Page 76 of Defensive Desire

"What kind of talk?" My voice comes out steadier than I feel right now.

Nate sighs, running a hand through his hair. "There's been some chatter about Big Mike looking to move a defenseman. Logan's name came up in a few hockey shows on ESPN."

The kitchen suddenly feels too warm, too small.

Cole shrugs like we're discussing the weather. "But honestly, Emma, these rumors pop up all the time. Most of them are bullshit."

I grip the edge of the counter. "But not all of them."

"No," Nate admits, his eyes softening. "Not all of them."

The pancake on the griddle starts to smoke. I flip it mechanically, watching the charred side reveal itself.

I think about Logan's mood swings lately. How tense he'd been after practice every day. The way he'd check his phone with that crease between his eyebrows, or the things he's been telling me about being happy now I'm in his life.

Shit.

What about all those moments when he seemed to be on the verge of telling me something important, only to pull me into his arms instead.

"How long have these rumors been going around?" I ask.

"Couple weeks," Cole says. "But seriously, Emma, don't freak out. Logan's probably just trying to protect you from worrying about something that might not happen."

"Right," I say, forcing a smile that feels like plastic on my face. "Of course. I'm sure it's nothing."

But the weight in my chest tells a different story.

Because suddenly I’m standing in this charming cabin kitchen, holding a spatula, pretending everything's fine while the one person I trust most might be keeping something huge from me.

Something that could changeeverything.

And I didn’t even see it coming.

The door creaks open behind me and I hear steady footsteps up the hallway.

Logan walks into the kitchen, hair messy, shirt half-buttoned, cheeks flushed from sleep. He looks unfairly good for a man who snores like a freight train and steals the blankets all night long.

“Morning,” he murmurs, stepping behind me to press a kiss to my cheek.

I freeze on the spot, unable to return the simple greeting. It’s just for a second, but it's enough for him to notice.

Of course he notices.

His lips hover near mine for a beat before he pulls back.

“You okay?” he asks, eyeing Cole and Nate beside me. "These assholes giving you grief?"

I reach for the spatula. My fingers feel stiff, like they’ve forgotten how to move naturally.

“No, no. I'm fine,” I say, too bright. “Just… didn’t sleep great.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Nate shooting a glance toward Cole.

They both know.

They don’tknow… but they know.

There’s a weight in the room now. A shift in the air that wasn’t there five minutes ago.

---