“This is a closed facility,” he says, still studying me. “If you’re looking for the ticket office, it’s—”
“Moxie’s my vet,” I choke out. Becausethat’sgoing to help. I clear my throat again and force in a deep breath, telling myself to calm down and be a professional. “Um, I have something I need to tell him, and he didn’t answer his phone.”
Cole’s expression doesn’t soften. “Right, well, he’s off the clock. I’m sure someone at the cliniccan—”
“And Logan Callahan is my client,” I try next, wincing when Cole’s gaze sharpens after being cut off again. I should have started with Logan, since he’s the whole reason I’m here.
Glancing at the door, Cole sighs and folds his arms, looking for all the world like the tired dad I know he is. “Client?”
“Yes, sir. Um.” This would be a perfect time to hand him a business card and bypass Logan entirely, but True Fuel isn’t why I’m here. “I was with Logan a few minutes ago, and I think he’s injured. And hiding it. I came to tell Moxie so Logan doesn’t make the injury worse.”
His head tilts the smallest amount to the side. Though his gaze is still full of suspicion, there’s something else behind his eyes too. “What’s your name?”
“Savannah. Blair.”
I must be dreaming, because I’m pretty sure that’s recognition in Cole’s expression.
Swallowing, I check my phone one more time, but Moxie still hasn’t answered. “Could you tell Moxie about Logan? He hasn’t seen my text, and I’m worried—”
“Worried about Logan being an idiot.” He seems to debate something as he narrows his eyes at me. “Savannah, you said?”
Why do I feel like I’ve said something wrong? With a tremble in my fingers, I grip the strap of my purse and nod. “Um. Yeah.”
“You’re the one who makes meals for him.” It’s not a question, and when I nod, he drops his arms and gestures toward the door. “Follow me.”
“What?” My feet stumble after him of their own accord, though I have no idea why Cole Evanson is letting me into aclosed practice. How does he know about the meals I make for Logan?
“Leave your phone with Katy at the desk.” He punches in a code and pulls the door open, holding it for me. Once I’ve reluctantly handed my phone to the woman sitting at the desk just inside, Cole indicates that I should continue to follow him and says, “What makes you think Callahan’s injured?”
I feel like this is a test I haven’t studied for. He probably won’t take “a gut feeling” as an answer. “The giant bruise on his shoulder was a pretty good giveaway.”
“You must not know rugby if you think a bruise is uncommon.”
“And it causes him a lot of pain to lift his arm.”
Cole swears under his breath as we pass through a second door on the other end of the room and out into an open field full of equipment. No one’s out here, so the team must be inside somewhere. There’s a tunnel on the far side of the field, and that’s where Cole heads. “I wondered if there was more to that hit,” he mutters to himself. Louder, he asks, “Did he say anything about it?”
“He claims he’s fine, but this is Logan we’re talking about.” Do I need to keep following Cole? I’ve said as much as I know, and it would be better if Logan never knows I was here.
Groaning, Cole shakes his head and says something under his breath that sounds a lot like an insult I would never repeat in front of my mother. I’m not sure how to take that, given Cole’s the one who signed Logan onto the team. And Logan is a big part of why the Thunder ever scores in their games.
When we reach the tunnel, Cole marches inside and heads straight for an open door down the hall. He pauses in the doorway as he says, “We’ve got trouble.”
A female voice answers, her words full of exasperation. “Which one is it this time?”
“Take a guess.”
She sighs heavily, and a moment later a woman steps into the hall but stops when she sees me.
“Mel, Savannah,” Cole says, gesturing to me. “Savannah, this is our head trainer, Mel. Tell her what you told me.”
Mel looks like she’s in her late twenties, and while nothing about her appearance is nerve-racking, there’s something in the way she stands that tells me she’s not someone to mess with. I thought Cole was intimidating, but somehow she’s worse. “Um.” Is it too late to run away? “I think, uh, I think Logan’s hiding an injury. After that hit he took on Friday. He told me he’s fine, but he was definitely favoring his left arm earlier today.”
Mel swears, running a hand through her hair. “I knew it. Your wife picked a hell of a day to stay home, Stitch,” she adds in an undertone to Cole.
He shrugs. “It’ll be your call anyway. She can put him in his place tomorrow if you decide he needs a PT.”
“I shouldn’t have believed him when he said he was just sore, but he’s…”
