Kennedy Caplan
Good thing you wouldn’t be buying them for yourself!!
But yes, you can call me later. Enjoy dinner, baby cakes!
The steakhouse is loud and packed, the team spread across several pushed-together tables. I end up between Logan and Tyler, who still gets a wide-eyed look when the veterans talk.
The conversation flows easily while we eat, and Logan doesn’t even mention my relationship until dessert.
And I only have myself to blame for the scrutiny since I broke down and sent a message to Kennedy. In my defense, I got fed up with the team raving about the brownie sundae and wanted toknow if she had a gluten-free recipe for something similar. Her response was a meme I don’t understand but I think means yes.
“How are things going with your lady love?” he asks with a smile so wide it borders on creepy. “Scale of one to ten: How does she make you feel? One is there are butterflies in your stomach, but they’re still in chrysalises, and ten is there are so many butterflies going haywire that you want to throw up.”
I take a sip of my whiskey, reminding myself that nonchalant isn’t a word in Logan’s vocabulary. “Things are good.”
“Good isn’t a number on the scale,” he argues, shifting his attention. “Cole? Care to weigh in?”
Our captain looks up from his spoonful of ice cream, brows drawn together. “Last time I checked, I was dating Maya, not Kennedy.”
“Maya and Kennedy are besties, and girls gossip,” Logan points out, as if he himself isn’t the world’s biggest gossip.
“If you think I’m telling you shit my girl tells me in confidence, you’re nuts.” Cole tosses me a wink. “But if I ever were to reveal anything… I’d second Cameron’s sentiment.”
Logan lifts his glass of wine like he’s proposing a toast. “Thank God. She’s way better than Gigi the Gaslighter. Hotter, smarter, nicer…”
Irritation surges through me and I grit my teeth. “Don’t fucking compare them. Ever.”
He jerks back, eyes going wide and holding his free hand up in surrender. “I didn’t—sorry.”
“I think what he meant is that you’re one of the good ones,” Jake intervenes, playing referee. “And he’s glad you found someone who sees that.”
Guilt twists in my stomach, because I think maybe Kennedydoessee that. But what we have is a mutually beneficial arrangement that’s supposed to make our lives easier while not leading anywhere.
“Your ex is Gigi Sanders?” Tyler asks, his voice low. “Greg Sanders’s granddaughter?”
“Otherwise known as the girl who hangs around the locker room like a stage-five clinger and eye-fucks Cameron?” Logan answers for me. “Why yes, she is.”
Tyler’s gaze darts to the management table at the end and back again, a concerned look on his face.
My heart rate skyrockets. “Why?” I set down my drink, attempting to keep my voice level.
With a grimace, he shifts in his seat. “I overheard her talking to a reporter a little bit ago. Last week, I think.”
Our section of the table goes silent. Beside me, Logan’s wineglass hovers halfway to his mouth.
“About?” Jake prompts when Tyler doesn’t continue.
“She—” He glances at me apologetically. “Look, maybe I misheard her.”
“What’d she say?” My jaw locks, the muscles twitching.
He exhales. “She implied she still has…access. Like, she kept mentioning you and how your relationship gives her insight into team dynamics and locker room culture.”
My vision goes red. “We don’t have a relationship.”
I don’t realize how tightly I’m gripping a stray steak knife until Cole gently tugs it from my hand.
It’s not like I was going to stab the kid.
