5

Chase I was sprawled on the couch in my downtown condo, ice pack on my shoulder from morning practice, when Logan’s livestream popped up on my feed. The thumbnail alone, his fake sincere face, made me snort. Curiosity won. I tapped play, volume low, expecting the usual damage control bullshit. What I got was worse. Logan sat there spinning his web, voice dripping with victimhood. “She was controlling… emotional abuse… I felt trapped…” Every word was poison. The comments turned on Allie in real time, calling her obsessive, toxic, a fame-chaser. Sponsor pullouts scrolled by like vultures picking at fresh meat. I nearly hurled my phone across the room. It hit the coffee table instead, cracking the screen protector. “You piece of shit.” I have known Logan Pierce since we were kids, same youth leagues, same camps, same cutthroat world. He has always been selfish. Arrogant . The golden boy who smiled for cameras and stepped on necks behind closed doors. Back then, I hated how he charmed coaches while trash-talking teammates. Nothing had changed. Every word coming out of his mouth now was a calculated lie. I knew it because I have watched him for years. And I have watched her too. Allie Harper. Logan’s pretty shadow. I remembered the first time I really noticed her, at some team event last season. Logan had cut her off mid-sentence when she tried to share a story about her photography, laughing it off like it was cute. Her smile had faltered, that quiet bruise on her confidence. I’d seen it happen more than once. The way she’d shrink just a little when he dominated every conversation, every plan, every spotlight. I always wondered why she stayed. Loyalty? Love? Fear of the fallout? Lately, it was more than noticing. I had bumped into her after that interview. Up close, she wasn’t just Logan’s arm candy. Those warm eyes sparked with fire when she snapped at me. The way her body felt under my hands when I steadied her, soft curves, strength underneath. Her loyalty to that asshole was almost admirable. She put everyone first: baking cakes for his birthday while he was balls-deep in someone else, smiling through interviews like his success was hers. Kindness like that in our world? Rare. Real. Seeing her publicly humiliated made my blood boil. The livestream clips of her face when the cake dropped shock, heartbreak, tears, she didn’t deserve that. Not from him. Not broadcast for millions to dissect. I stood up, pacing the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. My reflection stared back: tattoos, scars from years on the ice, the body built for war. Logan had spent his career chasing my shadow. Number two. Always second. Now he’d f****d up the one good thing he had, and instead of owning it, he was burning her to save his precious image. Two things Logan valued above all else: his reputation and winning. I was going to take both. I am already ranked number one in the league, it's time to go for his reputation. An idea clicked into place, sharp and satisfying. A slow smile spread across my face. Publicly support Allie. Not some half-assed statement real, loud, undeniable. Let the world see another man appreciating what Logan threw away. Let him watch me lift her up while he drowned in the mess he made. On the ice, I’d destroy him game after game. Off it? I’d make sure he regretted ever touching her. My phone buzzed, it was my agent checking in about upcoming press. I ignored it and opened my own i********:. The clip of Allie’s confrontation with me in the hallway was still circulating, fans twisting it into “tension” and “chemistry.” Perfect. I typed a quick story. Nothing too polished. Just me in my practice jersey, holding the phone steady. “Saw the news. Logan’s version doesn’t add up. Allie Harper is one of the real ones, kind, loyal, genuine. She deserves better than public betrayal. Support her, not the spin.” I posted it. Then another: a throwback clip from a charity event where Allie had quietly helped organize everything while Logan took the credit. Caption: “Actions over words.” Notifications exploded immediately. My follower count dwarfed Logan’s in hockey circles. The rivalry made it viral. Within minutes, comments flipped again. Chase defending her?! Rivals to… this? What is going on? Allie deserves the world. I leaned back, adrenaline pumping like before a big game. This wasn’t just about revenge, though god knows Logan had it coming. It was about her. The fire in her eyes when she called me an asshole. The way she carried herself, even broken. I wanted to see that spark again. I want to be the one who put it back. I grabbed my keys. Training was done for the day, but there was somewhere I needed to be. Or at least, someone I needed to find. Allie probably hated me on principle that I am Logan’s enemy and all that. But I am going to change that. Slowly. Deliberately. I will show her what it felt like when a man put her first. No games. No spotlight stealing. Just raw appreciation for the woman she was. And yeah, the thought of Logan seeing photos of us together? Of me standing closer than I should, my hand on her back, looking at her like she was the prize? That was the sweet part. I smiled wider as I headed out. For the first time, Logan had handed me the perfect opportunity on a silver platter. He was going to regret it. Deeply. I will make sure of it. The city traffic blurred past as I drove, mind already racing ahead. Public support was step one. Step two? Finding her. Making contact. Showing her that not every hockey player was a selfish prick like her ex. Because the more I thought about Allie, the loyalty, the kindness, the hidden strength, the more I realized this wasn’t just payback. I wanted her. And Chase Ryder always gets what he wants!!