Page 74 of Sin Bin

“On second thought,” Logan blurted.

Ollie paused, eyeing him expectantly in the mirror.

Logan tried to sound casual. “I think I’m gonna let it grow out.”

The barber’s eyebrows rose.

Hunter lifted his head from the notes he’d been reviewing to stare at Logan. “You wanna grow out your hair?”

“Sure.” Logan shrugged a shoulder. “We got bounced out of the Final last year and I didn’t play my best. I figured I’d switch things up a little. See if it can bring some good luck.”

The explanation sounded perfectly reasonable. Hockey players were notoriously superstitious, after all. But as he said the words, Hunter smiled as if he wasn’t buying it.

“Should I just clean up your beard, then?” Ollie asked.

“Yeah. That’d be good.” Meadow was coming back tomorrow, so he wanted to look nice for her. Nice and civilized.

Fifteen minutes later as he and Hunter were leaving the barbershop, Hunter clapped him on the back and drawled, “Look at you making all these changes.”

Logan pretended not to know what he was talking about. “What?”

“Growing out your hair. Going back to school.” There was an amused gleam in Hunter’s eyes. “Looks like she’s already having a major influence on you.”

Logan took out his key fob. “Not sure what you mean.”

“Yeah, right.” Hunter grinned, sliding on a pair of designer sunglasses. “I knew she’d be good for you.”

Logan shrugged, rubbing his freshly sculpted beard. “Jupiter’s cool.”

“Cool? You shouted her out after the game, bro. I’d say she’s a helluva lot more than cool.”

Logan grinned and started backing up toward his truck. “Good luck on your speech. Hope you see some hot chicks in the audience.”

Hunter chuckled. “I’m not there for that.”

“Which would make it even better.”

“Uh-huh. Later,” Hunter said, sauntering off to his Aston Martin.

As Logan climbed into his truck, his phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket, hoping it was Jupiter even though she’d told him she would be running last-minute errands all day.

Sure enough, she wasn’t the one calling. It was Lakendra Howell, the mother of one of the kids he mentored.

He hit the answer button and said warmly, “Hey, Lakendra.”

“Hey, Logan.” She sounded tired. It was the way his mother used to sound after a long shift at the casino. Every hour she’d spent serving drinks to customers and fending off sexual advances had taken pieces of her soul.

“Sorry to bother you—”

“You’re not bothering me.” He’d given Lakendra his personal number, told her to call him if she ever needed anything. She’d never taken him up on the offer.

“I was just about to head over to see Davion,” he said. “Everything okay?”

“Not really.” She sighed heavily. “Can you call me after your visit to let me know how he’s doing?”

“Of course.” Logan was frowning. “What’s going on? Is he okay? They promised to call me if anything happens.”

“Nothing’s happened. At least not that I know of.” Lakendra hesitated. “I haven’t seen him in two weeks.”

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