“I see he isveryconfident,” Radek says. “Actually, the whole WHL sees this now. That fancy goal, just to get some—”
“Donotgo there. You already know I’m not taking any shit where she’s concerned,” Logan practically growls. “Don’t you need to catch the bus?”
“Are you twocoming… on the bus?” He raises his eyebrows and gives us a cheeky smile.
“Tamiko got us a car,” I say. She wants Logan and me seen together as much as possible, but after the show he put on without even realizing it, that might be more than enough. “Coach Keller is aware.”
“And traveling tomorrow?” Radek asks.
“I’ll be on the bus and the plane,” Logan says. “Doc’s gotta get back to the people who need her.”
My stomach swoops low. There’s no hesitation. He’s not holding out for a different answer, a chance to persuade me in private to stay longer. To demand more than I’ve told him I want to give. A more perfect response couldn’t exist.
And yet, at least this time, it’s not true. Since I don’t know what else to do, I’m going to trust Tamiko’s plan. My instincts aren’t reliable.
Logan takes my hand and leads us out of the arena behind Radek and several of the other players. At the player exit, crowds line the barriers, and there are so many phones pointed at us that I’m even more glad I deleted all my social media apps on the plane. As though he can read my thoughts, Logan squeezes my hand.
When I glance at him, he doesn’t say a word, but he holds my gaze, pouring his own confidence and certainty right into my veins. And if I hadn’t read the comments earlier, I might not even need his steady, silent support. But someone in this crowd or the fans in the arena will post something, and people will tear me down. From my age to my clothing to my weight to… well, anything, really. Once people get into a hate spiral, nothing is off-limits.
I’ve seen it in action in Bellerive, but I’ve never been the target.
He guides me to the car waiting behind the bus, and after we’ve both slid into the back, I let out a whoosh of air.
“I’m not sure I’m meant to be in a relationship with someone so high profile.”
“On the island, you’re the famous one.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” I turn to face him as the car pulls away from the arena. “I’d say we’re equals there.”
“You’ve got deep ties. Sometimes it feels like the island is one giant small town. Gossip fucking central.”
He’s not wrong. The island of Bellerive has a population of a small city—thousands and thousands of people—but due to the country’s strict immigration laws to avoid overpopulation or a housing crisis, a lot of citizens are six degrees of separation or less from each other.
“I’m just not used to this,” I say. “The intensity is different.” While the extended Tucker family might have a spotty reputation on the island, I’ve only ever been written about in a positive light. A privilege I obviously took for granted. Be a good person, people will see you as a good person.
“The only people who matter are the ones in this car right now.” He raises my hand and kisses the back of it.
At the hotel, Logan leads the way up to his room. He paid the bellhop at the door to bring my bags up “in an hour or so.”
My stomach flutters with nerves when the hotel room door closes behind us, and Logan’s arms cage me in against the wall. He peers at me for a beat, as though trying to memorize this moment—and I recognize that feeling. It’s one I have a lot too. This need to cling onto whatever this is, to how being with him makes me feel, to squeeze every ounce of positivity out of each moment.
“Fuck, you make me happy,” he murmurs, and then he kisses me deeply.
Instead of breaking it off, telling him we need to talk, I give into my desire to be close. Maybe we were just together this morning, but the separation was a lifetime the minute my frontdoor clicked shut. When we’re together, time sprints, and when we’re apart, I’m running marathons until I’m with him again.
With my arms wrapped around his neck, I let him carry me deeper into the hotel suite. Guilt niggles at me when my phone buzzes in my purse, and I wonder if it’s Tamiko. Pretending I came because I couldn’t be away from him is dishonest, even if it’s actually incredibly honest. There’s nowhere else I want to be than in this room with him, but I wouldn’t be here without Tamiko’s visit.
“We should talk,” I murmur between kisses.
“Now?”
“I think now is important,” I admit.
He sets me down and steps back. Immediate space, which I usually love. He figured out quickly that any attempt to negotiate put my guard up superhigh, and he’s stopped doing it.
His gaze shutters, as though I’ve flicked the “off” switch on his emotions. It would be unnerving if I didn’t understand thatthisishisinstinct. As soon as he’s out of his comfort zone, he shuts down. The only time that’s not true is when whatever has pushed him to the brink is a physical task—then he doubles down, works harder, digs in.
Emotions, though? I’m noticing he’s more guarded—the shields go up—especially if he senses any uncertainty about our relationship from me. We tiptoe through each other’s traumas, even if we don’t fully understand them.
