Page 60 of Just Say Yes

I gently shook my head. “I volunteered, actually.” I looked up, hoping he wouldn’t judge me. “There’s a part of me that’s looking forward to meeting them. I’msocurious. My father was demanding and controlling—manipulative in ways that somehow felt like love. It’s strange, but I feel connected to these people that I’ve never met. I kind of want to see what that’s all about.”

To not be alone in all this pain.

I hated my father for what he’d done to my mother, to us. But a part of me—a traitorous, yearning part—wondered whether meeting them would somehow fill the hollow spaces he’d left behind.

Logan nodded as a warm hand stroked up and down my spine. “That makes sense.”

I exhaled in relief. He didn’t judge me, even if he couldn’tfullyunderstand.

“Do you want company?” he finally asked. “We have a match on Saturday, and I was going to invite you, so I’ll be in Chicago anyway. I can stand there for moral support or man the getaway car, if you need me to.”

His words were simple, but the weight behind them wasn’t. Logan didn’t just offer support; he offered himself. And that terrified me almost as much as it comforted me.

A sharp sting pinched my nose.Did he still think I was a lucky charm?

It was only fair that we were both using each other: me to prove I could move beyond my past and him to get the luck he needed for a winning offseason.

A big part of me wanted to run away and forget all about my father’s other life. An even bigger part needed to meet them.

Alone.

“Can I think about it?” I asked.

Logan pulled me close. “Of course. The offer is good—whenever you need it.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, feeling the heavy comfort of his arms as fatigue tugged at my eyelids.

All the reasons that we didn’t make sense danced across my tired brain:

He’s famous, out of my league.

We agreed to be friends.

Once the regular rugby season starts, he’ll be gone, fighting off throngs of eager female fans.

He’s best friends with the scum of the earth.

Girls like me don’t bag men like him.

Ever.

Beneath my ear, his heartbeat thunked in a soothing rhythm.

There may be all those reasons, plus a hundred more, why starting anything with Logan didn’t make any sense, but ... right then and there, in the quiet stillness of my bedroom, he was mine.

* * *

By the timeSaturday rolled around, I’d almost convinced myself that the vision of Logan between my legs was a figment of my imagination. The incessant, low throb was an erotic reminder that it had, in fact, happened.

Twice.

And it was freaking incredible.

I stifled a giddy scream and smiled as I crossed the street toward the Sugar Bowl. A piercing whistle caught my attention, and I found Royal leaning against a concrete planter on the sidewalk outside of King Tattoo. The collar of his coat was flipped up against the autumn wind that whipped across the lake.

“Hey,” I called with a wave.

He pushed a finger against his lips and jerked his head. My eyes narrowed, and I scurried toward my brother.

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