INICIAR SESIÓNChase By the time Missy arrived, Allie had already reorganized half my kitchen. Not officially. She claimed she was only helping prepare dinner. But the herbs were now arranged near the stove instead of hidden inside a cabinet, the vegetables had been separated by type, and the sad line of prepared meals in my refrigerator had been pushed to the bottom shelf where she believed they belonged. I stood near the island slicing bread while she tasted the sauce. “It needs salt,” I said. “It does not.” “You said that before tasting it.” “I watched you add salt twice.” “That was measured.” “That was reckless.” I reached for the container. Allie moved it out of reach. “You are not ruining dinner before your family arrives.” “It is my house.” “And yet nobody trusts you with seasoning.” I looked toward the dining area. The table had been set for six. Mom had offered to bring food, but Allie insisted we could handle dinner ourselves. T
Missy Logan was waiting across the street when I left my final class. I noticed him immediately. Not because he looked like Logan Carter. Because he had become familiar. The dark coat. The cap pulled low. The way he stood slightly apart from everyone else while pretending to check his phone. Students moved around him without paying attention. A few crossed the street toward the cafés near campus. Others gathered beside parked cars, discussing assignments and weekend plans. Nobody looked twice at the famous athlete standing near the corner. Logan lifted his head when he saw me. He did not wave. We had agreed that he would never approach the main university entrance. He would wait at a distance, and I would decide whether to join him. The arrangement was supposed to make me feel in control. It mostly made me feel secretive. My phone vibrated inside my bag. LOGAN: You can still change your mind. I looked toward him. He had sent the sam
Allie I woke with Logan’s bedroom door beneath my hand. For one terrible second, I did not know where I was. The room was dark, but not familiar. The curtains were heavier than mine. The ceiling was higher. The sheets smelled clean and unfamiliar, and the silence around me felt too complete. Then the dream returned. My birthday. The livestream still running. My hand pushing open Logan’s bedroom door. The woman in his bed. His face when he saw me. Not guilt. Annoyance. As though I had interrupted something instead of discovering the end of my life. In the dream, I stood frozen while thousands of viewers watched through my phone. Their comments moved too quickly to read, but I heard them anyway. She deserved it. Look at her face. This has to be fake. Why is she still standing there? I tried to end the stream. My fingers would not move. Logan approached me, but his expression kept changing. One moment he was apologizing. Th
Chase Allie looked at me as though I had suggested marriage instead of a guest room. “No.” We stood in the middle of her bedroom while Mia packed clothes into a small travel bag. The curtains remained closed, and two members of my security team were downstairs reviewing camera footage with the building manager. Allie had not moved since I suggested she stay at my house. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, and fear had turned into stubbornness. “It is temporary,” I said. “It still feels like moving in.” “You would be staying in the guest room.” “Under your roof.” “Yes.” “That sounds serious.” “It sounds like architecture.” Mia stopped folding a sweater and looked at me. “That was not helpful.” “I was trying to reduce the tension.” “You failed,” Allie said. I stepped closer but kept enough distance between us. “This is about safety. Nothing else.” “That is easy for you to say.” “Why?” “Because it is your hous
Allie By the time I reached the production office, the clip had already been watched more than two million times. I stood beside a desk covered in cables, abandoned coffee cups, and printed schedules while the interview replayed silently on a monitor. The official segment had ended several minutes earlier, but my phone continued vibrating inside my hand. Message after message appeared. Mia. My manager. GlowHaus. Three unknown numbers. Then a headline notification. CHASE RYDER CAUGHT CALLING ALLIE HARPER “BEAUTIFUL” DURING LIVE INTERVIEW. I closed my eyes. The sound technician kept apologizing. “I thought the digital feed had been muted,” he said for the third time. “The main broadcast ended correctly, but one microphone stayed connected to the online stream.” The producer stood beside him with an expression that looked far less upset than it should have. The segment had broken records. Now the accidental audio was generating even more
Chase Winning the game should have been the most difficult part of my night. It was not. We had spent three periods fighting for every goal against one of the strongest defensive teams in the league. By the final two minutes, the score was tied, Ryan had taken a hard hit near the boards, and Coach had shortened the shifts because everyone was exhausted. I scored with thirty-eight seconds left. The arena exploded. My teammates surrounded me, sticks striking against my helmet and shoulders while the crowd shouted my name. The sound was familiar. The rush of victory was familiar. Even the cameras moving closer as we left the ice were familiar. What waited after the game was not. Allie was going to interview me live. I had known about the segment for nearly a week. We had discussed whether accepting it was wise, especially after agreeing to keep our relationship private. The network insisted the interview would focus on hockey, leadership, and my foundation







