Page 124 of Just Say Yes

He let loose a frustrated sigh. “I swear I had no idea they were going to announce anything today. I would never?—”

I shook my head. “Your team is waiting to celebrate with you.” I gestured toward the stadium. “Don’t let them down.”

The tic of his jaw was heavy and pronounced.

Logan’s shoulders stiffened, and for the first time he looked unsure—vulnerable. “Julep, please?—”

“I really don’t want to do this in front of everyone, you know?” I said, my voice breaking and betraying me. “I need to go. I’ll see you later.”

I turned and walked away, my vision blurring as tears filled my eyes.

The ache in my chest was unbearable, but I didn’t look back.

* * *

The hours-long drivefelt like minutes. Once I got home, I collapsed onto the couch, the events of the night replaying in my mind like a cruel movie. I had researched the Sevens. Eight separate countries hosted a leg of the tournament, which meant once he left, he’d be gone for a very long time.

The look on Logan’s face, the pain in his voice, the reality that he was really leaving—it was too much.

Aunt Bug appeared with a mug of tea, setting it on the table in front of me without a word. She sat down beside me, her hand resting on my knee.

“Everything all right?” she asked softly.

I shook my head, unable to speak.

She didn’t push, just sat with me in silence, her presence a quiet comfort. But even with my aunt beside me, the ache didn’t ease.

Logan’s words echoed in my mind.

I was never trying to hurt you.

I curled up on the couch, pulling a blanket around me as the tears finally came.

And for the first time I let myself feel it all—the anger, the hurt, the uncertainty.

Because as much as I wanted to believe what I had with Logan was different, the truth was undeniable.

He was leaving.

And I loved him too much to beg him to give up his dream and stay. I just didn’t know whether I could survive being left behind again.

THIRTY-FOUR

LOGAN

The hotel roomwas too quiet, the kind of quiet that crawled under your skin and turned every thought into a scream. My rugby jersey hung over the back of the chair, its fabric still damp with sweat. Cleats sat abandoned by the door, the earthy scent of grass and dirt clinging to the air.

I paced, the scratchy carpet scraping against the soles of my feet, the ache in my muscles from the game forgotten under the heavier ache in my chest. My knee screamed with overuse, and every step felt like I was wearing down the threadbare rug—and myself along with it.

My phone sat on the desk, the screen dark, but it may as well have been glaring at me.

I shouldn’t have left things like that with her.

Her face haunted me. The way her eyes shone with unshed tears, hard and hurt all at once.

Her voice, trembling but intense:You weren’t going to tell me at all, were you?

She hadn’t even yelled, which somehow made it worse. She had just looked at me, her disappointment hitting harder than any tackle ever could.

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