Page 86 of Just Say Yes

I laughed, but her words stuck with me. My whole life, I’d let people like Trent write the script—deciding how I should feel, what I deserved. But Logan was different. He didn’t ask for control—if anything, he gave it back to me.

I glanced at the field, where Logan stood, his eyes scanning the players like a hawk. He’d done his part. Now it was my turn.

Straightening in my seat, I smoothed the jersey over my thighs and made a decision.

No more letting the past define me. No more holding back. If Logan wanted me to be his lucky charm, then I’d damn well own it.

As I watched him from the field, our eyes met. The left side of his mustache ticced up, and he jerked his head.

Heat gathered in my stomach, spreading warmth to every corner of my body.

The only thing stopping me was ...me.

TWENTY-THREE

LOGAN

“You’re quiet.”Beside me in the truck, MJ’s eyes flicked from me back to her hands.

I shot her a half smile. “Just thinking about the match.”

She shifted in the cab, angling her body toward me as I drove down the darkened highway. “A win is a win, right?”

I harrumphed as I mulled over her words.

The team had barely pulled their heads out of their asses long enough to squeak out a victory. Had it not been for a few very lucky calls in our favor, the match would have likely gone in a very different direction.

Half the team was hungover as hell, and the other half played like they didn’t know a rugby ball from the ones between their legs.

I should have been out there on the field.

It was an odd sensation, the feeling of helplessness, as I shouted directions from the sidelines. But more than that, there was a strange sense of pride when I could see a play start to take shape. From the outside, it was like an orchestrated dance of flying mud and pained grunts.

I glanced at her again. The way MJ sat beside me in the truck, her legs tucked up like she belonged here, made my chest tighten. She was burrowing under my skin in a way no one ever had before. Rugby was supposed to be my only love. But lately I couldn’t focus on the game without picturing her on the sidelines, wearing my jersey, cheering me on. The thought both thrilled and terrified me.

The tip of my tongue touched the dried blood on my lower lip.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

“No,” I scoffed. “Trent punches like a man who sits behind a desk in a cushy office. I’m fine.”

From the corner of my eye, I could see MJ suppress a smile.

Relief washed over me. We hadn’t really talked about my scuffle with Trent, and a part of me worried that she thought my reaction was too over the top.

I didn’t want to believe that my oldest friend would be such a prick, but I would be lying to myself if I said I was completely surprised by his actions. Trent had always been a little wild and self-righteous.

The sting in my lip was a reminder I wouldn’t soon forget.

I steadied my breathing, slowly letting out an exhale and hoping it would relieve the tension that had settled in my neck. Without my usual physical exertion from a game, I was wound tight. My hands tensed on the steering wheel. I needed to focus on the dark highway and not on how good MJ looked in my jersey.

Fuck.

The thought alone shot straight to my cock, and I shifted in the seat.

“I think I finally have it figured out.” MJ slipped off her sneakers and crossed her legs in the seat beside me. My eyes appreciated every inch of her denim-clad thighs. When my gaze reached their apex, I cleared my throat and refocused on the road.

“Figured what out?” I asked.

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