Page 9
Chapter 9
Lucy
T he shelter hums with life, the kind of joyful chaos that always leaves me both exhilarated and exhausted. The faint scent of lavender mingles with the earthy aroma of pet food, while the distant sound of soft paws against the tiled floor adds to the lively atmosphere. A family of four is in one corner, laughing as a fluffy tabby weaves between their feet. Near the counter, a young couple is deep in conversation with Emma about adopting a bonded pair of dachshunds. And then there’s Lewis, our unofficial mascot, sprawled out in the middle of the main walkway, his tail wagging lazily as visitors stop to pet him. Today, he’s fresh from a grooming session—his black and white coat gleaming and his collar newly polished, making him look like the perfect poster pup for the shelter. He’s a hit—not just with the shelter guests, but with the community as a whole.
“You’re stealing the spotlight, Lewis,” I mutter, leaning down to scratch behind his ears. He thumps his tail harder, grinning up at me with that lopsided doggy smile that melts even the hardest hearts.
The light atmosphere dims as I overhear a hushed conversation near the reception desk. Two women, regular visitors who volunteer occasionally, are whispering in low tones.
“Did you see the article about Logan Mitchell?” one of them says, her voice carrying despite her efforts to keep it discreet. “It’s all about him and his ex. She’s claiming he was never around and cared more about his career than her. But then again, wasn’t she the one posting their private moments for likes?”
My stomach sinks. I’ve heard whispers about Logan’s past before—bits and pieces of scandal and heartache that painted him as reckless and untrustworthy. Hearing it again, though, stirs something different—a gnawing doubt tangled with a sense of unfairness. I’ve seen him in moments that don’t fit this narrative: patient, kind, quietly thoughtful. Could I have been wrong about him all along, or is there more to his story than anyone realizes? I’ve always brushed them off, preferring to judge him by what I’ve seen firsthand. But now, with his name back in the headlines, I know the chatter will only grow louder.
Later, I’m at the local café, nursing a cappuccino and trying to shake off the unease that’s been gnawing at me since this morning. Kate slides into the seat across from me, her oversized purse bumping the table as she settles in.
“You look like you’re about to fight someone,” she says, eyeing me over her latte. “What’s going on?”
I sigh, swirling the foam in my cup. “It’s Logan. Or, more specifically, Logan and his ex. There’s an article making the rounds, and people are already talking.”
Kate’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, the infamous ex strikes again? Let me guess—she’s rehashing the same story, twisting things to make Logan look bad, right?”
“It’s not funny,” I snap, but my annoyance fades as quickly as it appeared. Kate’s teasing is her way of trying to lighten the mood, and I can’t fault her for that.
She leans forward, her expression softening. “Okay, tell me. What’s bothering you? Is it the rumors? Or is it…him?”
“Both,” I admit, setting my cup down with a sigh. “I hate that people are so quick to judge him based on half-truths and gossip. But at the same time…I don’t know. Maybe there’s some truth to it. What if I’m wrong about him?”
Kate studies me for a moment, then smirks. “You know what I think? I think you’re scared because you actually like him.” She raises a teasing eyebrow. “Didn’t you swear up and down that you couldn’t stand him? And yet here we are. Funny how that works, isn’t it?”
“That’s ridiculous,” I scoff, but my voice lacks conviction.
“Is it?” she challenges. “You light up every time you talk about him, Lucy. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how much time you’ve been spending together.”
I shake my head, laughing softly despite myself. “You always have to push, don’t you?”
“And you’re in denial,” she shoots back. “Look, I’m not saying you need to rush into anything. But maybe…give him a chance. Talk to him about the rumors. See what he has to say.”
I take Kate’s advice—reluctantly—and find Logan at the community center later that afternoon. He’s in the gym, working with a group of kids on their skating techniques. Watching him with them is unexpectedly disarming. He crouches to tie a kid’s loose skate, offering a quiet reassurance that they’ll get the hang of the drill soon. He’s patient when one of them stumbles, offering a quick grin and a joke about how even pros take a fall now and then. It earns a chorus of laughter, and for a moment, he seems completely at ease, like this is where he belongs. It’s a side of him I don’t see often, and it’s…compelling.
