Page 23

Chapter 23

Holly

I forced a polite smile as I sat across from the two sponsors for the charity event. The sleek conference table glimmered under the fluorescent lights, reflecting the tension in my chest.

It’s just business , I reminded myself, my fingers drumming lightly on the notepad in front of me. Just planning. Everything is fine.

“Now, Ms. Walker,” one of them said, a middle-aged man with thinning hair and an overly enthusiastic demeanor, “we need to finalize the player assignments. The spotlight needs to shine on our star players, especially Damien Sinclaire. I mean, his father is a legend, and Hades Sinclaire is looking to be the new bad boy of the NHL.”

I nodded, jotting down notes that felt more like empty gestures than anything meaningful. My mind kept drifting back to last night—the rain, Damien’s lips against mine, and how quickly he’d left me standing there in confusion. It was like being thrown into a storm without an umbrella.

“Do you think we can get him to agree to a press photo?” The woman beside him asked, her tone all business as she leaned forward slightly.

“Yes,” I replied automatically, though the thought of Damien made my stomach twist. He wouldn’t want anything to do with this; he never did. Yet here I was, caught between wanting him near and wishing I could escape his pull altogether.

Their voices blurred into the background as I maintained my posture straight, forcing myself to appear composed. I was supposed to be focused on them—on this event—but all I could think about was how little sleep I'd gotten since he’d walked out of my life again.

They continued discussing logistics, but their words faded away as I fought against the memories flooding my mind—his touch igniting something deep within me and then vanishing like smoke in the wind when reality set back in.

The sponsors didn’t need to know that behind my polite smile was a storm of emotions—a whirlwind of confusion and desire battling against guilt and uncertainty.

“Holly?” The woman’s voice cut through my thoughts sharply.

I blinked back into focus, catching her gaze with forced enthusiasm. “Absolutely,” I replied with another nod that felt robotic. “I’ll reach out to Damien right away.”

I forced another smile, though it felt like a mask slipping further down my face. Mrs. Talbot leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with excitement that only made me feel more trapped in this moment.

“We’ll need all the committee members present for the donor’s dinner coming up this weekend,” she said, tapping a pen against her notebook. “It’s crucial for our sponsorships.”

I nodded again, even as my heart sank. I had known this was coming, but I had hoped to avoid thinking about it just yet. My mind raced through all the details: the location, the donors, and most importantly—Damien.

Would he show up? Would he pretend none of it happened? The memories of last night replayed in my head like a film on loop—the rain, his touch, and the way he’d left.

My stomach twisted at the thought of facing him again. What if he acted like nothing had changed between us? Would he laugh with someone else while I stood there feeling exposed and raw?

“Are you with us, Holly?” Mrs. Talbot’s voice broke through my spiral of anxiety.

“Yes! Sorry.” I blinked back to reality, catching their curious looks. “Of course. I’ll be there.”

The conversation continued around me, but I barely heard it.

I pressed my palms against the cool surface of the table to steady myself. The tension hung thick in the air, wrapping around me like a shroud. What did it mean that I wanted him here just as much as I dreaded it?

What was wrong with me?

As the meeting wound down, I forced myself to focus on the committee head wrapping up his points.

“All right, everyone, thank you for your input. Let’s aim to finalize the roster by Friday. We need everything in place for the donor dinner,” he announced, tapping his pen against his notes. “Holly, please make sure you coordinate with Damien and get back to us.”

I plastered on a smile that felt more like a grimace. “Absolutely,” I replied, though my stomach churned at the thought of reaching out to him, knowing he’d probably continue to avoid me.

“Great. Let’s make this charity game a success!” He beamed at us before dismissing everyone with a wave of his hand.

The sound of chairs scraping against the floor echoed in the meeting room as my fellow students filtered out one by one. I could hear their chatter—excited plans for summer outings and casual remarks about who was dating whom on campus.

“See you at the game!” one girl called over her shoulder as she rushed past me.

“Yeah, can’t wait,” I muttered under my breath, already feeling a sense of dread settle in my chest.

Once I was alone in the room, I leaned back in my chair and took a deep breath. The quiet felt suffocating after all the noise. Crestwood’s summer campus stretched out beyond the windows, bathed in sunlight but cloaked in an eerie stillness that matched my mood.

The trees lining the walkways swayed gently in the breeze, casting dancing shadows on the paths below. Bright flowers bloomed in carefully arranged gardens, their colors vibrant against the soft green grass—so unlike how I felt inside.

I could see students lounging under shady oaks or tossing frisbees across empty lawns; laughter echoed faintly through open windows from nearby dorms where they had gathered for lazy summer afternoons. It should have felt welcoming and serene—but all it did was amplify my anxiety.

The familiar sight of Crestwood should have brought back fond memories, yet all I felt was uncertainty gnawing at me like a persistent itch beneath my skin. What would happen when I faced Damien again? Would he pretend nothing happened? Would we slip into our old rhythm or remain tangled in this mess?

I barely took two steps before someone called my name.

“Holly!”

