Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
T he familiar scent of sweat, rubber, and disinfectant filled the YMCA gym, accompanied by the steady thud of basketballs bouncing off the hardwood. Travis wiped his forehead with the back of his arm, watching as a group of kids ran a half-court drill, their sneakers squeaking against the polished floor.
Across the gym, Tatum sat on the bleachers, clipboard in hand, checking off attendance for the mentorship program. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she was fully in coach mode, keeping the younger kids in line while also doling out high-fives like a pro.
Travis leaned against the wall, watching her. “You’re really getting the hang of this.”
Tatum smirked. “Oh, I’ve been great at bossing people around since birth. You should know this better than anyone.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Fair point.”
Just then, the front doors creaked open, letting in a gust of cold winter air—and two figures stepped inside.
Sarah. And Logan.
Travis straightened instinctively, his shoulders tensing. He hadn’t seen Logan since everything fell apart, since half the team had been put on probation, since it became clear that if he didn’t fix himself, he was done. They had pulled off a win without them and they would all play in the next playoff games. Hopefully it had helped somehow.
And Logan looked different now.
His usual cocky smirk was gone, replaced with something quieter, more serious. His posture wasn’t as loose and reckless as before. He looked—dare Travis even think it?—genuinely determined.
Sarah gave Travis a small, hesitant smile.
Tatum, however, wasted no time. She jumped up from the bleachers, crossing her arms as she grinned at Logan like she was about to roast him alive.
“Well, well, well,” she said, tilting her head. “If it isn’t our very own former bad boy. Should I be alarmed? Did you lose a bet? Or are you actually here to do something good?”
Logan exhaled a laugh, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “Would you believe me if I said I’m turning over a new leaf?”
Tatum arched an eyebrow. “I mean… I want to believe it. But I also feel like I need to check for hidden cameras first.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”
Logan shook his head. “Nah, it’s fair. I get it.” He glanced at Travis. “I, uh… figured it’s time to do something real. I need to clean up, and I need to actually do it—not just pretend I’m figuring things out while I party my way through it.”
Travis studied him for a moment, his instincts still hesitant.
“Why here?” he finally asked.
Logan shrugged. “Figured working with kids would be good. Maybe they’ll learn from my mistakes before they make them.”
That actually made Travis smile. “Alright, I’ll give you that one.”
Logan exhaled, rocking back on his heels. “Look, I don’t expect a gold star. But I’m trying. I’ve got a good group I’ve been meeting with.” He scratched his jaw. “Church group, actually.”
Tatum whistled dramatically. “Careful, Logan. If you keep this up, Sarah’s gonna write a story about you.”
Sarah grinned, unfazed. “Actually, stories about redemption are a lot more satisfying than takedowns.”
Logan tilted his head. “Really? Even with all the clicks the drama gets?”
Sarah smiled, a quiet confidence settling in her features. “You’d be surprised. Turns out, when you’re actually doing good—when you’re helping people, lifting others up—people want to read about it.” She glanced at Travis, her voice warm. “I spent so much time thinking the only way to succeed in journalism was to dig up dirt. But I was wrong. There’s just as much success in uncovering the good in people.”
Travis felt something warm settle in his chest at her words.
She wasn’t just saying it. She believed it.
And more than that—she had changed.
Logan exhaled, nodding slowly. “Well, maybe one day, I’ll make the headlines for something good.”
Travis stepped closer, holding out his hand. “How about you make the headlines for winning the Stanley Cup.”
“Deal.” Logan gripped his hand and Travis had hope for the guy and the team.
Logan was surprisingly good with the kids.
Once Travis and Tatum showed him the ropes, he jumped right in, demonstrating drills, helping out with footwork, and even showing some of the younger kids how to shoot properly.
Sarah leaned against the wall, watching the whole thing unfold with a small, knowing smile.
Travis stepped up beside her. “You’re proud of him.”
She nodded. “Yeah. I am. He seems happy.”
Travis glanced at her, studying her. “And you?”
Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Me?”
“Yeah.” He tilted his head. “Are you happy?”
Sarah’s smile widened. “I am.” She bumped her shoulder against his. “You know, you asked me once if my job made me happy. And I wasn’t sure.”
He nodded, remembering.
“Well,” she continued, crossing her arms, “I am sure now. Writing for nonprofits, telling stories that actually help people—it’s more rewarding than anything I ever did before.”
Travis watched her, pride swelling in his chest. “I’m glad.”
She turned to him, eyes full of warmth. “And what about you? Are you happy?”
Travis exhaled, glancing back at the kids running drills, at his sister laughing with one of the younger ones, at Logan taking a knee to tie a kid’s skate.
And then he looked at Sarah. At the woman who had challenged him, fought with him, loved him, and always pushed him to be better.
He reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I really am.”
She squeezed his hand, and for the moment at least, everything was exactly as it should be.