Page 4

Logan

" W ell, well, well, if it isn't Lothario himself." Micah smirks, dropping his shit onto the bench beside me bright and early on Friday morning.

"Fuck off, Micah," I growl, bending to lace up my skates. I'm not in the mood for his bullshit this morning. Actually, I'm rarely in the mood for his bullshit first thing in the morning. But I'm even less so today. He's one of those assholes who loves mornings. And I've barely slept since Peyton dipped out on me yesterday. We have practice today and a game tomorrow. I'm not in the mood for either.

I tried tracking her down to plead my case but couldn't find a single fucking piece of information on her aside from her Instagram. And her infuriating little ass blocked me after telling me to fuck all the way off back to my wife. I don't think she even bothered to read my message.

Maybe I should have led with I'm not married instead of, Hey, it's Logan .

Goddammit. Why didn't I think of that earlier?

Actually, why the fuck didn't I think to tell her about Lauren and Lachlan before I took her home with me? I'm a fucking idiot for thinking I could bring Peyton into my world without explaining the woman and child who live with me half the time.

But the simple fact is, I've spent so long purposefully not talking about Lauren that I didn't even think about filling Peyton in. I just did the same shit I do with the rest of the world and acted like Lauren doesn't exist. That's not me being a dick. That's me honoring my sister's wishes the best way I can.

Growing up, I got the medals. I was the golden child who could do no wrong. It wasn't like that for Lauren. She spent half her time in treatment for her mental health. By the time they finally diagnosed her with schizophrenia when she was fifteen, she'd already been committed six different times. My life was damn near perfect. Hers was hell.

It hasn't gotten much better for her in the years since. When she's on her medication, she's able to function normally. But off it, her mind is a terrifying place.

She sees and hears things that aren't there, monsters that want to hurt her. They torment her, dragging her down to hell. The world isn't a magical place to her. It's a waking nightmare when she's off her meds. She's paranoid, terrified, and a danger to herself.

It's been that way her entire life. And people always made her feel like a fucking failure because of it. Because she struggled while I excelled. In their eyes, that meant something was wrong with her. They pitied her, mocked her, and treated her like shit while we were growing up.

And they treated me like some fucking hero because of her, like my accomplishments meant more because of her struggles. They don't. All that juxtaposition ever managed to do was make her feel responsible for something out of her control. She didn't ask to be born with a brain that torments her. She didn't ask to have me as a brother. And she doesn't deserve to have cameras shoved in her face or be treated like she's somehow less than because of me.

When I was drafted, we both knew the rest of the world isn't any kinder to people with mental health issues than kids are. In fact, they're a whole lot worse. She asked me to make sure she didn't become a news story. Until Lachlan was born, it's the only thing she's ever asked of me.

So I've tried like hell to honor my promise and keep people from talking about her. I act like an asshole and cause trouble to keep them focused on me. People are easy. So long as you give them something to talk about, they don't go digging for a story. I keep the focus on me and whatever bullshit I'm doing so it's never on her. I won't allow anyone to use her struggles to hurt her. They don't get to turn her pain into a story. I'll do whatever I have to do to protect her.

But I should have warned Peyton. If I had, she wouldn't have run out in tears, thinking I'm the worst kind of asshole. I may be a lot of things, but I'm not that. I wouldn't do that to her.

"Damn," Diego says, laughing from across the room. "How is it that you took a puck bunny home after the game, but you're somehow moodier than Jordan, who we all know hasn't been laid in a goddamn century?"

I whip my head in his direction, my fists clenched. "Peyton isn't a puck bunny," I say, a warning vibrating in my tone. She's not even remotely close to one of the women we can't escape. Christ, she was a virgin. Until me.

Diego arches a brow at me. "Ah, so you didn't get laid. That explains so much."

"Diego, shut the fuck up."

He falls silent, eyeing me sideways.

"Holy shit," Micah mutters, looking at me the same damn way. "You actually liked her."

I grit my teeth, scowling at him. Why the fuck do the guys on this team talk so goddamn much?

"You did, didn't you?"

"Doesn't matter," I mutter, yanking my practice jersey on over my head. "That ship sailed."

"What happened?" Diego asks.

I shoot him a dark look. There are guys on this team I'd absolutely go to for advice in this situation. Micah is one of them. Diego is not.

"I'm not a complete asshole," he protests. "I can help with this shit."

Micah snorts, bending to lace up his skates.

"She found Lachlan's nursery and dipped out on me," I mutter, skipping over the parts about her nailing me with a shoe and then kneeing me in the balls. I also conveniently leave out the part about chasing after her bare-ass naked. There's not a chance in hell Diego won't spread that shit all the way around the arena in a matter of hours.

"Damn." Micah shakes his head. "She thinks he's yours?"

"Yep."

"Sucks to be you," Diego says.

"Thanks," I say sarcastically, hauling myself to my feet. "That's so helpful."

He grins at me, shrugging. "I've got nothing useful, brother. That situation is way above my pay grade."

