Page 36

CHAPTER 36

LOGAN

I never thought I’d say this but coming out on the other side of the Eagles series feels more monumental than winning the World Series, and yet it doesn’t solve anything. My brother is still a piece of shit who has now aired all my dirty laundry, my team knows it, and I can’t ever face Rosalina Mena again—and it’s not because she saw my embarrassing game boxers.

Oh, and my ex agent keeps calling me like some kind of ex girlfriend who still wants a piece of me.

I’m trying to jog on the treadmill at the Orlando Wild gym and Kaplan keeps blowing up my phone. For the nth time, I click the red button instead of picking up the call.

“Dude, why don’t you block him?” Rivera asks on my right, panting as he runs uphill.

On my left, Starr suggests, “Or turn off your phone, at least. The buzzing is so annoying.”

My upper lip trembles like a wolf about to start snarling. “It’s way more fun for him to know I’m expressly rejecting every call.”

“Oof.”

“Cold.”

From the treadmill on Starr’s left, Machado chimes in, “What are you gonna do now that you need a new agent? Because I can recommend mine, she’s awesome and really ambitious.”

“I can recommend mine too,” Starr says, also panting like a dog in his thirty fifth minute of running. “He’s a cranky son of a gun, but he has ethics.”

“I don’t recommend mine,” Rivera adds with a laugh. “The old grump’s retiring any time soon, so I’ll be on the market for a new one too.”

Kaplan calls again. This time I let it ring for a good moment longer, click on the green button and when the faint sound of his tinny voice comes up, I hang up.

“Remind me never to incite your petty side.” Rivera clicks his tongue.

Petty? I snort. That falls short. I’m litigious, baby.

The reason Kaplan is calling non-stop is because he violated the non-disclosure clause of our contract and my lawyer has already reached out to him. I’m not just on the hunt for a new agent, but also for everything Kaplan owns or cares about. That’s what he gets after babbling my shit to the worst possible person.

I wonder if it would’ve made a difference at all if I’d been clearer with Kaplan about why I’m not close with my relatives, or if he would’ve betrayed me anyway. I’ve never wanted to run that risk with him or anyone in my life, but even that is all jumbled up.

Rose knows everything. Or almost everything. She doesn’t know about the scars that my tattoos cover up or about the claustrophobia and the panic attacks. But she knows more about my parents and my brother than I ever even told Kaplan. And even though she’s thankfully not involved with me and there’s no contract binding us, she still hasn’t betrayed my confidence.

Kaplan has no excuse. I shouldn’t have had to tell him my whole sob story for him to uphold our contract.

“I’m still curious about something, though,” the pitcher mumbles, side-eying me. “You confirmed that you were planning a trade but now you’re staying. What about Rose, though?”

I tense and ask through gritted teeth, “What about her?”

“Is you dating her really a publicity stunt?”

Shit. I can feel all their eyes on me. Maybe even the whole gym’s attention.

It’s rest day before a home series and at least half of the team is taking it easy, training at home or joining in late. But for three days I’ve been the center of attention and I hate it. I can’t wait for someone else to do something ridiculous soon and hog all the limelight.

I huff hard enough for the lone strand of hair sticking to my face to fly. “Yeah…”

“ What ?”

“No way!”

“But you two look like, so in love.” Machado scrunches up his face in confusion. “Even my daughter asked me why can’t I have what you two have.”

I cringe. “We don’t have anything. It’s all an act.”

“My ass,” Starr declares boldly. “I recognize those slobbery looks on y’all’s faces because that’s the way I look at Hope myself.”

“Can confirm.” Rivera nods. “You look just as done for when you glance at Rose as Cade does with Hope.”

“I do not.” I frown at them in turns, but they’re just amused. “Seriously, I don’t. There’s nothing going on.”

“Let’s test it then.” Machado points to the opposite side.

We all turn right as Rose struts into the place with a smile that’s bigger and more blinding than the billboards at Times Square. My feet stumble and I have to catch myself by grabbing the handrails before I lose all my dental work. The jerks around me notice right away and start snickering like this is middle school.

“Good morning, Wildlings.” Rose puts her hands on her hips and I notice that she’s wearing some short leggings. Or shorts. I don’t know what they are, but they’re tight, above her knee, and show off her amazing hips. “I’ve been sent down by my boss to take some thirst traps. Who volunteers?”

“Me!” One of the guys by the weights rack raises his hand.

“No, me!”

“Pick me!”

“You guys, Kim has dibs,” Rivera says over the commotion.

But then one of our teammates fires back with, “No, he doesn’t. He’s not really Rosie’s boyfriend.”

And her smile falters.

I punch the button to slow my treadmill the hell down until I’m able to step off. I push that rogue strand of hair behind my ear and stalk toward the nearest machine, which is the pullup bar. The best part is how my back is to Rose so I don’t have to see her get flirted with by the vultures. Gnashing my teeth, I grab onto the handles, cross my legs at my ankles, and go to town.

