Page 20

Chapter 20

Logan

It's early December, on a cloudy and cold Wednesday morning. We're training hard, preparing for the chaos of the traveling and special games happening this month. We can't lose any more games, if we want to secure a spot in the playoffs.

It will be an important month. I can feel it in my bones.

Rain starts falling in the early afternoon. My shirt sticks to my skin, but I don't mind. Some of the guys wear their hoodies, but I welcome the cold. I've been running hot of late. To the point that the last time I spent significant time with Evie, I almost let it slip that I remember the time we shared a few years ago.

I'm ready for her to remember.

I purse my lips and throw the ball. Dom catches it beautifully. I celebrate by shoulder checking the players nearby. I even come close to smiling, but I will only do that if we make it to the playoffs.

And if Evie keeps being adorable, trying to steal a grin from me. I'm not sure how long I'll be able to stop it. Just like I might let it slip that we had a one-night-stand .

Fuck. I think about her all the time. I want her to know I remember, and see in how many ways I can refresh her mind. The only problem is that it means I lost the game, the one where I push until she breaks and lets it slip herself.

Except telling her might be how I win the game. How I control how it happens. I'm not sure I can keep going with life without acknowledging she offered to mark me, too.

I'm thinking about it too much.

Maybe that has something to do with how Evie materializes at the edge of the practice field.

I catch her standing there and shifting from side to side, hugging herself in the rain.

I frown. With a quick hand sign, I let my coach know I need a break, and I jog to her. The closer I come, the clearer the picture becomes. Her hair is in the same bun at the nape of her neck she wears sometimes, but a few wet tendrils are glued to her temples. Tiny drops catch in her hair. Her make up hasn't run, but her chest— Fuck, she's wearing that pretty white blouse with a subtle sheen to it. Only it's almost see-through at the time.

"Where's your jacket?" I ask.

"Hello, I'm cold but fine, thank you. And you?"

"Hi, Evie. Yes, Evie. You're wonderful, but you're wearing a dark bra under this blouse, aren't you?"

"What?!" She looks down at herself and gasps. "Shit!"

I grab her by the arm. Her skin is slick with water. We stop by my bag, where I rummage for my hoodie.

"Take this," I say. "Did you forget what the water does to white tops?"

"I wasn't thinking about it when I came outside!" She slides her arms through the sleeves. "If I didn't think to bring my jacket even though it's winter, what makes you think I thought of my blouse?"

The movement jostles her breasts like she's shaking them to my face, and I bite back a groan .

I grab the zipper and pull it up her body. I need to clear the image out of my mind, and all it brings back. Like me tearing her shirt off, to find that dark bra and getting rid of it to fill my hands with her and finding ink—

Fuck. I say the first thing that comes to mind.

"Zip up and wear this until you're back in your office. Seriously, Evie? You're going to catch a cold. The shirt is stuck to your skin and I can see everything."

With a little imagination, I can see her nipples going hard and dark and visible through her clothes. I could bend down and suck—

"Damn it." I grind my teeth, aware that I'm cursing to myself more than to her.

I bite the words I want to say back, because it's the game we play and I—

And I…

I'm done playing it.

I want the rules to change.

Fuck it.

I'm changing the rules. I'm taking control again.

I stare into her eyes. "Next thing, and everyone will know you have a tattoo."

She stills.

Neither of us moves. Rain falls on us, but I wait for her response.

"Logan…"

My heart beats faster than it did during practice.

"What tattoo?" she asks in a small voice.

I release the zipper and straighten up. The hoodie is long on her, but her full hips stretch the blue material. I lick my bottom lip and stare into her eyes.

"Don't you know?" My voice is deep, only for her. "I remember everything."

Her mouth opens. Her eyes widen. She doesn't say a thing.

If she's running through my words and trying to find hidden meanings in them, I don't like it.

I lift a single finger to the appropriate general area. It hovers at the spot of soft skin, a few inches below the center of her chest, where ink marks her.

"A small sun," I say. "Pretty, if memory serves me right. "

She gasps and, next thing I know, she's unzipping the hoodie like she's ready to take it off and maybe burn it in a pyre.

