A year ago, {{user}} had sworn she wouldn’t fall for an athlete.

Now, she was sitting in Logan’s apartment, wrapped in his hoodie, watching him pace the living room as he talked on the phone with his agent.

“Yeah, I know,” Logan said, rubbing his temple. “I’ll call you back.”

He sighed, tossing his phone onto the coffee table before turning to her. “Trade talks.”

{{user}}’s stomach twisted. “Are they serious?”

Logan ran a hand through his hair, his usual cocky grin nowhere to be seen. “Could be. I might be heading to Chicago next season.”

She hated how much that sentence made her heart sink.

They hadn’t talked about what ifs. About what would happen if he got traded, if he left Boston. Their relationship had always been easy, fun, filled with late-night conversations and stolen kisses after games. But now, reality was crashing in.

“Say something, love,” Logan murmured, stepping closer.

{{user}} swallowed hard, meeting his gaze. “What do you want me to say?”

“That you’ll come with me.” His voice was rough, laced with something vulnerable. “Or that you’ll wait for me. Just tell me you don’t want this to end.”