Chapter 3 #2
By the time we wrangle it into my bedroom, I’m flushed and sweaty. Logan props his end against the wall, straightening to his full, ridiculous height.
I take a step back, observing the mirror placement. “It’s crooked.”
He frowns. “It’s straight.”
“Crooked,” I insist, nudging the corner half an inch just to make a point.
Logan mutters something about control issues under his breath as his gaze drifts toward the window, and he cranes his head.
“You realize this looks straight into my room.”
I glance over my shoulder. Sure enough, his window is perfectly framed across the street. I bite my lip to stop my grin. “Guess I’ll have to remember to close my curtains.”
He hums low. “You’d better.”
“Oh, don’t worry.” I tilt my head with fake innocence. “Wouldn’t wanna traumatize you, Pookie.”
The air shifts, a beat too long, too quiet. His eyes pin mine, and suddenly the mirror feels like it’s reflecting way more than furniture.
I jump when a knock rattles the front door, followed by Eli’s voice booming through the house. “Lu! You home?”
Logan exhales sharply, dragging a hand over his face, and the moment shatters.
I don’t even get the chance to shout down my response before I hear Eli barreling in like he owns the place.
Which, technically, he kinda half does. Both Logan and I rush to go through my bedroom door at the same time, colliding slightly before he steps back and calmly gestures for me to go ahead of him.
I don’t know why we’re both acting panicked, like we just got caught doing something we shouldn’t.
“Lu!” Eli calls again as I reach the landing. He’s standing in the entryway with a leash in hand. Behind him, Miso rockets around the house, yapping loud enough to wake the dead.
“Jesus, I’m right here,” I manage calmly enough, taking the rest of the stairs down to greet him.
Tamara appears in the doorway behind him, balancing a box of goodies from my favorite gluten-free bakery, and looking unfairly glamorous for someone who just came from picking her husband up from the rink. “Housewarming gift,” she sings, lifting the box in my direction.
My absolute favorite. Macarons, in all the pastel rainbow shades. This woman is a goddamn goddess, and I have no idea how my smelly brother scored her.
Miso spots Logan as he appears behind me and loses her tiny schnauzer mind. Hackles up, teeth bared, little growls punching the air as she bounces at his ankles.
“Fantastic,” Logan mutters, stepping back as Miso snaps at his shoelaces.
“She remembers you,” Eli says cheerfully, completely oblivious to the way Logan’s jaw flexes. “Good girl, Miso.”
“Good girl?” Logan glares down at the dog. “She’s trying to take my foot off.”
“She’s protective,” Tamara says sweetly, scratching Miso’s head before turning to me. “Wow, Lulu. This place looks amazing already.”
I try to smile, though my pulse still hasn’t caught up from that charged silence with Logan two minutes ago. “Still lots to do.”
Eli claps Logan on the shoulder with a grin. “You giving her a hand, Pooks?”
“Trying to,” Logan says dryly. “Your sister’s got opinions about furniture placement.”
Eli laughs a low, easy sound. “She’s got opinions about everything. And you get to be her neighbor now, lucky man.”
There’s history in their dynamic, the kind of shorthand that only comes from too many years in each other’s pockets.
Logan’s mouth opens, but Betty’s voice cuts through the entryway like a foghorn.
“Lucky he was here to help! Carried that mirror up the stairs like it was nothing. Thighs to crack walnuts, this one.”
I swear my soul leaves my body as she repeats that damn statement again in front of my brother. She’s clearly made her introductions while we’ve been upstairs, and doesn’t appear to be leaving while there’s this level of entertainment to prod at.
Eli blinks. “Thighs… cracking?”
“Walnuts, darling,” Betty says, entirely unbothered, leaning against the doorframe. “Man’s built like a farmhand. Though if you ask me, it wasn’t just the mirror making things feel heavy in the air.”
Logan goes still, while my cheeks flame.
Eli’s face does a thing—horror, confusion, rage, all competing. Tamara presses her lips together, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.
And because my mouth sometimes hates me, I blurt out the first thing I can think of. “It’s fine, all sorted now. Which is good, because I have a date tomorrow night.”
I don’t even know why I say it. Maybe to prove a point, maybe to distract Eli from Betty’s walnut commentary. Maybe because I want Logan to know.
Tamara’s head snaps to mine, delighted. “Ooooh, really? Where are you going?”
“That new taco truck place. But don’t make it sound like more than it is.”
“Tallulah.” Eli’s tone is an instant big-brother warning. “You don’t even know this guy.”
“That’s the point of a date, Einstein.”
Eli levels me with a look, then glances at Logan. “Lucky you live across the street, Millsy. You can make sure she gets home on time.”
My jaw drops. “Excuse me? Did you just—”
Logan’s mouth twitches, almost as if he’s going to back me up, but no words come.
“You’re not serious,” I snap at Eli. “I don’t need a babysitter, and I definitely don’t need him spying on me like I’m fifteen and sneaking out my window. You’re not curfewing me, Elijah.”
Eli shrugs, maddeningly casual. “Just sayin’, Lu. You don’t exactly have the best track record.”
A hand flies to my hip. “What?”
He lifts a brow, unfazed. “Want me to remind you about that Matt guy who only took you out on nights he knew I had home games? Or the guy who spent half your dinner date trying to get my autograph when I showed up to pick you up?”
Heat flashes across my cheeks. “Oh my god, one time—”
“Two,” Eli corrects flatly.
From behind me, I feel Logan go razor-still, the way he does on the ice before a fight breaks out. I turn my head just as his mouth parts, about to say something, but when Eli’s gaze cuts to him, he clamps it shut again.
Tamara’s nose wrinkles. “Those guys were pigs, Lu. Absolute bottom-feeders.”
“Idiots,” Betty adds. “Obviously couldn’t see what was right in front of them!”
“She’s right.” Logan’s voice slips out low, so quiet I’m almost sure I imagine it.
It’s gone as quickly as it comes, and he shifts uncomfortably, but eventually his eyes slowly trail to mine.
“Think I’ll go,” he mutters roughly, forcing a smile as he nods at Eli. “See you tomorrow, man.”
“Mm-hm,” Betty hums, eyes twinkling as she watches this bullshit unfold. “Best not linger too long, Walnut Boy.”
Logan falters at the threshold, just long enough to make my stomach swoop. It’s barely noticeable unless you’re looking.
Betty is looking.
He pushes out into the evening without another word, while Eli follows Tamara into the kitchen, Miso trotting at their heels, leaving me at the door with Betty.
She watches Logan disappear across the street, then leans conspiratorially toward me. “So, how long have you been in love with your brother’s teammate, Sugarplum?”
I soundlessly gasp and shake my head. “I—what—no—”
She pats my arm before breezing off and down the porch. “I’ve seen more chemistry than a high school lab. Yours doesn’t lie.”
I stand there stunned for a second, wondering if it’s that obvious to everyone, or just to Betty the fucking neighborhood psychic. On a groan, I sag against the wall, praying no one else has noticed this ridiculous crush I can’t shake.
“What a fucking housewarming.”