I turned, and my breath caught in my throat. Logan stood there, fresh out of the hospital. His dark hair fell over his forehead in that tousled way—rough around the edges, but undeniably strong and magnetic. The hospital gown had been replaced by a fitted black t-shirt that hugged his muscular frame, accentuating the defined lines of his shoulders and arms.

But it was his face that stopped me cold. Bruises mottled his jaw and cheek, remnants of the fight that landed him in the ER. A bandage peeked out from under his shirt at the collarbone.

He looked at me like I was the one who’d gotten into trouble. His eyes were sharp and intense, filled with a mix of concern and something deeper I couldn’t quite decipher. It felt like he could see right through me.

“Logan,” I managed to say, forcing a smile despite the panic surging through me.

He stepped closer, brow furrowing as he studied me with that piercing gaze. “You okay?” His voice was low, gravelly yet warm—a voice that could easily pull you in if you let it.

“I’m fine.” The lie tasted bitter on my tongue as I waved it away with a dismissive gesture. “Just... busy with planning for the charity game.”

His expression shifted slightly, shadowed by worry. “Right,” he replied slowly, eyes narrowing just a bit as if weighing my words carefully.

The moment stretched between us—a taut line drawn in the air that felt fragile under the weight of unspoken truths and unresolved tension. I could still feel Damien’s presence lingering behind me, like an echo of chaos reminding me of what had just transpired.

“Listen,” Logan continued, stepping even closer so I could catch a hint of his cologne—a mix of cedarwood and something warm that grounded me despite everything swirling in my head. “I know things have been... complicated lately.”

I nodded slightly but kept my mouth shut; words eluded me as I grappled with conflicting emotions—relief to see Logan alive mixed with guilt for what had happened between Damien and me just hours ago.

He reached out then, brushing his thumb over my knuckles gently enough to make my heart race despite myself.

“Jesus, Holly. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

My pulse skipped at the urgency in Logan’s voice.

“Logan—”

He shook his head, cutting me off before I could say anything more. “Are you okay?”

I blinked, thrown off by the concern etched on his face. “I—yeah, of course I am. You’re the one who was in the hospital.”

Logan exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, revealing the tension coiling around him like a storm ready to break. “I know. And I know why.”

My stomach tightened at the unspoken words hanging in the air between us. Damien. I didn’t need to hear it for it to resonate deep within me.

Hi’s eyes darkened, worry seeping into every corner of his expression. “I stayed away because I didn’t want him to hurt you. But, Holly—people are talking.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry as the implications sank in. What had they said? What rumors were swirling around campus? My heart raced at the thought of what might be getting back to Logan, and more importantly, how much he already knew.

“What do you mean?” I managed to ask, though my voice felt shaky and uncertain.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice as if he were afraid someone else might overhear us. “They think Damien is dangerous. They think he’s unpredictable—and they’re not wrong.”

A flash of anger sparked inside me at his words; I wanted to defend Damien, but that only fueled my internal conflict even more. The way Damien had kissed me surged back into my mind—fierce and wild—and it twisted my emotions into knots.

“I can handle myself,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

Logan’s brow furrowed deeper as he studied me closely. “Holly... It’s not just about you anymore.”

A shiver ran down my spine as realization dawned on me—the gravity of what Logan was saying sank in with suffocating weight.

“You don’t understand,” I replied, frustration boiling over in my voice despite my best efforts to remain calm. “It’s complicated.”

“I get that,” he insisted, stepping even closer now so that we were almost toe-to-toe. His gaze held mine fiercely as if trying to penetrate through my defenses and reach whatever turmoil lurked beneath the surface.

“ He’s losing it. He’s snapping at practice, he’s getting into fights. And after what he did to me —” Logan stopped, shaking his head. “I’m worried about you.”

My breath shuddered at his words. The weight of his concern pressed against my chest, tightening around my heart like a vice. It felt surreal to hear someone voice what I had been trying to ignore for so long.

I swallowed hard, forcing calm into my voice. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine.”

He stared at me, disbelief etched across his features. His expression was intense, as if he could see through the layers I’d built around myself. “Are you?”

Exhaling slowly, I chose my words carefully. I needed to navigate this conversation with precision. “Look, Logan. I’m really glad you’re out of the hospital. And I’m sorry about what happened. But Damien isn’t?—”

Logan cut me off, his voice sharp and insistent. “He isn’t what, Holly? Dangerous? Unstable? Obsessed with you?”

My stomach twisted painfully at the truth in his words. Everything Logan was saying? It wasn’t wrong.

I glanced away, unable to hold his gaze any longer as a flood of memories rushed back—the intensity of Damien's touch, the possessiveness in his eyes that made me feel both alive and terrified all at once. How could I explain this turmoil that churned inside me?

“I know how it looks,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Logan leaned closer, urgency pouring from him like a tidal wave ready to crash over everything in its path. “You can’t let him drag you down with him.”

A lump formed in my throat as anxiety clawed its way back up; I felt trapped between two worlds—one where Damien’s fire drew me in and another where Logan’s genuine care offered safety.

What if Logan was right? What if Damien really was losing it?

