Chapter 80 Chapter 79
Logan POV
The rink smells like cold steel and bad decisions.
My skates hit the concrete harder than they need to as I walk into the locker room. My shoulders are tight. My jaw’s been clenched so long it actually hurts.
I’ve already said no.
Twice.
Doesn’t matter.
PR doesn’t care.
Coach doesn’t care.
The donors sure as hell don’t care.
All they see is headlines.
Golden boy captain.
Campus sweetheart.
Charity gala.
Date auction hype.
They don’t see the way Harper won’t look at me anymore.
They don’t see the way she stiffens when I’m near.
They don’t see the way I left her bed like a coward because I didn’t know what the hell to say after.
They just see a product.
I drop my bag onto the bench and start untying my shoes.
Cole’s already there, leaning against his locker, watching me like I’m a bomb with a faulty timer.
“You look like you’re about to commit a felony,” he says.
“Give me ten minutes,” I mutter.
“Is this about the date?”
My hands still.
Slowly, I look up at him.
“Don’t say that word.”
He exhales. “So it’s true. They’re making you do it.”
“Yeah,” I snap. “They are.”
“Coach?”
“Coach. PR. Half the damn athletic department.”
“Jesus,” he mutters. “And Harper?”
I shake my head. “She already said no in the sponsor meeting.”
Cole frowns. “And?”
“And Myers told me five minutes ago it’s happening anyway.”
That gets his full attention.
“They forced her too?”
I blink. “What?”
Cole straightens. “Logan… you think she agreed to this?”
Something cold slides into my chest.
“She didn’t?”
He stares at me. “No. She shut it down just as hard as you did.”
I feel like someone just punched me in the ribs.
“They’re making her do it?”
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Apparently Myers cornered her today.”
For a second, I just sit there.
The anger shifts.
Deepens.
Hardens.
“So she’s being dragged into this same circus,” I mutter.
“Yep.”
“Because of me.”
Cole doesn’t answer.
Which means yes.
I scrub a hand down my face.
Great.
Just… perfect.
First I screw things up with her.
Then I avoid her.
Now I get to parade her around campus like a damn publicity prop.
“I told them no,” I say.
“And they told you to smile for the cameras,” Cole replies.
I laugh once, sharp and bitter. “You ever notice how ‘student athlete’ is just code for ‘owned by everyone’?”
He snorts. “Yeah. But usually you like the perks.”
Not this one.
Not this.
I lean back against the bench and stare at the ceiling.
“Why do you look like you’re about to fight the sun?” Cole asks.
“Because I don’t trust myself to sit across from her and pretend nothing happened.”
His eyes narrow slightly.
“Nothing happened?” he repeats.
I don’t answer.
Slowly, his expression changes.
“Oh,” he says.
Oh no.
“Oh,” he says again.
I close my eyes.
“Don’t,” I mutter.
“You slept with her.”
“Cole—”
“You slept with Harper.”
I look at him.
He’s not joking.
Not smirking.
Not teasing.
He’s just… processing.
“Twice,” I admit.
His mouth opens.
Closes.
Then he just stares at me.
“…You are the dumbest smart person I have ever met.”
“Join the club.”
“Jesus Christ, Logan,” he says. “And you’re acting like this?”
“I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do.”
“You could start by not treating her like she’s invisible.”
I flinch.
“That’s not what I’m—”
“Yeah, it is,” he cuts in. “She walks into a room and you suddenly need to check your phone? You won’t even look at her?”
I stand up. “I’m trying to not make it worse.”
“You are making it worse.”
I drag my hands through my hair.
“I don’t do relationships,” I snap. “You know that.”
Cole tilts his head. “Then why did you sleep with her?”
I don’t have an answer.
“I’m serious,” he says. “If you’re such a ‘one-and-done lone wolf future NHL legend’—why Harper?”
I swallow.
“She’s not my type.”
He stares at me.
Then he laughs.
Not amused.
Not friendly.
Disbelieving.
“Holy shit,” he says. “You’re still hiding behind that?”
“She’s not,” I insist. “She’s not a Latina, she’s not—”
He cuts me off. “She’s not your excuse.”
I glare at him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You only date Latinas,” he says. “You only hook up with Latinas. You only chase one specific look, one specific vibe, one specific kind of girl because it’s safe.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“No, it’s convenient,” he fires back. “You don’t get attached. You don’t get complicated. You don’t get hurt.”
I look away.
He steps closer. “And then Harper shows up and ruins the whole system.”
“She didn’t ruin anything.”
“You’re right,” he says. “You did. By catching feelings and panicking.”
“I didn’t catch feelings.”
He just looks at me.
That look.
The one that says try again.
“She’s… different,” I say finally.
“No shit.”
“She’s in my head,” I admit. “And that’s not okay.”
“For who?” he asks.
“For my career.”
“There it is.”
I clench my jaw. “I need to focus. I need to get drafted. I can’t afford distractions.”
“And Harper is a distraction?”
I hesitate.
He nods slowly. “Yeah. You’re screwed.”
“Don’t.”
“You’re already in it, man.”
I sit back down, suddenly exhausted.
“So what? I just… start dating her?”
“I think you start by not acting like she’s disposable.”
I look up at him. “I don’t treat her like that.”
“You left her bed before she woke up.”
That hits.
Hard.
I look away.
Cole’s voice softens. “You don’t get to take someone’s body and then pretend they don’t exist.”
“I wasn’t pretending.”
“You were hiding.”
I swallow. “I don’t know what I want.”
“That’s fine,” he says. “But don’t make her pay for it.”
The room goes quiet.
Then my phone buzzes.
Dad.
Of course.
I don’t answer.
Cole sees the name. “Your dad?”
“Yeah.”
“You gonna pick up?”
“Not right now.”
He nods. “Probably smart.”
I exhale slowly.
“So,” he says. “You’re going on this date.”
“Looks like it.”
“With a girl you slept with. Who you’re actively avoiding. Who probably thinks she’s just another notch in your belt.”
I wince.
“Yeah.”
He grimaces. “This is going to be a disaster.”
“Yeah.”
He claps my shoulder. “Congratulations.”
I don’t laugh.
Because the worst part?
I don’t want it to be a disaster.
I just have no idea how to stop it from becoming one.
⸻
Cole POV
Logan Shaw is many things.
Talented.
Stubborn.
Terrifying on the ice.
Emotionally?
An absolute idiot.
I watch him sit there staring at his phone like it might explode.
He’s scared.
He’d rather take a hit from a six-foot defenseman than deal with feelings.
And Harper Lane?
She’s not a fling.
She’s not a phase.
She’s not a type.
She’s a problem.
The kind you can’t skate away from.
“I’m serious,” I say. “You can’t keep pretending she doesn’t matter.”
He looks at me. “I don’t know how to do this.”
I nod. “Yeah. That’s obvious.”
He huffs.
“But here’s the thing,” I continue. “You don’t get to decide this alone anymore.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you already changed the rules when you slept with her.”
He looks away.
“And now,” I add, “you’re going to sit across from her in public and pretend none of it exists.”
“That’s not what I want.”
“Then stop acting like it is.”
He’s quiet.
Too quiet.
I recognize that look.
The one where he’s building walls.
This is going to get messy.
And somehow, I’m pretty sure it’s only just starting.