"What are you doing?" I stop her before she can fully release the metal pieces. "You need it."

"It's your hoodie! With your name on the back, isn't it?"

"That's what you care about right now?"

She's the one to hold me from the arm this time. She takes me further away from everyone.

"When did you remember?" Her voice is shrill and she's shivering, but that could be the remnants of standing in the cold rain for a while.

"Six years ago," I say. "A bar. You watch me from afar and then proposition me—"

"Oh my God." She hugs herself again and stares at the grass at our feet. "When did you remember?!"

"Really, Evie? Since the start. I never forgot about you."

Her eyes snap back to me. "And you didn't tell me?"

"I didn't know if you remembered. You never said anything and, believe me, I've paid attention. I've poked. I've waited. But I'm done pretending. Now I learn you've remembered this whole time. Damn, Evie."

"I figured out who you were when I came to work for the Strike— I've seen your face a thousand times since. Then you came to the team. I remember! Of course I remember."

"You could have reached out."

I grind my teeth. I hate that she didn't.

She shakes her head. "We shouldn't talk about this here. Or ever. There are a million things we need to talk about, and none of them are about our one-night-stand years ago."

"We should talk about it. You never planned to tell me, did you?"

A weight settles on my chest to imagine, but it's like she doesn't hear me .

Her eyes are wide open with worry. "I had a call with your agent, and I heard from Selena, and they want me at the gala—"

She's rambling. She's anxious.

I push my feelings away and put my hands on her shoulders.

Why does this bother her so much?

"It's fine." I try to catch her eyes but she evades me. "We're fine. We'll tackle things one at a time."

"No." Her head snaps back up, her chin high. "I'll tackle them. You'll get my emails, and you'll answer them."

"It's been good between us. Nothing has to change just because we both remember we've had sex."

"Keep quiet! No one can know. Especially when there's so much talk already about us being together— I shouldn't be wearing your name on my back."

She tries to undo the zipper again, and I stop her once more.

"It's not my jersey," I argue, her hands in mine so she can't take off the blue piece of clothing. "And you need it."

Her hands are cold.

"No need to panic, Evie."

"Easy for you to say!" She pulls away, but she doesn't try to take off the hoodie so I let her. "Fuck this. I'll send you everything in an email. Don't ignore it."

She still doesn't take off the hoodie when she turns away, so I let her go.

I stand on grass, rain falling over me, and I watch her walk away. I'm nailed in place, breathing deep and questioning what comes next. Why I am trembling like she did, to see my name on her back.

Only three words form in my mind.

This isn't over.

My day doesn't improve once I make it to the locker room. I drop onto the chair by my cubby, and it creaks with the force of it. The space smells of sweat and cleaning products, and the first scent of steam and soap coming from the showers.

I close my eyes and groan. For once, my frown has been so tight that it's threatening to cramp. Perhaps it's time to ask a physio for the right way to massage those muscles. I'm going to need it, if I'm going to keep thinking about Evie this much.

Fuck, she drives me wild. I keep wanting to do things to her, with her. For her. I keep wanting to learn all the things she doesn't tell anyone else. I want to run my fingertips over her tattoo. Everywhere, really. Every time I say her name, a feeling comes with it— frustration, irritation. Playfulness. Doubts. Desire. Curiosity. Meanwhile, she panics at the mere thought of acknowledging we've been together.

I grind my teeth and rub my face. I'm losing my cool around her, and I can't afford that.

"Hey there, King." Saint sits on the chair next to me, his friendly smile subdued for once.

The rest of the guys stand around us. Bear, Dom, Damián, even Rafa sits on his chair in the cubby next to mine, and watches the conversation about to unfurl.

If the quiet, hard to pin down Rafa is involved, this is a serious conversation.

My eyes narrow. "What's going on?"

"Just a chat." One of Saint's dimples makes an appearance. "We noticed Evie wearing your hoodie."

"Is she going to be wearing your jersey at a game next?" Dom asks.

I straighten on my chair and cross my arms. "She was cold in the rain. I don't know about the rest."

