Page 48 of Off the Ice

“They’re supposed to have our backs,” he said finally, his voice low and raw. “Riker... Andrew... They’re supposed to protect us. How the hell could they do this?”

“I don’t know,” I said softly, stepping closer. “But we can figure it out. Together.”

Logan let out a bitter laugh, straightening to face me. “Figure it out? Ava, this isn’t just about figuring it out. This is my team. My family. And now I find out two people I trusted, two people who are supposed to look out for us, have been stabbing ME in the back? Selling us out?”

The anguish in his voice twisted something in my chest. “Logan,” I said, keeping my tone steady, “I know this is personal. It is for me too. But we can’t let them win. We can’t let them tear everything apart.”

He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t get it. This isn’t just some bad headline or a couple of bad apples. This could destroy everything. The team, the league... It will ruin lives.”

“And that’s exactly why we have to stop them,” I said, my voice firm. “Logan, you’re not in this alone. We’ll take them down, but we have to be smart about it. If we go public too soon, if we don’t have enough evidence, they’ll bury us—and everyone else involved.”

He stared at me, his jaw tight, the muscle ticking in his cheek as he processed my words. The anger in his eyes didn’t fade, but it shifted—hardened—into something else. Determination.

“You’re right,” he said finally, his voice quieter but no less resolute. “We do this right, or we don’t do it at all. But Ava...” His gaze locked onto mine, intense and unflinching. “When this comes out, there’s no going back. You know that, right? This isn’t just about headlines or exposés. This is war.”

“I know,” I said, my chest tightening at the weight of his words. “But it’s a war worth fighting.”

Logan nodded, his shoulders squaring as he seemed to find his footing again. “One step at a time,” he said, echoing the mantra I’d told him the day before.

“One step at a time,” I agreed.

Logan walked me out of the practice facility, the tension between us now a shared weight. We didn’t say much, there wasn’t much left to say—but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that came with knowing you were on the same side, facing the same battle.

As we reached the exit, the heavy metal door creaked open, letting in a rush of cold Chicago air. Logan held it for me, his hand lingering on the edge as I stepped outside. The crispness of the air hit my face, but before I could thank him, a voice cut through the moment.

“Logan,” Glen Riker called out, his tone sharp with forced casualness. “What’s she doing here?”

Logan’s jaw tightened at the sound of his assistant coach’s voice. He let the door swing shut behind us, turning to face Glen, who had emerged from the hallway leading back to the rink. His expression was neutral, but the tension in his posture said otherwise.

“She’s here for work,” Logan said evenly, his voice calm but laced with an edge. “Why?”

Glen’s gaze shifted to me, his smile tight and unconvincing. “No reason. Just didn’t think closed practice was open to media, that’s all.”

I folded my arms, meeting his gaze head-on. “I wasn’t covering practice. I needed to speak to Logan about something personal, his grandad couldn't reach him and was worried. I just wanted to let Logan know,” I laid it on real thick for this mother fucker.

“Huh?” Glen’s eyes narrowed slightly, his tone casual but probing. “Better get grandad a better calendar with our schedule so there aren't future interuptions,” The snark dripping from his every word.

Logan took a deliberate step forward, positioning himself between Glen and me. “Without me there would be no team, and if my girlfriend needs to speak to me, at any point, she can.”

Glen held Logan’s gaze for a long moment, the tension between them thick enough to cut. Finally, he forced another tight smile and shrugged. “Fair enough. Just looking out for the team.” he shrugged and walked away as if nothing just occured.

“Appreciate it,” Logan said, his tone clipped.

Glen lingered for a beat longer before nodding and heading back down the hallway, his footsteps echoing against the concrete. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, glancing at Logan.

“That was subtle,” I said dryly.

Logan huffed out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Glen doesn’t do subtle. He’s fishing.”

“For what?”

“For anything he can use to cover his ass,” Logan said, his voice low. He shook his head, his expression hardening. “The guy’s been playing this game a lot longer than Darren. He knows how to sniff out threats, and I’m guessing he sees you as one.”

“Well,” I said, forcing a smirk I didn’t feel, “then I guess I’m doing my job.”

Logan looked at me, his eyes softening slightly. “Just... be careful, Ava. Glen’s not stupid. If he’s on edge, it’s because he knows something’s coming. And people like him? They don’t play fair when they feel cornered.”

“I will,” I said, my voice steady despite the knot forming in my stomach. “And I’m not backing down. Not now.”

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