Logan
I had never hated a photograph before.
Not really.
There were plenty of bad ones over the years. A sweaty face after overtime. An awkward angle during interviews. Even the occasional podium shot where Chase Ryder stood one spot higher than me.
Those were irritating.
This one was unbearable.
I stared at my phone for the hundredth time that morning, jaw clenched so tight it ached. There she was—Allie—wrapped in Chase’s jacket, smiling up at him like I had never existed. The rain, the city lights, the way his hand lingered near her shoulder… it looked intimate. Romantic. Perfect.
The comments made it worse.
“She looks happier with Chase.”
“He treats her so much better already.”
“Logan really fumbled the bag.”
“Imagine cheating on HER.”
My grip tightened around the phone until m
