Page 105 of Puck Struck
"What kind of complications?"
"Questions about your focus this season. Whether personal relationships affected your decision-making." His eyes narrow. "There's been speculation about you and Foster. People are asking questions."
"What kind of questions?"
"The kind that make sponsors nervous. The kind that turn a family medical story into something else entirely."
The threat is clear. Keep my personal life quiet, or they'll make everything harder.
“I made this decision for the good of my family,” I say through clenched teeth. “This has nothing to do with Foster or any of my other teammates. My decision-making ability is solid. I choose my nephew over hockey. Period.”
Bob just stares at me, his lips twisting. Eli looks between us and clears his throat.
“Of course. We understand completely. And you know we’ll do everything we can to keep you away from any speculation that can intrude on your family business. And thank you for staying with the team for game one of the playoffs. It means a lot to the team and to management. We understand what you are sacrificing, Logan.”
I give a stiff nod and stalk out of the conference room without another word. In the parking lot, I sit in my truck, trying to process everything I just heard, all the questions fired at me. The situation is devastating enough, but now management's up my ass about backlash on the team, the media's camped outside my house, and it seems like everyone is trying to use Cam as a scapegoat for my decision.
I mean, what the fuck? Doesn’t anyone give a shit about the most important person in this fucked up situation? It’s all about Ethan, not me, not Cam, not fucking hockey.
I drive home in a daze, dodging reporters as I pull into my driveway, ignoring their shouted questions. Inside, the house feels too quiet and empty. Tessa’s car is in the driveway so she’s probably in her room working so she can keep an eye on Ethan.
How fucking lucky for me. I can be alone with my toxic thoughts.
I pour myself a glass of whiskey. The amber liquid burns a fiery path down my throat, but not as much as the realization that everything I touch turns to shit.
Maybe I should have listened to my gut from the beginning. Maybe I should have kept my distance, kept things professional with him. Maybe Cam would be better off without my chaos bleeding into his life.
The doorbell rings. I ignore it, figuring it's anotherreporter. But then I hear the door open and Cam's voice floats into the room.
A few minutes later, Tessa appears in my office doorway.
"Cam's here," she says. "I told him you've had a bad day, but he says it's important."
"I told him to stay away," I grunt, falling against the back of the couch.
"Maybe you should hear what he has to say." She stares at me for a long, tense minute. "You look like you could use a friend, Lo."
I catch a glimpse of Cam behind Tessa in the doorway. She backs away and seconds later, her feet trudge back upstairs. Cam stands just inside the room. He looks nervous and scared, like he's got something heavy to share. I swallow a groan. The last thing I need is another crisis, another fucking problem to solve.
"What are you doing here?" The whiskey makes my voice rougher than usual.
"We need to talk."
"I told you I needed space."
"I know. But this can't wait." He closes the door, and I can see the tension tighten his shoulders. "Logan, there's something you need to know about my past. About why James has been?—"
"Stop." I hold up a hand. The word comes out like a whip crack. "Just... stop."
"You don't understand. I know I was supposed to tell you everything about my past, but there’s something you don’t know, something I just couldn’t bring myself to?—”
"I said stop!" I slam my hand on the coffee table, the glass jumping. The sharp sound echoes in the room like a gunshot.
He flinches, and I see fear flicker in his eyes. Good.Maybe he'll understand I'm not in the mood for whatever he's bringing to my door this time.
"Christ, Cam, do you have any idea what kind of day I've had?" I say, flinging my good arm over my face. “Do you really think I need more shit to deal with right now?”
"I know you're stressed, but?—"