Why am I not surprised?

"You going to try to fix it?" Micah asks, glancing up at me.

Should I? Hell if I know. She's mad as hell. But am I?

"Uh, fuck yeah." She hit me with a shoe and kneed me in the balls after giving me the best night of my life. There's not a chance in hell I'm letting her get away that easily.

Besides, I know what she doesn't. I'm the future boss she was so goddamn worried about. She's going to be livid when she finds out now, there's no escaping that inevitability, but it gives me an opportunity to fix this shit.

Sneaky and underhanded? Absolutely. Do I care? Uh, fuck no.

If you aren't willing to play a little dirty, why are you even playing?

"She's coming in for an interview on Monday."

"You're hiring her?" Micah asks, his brown eyes wide behind his glasses.

"That's the plan."

"It's your funeral, man," he mutters, shaking his head.

"Well, fuck you and your vote of confidence."

"Just saying, there are bad plans and then there's whatever the fuck that is," he says, shrugging.

"I think it's a good plan," Diego interjects.

Micah shoots me a look as if to say point proven.

I choose to ignore him. There isn't anything wrong with my plan. He just has no faith.

"I changed my mind about the interviews next week."

Alice Madison looks up at me from her desk, her hazel eyes narrowed. "Too late. They're already scheduled. I am not calling ten people on Friday afternoon to cancel."

"I'm not trying to cancel them."

"You just said you changed your mind about them."

"I didn't mean cancel them. I want to sit in on them."

She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. "What are you up to, Logan Moreno?"

"Who says I'm up to anything?" I ask, chuckling as I lean against the wall. Alice is amusing. She reminds me of Kelsey from back home. Neither of them take any shit and they give as good as they get. Alice isn't a terrorist like Kelsey, though. She's sweet as pie…when she wants to be. Shit. Maybe she is just like Kelsey.

"That little boy look on your face says you're up to some mess," she says. "Spill so I can decide if I want to help you or not."

Well, that doesn't sound like a fucking trap at all, now does it?

Screw it. Might as well play along.

"I've already decided which of the candidates I'm hiring," I say.

"Who?"

"Peyton Cloud."

"Why her?"

"It’s confidential."

"Interesting." She drums her nails against her arm before pointing at her door. "I don't know if you noticed the sign on that door, but it says team publicist. You know what that means, Logan?"

"Uh, that you do press shit for the team?"

Apparently, that's the wrong answer because she rolls her eyes at me. "It means your business is my business. Spill."

"I slept with her," I mutter.

"Oh, absolutely not!" she cries, staring at me like I've completely lost it. "You are not hiring someone you slept with. Have you lost your frigging mind?"

"Possibly."

She snorts, which I assume is her agreeing with me.

"I planned to hire her before I slept with her."

"You are not helping your case any whatsoever," she says, her tone flat. "In fact, you should probably stop talking now."

Winning Kelsey over to the Dark Side was so much easier. Maybe because she was born in hell. Alice is a hard sell.

"I think she's my one, but I fucked up. She thinks Lauren is my wife and Lachlan is my kid. I need a chance to explain so I can fix it before I end up alone forever." I grin at her. "Do you really want to be the reason I end up alone forever, Alice? That's bad karma."

"Boy, bye. Get your ignorant ass out of my office," she says. But she cracks a tiny smile.

"You know you want to help me."

"Not really."

I gape at her, but she just shrugs at me.

"You said that you think she's the one. If you don't know she's the one, I'm not helping you blow up your career because you're horny."

"That is not what this is," I growl, narrowing my eyes at her. "I knew the moment I set eyes on her that she was going to change my damn life."

"And yet you didn't tell her about Lauren."

"Stop trying to psychoanalyze me, Alice," I warn, my voice hard. I fucking hate when people poke and prod at shit related to Lauren. She isn't anyone's business, goddammit. And neither are my feelings on the subject.

"I'm not. I'm just concerned, Logan," Alice says gently. "The fact that you're here right now, asking for help with this is a big deal. You've made it crystal clear that Lauren is off-limits to everyone. But it's impossible to try to keep a relationship in a separate compartment when you juggle the things you juggle. They're going to touch one another. You can't compartmentalize life, and I'm not sure you know that because you've been compartmentalizing it your entire career."

"I'm aware," I grit out. "Lauren isn't off-limits to Peyton. I simply didn't think to mention that she and Lachlan live with me part-time."

"And the rest of it?"

"I'll tell her." Obviously, I'll fucking tell her. I'm not ashamed of or embarrassed by my sister. That's never been the case and never will be. The people who matter know about her. They've met her. Hell, they've spent time with her. And if there's ever a day when she tells me that she's ready to step out into the spotlight, I'll be there, cheering her on the whole goddamn way. But that day hasn't come. All having a famous brother has ever done for her is made her life harder.

She didn't get a choice in me joining the league. I made that decision. The least I can do is ensure she gets to decide whether she's part of the circus surrounding me or not. I owe her that much.