When the lesson wraps up, I approach him as the kids file out, chattering excitedly.
“Got a minute?” I ask, trying to keep my tone neutral.
Logan wipes the sweat from his brow with a towel, nodding. “What’s up?”
I hesitate, unsure how to broach the subject. Finally, I just rip off the bandage. “There’s an article going around about you. About…your past.”
His expression tightens, and for a moment, I think he’s going to walk away. But then he sighs, dropping the towel onto the bench. “Let me guess. The ex?”
I nod. “People are talking, Logan. And I know it’s none of my business, but…I thought you should know.”
He leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. Oh, great. Strong arms. Fantastic. My brain, apparently, has decided that now is the time to notice that. I shake the thought away immediately—first of all, I do not like him. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. And second, we are talking about something serious here, not fantasizing about—ugh, never mind. I refocus as he exhales, tension tightening his jaw. “It’s not exactly new. The media’s been dragging that story out for years. Half of it’s not even true.”
“Then why don’t you correct them?” I ask, crossing my arms. “If it’s not true, shouldn’t people know what really happened?”
He shrugs, his gaze fixed on the floor. “What’s the point? People believe what they want to believe. Fighting it just makes it worse.”
“That’s a pretty defeatist attitude,” I say, and he looks up sharply, his eyes meeting mine.
“What do you want me to say, Lucy? That I’m perfect? That I’ve never screwed up? I’m not. But this? The stuff with my ex? Most of that wasn’t even about me. She made a career out of our breakup. She sold our story to tabloids like it was some kind of reality show plotline. And somehow, I became the villain.”
I blink, taken aback by the raw frustration in his voice. He looks at me, his eyes filled with something close to exhaustion. “I’m not saying I was perfect. I wasn’t around as much as I should’ve been—hockey had me traveling constantly. But she knew that going in. She…twisted everything, made it all public. It was humiliating. I didn’t even know how to fight back.”
His honesty catches me off guard, and for a moment, I don’t know how to respond. The vulnerability in his words stirs something in me—a mix of empathy and guilt for how quickly I once judged him. I see now how much weight he carries, not just from the rumors, but from the unfair expectations people have placed on him. It makes me wonder how often he’s had to stand alone against it all. Finally, I say, “I don’t think anyone expects you to be perfect. But maybe…letting people see the real you isn’t such a bad thing.”
Logan studies me for a long moment, then nods. “I’ll think about it.”
That evening, I’m back at the shelter, going over adoption records with Emma. She’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, a clipboard balanced on her knee.
“You’ve been quiet,” she says, glancing up at me. “Is this about that stuff going around about Logan?”
“Just…Logan,” I admit, sitting back in my chair. “The stuff about his ex is all over the place, and people are quick to believe the worst. But the more I get to know him, the more I feel like there’s more to him than what people say.”
Emma smiles. “You’re right. He’s not the kind of person who lets people in easily, but when he does? It’s worth it.” Her words linger with me, nudging a realization I’ve been avoiding. Logan’s guardedness isn’t a wall meant to shut people out—it’s a shield built over time, layer by layer, to protect himself. And the more I think about it, the more I understand why Emma’s faith in him feels so steady—it’s based on seeing the person he is, not the image others have painted.
Her words give me a lot to think about as I finish my work for the day. By the time I lock up the shelter, the sun is setting, casting the town in shades of gold and amber.
Sitting on my porch later that evening, I sip a cup of tea and watch the moon rise. The cool night air is soothing, but my thoughts are anything but. Logan’s words from earlier replay in my mind, along with Emma’s advice and Kate’s teasing.
My phone buzzes, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s a text from Logan. My heart skips slightly, a mix of curiosity and anticipation taking hold as I unlock my phone to read his message.
Thanks for the talk today. I appreciate it.
Simple, but it leaves my heart doing a strange little flip in my chest. I type out a response, then hesitate, deleting it. Finally, I settle on something casual.
Anytime. Let me know if you want to talk more.
As I set my phone down, I can’t help but smile. Whatever this is between us, it’s growing. And for the first time in a long time, I’m not scared to see where it might lead.