Chapter 10

The slap of Logan’s hand against the reporter’s arm echoed through the concrete corridor, cutting through the distant noise of the stadium. The woman stumbled back with a gasp. Her microphone slipped from her fingers and hit the floor. Her face had gone red with shock and embarrassment as she held her forearm. “Logan... I—” “Get out.” Logan’s voice was rough. His chest rose and fell beneath his jersey as he pressed himself against the wall behind him. His pupils were wide, his gray eyes fixed on the reporter. “Get away from me!” Security rushed in. The lead guard stepped between Logan and the media crew. “Ma’am, media access is restricted to the press room. You need to step back now.” He guided the reporter and her cameraman away from Logan and toward the arena doors. Maya watched Logan for a second, then she moved. She didn’t rush toward him or try to touch him. She took three slow steps forward and stopped several feet away. “Logan,” she said quietly. “Take a breath. You’re safe. They’re gone.” His head turned toward her. The fear in his eyes disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by anger as sweat ran down his temple. He hated that the reporter had touched him. But right now, Maya was the person who had seen what happened. And he hated that even more. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m looking at you as your doctor—” “I don’t give a damn!” He snapped. Logan took a step toward her. “I don’t need your pity, Dr. Carter. And I don’t need you watching me outside the medical bay. Your job is to check my vitals and sign my clearance forms. That’s it.” “I’m standing in the tunnel because I’m here for post-game coverage,” Maya said. “Part of my job is handling injuries and acute distress when they happen on site.” “This isn’t distress, and it isn’t your business.” His jaw tightened. “Stay out of anything involving me when I’m not receiving medical care. Don’t step in or make comments. And don’t act like you understand what you’re seeing.” Maya stared at him. Her patience was beginning to wear thin. “Then explain it to me, Logan.” She moved a little closer but stopped before entering his personal space. “What exactly is wrong with you? A simple touch shouldn’t send a six-foot-two professional athlete into a panic attack.” Logan went completely still, color drained from his face. Whatever she had seen in his expression moments ago was gone. His face became blank, cold, and unreadable. “That,” he said quietly, “is none of your damn business. Mind your position, Doctor.” Then he turned and walked toward his private quarters. The door slammed shut behind him. Maya remained in the corridor, her heart beating hard. She pulled her tablet against her chest and took a slow breath. She had treated hundreds of patients in the ER. Trauma victims. Assault victims. People dealing with severe psychological distress. She knew what panic looked like. What happened to Logan wasn’t simple germophobia or the behavior of an athlete who thought he was above everyone else. Something deeper was going on. “You shouldn’t have asked him that, Dr Carter.” Maya turned. Arthur Pendelton stood near the locker room entrance, adjusting the sleeve of his dark suit. His usual polished expression was gone. He looked genuinely concerned. “Arthur.” Maya faced him. “He had a severe reaction to being touched on the arm. It’s affecting his recovery, his safety on the ice, and the way he interacts with the staff. I’m his primary physician. I need to understand what I’m treating.” Arthur walked closer and lowered his voice. “You’re treating his physical injuries, Maya. That’s what you were hired to do. The front office knows about his restrictions, and we respect them. He’s the captain of this team, and he’s the best one this franchise has ever had.” “Respecting his boundaries is one thing,” Maya shook her head. “Ignoring something that clearly affects him is another. He’s constantly on guard.” Arthur sighed and glanced toward Logan’s closed door. “Logan is a very private man. Those walls are there for a reason. If you try to force your way through them, he’ll make sure you don’t last here.” He looked back at her. “Don’t push him, Maya. I’m telling you this for your own sake. Leave it alone.” Maya stared at him. Her instincts as a doctor were telling her one thing. Arthur was telling her another. “He’s in pain, Arthur.” She paused. “And I’m not talking about his ribs.” “It doesn’t matter,” Arthur shook his head. “Some wounds aren’t meant to be examined by doctors. You have no idea what happened to him.” “What happened to who?” The voice came from behind them and Maya and Arthur both froze. They turned toward the entrance to the private suite corridor and Logan stood there. He had showered and changed into a dark charcoal suit. His hair was still damp, and both hands were buried in his pockets. His gray eyes were fixed on Arthur and the look on his face made Maya's stomach tighten. “What happened to who?” Logan repeated.