Damián cocks his head. "Did you know people online are convinced you two are dating?"

"I am aware." I frown. "We're not. We're… coworkers. Friends."

The last word makes it through my teeth .

"She stormed off the field today," Saint argues. "It looked a bit more serious than that."

"Are you surprised that I said something to make her angry?" I ask. "You wouldn't be staging an intervention if you thought I'm an angel."

It stings, but I get it. They have always made it clear, they adore Evie.

"That's not the full picture," Bear says. His big, tattooed arms are crossed, and they look even bigger. Like a shield.

I raise an eyebrow and wait for them to explain more.

"It's not that we don't get it," Saint adds. "We all understand the appeal of a full figured woman."

All five of them nod.

Saint purses his lips. "But it's Evie… and it's you."

"It has that classic Beauty and the Beast thing going," Damián says.

I take it I'm the Beast.

"We are not dating." My nostrils flare.

Saying that shouldn't bother me as much as it does.

Rafa watches me with understanding eyes. "But you wish you were?"

I purse my lips and say nothing. Even if I know exactly what they're going to think that means.

"It's not that we have a say in that." Saint shrugs. "It's that we care about the two of you."

My frown deepens. I expected them to be protective over Evie, and tell me to stay away. I would hate every second of it, but I would accept the meddling. It meant she had people in her corner, and I appreciate it. Having them include me was unexpected.

"We don't want her hurt," Saint says. "And we like you. We'd like to see you…"

"Happy?" Damián says. "Is there a happy frown we might see one day?"

I snort, and my brow relaxes somewhat.

"You say you're not dating. She says the same." Rafa's deep voice manages to be quiet. "Just be careful, for both of your sakes. "

"You've gotten her to do things we couldn't," Dom adds. "She gets you talking and as close to smiling as we've ever seen."

"It looks good on both of you." Damián smiles.

When I say her name these days, I come close to having butterflies in my stomach. Dammit.

"Even if dating isn't in the picture…" Bear lets the words hang until I stare at him. "Be careful as a friend."

I barely have time to nod when a feminine voice comes to us from the hall.

"Uhm… is Saint in there somewhere?"

The wide receiver scrambles off the chair. "Ames?"

"Can I come in?" she asks from around the corner.

"Cover yourselves, lads!" Saint calls and he jogs away to her.

Damián slaps my shoulders a few times and the group disbands. At other times in my life, I would have been pissed by being warned like this. For once, the conversation settles warm on my chest. They said they care about me, too.

All the work I've put into creating bonds with the guys is slowly coming to fruition.

Their concern for Evie helps, too. I would want to protect her if she started dating someone as serious as me. Beauty and the Beast, indeed.

"Here you go, QB." Ames shows up next to me and offers me one of her smoothies.

She's not usually the one delivering our drinks after training, but today she's here carrying a cooler behind her.

"Thank you," I say. "What's the mix today?"

Saint stands next to her, drinking from his smoothie all casual… except for his eyes. They're glued to Amelia. Huh.

She doesn't seem to notice. "Peanut butter delight. It has coconut milk as well, chia seeds, berries, banana, spices… you know, all the good stuff for pro athletes."

I take a whiff— I smell the peanuts and coconut milk, banana and berries. I taste it, and the hint of cinnamon bursts on my tongue .

"Mmh, It's good," I say.

"Thanks," she smiles. "I have to go deliver the rest, before I kidnap Saint for dinner with my brother. He surprised us both with a quick fly by in town."

We say bye and Ames walks away. Saint is about to follow when I stop him.

"Is she single?" I ask.

His frown competes with the best of mine. "No. She has a long-term boyfriend. Why do you want to know?"

I shrug. "Just putting two and two together. Suddenly wondering about your love life."

His eyes narrow but Saint doesn't add much.

"Didn't you just ask about Evie?" I raise an eyebrow. "Then give me a whole speech about it?"

"Revenge doesn't suit you, King," Saint says, before punching my shoulder and walking away.

I'm about to laugh, when the ping I set for Evie's emails comes from my pocket.

When I read her email, all humor evaporates.