Page 14 of Taming the Grumpy Hockey Player

“It’s not funny,” I snap, but my annoyance fades as quickly as it appeared. Kate’s teasing is her way of trying to lighten the mood, and I can’t fault her for that.

She leans forward, her expression softening. “Okay, tell me. What’s bothering you? Is it the rumors? Or is it…him?”

“Both,” I admit, setting my cup down with a sigh. “I hate that people are so quick to judge him based on half-truths and gossip. But at the same time…I don’t know. Maybe there’s some truth to it. What if I’m wrong about him?”

Kate studies me for a moment, then smirks. “You know what I think? I think you’re scared because you actually like him.” She raises a teasing eyebrow. “Didn’t you swear up and down that you couldn’t stand him? And yet here we are. Funny how that works, isn’t it?”

“That’s ridiculous,” I scoff, but my voice lacks conviction.

“Is it?” she challenges. “You light up every time you talk about him, Lucy. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how much time you’ve been spending together.”

I shake my head, laughing softly despite myself. “You always have to push, don’t you?”

“And you’re in denial,” she shoots back. “Look, I’m not saying you need to rush into anything. But maybe…give him a chance. Talk to him about the rumors. See what he has to say.”

I take Kate’s advice—reluctantly—and find Logan at the community center later that afternoon. He’s in the gym, working with a group of kids on their skating techniques. Watching him with them is unexpectedly disarming. He crouches to tie a kid’s loose skate, offering a quiet reassurance that they’ll get the hang of the drill soon. He’s patient when one of them stumbles, offering a quick grin and a joke about how even pros take a fall now and then. It earns a chorus of laughter, and for a moment, he seems completely at ease, like this is where he belongs. It’s a side of him I don’t see often, and it’s…compelling.

When the lesson wraps up, I approach him as the kids file out, chattering excitedly.

“Got a minute?” I ask, trying to keep my tone neutral.

Logan wipes the sweat from his brow with a towel, nodding. “What’s up?”

I hesitate, unsure how to broach the subject. Finally, I just rip off the bandage. “There’s an article going around about you. About…your past.”

His expression tightens, and for a moment, I think he’s going to walk away. But then he sighs, dropping the towel onto the bench. “Let me guess. The ex?”

I nod. “People are talking, Logan. And I know it’s none of my business, but…I thought you should know.”

He leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. Oh, great. Strong arms. Fantastic. My brain, apparently, has decided that now is the time to notice that. I shake the thought away immediately—first of all, I do not like him. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. And second, we are talking about something serious here, not fantasizing about—ugh, never mind. I refocus as he exhales, tension tightening his jaw. “It’s not exactly new. The media’s been dragging that story out for years. Half of it’s not even true.”

“Then why don’t you correct them?” I ask, crossing my arms. “If it’s not true, shouldn’t people know what really happened?”

He shrugs, his gaze fixed on the floor. “What’s the point? People believe what they want to believe. Fighting it just makes it worse.”

“That’s a pretty defeatist attitude,” I say, and he looks up sharply, his eyes meeting mine.

“What do you want me to say, Lucy? That I’m perfect? That I’ve never screwed up? I’m not. But this? The stuff with my ex? Most of that wasn’t even about me. She made a career out of our breakup. She sold our story to tabloids like it was some kind of reality show plotline. And somehow, I became the villain.”

I blink, taken aback by the raw frustration in his voice. He looks at me, his eyes filled with something close to exhaustion. “I’m not saying I was perfect. I wasn’t around as much as I should’ve been—hockey had me traveling constantly. But sheknew that going in. She…twisted everything, made it all public. It was humiliating. I didn’t even know how to fight back.”

His honesty catches me off guard, and for a moment, I don’t know how to respond. The vulnerability in his words stirs something in me—a mix of empathy and guilt for how quickly I once judged him. I see now how much weight he carries, not just from the rumors, but from the unfair expectations people have placed on him. It makes me wonder how often he’s had to stand alone against it all. Finally, I say, “I don’t think anyone expects you to be perfect. But maybe…letting people see the real you isn’t such a bad thing.”

Logan studies me for a long moment, then nods. “I’ll think about it.”

That evening, I’m back at the shelter, going over adoption records with Emma. She’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, a clipboard balanced on her knee.

“You’ve been quiet,” she says, glancing up at me. “Is this about that stuff going around about Logan?”

“Just…Logan,” I admit, sitting back in my chair. “The stuff about his ex is all over the place, and people are quick to believe the worst. But the more I get to know him, the more I feel like there’s more to him than what people say.”

Emma smiles. “You’re right. He’s not the kind of person who lets people in easily, but when he does? It’s worth it.” Her words linger with me, nudging a realization I’ve been avoiding. Logan’s guardedness isn’t a wall meant to shut people out—it’s a shield built over time, layer by layer, to protect himself. And the more I think about it, the more I understand why Emma’s faith in him feels so steady—it’s based on seeing the person he is, not the image others have painted.

Her words give me a lot to think about as I finish my work for the day. By the time I lock up the shelter, the sun is setting, casting the town in shades of gold and amber.

Sitting on my porch later that evening, I sip a cup of tea and watch the moon rise. The cool night air is soothing, but my thoughts are anything but. Logan’s words from earlier replay in my mind, along with Emma’s advice and Kate’s teasing.

My phone buzzes, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s a text from Logan. My heart skips slightly, a mix of curiosity and anticipation taking hold as I unlock my phone to read his message.

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