Chase
Something was wrong.
I felt it before I understood it.
Logan sat across the ballroom at a table surrounded by sponsors, former players, and executives, but he was not paying attention to any of them. He smiled when someone spoke to him. He nodded at the right moments. He lifted his glass when the table laughed.
Still, his eyes kept moving toward the stage.
Then toward his watch.
Then toward the photographers gathered near the front of the room.
I had spent too many years studying Logan on the ice not to recognize the signs. The stillness in his shoulders. The controlled expression. The way he appeared relaxed when he was waiting for someone else to make the first move.
He had planned something.
Ryan sat beside me, eating the dessert he had insisted he did not want.
“You’re
