“I deleted my socials on the plane after reading a few comments. Nothing anyone is saying is good or kind or even civil, to be honest. It’s mostly terrible.”
“There’s a reason I don’t manage my accounts.” His smile is replaced with a frown. “You shouldn’t be reading that shit. The really bad comments are just people who are miserable fucks in general. It’s not you. It’s their very existence. Those people’s opinions aren’t worth knowing.”
“I get that now, yeah. From now on, I’m going to pretend my socials don’t exist.”
Which isn’t completely true. I told Tamiko that if Logan agreed to her plan, she could have access to my accounts to post and do whatever else is necessary to keep her plan moving ahead. But I’m not reading or interacting with any of it.
“I don’t like any of this,” he says, “if I’m being honest. There’s a difference between not hiding and courting the bullshit.” He meets my gaze. “And I really don’t like that you came because she asked you to, not because you wanted to.”
“We jumped into this without thinking it all through, and that’s my fault. I know better. I don’t want you suffering the consequences.”
“You’re always so fucking worried about everyone else. You just said in the car you weren’t sure you were cut out for all this attention.”
I give a little shrug because I can’t deny any of it.
“So then why?”
Because I haven’t been this happy in months. Because I don’t want your association with me to hurt your career. Because I don’t want Dalton to win, in any way.
“I think Tamiko is right. The focus on us might get a little loud, but then it’ll quiet down as people get used to us and something else steals their attention. Then we can just exist, like we should have been able to do if I’d been more strategic from the start.”
Logan puts his elbows on his knees and steeples his hands to prop up his chin, deep in thought. I’m not sure what else to say, so I keep quiet.
“I need to call my agent and my manager,” Logan says, sliding his phone out of his pocket. “If this has actual career implications—even if it’s just endorsement deals—I should understand my decision. You’re right. We didn’t think through the public angle.”
The calculated response shouldn’t cause my stomach to drop. I came here to get this version of Logan—the one with new money that needs to protect everything he’s worked so hard to achieve. But I didn’t realize that admitting our relationship is viewed negatively by the public—a negative tied directly to me—would sting. I’ve only added value to someone’s life before.
“Yeah,” I say with a nod, “of course.”
He takes his phone into the bathroom, and I hear the lock snap into place. There’s a low murmur of voices behind the door, and I stand for a second, tempted to try to listen.
With a shake of my head, I take out my phone and start making phone calls to double-check that my clients on payment plans or who get their services for free from me are set up with other physiotherapists while I’m gone. Bituin would have done this for me tomorrow, but I like the personal touch. They’ll know I haven’t cast them aside.
When he comes out of the bathroom, his expression and posture are equal parts drained and determined. “My team agrees with Tamiko. We present a strong front and hope the uproar dies out. I haven’t checked what’s been said, and I won’t, but my manager says the team’s socials and mine are a shitshow. Something else will catch people’s attention.” He lets out a deep breath. “You’re staying for this whole run of away games?”
“You talked to Tamiko?”
“Tamiko called my agent. What about your clients?”
“I’m setting them up with other physiotherapists temporarily. I’ve done it before once or twice.”
“They take them on for free too?”
“Bellerive is an expensive country. I wouldn’t ask anyone else to do that.”
“You pay for them to go to someone else? That’s not sustainable.”
“It’s more that the change can disrupt their care.”
“When I asked you to travel with me, you said no.” He’s wandered closer, and he frames my face with his palms, gazing down at me.
“It didn’t seem necessary then.”
“But it does now?”
“I care about you,” I say, “and I let you down by agreeing to be so public in Bellerive.”
“You didn’t let me down.” He drops a kiss on my lips. “Maybe I didn’t understand the fallout, but I wouldn’t have cared. I’d have told them all to go fuck themselves anyway. And I definitely would have told Dalton to get his hands off you. No question.”
