“Oh, cool.” He brightens a bit as he looks over at her, but then his expression falls again. “Coach says I need to bulk up if I want to play, so even if I get better at passing, it doesn’t matter. I’m too small.”
I wonder if that’s the root of his problems—something he can’t easily change. He needs a different way to look at things. “Use your size to your advantage,” I tell him with all the confidence of someone who knows what he’s talking about. (I don’t.) “You may not be as strong as your opponents, but you can be faster if you stop letting your doubts get in your way.” I lean in and grin, like I’m about to tell him a massive secret. “They can’t stop you if they can’t catch you.”
Blaze gives me a hesitant smile, and for a split second, I’m looking at Bean instead of my half-brother, and a rock settles heavy in my stomach. How many times have l told my teammate that he’s holding himself back? Too many to count. But I haven’t said it in a way that’s actually helpful. Bean is anexceptionally talented wing and built for speed, but French Roast and Moxie are right. Something’s getting in his way.
Unless I know what that something is—what the root issue is—nothing I say is ever going to help him.
“Uh, thanks,” Blaze says, and there’s more energy in his steps as he crosses the last bit of grass to grab a wrap.
And because my eyes follow him, my gaze eventually lands on Savannah, who’s watching me with a crease between her eyebrows. I can’t tell if she’s angry, but I reckon I just betrayed her trust in the worst possible way.
So, naturally I make my way back over to her instead of heading to my car like I should. Why not make things worse? “Looks like they enjoyed the food,” I mutter when I reach her side.
She glares at me. “Remember what I told you ten minutes ago?”
“That I’m a grown man?”
“Logan.”
“What did you say to him?” Kacen asks before I can respond. His eyes are on his brother, who’s grinning as he chats with another teammate and eats his burrito. Blaze looks lighter than he did before, and his bullies don’t look pleased by that as they mutter to each other several meters away.
I shrug. “Some tips about his game.”
Kacen’s gaze returns to me, sharp and discerning in a way that makes me nervous. Does he know who I am? But he answers my unspoken question with his own. “Who are you really?”
Savannah steps forward, putting her hand on my arm. “Logan’s my friend, like he said.”
That’s the second time she’s called me that but the first time she’s touched me since showing up, and for a moment, all I can think about is the fact that she’sstilltouching me. Willingly.In front of people.
“Don’t you have practice, Logan?”
Savannah’s question knocks some sense into me, also knocking me back a step and breaking the connection between us.Which is good, I remind myself.Space is good. “Right,” I say, though it’s more of a grunt. And because I apparently need to make this whole afternoon nice and awkward, I reach my hand out to Savannah to give her ahandshake. Like I didn’t come far too close to kissing her last week after she spent a solid five minutes on my lap. Halfway through the motion I change my mind, lifting my hand to my hair instead, but that turns out to be a bigger mistake than the handshake.
Pain shoots through my bruised shoulder, sharp enough that I wince and suck in a breath through my teeth. I curse and drop my arm, but there’s no hiding my reaction.
Savannah frowns at me with an intensity that I feel deep in my chest. “Are you hurt, Logan?”
“Golden.”
She doesn’t believe me—of course she doesn’t—and as if she needs to prove that I’m lying, she grabs my arm and tugs it forward.
The curse that slips off my tongue is a lot louder than the last one. “What the devil was that for?” I growl, wanting to tear my arm from her grip but worried she’ll hold on and make things worse.
“I saw that hit you took on Friday.” She narrows her eyes. “Should you be going to practice when you’re injured?”
While I should answer her question—I’ve never missed a day of practice in my life, and I’m only bruised, notinjured—I get stuck on the first thing she said. “You saw the hit?” It turns out the spitfire has done more than figure out what position I play, and any other thoughts in my head scramble. “Were you at the match, Savannah?”
“Logan, you’re—”
“Answer the question, love.” For some reason, I need to know if she was in the stands, watching me the same way I’ve been watching her.
She clenches her teeth as well as the hand not holding mine, standing tall and strong as she always does. “I asked you first,mate. And don’t tell me it’s nothing because you barely reacted when my cat sunk his claws into your arm, so this must be a whole lot worse. You’re really hurt, aren’t you?”
While I’m vaguely aware of several pairs of eyes fixed on us, including those of my half-brother, I hardly care. Not when something warm pools in my belly as I stare into Savannah’s concerned green eyes. Maybe I like her more than I realized, and there’s a chance I’m about to answer her question.
And that’s dangerous.
Chapter 10
