Statements
1416 Words
By eight the next morning, I had rewritten Logan Hayes’s statement six times.
Not because the statement was difficult.
Because Logan was.
The first draft was too formal. The second sounded defensive. The third made him appear irresponsible, which defeated the purpose entirely.
The fourth had been nearly perfect.
Then Logan had called.
“Good morning, Olivia.”
“It’s seven-thirteen.”
“So you’re awake.”
“I’ve been working.”
“On me?”
I had stared at the phone.
“On your statement.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
“Do I get to hear it?”
“Not until you arrive.”
“Where?”
“My office.”
“What time?”
“Nine.”
“That’s early.”
“It’s your crisis.”
“You’re very demanding.”
“You’re very lucky I accepted the case.”
His laugh had followed me through the rest of the morning.
At eight forty-five, I received a message from Marcus.
The press appearance has been moved to eleven. The board wants Logan present.
I replied immediately.
He will be prepared.
Then I added:
Assuming he arrives on time.
Marcus responded with:
Good luck.
Not reassuring.
At nine twelve, my office door opened.
Logan walked in wearing dark jeans, black boots, and a white shirt beneath his leather jacket.
I looked at him.
Then at the clock.
“You’re late.”
“By twelve minutes.”
“Exactly.”
“I thought you’d appreciate the extra time.”
“For what?”
“To miss me.”
I returned my attention to the laptop.
“I didn’t.”
I closed the laptop.
“Sit.”
He glanced at the chair.
“You enjoy giving orders.”
“I enjoy efficiency.”
“Same thing?”
“No.”
He sat.
I placed the statement in front of him.
“You will read this exactly as written.”
Logan scanned the page.
“This is boring.”
“It’s responsible.”
“You keep confusing those words.”
“They are not interchangeable.”
“They should be.”
“They aren’t.”
He continued reading.
“You want me to say I regret the confusion.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t regret it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Then why am I saying it?”
“Because you regret the consequences.”
“I regret the paperwork.”
“Close enough.”
He looked up.
“You wrote this?”
“Yes.”
“You make me sound reasonable.”
“That is the goal.”
“I’m offended.”
“Good.”
His smile appeared. “You’re enjoying this.”
“I’m working.”
“You’re smiling.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
I looked away.
The moment I did, I remembered his hand at my waist.
The memory came without warning.
Warm fingers.
A quiet laugh.
His voice close enough that I had felt it rather than heard it.
I pushed the thought away.
Logan was watching me.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Then stop staring.”
I stood.
“We need to leave in twenty minutes.”
“Where are we going?”
“The Hayes headquarters.”
I gathered the documents.
“Wear the jacket.”
He looked down.
“I am wearing it.”
“The suit jacket. I had one brought in by Marcus figured you wouldn’t come wearing one”
“I don’t want to”
“They need to see that you take this seriously.”
He leaned back.
“You’re very concerned about what I wear.”
“I’m concerned about the company’s public image.”
“Is that what we’re calling it?”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Go change.”
“Fine.”
He stood and walked toward the door.
Then he stopped.
“Olivia.”
“What?”
“You look nice.”
I froze.
His expression was casual.
I stared at the closed door. Longer than I wanted to.
⸻
Logan arrived twenty minutes later wearing a charcoal suit.
It fit him perfectly.
That was irritating.
The shirt beneath it was unbuttoned at the collar. His hair remained slightly messy.
I looked him over.
He noticed.
“Better?”
“Almost.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Your collar.”
He glanced down.
“It looks fine.”
“It isn’t.”
I walked toward him.
“Stand still.”
“I am.” He laughed.
“Stop talking.”
I reached for his collar.
The fabric was warm beneath my fingers.
I adjusted the fold.
Then the edge of my hand brushed the side of his neck.
The memory returned. His hand against my back. The warmth of his skin. The sound of his voice when he had laughed.
I pulled my hand away.
Logan looked down at me.
“You look nervous.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re holding your breath.”
I exhaled.
“Don’t make this difficult.”
His smile deepened. “You’re distracted.”
“I’m thinking about the press conference.”
“Of course.”
I stepped away.
“Read the statement.”
He looked down at the page.
“You’re very serious.”
“It’s my job.”
“You weren’t always serious.”
The words were quiet.
Too quiet.
I looked at him.
He held my gaze.
Then his expression shifted.
The teasing returned.
“About the statement,” he said. “Do I have to memorize all of it?”
I looked away.
“Yes.”
⸻
The car ride to Hayes headquarters was silent for almost five minutes.
I reviewed the press schedule.
Logan looked out the window.
“You’re ignoring me,” he said.
“I’m working.”
“You’ve read the same page three times.”
“I’m checking for errors.”
“You’re avoiding conversation.”
“I don’t need conversation.”
The car stopped outside Hayes headquarters.
Reporters stood behind the security barriers.
Cameras turned toward the vehicle.
Logan looked at me.
“What do I do?”
“Follow the plan.”
“And if someone asks a question?”
“Smile.”
“That’s all?”
“Say nothing.”
“You’re taking away all the fun.”
“This is not fun.”
He opened the door.
Then paused. “Stay close.”
I frowned. “Why?”
“Because there are reporters.”
“I know.”
“They’ll ask you questions.”
“I can handle them.”
“I know.”
“Then why—”
“Just stay close.”
His expression was serious.
Not teasing. For the first time that morning, I didn’t argue.
We stepped outside.
The cameras immediately turned toward us.
“Logan!”
“Was the motorcycle stunt planned?”
“Are investors concerned?”
Logan moved beside me.
His hand settled lightly against the middle of my back.
The contact was professional. Protective. Nothing more.
My body disagreed. A memory flashed.
His hand. The same place. The same warmth.
I forced my attention forward.
“Mr. Hayes!” someone called. “Are you dating your PR consultant?”
Logan’s hand remained at my back.
“No,” he said.
I glanced at him.
He smiled for the cameras.
“Ms. Brooks is here to make sure I don’t say anything irresponsible.”
The reporters laughed.
The questions continued.
Logan stayed beside me until we reached the entrance.
Then his hand disappeared.
I should have been relieved.
Instead, I noticed the absence.
Inside the building, I turned toward him.
“You handled that well.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t let it affect your ego.”
“Too late.”
I handed him the statement.
“You have ten minutes.”
“To memorize it?”
“To avoid ruining everything.”
He smiled.
His eyes held mine.
Then someone called his name.
Logan stepped away.
I watched him walk toward the conference room.
The press appearance would determine whether the story continued.
The Kessler partnership was at risk.
Hayes Corporation was depending on me.
That was what mattered.
Not Logan’s hand against my back.
Not the memories I refused to examine.
Not the way he had told me to stay close.
I reminded myself why I was there.
Work first.
Everything else later.
It was a rule I had followed for years.
I had no intention of breaking it now.
- Writer
