Chapter 26 #2
“Uh…we’re not hooking up here.”
He laughs. “Cass, relax. You said you trust me.”
He tenderly wraps it around my eyes, and my heart starts to hammer harder.
Not just because of the blindfold, either.
But because I realize that it’s the truth.
I do trust him.
And that scares me a little.
About fifteen minutes later, the truck slows, tires crunching softly over gravel before going still.
The engine hums for a second longer, then clicks off, and the silence is palpable.
Well—not total silence.
There are night sounds, like wind and some voice in the distance.
And oh. I can hear my heart beating.
“Okay,” Logan says, quieter now. “Don’t move.”
“Trusting you,” I mutter, gesturing vaguely to the blindfold.
I hear his door open and close, followed by his boots on the ground. Then mine, as he comes around and opens my door.
“Careful,” he says, his hands finding mine.
He helps me down, and the second my feet hit the ground, I feel soft grass under my shoes.
We walk a few steps. Maybe more. At some point, a gate opens and shuts. I lose count because I’m too aware of everything else—his hand still around mine leading me, the warm night air brushing my bare arms, the way my pulse won’t settle. The sound of crickets.
“Alright,” he says finally.
A pause.
“You can look.”
The blindfold loosens and falls away.
We’re standing in grass in center field of a baseball field.
A real one.
The lights are dimmed but still glowing faintly overhead, casting everything in this soft, golden haze. The stands are empty. The dugouts quiet. The whole place…still.
Like the world paused just for this.
I turn in a slow circle, taking it in.
“Logan…”
He shrugs, suddenly a little less cocky. “Riverbend University’s baseball field. I wanted to be the one to show it to you.”
Something in my chest tightens.
“Oh my God,” I laugh softly. “This is insane. It’s like we’re in high school.”
“Wait,” he says, already moving.
He jogs a few steps away, and grabs something off the grass I didn’t even notice before—a blanket and a small speaker from a bag.
“You planned this,” I say out loud. It’s almost a question—but not quite. Because it’s obvious he put thought into this little rendezvous.
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
“I’m very surprised.”
“What, didn’t think I could plan stuff? I’m a man of many talents.”
He grins as he spreads the blanket out right there on the outfield grass like this is completely normal behavior.
We sit down, and he reaches into the bag for the bottle of wine, along with two paper cups.
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
He twists the cap off, fills up my cup and hands it to me.
“Cheers, Cass. To one-night stands, roommates, and heavy coincidences from the universe.”
“And to wine.”
“Yes. To wine.”
We cheers each other, looking one another in the eye, and then he pulls out a cowboy hat.
I lose it.
“Absolutely not.”
“Oh, absolutely yes,” he says, placing it on his head with full confidence.
“Fine. Cheers. To hot cowboys.”
“Save a horse. And ride…well you know the rest,” he adds.
He leans back, pulls out a speaker, and presses something on his phone. Music starts playing.
The Dust Devils.
I freeze.
“No way.”
Logan just shrugs, like this is nothing, like he didn’t just pull the most romantic night ever out of thin air.
“Just a little playlist I cooked up,” he says.
He takes a sip straight from a small bottle he’s now produced—whiskey, obviously, because wine and whiskey go together on a hot night like tonight—then gestures toward the speaker as “Midnight Whiskey” starts playing.
My song. The one he made fun of.
My stomach clenches.
“Oh my God,” I say, laughing, covering my face. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m committed to the bit,” he says. “Hey…” he leans in, staring at my face and tilting my head. “What’s that?”
“What? Do I have something on my face?”
“Yeah. Some ketchup…”
He brushes my chin and laughs lightly, until I swat his hand away.
“Jerk,” I say, laughing.
And then—because apparently he has no shame—he starts singing along, badly, loudly, and dramatically.
I laugh harder, shaking my head, but I can’t stop watching him.
Because he’s not performing, exactly.
Or maybe he is. But if so, it’s not in the way I’ve seen before.
This is so loose, easy, and real.
The opposite of Professor Eric.
He stands up and holds a hand out to me. “Dance with me.”
“There is no dancing to this song.”
“Not with that attitude.”
I roll my eyes, but I get up anyway.
He pulls me in, one hand at my waist, the other still holding the bottle, swaying like we’re the only two people on earth.
