Page 62 of Off the Ice

I let out a dry laugh. “Right. Because late-night meetings and cryptic warnings usually mean everything’s fine.”

He sighed. “Logan, come on. You’re a smart guy. You have to know this thing with Darren? It’s bigger than you. Bigger than him. And if you push too hard, you won’t like where it ends.”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to take the bait. “You saying that as my agent? Or as someone who’s already in deep?”

His gaze sharpened. “Careful.”

“Or what?” I leaned forward, resting my hands on his desk. “You’re gonna threaten me, too? Like you did with Darren?”

His face didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes. “I’m trying to help you.”

I scoffed. “Yeah? Funny, because that’s not how it sounds.”

Andrew exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple before fixing me with a level stare. “Logan, listen to me. You have a bright future. A damn brilliant one. But only if you play this right. The league—hell, the entire hockey world—they don’t want this mess in the spotlight. They don’t want a scandal dragging down one of their rising stars. So here’s the deal: if you walk away from this quietly, if you stay out of it, I’ll make sure you come out clean.”

A muscle jumped in my jaw. “What?”

Andrew leaned forward, voice calm, almost reasonable. “You don’t get involved. You let Darren handle his own shit. And in return? The league leaves you untouched. No scrutiny, no lost endorsements, no damage to your career. You keep everything you’ve worked for.”

The words hit me like a punch to the ribs.

My career. My future. The thing I’d spent my whole life chasing, bleeding for, sacrificingeverythingto build.

It was all right there, laid out in front of me—safe, untouchable. All I had to do was let Darren take the fall. The room felt too quiet, like the air had been sucked out. My ears were ringing. My hands curled into fists at my sides, my stomach twisting with something I didn’t want to name. And then, for the briefest second, I let myself slip into the world Andrew was offering. I saw it all so clearly.

Me, standing on the ice at center rink, the roar of the crowd shaking the arena. A championship banner being raised to the rafters, my name forever tied to the history of the game. Broadcasters calling methe face of the franchise, the next great captain, the golden boy of the league.

I’d be untouchable. The clean-cut, marketable star. The kind sponsors lined up for. The kind every kid growing up with a stick in his hands wanted to be.

Endorsements. Legacy contracts. A future I’d never have to second-guess.

And off the ice?

I sawher.

Ava, in the stands, wearing my jersey, grinning as she watched me play. Waiting for me after games, her arms wrapping around me the second I stepped out of the locker room. I pictured us in a house—not a penthouse or some soulless high-rise, but a real home. The kind with warm lights glowing in the windows, a front porch where we’d drink coffee on crisp fall mornings, a backyard big enough for...

For more.

A future. A life. Everything I never thought I wanted until her. And in this world—the perfect, polished, golden world Andrew was dangling in front of me—I could have it all.

All I had to do was look Darren in the eye and say, "You’re on your own."

The thought made my stomach churn.

Because it wasn’t real. It was an illusion, built on the backs of the people I cared about. It was a future that required me to become something I hated—someone willing to step over his own friends just to keep his hands clean.

The fantasy shattered as quickly as it had formed.

Reality crashed back in, and the air in the office suddenly felt suffocating, thick with the weight of what Andrew was really asking of me.

“I’d also make sure that Ava stays out of it.”

Everything inside me went still.

Andrew’s gaze was careful, deliberate. “She’s a smart girl, but she’s putting herself in a dangerous position. If she keeps pushing, someone might decide she’s a problem. And problems, Logan? They get handled.”

Rage exploded through my chest so fast I barely registered moving. One second, I was standing on the other side of the desk. The next, I had both hands fisted in Andrew’s shirt, yanking him forward so we were eye level.

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