He’s not my brother.
He’s not my boyfriend.
He’s just…Logan.
And he’s wearing Cameron’s CSU shirt like he belongs here.
Logan’s eyes meet mine. “Great job out there,” he says quietly.
My stomach flips.
“Thanks,” I manage.
Pops’s smile turns knowingly smug, and I want to elbow him.
Logan shifts his weight, gaze flicking to Pops. “You need anything?”
Pops waves him off. “I need her to focus so she can win.”
“I will,” I promise automatically, because if I promise it out loud, maybe the universe will listen.
Pops squeezes my hand. “Go play.”
I nod, then turn to jog back down.
Before I go, I glance at Logan again.
He gives me a small nod.
Like:Go. I’ve got him.
My throat tightens.
I sprint back to the court before my emotions can knock me over.
—
We win.
Not by a blowout—by a gritty, fought-for margin that feels like we earned it in blood and sweat. Jade hits a clutch shot. Blakely pulls down a rebound like she’s mad at gravity. I sink two free throws at the end with my hands shaking, but I make them.
The final buzzer sounds, and the gym erupts.
Jade screams in my ear, “BIRTHDAY WIN!”
I laugh breathlessly, adrenaline buzzing through my veins.
Coach hugs me quickly, rare for him, then murmurs, “Good job, Rhodes.”
I nod, still dazed.
The team gathers at half-court for the postgame handshake line. Fans start filing out. Music blares. Someone shouts my name.
But my eyes are already searching the stands again.
Pops is standing—slowly—walker in front of him. Logan is at his side, one hand hovering just behind Pops’s back like a safety net he refuses to admit he’s being.
Pops looks smaller under the fluorescent gym lights.
