Page 51 of Puck Struck
"And Logan? Whatever this is, be careful. The team needs you. Especially now."
The drive home is a blur, my mind racing with half-formed plans and worst-case scenarios.
The house is dark and quiet when I pull into the garage. Tessa and Ethan are already asleep. I drop onto the living roomcouch and pull out my phone, searching “blackmail laws California" and "recording consent state laws."
One article after another confirms what Carter hinted at. This is legal territory. There are protocols. Procedures. Ways to handle this that don't involve storming a hotel room like a psycho in the middle of the night.
California is a one-party consent state. If I record a conversation I'm part of, it's admissible. That's something.
I'm still scrolling through articles when a light flicks on in the hallway. Tessa stands in the doorway, arms crossed over her faded Raptors T-shirt.
"What are you doing up?" she says, voice low. "Is it your shoulder?"
"Research."
"On what?"
I hesitate. "Legal stuff."
She moves into the room, sinking onto the couch beside me. "Your legal stuff?"
“No.”
“Then whose? Cam’s?” she asks with a pointed look.
My head jerks up. "What?"
"The rookie who has your boxer briefs in a twist." She raises an eyebrow. "Is he the reason why you’re doing legal research at this hour?"
I close the browser tab. "It's complicated."
"It always is with you." She leans back, sinking into the cushion. "Want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Shocking." Her tone is dry. "Let me guess. He's in trouble, and you've appointed yourself his personal savior?"
I glare at her. "It's not like that."
"Isn't it? You've got that look."
"What look?"
"The one where you're about to do something stupid and risky to protect someone, then refuse to let anyone help you with the fallout." She sighs. "You've been doing it since we were kids, Lo."
I don't answer. I can't, really, because she's not wrong.
"Listen," Tessa's voice softens. "You can't control everything. You can't protect everyone. Sometimes trying to fix things just makes them worse."
"So I'm supposed to do nothing?"
"You're supposed to think first. Act second." She reaches for my phone, scanning the browser history I didn't close. "Blackmail? Recording consent? What the hell are you mixed up in?"
"Nothing that concerns you."
"Right. Because we're not family or anything."
The sarcasm in her voice makes me wince.
