cracks up.

"Give her back the phone," River demands, scowling at Logan. "If I have to wear beer tonight, I'm going to be pissed."

"Mm, I'd rather give her this instead," Logan says, holding something out in the palm of his hand.

I glance down at it and then gulp as everyone else at the table falls silent, staring intently at us.

"You're holding a ring, Logan."

"Yeah, baby."

"Why are you holding a ring?" I squeak, my heart slamming against my ribcage.

"We need popcorn for this shit," Diego mutters.

"Shut the fuck up, Diego," half the team growls in unison.

"You know why." Logan cups my cheek, forcing me to look at him. His gaze tangles with mine, deep and fathomless. So damn full of love it's overwhelming. "I told you last time I asked that you'd say yes the next time. Don't make a liar out of me. You know how much you hate when I lie."

A shocked laugh rips from my lips. "Are you seriously trying to manipulate me into saying yes?"

"If you aren't willing to play dirty, are you even playing, angel?" He smirks at me, humor dancing through his eyes. "What do you say? You going to make an honest man out of me, or are you turning me into a liar?"

I briefly consider teasing him. It's what I always do—tease him. Torture him. Drive him nuts. We're fire and ice, push and pull. It's part of what's so damn good between us. But that doesn't feel right this time. This time…there's only one word that feels right.

"Yes," I whisper.

"Fuck," he growls, crushing his mouth to mine.

"Does that mean she's marrying him or not?" Diego asks.

"Jesus Christ," someone mutters.

"Shut the fuck up, Diego!" someone else growls.

Half the table just laughs.

I don't really care what they're doing, though. Logan is kissing me and slipping his ring on my finger at the same damn time.

This is heaven.