Chapter 5 Logan
LOGAN
Off-days aren’t really off-days. That’s the first thing you learn in college hockey. Coach calls it “recovery,” but somehow we still end up sweating our asses off in the weight room with twenty guys who’d rather be anywhere else.
It’s loud as hell. The room is filled with the sound of weights clanking, Austin’s crappy playlist blaring through the speakers, and one of the rookies grunting like he’s giving birth.
I drop my bag by the wall and roll my shoulders until something pops. Cole’s in the far corner, a barbell pressed to his chest as he bench-presses. He’s got that same stone-cold face he wears on the ice, the one that says he’d rather die than talk to anyone.
“Drive through your heels, Reed! Let’s go!” I turn my head and see Austin standing beside Ryan like the world’s most annoying personal trainer.
Ryan groans, pushing through a set of Bulgarian split squats. “You’re not my coach.”
“I could be,” Austin fires back.
Ryan grunts as he finishes another rep. “Do your own fucking workouts and leave me alone.”
“Taking a break,” Austin says, blowing out a breath. “My ass hurts from all the squats.”
Ryan lets out a scoff, his stance wobbling slightly.
My gaze sweeps the room, my eyes catching on Nathan sitting on a bench in the corner and glancing down at a notebook. I almost scoff. Of course. He probably logs how many hours of sleep he got and how many times he blinked during drills.
I wander over, leaning on the bar next to him. “What you doing?”
He glances up at me for barely a second before glancing down again. “Tracking my numbers.”
I shake my head, half-smiling. “Riveting,” I mutter.
“You should try it sometime,” he says. “Might help your stats.”
I let out a low laugh. “Is it color-coded?” I ask, squinting over Nathan’s shoulder, trying to get a peek.
That earns me a quick, unimpressed glance before he stands, sets the bar, and lies back on the bench.
I decide to quit bugging him and actually do what I came here for.
The next hour’s a blur, leaving me tired as hell and reeking of sweat.
By the time I’m done, my arms are shaking and my shirt’s plastered to my back.
I sit up on the bench, drag the hem of my shirt over my face to wipe the sweat off, and let out a low groan.
My abs burn and my shoulders ache. I really don’t know how some guys like to work out. I fucking hate it.
The gym has started to empty out as some of the early comers finish up their workouts, but Nathan’s still at it. His form’s perfect, obviously, because God forbid his back be five inches off.
When he presses the bar up again, his shirt lifts just enough to show a sliver of skin and tight abs. My eyes snag there for a second, before I look away.
I’m not staring. Just noticing… that’s all.
I grab a mat and drop onto it with a groan, stretching my arms over my head until my spine cracks. I’m halfway through a hamstring stretch when a voice pipes up next to me.
“Gray,” a rookie—Eli—says, panting from his own set and swinging his gym bag over his shoulder. “You going out tonight? The Kappa party’s supposed to be massive.”
I huff out a laugh. “Maybe. You trying to tag along?”
He grins. “If you’re going, hell yeah. I just need to get my hands on a fake ID before then.”
I snort. “It’s a frat party, man. They don’t ID. Just be cool, don’t get into fights and you’re good.”
He laughs, wiping sweat off his forehead. “Good to know. See you there then.”
I glance up and catch Nathan’s gaze flick toward me, but he snaps his eyes away immediately, scribbling in that damn notebook again, even though half the guys have already cleared out.
“You ever not follow that thing to the letter?” I ask, nodding toward it.
He doesn’t look up. “Why would I?”
“Because spontaneity exists?” I stretch my arms overhead, my shoulders popping. “Because sometimes your body tells you it wants something different?”
He finally meets my eyes. “That’s not how you build consistency.”
I let out a low laugh. “Jesus, you ever break a rule? Do something impulsive?”
“No.”
I let out a sigh. “Didn’t think so.”
I drop back onto the mat, bracing my hands behind me and feeling my shirt ride up as I lean into the stretch. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Nathan watching me.
My lips twitch into a smirk at first—because of course he’s looking—but it fades quickly when I realize what he’s actually looking at.
