Page 108 of Just Say Yes

MJ stilled, her breath catching, and the space between us crackled again—hot and electric. I let my hand linger a second too long before I pulled back.

“You’re cold,” I said softly, a poor excuse for what I’d just done.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, though I wasn’t sure she believed it any more than I did.

I leaned back against the seat, dragging a hand through my hair as I tried to gather my thoughts.

What the hell was I doing?

I’d spent years keeping my focus sharp, my head down, my life built around one thing—rugby. The next win. The next tournament. Always moving, always chasing.

Rugby had been my purpose, the thing that kept me moving when nothing else could. But now, for the first time, it felt like a weight. Like every mile I put between me and MJ would pull something loose, something I wasn’t sure I could fix.

And here MJ was unraveling me with nothing more than a look.

Rugby had been everything, but now it didn’t feel like nearly enough.

Not when Julep wouldalwaysbe enough.

My conversation with Coach replayed in my mind. I had a suspicion that a call-up to the Sevens was coming. But I couldn’t bring myself to face it, not yet.

Not while MJ was looking at me like that.

I climbed out of the truck and walked around to her side, opening the door for her. She grabbed her purse from the floor, and that was when I saw it—her phone lighting up from the floorboard.

Trent.

The name hit me like a punch to the gut, all the air going out of my lungs in an instant.

I didn’t mean to see it, but there it was. A glaring reminder of everything MJ didn’t talk about—everything I hadn’t asked.

Trent’s name glared up at me from her screen like a slap in the face. I wasn’t proud of the way my stomach twisted, how my chest tightened with something dark and possessive. But it wasn’t just jealousy—it was doubt. A voice in the back of my mind whispering that maybe Trent had left a mark I couldn’t erase.

MJ didn’t notice the way I froze, didn’t see my fingers flex against the edge of the door as she grabbed her phone and shoved it into her bag.

“Is everything all right?” she asked, looking up at me.

I forced a smile, ignoring the twist in my chest. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Her expression softened, and she stepped down onto the driveway, shrugging the blanket closer around her shoulders. I waited until she unlocked the door, lingering a little longer than I needed to.

“Night, Logan,” she said softly, one hand on the doorknob.

“Good night, Julep.”

Her lips curved faintly, but she didn’t say anything else.

The cab of the truck felt colder when I climbed back in. I sat there for a minute, staring at the light glowing faintly through her front window, my knuckles white against the steering wheel.

Fucking Trent.

Of course it was Trent. Like a shadow waiting just offstage, ready to crawl back into a life that didn’t belong to him anymore.

The thought made my jaw go tight, and I slammed the gearshift into drive, turning around in the wide driveway with more force than necessary.

I shouldn’t care about Trent texting her. It wasn’t my place. MJ could handle herself, and I had no right to feel like this—like Trent’s name was something I needed to obliterate from her life.

But I did.

---