Chapter 6 We’re Stuck Here
SIX
We’re Stuck Here
YANA
A sharp knock on the door startles me out of a deep sleep. I snap my eyes open, and when I realize I can’t move, horror seizes my lungs.
Before I can go into fight-or-flight mode, it dawns on me that Logan’s wrapped around me from behind, and he’s holding me tight to his chest. I close my eyes and melt into him, but another knock sounds, making my muscles tense. This time, the sound is followed by Camden’s voice.
“Reid, dammit, answer the door. I know you’re in there.”
I wiggle out of Logan’s arms and nearly tumble out of bed. I scurry around, collecting my tee and leggings from the floor. I get dressed, and then, tentatively, I crack open the door and poke my head out. Instantly, I find myself ensnared by a pair of crystal blue eyes.
Camden is wearing a black tee, black pants, and a menacing scowl. Clearly, he’s not a morning person.
“Where is Reid?” he demands.
“Asleep.”
He tsks. “Then wake him up.”
My stomach sinks. “Is something wrong?”
“Wake him up,” he grits through his teeth. “Reid!” he calls, peering over me. “Get your fucking ass out of bed.”
Goodness, is he always this cranky in the morning?
I frown. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing is wrong. My life is perfect,” he snaps. “Reid!”
“For fuck’s sake,” Logan grumbles behind me.
I glance back, and when I catch him climbing out of bed completely naked, a wave of heat crashes over my body, making me clench my legs together.
This man’s body is a fucking masterpiece: broad shoulders, muscular arms and thighs, and his ass?
I gripped it more than once last night, relishing his tight, toned glutes.
But the way it looks in broad daylight? I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
He pulls on his sweatpants and strolls over, his lazy smile making my knees weak. I’m so smitten with him it’s ridiculous.
Before he fixes his attention on his friend, he stops beside me and kisses my temple. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” I murmur into his neck.
“What’s the emergency?” Logan asks as he tucks me into his side.
Camden squares his shoulders, filling the doorframe with his presence. “Roads are closed. A storm came in overnight. So we’re stuck here. From what I can tell, the roads won’t be cleared until the 26th.”
My stomach drops, and I blink rapidly, like maybe that will help me make sense of his words.
There’s no way, right?
Logan clears his throat, his body tensing beside me. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said.” Camden shrugs, though the movement belies the tension radiating off him. “We’re fucking stuck here, Reid. Because of you.”
“Fuck.” Logan steps away and rubs a hand down his face. “Lucy is gonna be so upset.”
“No shit, man. Though your little sister is the least of your problems because I’m pissed, and I’m the one you’re stuck here with.” Camden quickly assesses me, his jaw ticking. Then he focuses on Logan. “I knew better than to let you talk me into this. Coming here was a mistake.”
My chest pangs, the sensation uncomfortable. His words hurt, and I don’t know why. Who cares if he’s upset?
It shouldn’t matter…but it does. It fucking does.
“I need to call my parents.” Logan steps out of the room, forcing Camden to move back. “They’re gonna kill me.”
“Tell them to get in line because I’m gonna kill you first.” He stomps after Logan as he makes his way to the room next door.
Shaking my head, I close the door and give myself some time to recenter.
A quick shower will wake me up and maybe help me sort out my thoughts.
Because this strange feeling in my gut worries me.
Sure, I’m annoyed about being stuck here with them, since my goal was time alone to rest and reset. Yet that’s not what concerns me.
The two of them and me, trapped here, with nowhere to go and not much to do. For at least two days, if what Camden said is correct.
My body heats, and the tepid water raining down on me does nothing to cool me off.
This is not good, not good at all.
After my shower, I twist my hair into a messy bun on top of my head and pull on leggings and a loose T-shirt.
The neckline instantly slides down my shoulder, exposing the fact that I’m not wearing a bra, but I couldn’t care less.
I’m here to relax and feel at ease. Logan hasn’t come back to the room, but his voice drifts to me through his closed bedroom door once I step into the hallway, hinting that he’s still on the phone with his parents.
I wander into the kitchen, set on cooking breakfast, but I stop short at the threshold. Camden’s already standing at the stove, his back looking impossibly broad as he flips the bacon in the hissing pan.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, stepping closer. “I was going to make—”
“Too late,” he mutters without looking up.