We haven’t talked ever since she kissed my cheek and I had to go off to play a game. Neither of us has reached out to the other. There have been no chance encounters in the facilities. And now that the ruse is up with the team, I take it as my cue to go back to how things were before the publicity stunt.

We’re perfect strangers.

It makes my chest all weird, like I’m missing a lung or something.

Yeah, I understand what’s happening. I’m not a clown like Rivera or Starr. I have a thing for Rose, one that’s deep enough that I can’t stop thinking about her. A thing that’s as loud as the roar of a lion.

But then I remember how my parents talked about her. And how Lewis pushed her around like it was no big deal—like scaring her was fun. And then I remember the look of shock and anger and hurt in her face, and the fact that she tried to hide the bruise on her chest. Then that roar turns into a pitiful little mewl.

I can’t put her through that again. And if I’m not going to grow a pair and ask her out, I have no right to feel as jealous as I am.

“Hey, Lucky. Is it okay if I get a shot of your butt?” Rose asks nearby and I swear I could rip this bar off the machine and slam it on Rivera’s head.

“Shouldn’t you be getting some good shots from Kim?” he asks instead, preserving the integrity of his skull. “We may know what’s what, princesa, but the public doesn’t know yet.”

“Uh…”

“Also, look at him.” Starr pauses before saying, “His clothes are so skimpy, he’s the perfect thirst trap right now.”

“You know, I hadn’t noticed but it’s true. That’s a really skimpy tank top. You should definitely snap that, it’ll go viral,” is Machado’s contribution.

Skimpy?

Are these—and here I interrupt my train of thought to grimace—are these fools trying to help me or humiliate me even more?

“I’m—” about to tell them to screw all the way off to the sun when Rose speaks.

“Is it okay?”

I pause in the middle of a pullup and glance back at her. “What?”

“If I take some footage of you?” she asks me, her expression devoid of any hint of excitement.

“Fine,” I grunt, returning my focus to my workout.

“Make sure to get his lats,” Rivera instructs. “What with him showcasing them and all that.”

I’m wearing one of those tanks that are basically open on the sides. I like them because they help me cool down faster, especially in this muggy Central Florida summer from hell.

“Thanks, Lucky. Any other must-have angles?” Rose sounds amused.

The alluded hums from his throat. “The arms, I guess. Women like those.”

“Just get the whole man in frame,” says Starr. “Women like all that .”

“Are you objectifying me?” I ask with a grunt that sounds pained.

“Not gonna lie, maybe a little,” he responds without shame.

With a huff, I hop off the machine. By this point my face is drenched in sweat and I lift my tank top to wipe it off. The stooges—all three of them, now including Machado—start wolf whistling and I turn to glare them down. Except that makes it all worse.

Because Rose has her camera trained on me the whole time. And the camera lowers to my midriff. Which is bare right now.

“Now that’s just too much.” Rivera is in stitches as he waves his hands in the air. “That’s just gonna melt the internet.”

“Hmm.” Machado runs his hands over his stomach. “I think I need to go on a diet.”

“Dude, no.” Starr smacks Machado’s chest with the back of his hand. “We need all the power you already have.”

“That kinda muscle would probably give me more power,” Machado muses.

Since my laser beams have turned completely ineffective on that new terrible trio, I turn my attention to Rose again. She’s still recording me, all right, her camera fully trained on the goods.

But so are her eyes. Like, they’re not fixed on the footage but on the real thing.

“Should I just take it off?” I mutter, and I think my question gets lost among the ruckus of the guys, but then her eyes lift to mine.

And she bites her lip like she’s mulling it over.

Okay, I mean it when I said I’m not a clown. I know that she finds me attractive. I know I could play that up—try to get her interested. But that would be a copout and it would still lead to the same outcome.

That she’s better off without me.

Finally, she shakes her head. “No, I think that really would break the internet.”

Nodding, I drop my shirt. “Are we done here?”

“What? Already?” Rivera complains.

“Actually…” Rose hesitates. And she never does that. My eyebrows pinch as she takes a cautious step toward me. “Can we talk after work?”

I have trouble unsticking my lips but somehow I manage. “Me?”

“Yeah, I—” She clears her throat. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

My heart does a thing. Like it attempts a cartwheel but sinks, because her expression has turned all weird and I don’t think it’s because my abs are still affecting her. So I nod and after returning the gesture, she transforms back into happy-go-lucky-Rose.

“C’mon, you guys, show me your abs,” she jokes to the other three.

I swivel around right away before any of them can see the volcanic annoyance on my face. I don’t even know what the conversation topic will be, but the fact that it has to do with me and how it sours her entire demeanor rankles.

Meanwhile, she’s all smiles and sunshine for the others.

Chopped damn liver, I am, and the sooner I come to terms with it the better.