And in that moment, it kind of feels like we are.
The laughter fades a little, and the music softens. I can see stars in the sky.
And suddenly I’m very aware of how close we are.
How his hand shifts slightly against my back. How my fingers curl into his shirt.
“I was with someone for years,” I hear myself say.
The words come out quieter than I expect.
“And we never did anything like this.”
I swallow.
“Not even close.”
Logan looks closer at me, like he’s really examining me.
The teasing drops—just for a second.
“Yeah?” he says.
“Yeah.”
A beat. “Then I guess I’m doing something right.”
My chest tightens.
“So Logan…I feel like I still don’t know some things about you,” I say, sitting back down, and patting the blanket. “You’re still kind of this mystery to me.”
He plops down next to me. “Well, we’ve got time. And wine. And fresh summer night air. So ask away. I’m an open book.”
“Like where are you from?”
“Everywhere and nowhere,” he says.
“How so?”
“I grew up in Wisconsin. Till I was about seven. I showed some promise in baseball, so my parents moved me south where I could play year-round—to Texas. Grew up there. I never really felt right though.” He laughs.
“The kids actually made fun of my ‘Wisconsin accent’ in Texas. That’s probably why I talk funny. ”
“You don’t talk funny.”
“I’m glad you think so. But Texans say I talk like I’m from Wisconsin, and Wisconsinites say I talk like I’m from Texas.”
“Well, you can pull off a cowboy hat, at least. Maybe that’s the Texas in you.”
“What about you? What’s it like growing up with…how many brothers?”
“Three,” I say. “And they’re all way too intense. I guess I kinda learned to be the one who balances things out.”
He nods and sips his wine. “It’s really cute that you and Jackson are close. I like that about your family.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No, not ‘I guess.’ Cass, you realize you’re a glue person, right?”
“What’s a ‘glue person?’” I ask, curious.
“That’s like someone who brings people together. Like how you’re friends with Ivy? Man. There’s something about that. I don’t think you realize how important you are.”
“Oh,” I swallow. “I guess so.”
“I always wanted siblings. Didn’t have any though.”
There’s a pause between us. Not awkward, but something shifts in the air.
I don’t think, I just lean in.
And give him a big, huge kiss.
He stills for half a second—just enough to feel it—before his hand tightens at my waist and he kisses me back.
It’s not rushed like some of our kisses before.
The hungry desire of that one-night stand shifts into something slower and deeper. Like he’s not trying to win anything this time.
Like he’s just along for the ride.
The music plays in the background while the night presses in around us. He rolls a hand along my side and pulls me in.
“Goddamn you’re a good kisser, Cass.”
And just like that, I forget everything else.
My eyes drift up to the stars when we’re rudely interrupted.
“Hey!”
A voice cuts through the dark.
Sharp. Loud.
“What the hell are you two doing out there?!”
We freeze.
Logan pulls back, eyes wide as he looks in the direction of the noise.
“Uh…”
A flashlight beam sweeps across the field. “You can’t be here!”
“Oh, shit,” he mutters.
I start laughing.
“Logan. Did you get me in trouble?”
“Run.”
“What?”
“Run.”
After gathering the blanket, the wine, and whiskey, he grabs my hand, and suddenly we’re sprinting across the outfield, the music still playing from his phone, both of us laughing like idiots.
“Stop!” the voice yells.
We do not stop.
By the time we reach the edge of the field and hop the fence—me with Logan’s help—I’m breathless, half bent over, still laughing.
“This is—” I gasp. “This is insane.”
Logan’s laughing too, shaking his head, still holding my hand, still not letting go as we approach his truck.
He looks at me, and something shifts in his expression, like he didn’t expect this either. Like maybe this meant more than he planned.
“Worth it?” he asks.
I meet his eyes, still catching my breath.
“Yeah,” I say softly. “Worth it.”
“Now let’s get out of here before we get into a police chase,” he says, opening up his truck door for me.
“Sounds like a plan. I definitely don’t want to end up in the Riverbend police report.”
“Guess you’ve never been with a bad boy, huh?” he grins.
I swat his arm with a grin. “Oh, yeah, you’re so bad.”
“Keep talking like that, and you’re going to get it tonight,” he grins back.