Irritation bubbles to life inside me. “Excuse me?”
He breaks an egg with a quick, practiced movement, the white and yolk quickly settling into the preheated pan.
“I figured you’d be too tired. In fact, I thought you’d gone back to bed, so I decided I’d save you the trouble.
” He breaks another egg into the pan. “Plus, I didn’t want to starve to death. ”
I blink. His explanation makes no sense. “What are you talking about?”
He finally looks at me, lips twisted. “You had a long night, right?”
Warmth that has nothing to do with the heat of the stove creeps into my cheeks.
Chyert by ego pobral1.
I grit my teeth, willing my hands not to tremble. “The walls aren’t that thin.”
“Thin enough.” He holds my gaze. The look he gives me is steady, challenging, pinning me to the spot and making me feel exposed. It’s like he wants me to know he heard everything. “And you aren’t particularly quiet.”
The words hang in the air, heavier than they should be, sending my pulse skyrocketing. The heat in my cheeks has consumed me completely. I don’t know what I want to do more—argue with him that my sex life is not for his entertainment, or walk away so I can chide myself in private.
Before I can do or say anything, Logan strolls in.
He’s in a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants, his blond hair dusted with snow and his cheeks red.
“Stepped outside to assess the situation after my phone call. It’s fucking freezing.
” Shivering, he steps into me and slips his hand around my waist. “And there’s snow everywhere.
Our cars are buried under it. It’ll be good to clear the snow off them later today. ”
“What did your parents say?” I ask, trying to ignore Camden’s presence.
“They’re disappointed. Lucy too.” He flashes me a cute smile. “Though the moment I promised to make it up to her with another gift, I was forgiven.” He flicks his attention to Camden. “Mom and Dad said hi, and they asked me to remind you about their invitation. They’d love it if you joined us.”
“Thanks.” He nods, his eyes sliding to where Logan’s hand rests at my waist. His jaw twitches, but he says nothing, just returns his focus to the stove. “Breakfast’s ready. Could you two set the table?”
“Sure.” I untangle myself from Logan and pull plates from the cabinet, ignoring their murmurs behind my back.
This whole situation is just a bump in the road. A little hiccup. I’ve been under way more pressure during tournaments. This is nothing in comparison.
Nadeyus’ ya sama nachnu v eto verit’2.
Once the kitchen is clean and our stomachs are full, Logan and I snuggle on the couch in the living room, and Camden sits on the floor by the fireplace.
It’s only one o’clock, and the day seems endless.
If I were alone, I would be watching movies, reading, and dancing around in my pj’s.
Now, I’m trying to think of a way to keep all of us entertained.
“Any plans for today?” I ask no one in particular.
Camden snarls. “Yeah. My plans included going to the rink, then the gym. Instead, I’m rotting here on the floor until bedtime.
” He narrows his eyes at me, then at Logan.
“I’d be grateful if one of you could find some earplugs for me.
I have no interest in listening to the two of you go at it again. ”
“Stop being so bitter,” Logan grouses, tightening his hold on me. “You almost sound condescending.”
“Really? Almost? Too bad. Because that’s what I was going for.” He shrugs.
I roll my eyes and take a deep breath. He’s going to make this place feel like hell, isn’t he?
“How about we watch a movie?” Logan asks. “That worked out pretty well last night.”
“Speak for yourself,” Camden mutters. Then he inhales loudly. “Fine. Whatever.” His gaze lands on me, his brow arched. “What’s on your list? Just the Home Alone movies?”
“No, but we should probably finish Home Alone 2. Then we can watch Home Alone 3.” I give him a feral smile. “After that, we can make dinner.”
“Please tell me there are other movie options for after dinner.” He continues studying me, his intensity setting my skin on fire.
“Absolutely. I’ll even let you pick.” I hold his gaze, refusing to back down.
Logan plants a kiss on my temple. “Sounds good.”
Camden hauls himself up, keeping his gaze averted. “I better get myself a beer. I’m gonna need it to survive all these cheesy movies.”
“Bring some for us too,” Logan calls as his friend stomps toward the kitchen.
“Not for me,” I chime in. “I don’t drink this early.”
Camden stops in his tracks and smirks at us. “Get your own,” he says to Logan. “You’re a big boy.”
