But the man I just saw in that hallway—the one who looked gutted at the thought of his daughter getting hurt again—that’s not the guy from the tabloids. That’s not a player running game or working an angle.
That’s just a dad trying to protect his kid.
Unless that’s exactly what he wants me to think.
Ugh, I’m exhausting myself.
I check the clock. 7:45. Fifteen minutes until Zayden’s session. I need to get out of my own head.
The weight room is just down the hall, and I can hear music thumping through the door—something with heavy bass that probably violates several noise ordinances. When I push inside,I find Logan Knight doing bicep curls in front of the mirror, mouthing along to what sounds like a Taylor Swift remix.
He catches my eye in the reflection and grins, not even slightly embarrassed.
“Tori! Just who I wanted to see!”
“Why does that sound ominous?”
He racks the weights and grabs his water bottle. “What brings you to my domain?”
“Your domain?”
“I’m here more than anyone else. That makes it mine. I’ve claimed it.” He gestures grandly at the rows of equipment. “Welcome to Casa de Cupcake.”
I snort. “That’s not a thing.”
“It’s absolutely a thing. I’m making it a thing.” He drops onto a bench and pats the space next to him. “Sit. Chat. Tell me all your secrets.”
“I don’t have secrets.”
“Everyone has secrets. Mine is that I actually hate cardio but I do it anyway because Coach will kill me if I don’t.” He takes a long swig of water. “See? Sharing is caring.”
I sit down, shaking my head. Logan is ridiculous, but he’s also weirdly easy to be around. No subtext, no hidden agenda—just golden retriever energy and a complete lack of filter.
“How’s the knee feeling?” I ask, because I should at least pretend I’m here for professional reasons.
“Good. Great. Ready to score a million goals.” He flexes dramatically. “I’m basically superhuman at this point.”
“Uh-huh. And the stretching protocol I gave you?”
“I’m doing it. Mostly. Sometimes.” He catches my look. “Okay, I did it once and then forgot. But I’ll do it today! Right after this. Scout’s honor.”
“Were you ever actually a scout?”
“No, but I feel like I have the vibe, you know?”
I laugh despite myself. “You’re impossible.”
“Impossibly charming, you mean.” He grins, then tilts his head, studying me. “You okay? You seem... I don’t know. Tense.”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s what Bish says when he’s not fine. You two are spending too much time together.” He says it casually, but there’s something sharper underneath—curiosity, maybe. “Speaking of which, how’s his shoulder? He gonna be good for the playoffs?”
“He’s progressing. Ahead of schedule, actually.”
“That’s because you’re a genius.” Logan points at me with his water bottle. “Seriously. Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. I’ve never seen him actually follow a protocol before. Usually, he just grunts at whoever’s treating him and does whatever he wants.”
“He grunts at me plenty.”
