Page 18 of Taming the Grumpy Hockey Player

The door swings open, and there she is—Jess. As polished and poised as I remember, her every movement rehearsed and deliberate. Her caramel-colored hair falls in loose waves over a camel coat that screams designer. She scans the room, and when her eyes land on me, she smiles. It’s the same practiced smile that used to captivate me, but now it feels like a façade.

“Logan,” she says, sliding into the seat across from me without waiting for an invitation. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Didn’t think avoiding this forever would work,” I reply evenly, leaning back in my chair. My voice is calm, controlled, but there’s a slight edge that even I can hear.

She offers a tight laugh, the kind that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I deserve that.”

Silence stretches between us, heavy and taut. I’m not rushing to fill it. She glances down at her coffee cup, her fingers tracing the edge of the lid. “I’ve been thinking a lot about how things ended,” she begins. “I wasn’t fair to you.”

I arch an eyebrow, skepticism curling in my chest. “Fair isn’t exactly the word I’d use.”

Her cheeks flush slightly, but she presses on. “I know I made mistakes. I got caught up in everything—the followers, the sponsors, the... image. I twisted things to fit the narrative I wanted, and it wasn’t fair to you. I’m sorry, Logan. I really am.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, I don’t know how to respond. Part of me wants to accept the apology, to let it be enough. But another part of me—the part that lived through the fallout of her actions—can’t let it slide so easily.

“You didn’t just make mistakes, Jess,” I say, my voice steady. “You turned our lives into a product. You took things that should have been private and sold them to the highest bidder. And when it ended, you made sure I looked like the villain so you could keep the sympathy points.”

Her eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t interrupt. For once, she’s letting me talk.

“I lost more than just you when it all fell apart,” I continue. “My reputation, my privacy... even my love for the game took a hit. Do you have any idea what it’s like to walk into a room and feel like everyone’s already decided who you are?”

Her gaze drops, and for the first time, her polished veneer cracks. “I didn’t think about how it would affect you,” she admits softly. “I was selfish, Logan. And I can’t change that. But I do regret it.”

I nod slowly, letting her words sink in. “I appreciate the apology. But I’m not the guy you left behind. I’ve moved on, Jess. And I’m not interested in reopening old wounds.”

She looks up, her expression a mixture of relief and disappointment. “I understand. I just... I needed to say it.”

The conversation ends there. I stand, nodding politely, before heading outside. The crisp air feels sharper, more vibrant, like a quiet promise of relief. The past is a heavy thing to carry, but as I watch the sunlight break through the clouds, I feel a little lighter. Maybe closure doesn’t erase scars, but it can make them easier to bear.

Lewis greets me at the door as if I’ve been gone for days—his tail wagging so hard, his whole body sways with it. I can’t help but laugh, crouching down to ruffle his ears.

“Miss me, buddy?” I ask, grabbing his leash from the hook by the door. He answers by nudging the leash toward me with his nose.

We head to the park, the familiar crunch of leaves underfoot grounding me. Lewis bounds ahead, chasing stray leaves with the determination of a hunter on a mission. Watching him, it’s impossible not to feel a little of his unbridled joy rub off on me.

As we near the community center, I spot Mark and Ryan tossing a ball back and forth. Lewis, ever the opportunist, decides he wants in on the game and barrels toward them, barking enthusiastically.

“Well, if it isn’t the star of the campaign,” Mark calls, scooping up Lewis and holding him like a trophy. “I meant the dog, not you, Mitchell.”

“Funny,” I deadpan, though I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.

Ryan smirks. “You know, Logan, this whole campaign thing has been good for you. You’re actually tolerable now. Maybe we should’ve gotten you a dog years ago.”

“Or maybe it’s not the dog,” Mark adds, waggling his eyebrows. “Maybe it’s Lucy.”

I roll my eyes, but my chest tightens. “You guys have too much free time.”

“Just admit it,” Ryan presses. “You like her.”

“Drop it,” I warn, but my tone lacks heat. Because the truth is, they’re not wrong.

The sponsorship meeting at the community center is more successful than I expected. Lucy is in her element, her passion and enthusiasm lighting up the room as she presents updates and future plans. Her voice carries a natural authority, but there’s a warmth to it that makes people listen. The way she speaks, like every word is charged with purpose, draws me in. It’s not just what she’s saying—it’s the way she makes you believe in something bigger than yourself. I can’t help but admire how she balances professionalism with compassion, speaking as if every word is meant to inspire action. She’s not just the woman running this campaign; she’s the driving force behind it. And maybe, if I’m honest, she’s become a driving force for me too. That thought lingers, leaving me both intrigued and unsettled.

“Logan, do you have anything to add?” she asks, turning to me with that bright, expectant smile.

“Just that Lewis is carrying the whole campaign,” I say, earning a laugh from the group.

Lucy rolls her eyes, but there’s warmth in her expression. “Well, if anyone deserves the credit, it’s definitely him.”

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