Chapter 2
CHAPTER
TWO
LOGAN
“Who had the brilliant idea to plan this the day after our game?” Finn mutters, setting his black permanent marker on the table and stretching his arms until his knuckles crack.
I laugh under my breath. “I’ll give you one guess.”
We both glance at Penny. She’s in her signature pencil skirt and fitted blazer, hair twisted up tight as she directs the snaking line of fans waiting to meet us. Efficient as ever.
“I mean, some downtime would be nice, no?” Finn says around a yawn. “I don’t think I got more than two hours of sleep last night.”
“Yeah, it was a pretty epic celebration,” I say.
“Did you end up taking Macy home?” he asks.
“Who’s Macy?”
Finn’s eyebrows shoot up. “The girl you were making out with all night. Long blond hair, legs for days.”
“Her name was Macy?” I try to conjure even a flicker of recognition. Nothing. Not one spark.
Finn drops his chin and shakes his head. “Oh, Logan…” He sighs.
“Yeah, I did,” I say, because while her name may have escaped me, her long blond hair splayed across my pillow and those gorgeous legs wrapped around me did not. “And it was great. What about you?”
He gives me that sly Finn smile. “I’m not complaining. I definitely wasn’t lonely.”
Before he can elaborate, the line shifts and our next fans step forward. I refocus and lift my gaze to the woman approaching me.
The second I see her, the noise in the room fades, and drunken visions of blond hair are forgotten. Any hint of annoyance or exhaustion disappears, and everything else drops out until it’s just her.
She’s petite with honey-blond hair pulled into a loose knot that lets soft pieces fall around her face. Her eyes are a warm brown that hit me right in the chest, and for a second, I forget where I am.
I swallow. “Hi.”
She startles slightly at my voice. I reach out a hand automatically. She flinches. Barely, but I feel it. She covers it with a smile that doesn’t quite land.
“Hi,” she says, forcing her lips to curve upward.
“Thanks for coming out,” I tell her. “What’s your name?”
She bites her bottom lip and hesitates before answering. “Tessa.”
“Well, nice to meet you, Tessa. You a big Crane hockey fan?”
She presses her lips into a thin line. “Um, not exactly.”
I grin. “Not exactly? So you came here just for me, then?”
Her breath catches, barely audible, and she cuts her gaze toward Penny as if she’s checking whether she’s allowed to laugh. She doesn’t. Her fingers tighten around the jersey instead, and she shakes her head.
“Oh, okay.” It comes out softer than I intend. I nod toward the jersey in her hands.
She hands it over quickly, almost urgently. “Can you sign this, please?”
“Sure. Should I sign it to you?”
“Um, no. To—” She stumbles over the word. “To Preston, please.”
“Ah. Preston.” I try to sound casual. “Is he a brother?”
She shakes her head once. “Boyfriend.”
Of course she has a boyfriend. Someone so beautiful wouldn’t be single.
“So where’s Preston? He didn’t want to come meet me himself?”
“He’s working.”
I nod, though something in the tightness of her shoulders makes me want to push for more. “Well, hopefully he appreciates you waiting in a long line for him. Seems like he owes you a date night.”
She doesn’t smile. Not even a flicker. Her gaze drops to the table, fixed on the marker in my hand like she’s afraid to look directly at me again.
I sign the jersey and add a note to Preston, though every part of me wishes I were writing her name instead. “I appreciate you coming out. Were you able to watch the game last night?”
She doesn’t answer. Not even a nod. She just reaches forward, quick and tense, to take the jersey back from me. Her fingers brush mine for half a second—cold, trembling.
As she does, her sleeve shifts just enough to reveal her wrist.
A faint bruise.
Before I can be sure, she yanks her arm in tight, hugging the jersey to her chest like a shield.
“Are you okay, Tessa?” The words leave my mouth without thought.
She blinks at me, her big brown eyes flashing wide. Fear flickers there before she forces out, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
She stammers through her thanks and turns to leave.
“Do you want a picture?” I call after her.
She hesitates just long enough to look over her shoulder. That’s when I see it plainly—fear. Raw and unmasked. Her throat works around a swallow as she takes another step, widening the distance between us.
She shakes her head fast, almost frantic, and hurries off.
I’m left staring after her, confused and unsettled by every second of our brief interaction. I glance at Finn to my right and Max to my left, hoping one of them caught something, anything. But they’re both talking to fans, completely oblivious.
I wish I had a witness. Someone else to tell me I didn’t imagine it. Because something was off about her. Way off.
But why? Why would anything be off? I wasn’t rude or intimidating. I didn’t do anything out of line.
Still…
I swear she was afraid.
The hours fly by in a blur. I smile for pictures and sign my autograph, chatting with each fan. I give them the same grin, the same quick comments about last night’s win, the same responses I’ve said a hundred times today. On the surface, I’m here—engaged, upbeat, and doing exactly what’s expected.
But while I’m physically present, my mind is miles away on the fearful girl with the big brown eyes and the honey-blond hair.
Every time I scribble my name on a jersey, I’m thinking about the way her fingers trembled when she took hers back.
Every time someone leans in for a photo, I’m replaying the moment she bolted away from me.
I try to focus on the fans in front of me, but Tessa keeps slipping in, uninvited and relentless.
I don’t know her. I don’t know anything about her except her name and the way she said it—soft, careful, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to take up space. Something about her has gotten under my skin, catching on something in me that I can’t seem to shake loose.
“Miss me?”
The next fan steps up, the voice familiar. I look up and see my companion from last night. I force a smile.
“Hey, Macy,” I say, and her face lights right up at the sound of her name. I silently thank Finn for that one.
“Sorry I left so early this morning,” she says. “But I knew I’d see you at this event. I don’t think we even exchanged numbers.”
“Yeah, I don’t think we did,” I answer.
There’s a flicker of something in my chest, an echo of that split second this morning when I realized she’d left without a trace and the pang of disappointment I felt. That feeling, whatever it was, has vanished.
“Do you want a picture or an autograph?” I ask.
Her expression falls, the hope draining from her face. “Oh.” She frowns. “A picture, I guess.”
“Great.” I offer her the same easy smile I give everyone else, and we lean in for a quick shot. I thank her for coming out, stepping back just slightly, enough to make it clear the moment is over.
I don’t have it in me to let her down gently with an explanation she doesn’t need. She’s a smart woman. She reads the room fast. She doesn’t offer her number, and she walks away without hesitation.
Macy is beautiful. There’s no denying that. But nothing about her registers the way it did last night.
The only thing I can think about is Tessa and the fear in those deep brown eyes that won’t let me go.