With a sigh, Logan releases me and stands. “And he’s being a big, fat baby,” he mumbles as he follows Camden.
Home Alone 2 is a hit. Within minutes, the atmosphere in the room relaxes. We talk and joke, mostly about the movie and its actors. It’s comfortable, even. I drink juice, and the boys drink beer.
Once the movie is over, I go to the kitchen for snacks. A second later, Logan joins me.
“Finally.” He pads across the room, eyes fixed on me. “A moment alone.”
He backs me against the kitchen counter, his hands on my hips, his breath hot on my skin as he captures my lips with his. The kiss is slow and sweet, the alcohol on his tongue making me a little dizzy.
Until a sudden thud startles us.
Camden stands beside the fridge, another beer bottle in his hand. “Sorry,” he grumbles as he strides out of the room.
“Is he always like that?” I whisper. “Or is it because of me?”
Logan slides a hand through his hair. “Not exactly…” He winces. “And yeah, it might be because of you.”
My stomach sinks, but I shrug off the sensation. “He hasn’t been a fan since we first met, so I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“I don’t think…” He shakes his head. “Don’t let him get to you. It’ll be fine.”
“If you say so.” I force a smile. “He’s your best friend.”
With one more peck to my lips, Logan snags another beer from the fridge and heads out of the room.
When I’m alone, I let my shoulders droop. Why does Camden have to make everything so difficult? Ugh. Bedtime cannot come fast enough.
In the living room, I put on Home Alone 3 and cuddle with Logan.
Every time he laughs, the sound reverberates through my body, bringing a smile to my face and a fuzzy feeling to my stomach.
I’m calmer, happier, than I’ve been in months.
Not even Camden’s constant scoffs and complaints about how this movie pales in comparison to the first two can ruin my mood.
When the credits roll, Camden, who’s refused to sit on the couch all day, shifts, glancing up at me from the floor. “What’s next? Since you’re the one set on this movie marathon.”
“Should we make dinner before we start another movie?” I ask, ignoring his question.
“I’m in.” Logan stands.
Camden holds my gaze. “Me too. But first, I’d like to know what we’re going to watch next.”
“I have the perfect movie, and I bet you’ve never seen it.” I grin, leaning back against the cushions. “How about Ivan Vasilievich Changes His Profession?”
Logan tips back the last of his beer. “Wait—what?”
Camden just stares at me, his eyebrows pulled together.
I pluck my phone from the coffee table and google the name of the movie. “Oh, that’s the literal translation. According to this”—I hold up my phone—“in English it’s called Ivan Vasilievich: Back to the Future.”
Logan laughs. “So it’s a rip-off of an American movie, then?”
“No.” I huff, annoyed and maybe a bit defensive. “This one came first. It’s based on a play by Bulgakov, actually. And it’s hilarious.”
“Bulgakov?” Camden says in a low voice.
I blink at him, sitting straighter. “Yeah. Do you know about Bulgakov?”
“Of course.” He lifts his bottle and takes a sip. “He’s the author of The Master and Margarita.”
I don’t know what surprises me more, his casual tone, or the fact that he knows who Bulgakov is at all.
Either way, his response and the heat in his eyes warm my skin and make my heart thud heavily.
“You read Bulgakov?” I ask.
He shrugs, but when he speaks, his voice cracks. “My grandma loved him. Made me read his stuff with her. She basically forced me into a two-person book club, where we read and then discussed each book.”
The room goes quiet, the only sound coming from the storm that’s assaulting the cabin walls and windows.
Logan shifts beside me, but I can’t take my eyes off Camden.
The way he explained his knowledge—not to show off, but as if reminiscing about a part of his past he clearly loved and misses—hits me firmly in the solar plexus.
His tone is tainted with grief and a sadness that feels heavier than the weight of even my biggest problems. Seeing him so vulnerable, with his emotions written all over his face, softens my heart.
Camden Hayes is not the man I thought he was. There’s a surprising tenderness under all his bite and sharpness.
If he’d shown me that side of him the night we met, things between us might be very different.
My chest tightens at the thought, my pulse quickening. The sensation that’s creeping in is wrong in so many ways, especially while Logan’s arm is draped over my shoulders. But there’s no denying it’s there.
1 Damn him.
2 I hope I’ll start believing it myself.