I know what he sees.
The scar.
A thin line, faded but still visible, running across the left side of my ribs.
His eyes linger, and something squeezes in my chest. I swallow hard, force a grin I don’t really feel.
“Don’t stare too long,” I say. “I might start thinking you like me.”
He blinks, snapping out of it. When his gaze meets mine again, it’s softer, and I fucking hate that. The pity in it.
“What happened?” he asks.
I grab my towel and rub it along the back of my neck. “Old accident.”
“What kind of accident?”
I shrug, rolling my shoulders back into the stretch. “Just… an accident. Wasn’t a big deal.”
He looks like he wants to press, like the question’s caught in his teeth, but he doesn’t. Thank fuck.
I shift onto my side, propping myself up on one elbow, meeting his eyes. “You’re not gonna start babying me now, are you?”
His lips twitch, the barest hint of a smile. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
He goes back to his workout and the music blares between us, as I reach for my water bottle.
“Question,” I say, unscrewing the cap.
Nathan grunts, continuing his reps. “You don’t have to say question. You can just ask me the question.”
I take a sip and swallow it down, rolling my eyes. “Fine. Are you gonna judge me if I hit the frat party tonight?”
He racks his weights with a loud clank, finally looking at me. “It’s mid-season.”
I lift a brow. “Yeah, but it’s an off-day.”
He just stares at me.
“I’m not talking keg stands,” I clarify. “Just a couple drinks. Maybe flirt with someone. Be around people who aren’t counting macros and thinking about ice time every waking second.”
His mouth flattens, and I already know what’s coming before he opens it.
“Did you forget what we talked about?”
Ah. The Talk.
I groan, tipping my head back toward the ceiling. “It’s one night, man. Relax.”
Nothing. Just that silent, broody judgment radiating off him.
I nudge the side of his shoe with mine until he looks down. “You can come with me if you’re that worried. Supervise. Make sure I’m being a good boy.”
His jaw clenches, the muscle jumping. “I don’t party during the season,” he says finally.
“Bullshit,” I say, sitting up. “You’re always at parties. Quietly brooding in the corner, sure, but I see you there.”
“I’m there to keep everyone level-headed,” he mutters. “Not to get drunk.”
“God,” I laugh, shaking my head. “You really are Daddy Hayes.”
He doesn’t bite, which just makes me want to push, of course.
“Come on,” I say with a grin. “You need it. Blow off some steam. Get laid. Be fun for once.”
“Take him up on it, Hayes,” Austin says, running a towel along the back of his neck. “You’re one missed fun night away from turning into Cole over there.”
We all glance toward the corner where Cole is mid-deadlift with his headphones on and that hard-ass look in place.
“Cole!” Austin yells, cupping his hands. “Blink twice if you’re alive!”
Cole keeps lifting like we don’t exist.
“Nothing,” Austin says with a sigh. “Guy’s like a monk.”
Ryan snorts. “Pretty sure he’s ignoring you on purpose. Can’t say I blame him.”
Austin flips him off and Ryan laughs as they head for the showers.
I glance back at Nathan when the guys leave. “You sure you don’t wanna come out with us tonight?” I sling my towel over my shoulder. “I promise I’ll behave.”
He doesn’t answer right away, sitting up and placing his notebook back in his bag, but he pauses, and for a second, I swear he’s considering it. His mouth parts, like maybe he’s about to say something—something other than no.
And I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t be waiting for it. But I do.
Then he clears his throat, rolls his shoulders back, and shakes his head. “I’m not gonna stop you,” he says finally. “But I’ve got an early skate tomorrow.”
There it is. The inevitable no.
I try to play it off, but something inside me still dips. “Yeah,” I mutter with a laugh under my breath. “Figured.”
His eyes flick over my face as he stands and I avert my gaze as he walks toward the door and leaves.
I drag a hand through my hair and exhale slowly. I don’t know why I thought he’d say yes.
It’s not like I wanted a babysitter around. The last thing I need is Nathan Hayes at a party judging every sip I take and every person I flirt with.
Still…
Part of me was kind of hoping he’d say yes.