Chapter 5
FIVE
Logan
I’ve faced some of the toughest opponents in the league. I’ve taken bone-crushing hits, fought through injuries, and pushed myself past exhaustion to lead this team.
None of that compares to dealing with Violet Hayes.
She’s been in my space for days now, and my patience is fraying. She’s everywhere—singing in the kitchen, stealing my hoodies, turning my team into a damn reality show for the internet. And worst of all? I don’t hate it.
I should. I should be losing my mind and demanding Declan find her a new place immediately. Instead, I find myself looking for her when I get home, listening for her laugh, watching her out of the corner of my eye like some idiot rookie with a crush.
I don’t have a crush.
I can’t have a crush.
Not on Violet. Not on Declan’s little sister. Not on the woman who could single-handedly dismantle the walls I’ve built around myself if I let her.
I shake off the thought and focus on the ice beneath me. Practice is already a disaster, and I don’t need to add Violet-induced distractions to the mix.
“Carter, you’ve got to loosen the hell up,” CJ calls as he skates back and forth between the bars of the net. “You look like you want to kill someone.”
“Maybe I do.”
CJ smirks. “Lemme guess—Violet?”
I grit my teeth. “Drop it.”
“Just saying,” he drawls, tossing the puck toward Jake Mercer, one of our new forwards. “She’s got you wound tighter than ever.”
I ignore him and turn my attention to Mercer. He’s good—fast, aggressive, but reckless. The kid has talent, but he doesn’t respect authority, and it’s starting to show.
“You need to cover the left side,” I call as Mercer skates toward the goal.
He doesn’t respond, instead attempting a flashy deke around Declan—only to instantly get the puck stolen from him.
“Jesus,” I mutter, blowing the whistle around my neck. “Mercer, you’re not a one-man show. Stick to the damn play.”
Mercer skates over, barely masking his irritation. “Relax, man. It’s practice.”
I step in close, my voice low and firm. “You think that attitude is gonna fly in a game? You want to play for this team, you play as a unit. Not for yourself.”
Mercer shrugs. “I was just testing things out.”
I exhale sharply. “I don’t care what you were doing. You follow the system, or you don’t play. Got it?”
His jaw tightens, but he nods. “Got it.”
I watch as he skates off, frustration brewing in my gut.
He’s not the only one pushing back lately.
Some of the younger guys still don’t take me seriously, especially after last year’s mess.
The scandal left a stain on this team’s reputation, and it’s my job to clean it up, but keeping these guys in line feels impossible some days.
And with Violet constantly stirring things up, I’m barely holding on.
After practice, I head into the locker room, still simmering. The guys are joking around, but I catch snippets of conversation that make my jaw clench.
“Mercer’s got a point,” one of the rookies mutters. “Carter acts like he’s running boot camp, not a hockey team.”
“You’d think after last season, he’d lighten up,” another says under his breath.
I grip my water bottle so tightly it nearly cracks.
I shouldn’t let it get to me. I’ve been in this league long enough to know that leadership comes with resistance.
But after everything we went through last year—the near implosion of this team, the media firestorm, the fight to prove we deserved to stay together—I expected more respect.
CJ claps a hand on my shoulder as he and Declan walk by. “Ignore them, man.”
I exhale, forcing myself to cool down. “They need to get their shit together.”
“They will.” Declan grins. “Or you’ll kill them trying.”
I roll my eyes, but the tension in my chest doesn’t ease.
By the time I get home, I’m exhausted, my frustration still simmering beneath the surface. I kick off my boots and run a hand through my hair, already dreading the inevitable headache of dealing with Violet’s latest antics.
And right on cue?—
“There he is,” Violet singsongs from the kitchen. “Captain Carter, ruler of the Thunder, grumpiest of all grumps.”
I sigh. “What now?”
She beams at me, holding up her phone. “Your poll results came in. Hockey’s Grumpiest Grump wins by a landslide.”
I groan, dropping my bag by the couch. “Violet?—”
“Oh, don’t be such a sore winner. The people love you.”
I level her with a glare. “This isn’t a joke to me.”
She softens slightly, setting her phone down. “I know. But Logan, you can’t be the enforcer all the time. People need to see more than the hard-ass captain.”
“I don’t care what people see.”
Her lips press together. “Maybe you should.”
I stare at her, the tension between us shifting from irritation to something heavier, something I don’t want to name. Because she’s right. And I hate that she’s right.
She steps closer, searching my face. “What’s going on with you?”
I exhale, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
I glance away. “It’s just… the team. The younger guys aren’t listening. I’m trying to fix things, but they still treat me like some drill sergeant.”
Violet tilts her head. “Have you ever considered that maybe they need to see you as a person, not just a captain?”
I scoff. “That’s not my job.”
“No, but maybe it should be.” She folds her arms, watching me carefully. “You’re a great leader, Logan. But people follow people they connect with. If all they see is rules and discipline, they’ll never rally behind you the way they should.”
I stare at her, something unfamiliar twisting in my gut.
Because, damn it, she’s making sense. And that’s almost worse than the fact that I can’t stop thinking about her, can’t stop noticing the way her eyes soften when she looks at me, or the way her voice wraps around my name like it belongs there.
She’s getting under my skin.
And the worst part?
I don’t want her to stop.
Later that night, I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying our conversation over and over.
She sees through me too easily. She always has. And it’s getting harder to pretend I don’t care.
Because the truth is, I do.
More than I should.
And if I’m not careful, she’ll be the one thing that finally breaks me.