Prologue
Prologue
The roar of the crowd rolled across the Harbor Ridge High field, a wall of sound that rattled through Logan Mason’s chest. His breath came hard in the cold night air, the final seconds ticking away on the scoreboard above the end zone. One more play. Just one.
He crouched behind center, hands curled over the laces, scanning the field. The defensive line braced, eyes locked on him. Beyond them, past the glare of the floodlights, the sky over the ocean churned dark in the west, clouds stacking heavy and low. A salty breeze carried the tang of the incoming storm, the air charged with that sharp metallic scent that meant lightning wasn’t far off.
The ball snapped. He dropped back, muscle memory taking over, the damp turf squishing under his cleats. The receiver broke free. Drew, his younger brother, quick as lightning himself and Logan let the ball fly. Perfect spiral, perfect catch, and Drew crossed the line as the horn blared.
The game was theirs. The season was theirs. And for Logan Mason, this chapter was closing.
He tore off his helmet, chest heaving, and glanced instinctively toward the home stands. There she was, Aunt Annie, bundled in a thick, red scarf she’d knitted herself, the yarn a little fuzzy from years of wear. Her ears sparkled with the bright, mismatched earrings Maya had given her for her birthday, a splash of color against the silver in her hair. She clapped hard enough to make the large stone rings on her fingers, each a different vibrant color, flash under the stadium lights. Her faded jeans and worn leather boots carried the paint smudges and scratches of a life spent at her art studio, the little shop where she sold her paintings and handmade jewelry to locals and tourists.
Beside her, Maya Torres had herself wrapped in a massive team blanket, grinning like she’d had a hand in the win. She waved a posterboard sign over her head, his name painted in bold blue letters with a cartoon football and the words My QB in glitter. Maya worked part-time for Annie, helping sell the jewelry and paintings when she wasn’t in school, which meant she had a front-row seat to all Mason family business, whether Logan liked it or not.
Logan groaned under his breath. Leave it to Maya to make sure half the town knew she claimed him, even if she only meant it as her quarterback.
And of course, Alexandria Caldwell stood just yards from him, dead center in the cheer line, hair perfectly curled under the stadium lights. She tossed her pompoms high, smiling wide enough for the local paper’s camera, but when her eyes tracked his line of sight past her, to Annie and Maya, her smile faltered.
It wasn’t subtle. Alexandria’s gaze raked Maya from head to toe, lingering on the blanket as if it were some kind of insult.
From where he stood, Logan couldn’t hear it, but he saw it, Maya rolling her eyes so hard he was surprised they didn’t get stuck that way. Annie leaned in, her hand on Maya’s arm, and spoke without breaking her proud clapping. Don’t give the spoiled girl any attention, she isn’t worth it. Maya’s mouth curved in a smirk, but she dropped her gaze back to the field, refusing to give Alexandria another glance.
Then Alexandria straightened, chin high, the look in her eyes promising she’d prove she was better.
Logan shook his head and turned away. He’d known Alexandria his whole life, same as Maya. One had been his friend’s little sister, the kid he’d promised himself he’d look out for, even when she tested his patience. The other… well, the other had spent most of high school acting like they were already a couple, despite him never saying yes.
And tonight, only one of them mattered to him.
He raised a hand toward the stands, and Maya’s grin grew wider, her sign bouncing in her hands. Annie beamed like she’d just won herself. That was the Mason Way, family first, always. They weren’t wealthy like the Bradfords across the county line, but they worked hard, stood together, and protected their own. Blood or not, if you were theirs, you had them for life.
A gust of wind whipped through the bleachers, snapping the flags over the scoreboard and carrying the distant rumble of thunder. Logan glanced toward the ocean just in time to see a flash of lightning arc along the horizon, briefly lighting the restless water in white. Tomorrow, everything would start shifting.
The home crowd noise dimmed in his head when movement in the stands caught his attention. Maya’s grin vanished. Her posture stiffened. From the top of the bleachers, her father was making his way down the steps, swaying with each one, a half-empty bottle sticking out of his jacket pocket. Even from here, Logan could see the glassy eyes and flushed face.
Annie stepped into the aisle, blocking his path, her hands raised. He shoved past her like she weighed nothing, caught Maya by the arm, and yanked hard enough to make her stumble.
Logan’s helmet hit the turf before he realized he’d dropped it. He vaulted the fence in two strides, the cold air cutting into his lungs. He was halfway there when Maya’s voice sliced through the chaos.
“Logan! Don’t! Please stay out of it!” Her chin was high, but her voice trembled.
He froze, torn between her words and every instinct screaming at him to put himself between her and the man dragging her away.
That was when Alexandria materialized at his side, sliding close enough that her perfume clung to the air. She curled a hand around his arm, nails pressing lightly through his jersey. “That girl isn’t good enough for you,” she murmured, eyes following the scene in the stands.
Logan peeled her hand off, his jaw tight. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Logan!” Coach’s voice barked from the field, calling him back for the post-game huddle.
He turned, but not all the way. His eyes stayed on Maya as her father dragged her through the crowd, Annie following close behind, shouting for him to let go. The storm wind whipped Annie’s scarf and sent grit swirling across the track.
Logan went back when he was called, but his head wasn’t in the huddle. His eyes kept finding the path to the parking lot, watching until Maya disappeared into the dark.
He didn’t know when, but he knew, this wouldn’t be the last time he stepped in for her.
