Page 130 of Just Say Yes

The two of them dissolved into hearty laughter, and for the first time in days, I felt a flicker of something that might’ve been hope.

The drive home was quiet, the soft hum of the radio filling the car as their words echoed in my mind.

Maybe Red was right—love was messy. It certainly had been for my siblings.

But I’d been hiding behind work, avoiding the mess instead of facing it andtalkingwith Logan.

I pulled into my driveway and sat there, the engine ticking softly as it cooled. My thoughts drifted to him, to the way his voice had cracked when he’d tried to explain, to the way he’d looked at me like I was the only thing tethering him to the ground.

Either way, it was time for me to stop hiding.

With a deep breath, I grabbed my bag and headed inside, determination settling into my chest. If Logan wanted to talk, I’d listen. And if he didn’t, well ... I would just have to figure out how to get back up.

THIRTY-SIX

LOGAN

The cool airbit at my skin as I stood in the parking lot of an old warehouse, nestled on the outskirts of Outtatowner. The building loomed ahead of me, its weathered brick and high windows softened by the pale light of the late afternoon. The air smelled like rain lingering on rust, damp earth mixing with a faint metallic tang. The acreage behind it was dull and grayed from autumn’s chill.

It certainly wasn’t much to look at—yet. But standing there, with the cool autumn breeze biting at my face, I could almost see what it could become.

A home for something new. Something real.

I walked toward the warehouse with my hands in my pockets. Inside the building, the echoes of my boots on the concrete floor filled the vast emptiness. The warehouse had good bones: sturdy beams, wide-open space, and the potential to be more than just a building. I ran my hand over a weathered column, its surface cool and solid under my palm. It felt steady, grounded—a noticeable contrast to the mess in my head.

I paced the length of the room, imagining it filled with kids running drills, the sound of laughter, and the thud of a rugby ball against the walls. Young athletes learning to love the game as much as I had. The thought gave me a strange kind of hope—a flicker of something steady in a life that had always felt like it was in motion.

But was it enough?

The question echoed in my mind, louder than my footsteps. Competing had been my whole life—my anchor. It had defined me, shaped me, and given me a purpose. But it had become an anchor dragging me down rather than holding me steady. This wasn’t about giving up. It was about finding balance.

Building something better.

For the first time in years, the thought didn’t terrify me. It felt like breathing after holding my breath for too long.

I pulled out my phone, the screen cold against my fingertips as I typed.

Meet me. I need to show you something.

I stared at the message, my stomach twisting. She might not come. I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. But she deserved to see this—deserved to know what she meant to me.

* * *

The crunchof gravel reached me before I saw her car pull up. My pulse rose as MJ stepped out, her arms crossed tightly against the chill. The late-afternoon light caught the caramel strands in her hair, turning them to fire. She looked unsure, her guarded expression matching the stiffness in her movements, but she’d come.

That was enough for now.

I waited as she approached, my hands shoved deep in my pockets to hide their shaking.

“Surprise,” I said, my voice steady despite the nerves churning inside me.

She arched an eyebrow, her lips quirking in that way that always knocked me off balance. “Dragging me out to the middle of nowhere? If this is a kidnapping”—she looked around the abandoned property—“that’s more of aKingmove ...”

A laugh escaped me, unexpected and soft. Leave it to her to find humor in the tension. “No ransom notes, I promise. Just trust me.”

Her smile softened, her walls slipping just a fraction. “All right,” she said, her voice quieter now. “What did you need to show me?”

“Not yet.” I hesitated, rubbing the back of my neck. “There’s something I need to tell you first.”

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