I shook my head slightly as if trying to dispel the swirling thoughts crowding my mind.

“I just need time,” I murmured softly.

Logan sighed, running a hand over his face, the weariness in his expression evident. “I know you care about him. But caring about someone doesn’t mean you should be with them.”

I flinched at his words, unable to meet his gaze. A lump formed in my throat as I felt the truth behind his statement press down on me like a heavy weight. He was right, and that realization stung more than I cared to admit.

He exhaled softly, his tone shifting. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, Holly.”

I forced another weak smile, but it felt brittle on my lips. “I won’t.”

Even as the words left my mouth, I didn’t know who I was trying to convince—him or myself. The chaotic feelings inside me twisted tighter, making it harder to breathe.

“Look,” he said gently, stepping closer again, concern etched across his features. “I’m not trying to come between you two. I just want you safe.”

“Safe,” I repeated under my breath, feeling the irony sting. My heart had never felt more dangerous than when I was around Damien.

He hesitated. “The donor’s dinner is this weekend. Are you ready for it?”

I exhaled deeply, grateful for the shift in conversation. “I guess I have to be.”

Logan nodded but didn’t quite relax; tension still lingered in his posture as if he were waiting for something more.

“Will he be there?” he asked cautiously.

I shrugged, crossing my arms defensively as if trying to shield myself from both Logan’s scrutiny and my own swirling thoughts. “He’s supposed to be.”

But Damien was anything but predictable.

Logan frowned, his expression tight with concern as he studied me. The weight of his gaze felt heavy, like he was trying to peel back my layers and see the truth hiding underneath. “If anything happens… you’ll call me, right?”

I swallowed hard, the knot in my throat tightening. Logan was a good guy—one of the best I’d ever met. He cared about me in a way that made sense, a way that felt safe and familiar. But still, I couldn’t promise him that.

Because no matter what Damien did, I kept coming back to him.

“Yeah. I will.”

The words slipped out before I could think better of them. It was a lie—I knew it deep down. Even if something went wrong, I wasn’t sure if I’d reach out to Logan. The pull toward Damien was too strong; it wrapped around my heart like a vine, squeezing tighter with every passing moment.

Logan’s brows knitted together further, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface as he let out a slow breath. “Holly, you can’t ignore this.”

“I’m not ignoring anything,” I shot back, feeling defensive. “I just need time to figure things out.”

He shook his head slowly, disappointment flickering across his face. “You keep saying that but?—”

“But nothing,” I interrupted, my voice rising slightly before I forced myself to calm down. “I’m not trying to be reckless.”

He stared at me for a long moment, and I could see the gears turning in his head as he weighed his next words carefully.

“I just don’t want you caught in the crossfire again,” he finally said softly.

My chest tightened at the reminder of what had happened between Damien and me—the mess we were still tangled in—and how close it had come to hurting us both once more. A shadow of doubt crept into my mind as I thought about Mrs. Sinclaire’s warning earlier today.

I took a deep breath and turned my gaze away from Logan’s penetrating stare, unable to confront those feelings head-on just yet. The sun reflected against the car windows as silence enveloped us for a moment—a quiet pause where unspoken thoughts hung heavy between us.

But all too quickly, that familiar urge pulled at me again—the urge to reach out for Damien despite everything swirling around us like an impending storm.

“Just… please be careful,” Logan said finally, breaking through my spiraling thoughts.

“I will.” Another lie echoed through me as the uncertainty settled back in place like an old coat I'd worn too long—uncomfortable yet familiar all at once.

Logan walked away, but the weight of his words clung to me like a fog I couldn't shake off.

Damien’s losing it.

The thought rattled around in my head, an unwelcome echo of doubt that I struggled to ignore.

People are talking.

The whispers felt louder now, taunting me with the fear of what I might not want to see.

I don’t want you to get hurt.

His concern washed over me in waves, but as much as I appreciated it, it twisted something inside. I exhaled shakily, leaning against the wall for support. My heart raced as I replayed our conversation. Damien wouldn’t hurt me. That was what I wanted to believe.

But what if I was wrong?

The question hung heavily in the air, gnawing at my resolve. Just the other night had proven how chaotic he could be; the way he’d kissed me like a storm had unleashed itself between us was both intoxicating and terrifying. A shiver ran down my spine as flashes of that intensity crossed my mind—his eyes dark and wild with an emotion I didn’t quite understand.

My phone vibrated against my thigh, startling me out of my thoughts. Fumbling for it, I glanced at the screen, heart racing again when I saw it wasn’t from Damien or Logan but from one of the committee members.

Hey Holly! Just a reminder about the donor’s dinner this Saturday! Can’t wait to see you there!

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself as reality crashed back in like a wave against the shore. The dinner was happening—ready or not. And so was Damien.

I straightened up from where I'd been leaning against the wall and tried to push away the chaos swirling inside me. The laughter and chatter outside faded into background noise as determination flickered within me like a flame refusing to go out. If this was going to happen—if Damien was going to be there—I needed to prepare myself for whatever storm lay ahead.