Alice eyes me silently for a long moment and then nods before flipping open her schedule to look at it. "I'll cancel everyone but her. Be in the conference room at ten on Monday. She's scheduled for then." She pauses. "And don't fuck it up, Logan."

Relief blasts through me.

"I won't fuck it up," I promise.

"Are you at home?" Lauren asks as soon as I answer my phone after practice.

"I'm on my way. Why?"

"Lachlan and I need to spend the night with you."

"Why? Is everything okay?" I ask, instantly on alert as I cut through the parking lot, heading toward my truck.

"Everything is fine, Logan," she sighs like I'm getting on her damn nerves. "Roland got called out to a site. I didn't want to be home alone."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Lachlan's father, Roland, owns a construction company. When he has to go out of town, Lauren and Lachlan stay with me because she doesn't trust herself to stay alone. She's been on her meds and doing well for months, but she's still anxious as hell that something will go wrong. She's doing everything right and she's an incredible mother, but she's fucking terrified she's going to lose Lachlan or end up in treatment again like she was right after he was born. She was postpartum and her meds needed to be adjusted. She still feels guilty as hell about it.

"I'll be home, sweetheart," I murmur. "But you and Lachlan don't need me, Lauren. You've got this. You can handle it."

She's quiet for a minute. "I'd rather come stay with you."

"Come on then," I say, giving in. Maybe I'm enabling her. I don't fucking know. But I'm not telling her no if she needs me. Roland and I are her support system. We're her only support system. If she isn't ready to trust herself alone yet, I can't force her into it. Baby steps. "I'll stop and pick up Thai for dinner."

"You're the best brother ever. Have I told you that lately?"

"It's been a while. Say it again."

Lauren's soft laugh echoes down the line. "Best brother ever."

"Uh, fuck yeah, I am. Does Lachlan need anything?"

"Maybe a bite guard," she grumbles. "Those baby teeth are no joke, Logan. He's biting everything."

"So…just like you then."

She gasps. "I did not bite."

"Please. I still have scars from where you bit the shit out of me when you were a baby."

"Whatever. Lies."

I chuckle, my eyes narrowing on the motherfucker standing near my truck. What the fuck is Charles Montaque doing snooping around my shit? He's a world class prick. He calls himself an investigative sports journalist, but it's bullshit. He's a gossip with a pen. "I've gotta go. I'll see you at the house."

"Okay. See you soon."

I disconnect, shoving my phone into my pocket as I saunter toward Montaque, scowling. "Is there a reason you're all up in my business today, Montaque?"

"Logan." He flashes me a smile, stepping forward to meet me. "It's good to see you."

"Wish I could say the same about you." I'm not playing nice with this motherfucker. I don't like him, and I won't pretend I do. "What do you want?"

"Do you have a minute to talk?"

"To you? Never." I pop the locks on the truck before tossing my bag inside. "I've got places to be and shit to do."

"I heard a rumor I'd like to discuss with you. Let's set up a meeting."

"Too fucking bad," I grunt, sliding into the driver's side of the truck. "I don't discuss rumors with dicks." I glance at him in contempt. "Write that in whatever bullshit hit piece you're writing, Montaque. You aren't getting your meeting."

I slam the door in his face, irritated as hell. Why the fuck is he harassing me about some rumor instead of taking it to Alice? He knows I'm not going to talk to him. I never talk to him.

"It's about your sister!" he shouts.

Fucking hell.

My heart skips a beat before pounding against my ribcage. How the fuck does he know about Lauren? Who talked to him? I'm not about to ask him to find out. Anything I say, he'll take as confirmation.

I'm not stupid enough to play that game. So I do the only thing I can do instead. I completely ignore him and drive away.

As soon as I'm out of the parking lot, I call Alice.

"We have a problem," I growl as soon as she answers, my hands tight around the steering wheel.

"Why do we always have problems when I've just poured myself a glass of wine?" she complains. "Why can't we ever have eight o'clock on Monday problems?"

"Charles Montaque was just in the fucking parking lot, trying to set up a meeting with me to talk about my sister."

Alice goes completely silent.

"How the fuck did he find out about her, Alice?" I growl, my temples throbbing.

"I don't know," she says quietly. "It's not like people don't know she exists, Logan. They just usually don't go prying into her life. What did you tell him?"

"Nothing. I didn't say a word about her."

"Good. That's good. Be in my office first thing on Monday," she orders me. "We'll figure it out. In the meantime, just try to focus on the game tomorrow, Logan. We'll handle this."

I jerk my chin in a nod and then remember that she can't see me. "Fine. First thing Monday." I pause. "Send Peyton's address to me."

"Logan…"

"Please, Alice," I growl, stretched to the breaking point. I need to see her. Not on Monday. Not in a damn conference room. But now. Tonight.

"Fine," she sighs quietly. "Don't make me regret this. If you do something stupid and get me fired, I will murder you. And then I'll get myself sent to hell just so I can spend eternity torturing you."

I smile despite myself. Maybe all team publicists are terrorists in training.