Chapter 17
seventeen
BLAIR
Unfortunately, no puppies take a bite out of Logan. They nibble his fingers and lick his face, but the furry little traitors seem just as enamored with him as the female employees from Happy Tails.
The worst part? I can’t even blame them.
My damned ovaries are about to burst as I watch the normally surly Viking smile and laugh as he cradles a furry little Yorkie mix.
It’s annoying and confusing because I can’t figure Logan out.
One minute, he’s a raging dickhead, and the next he’s confessing his unfulfilled childhood dreams. He’s smiling at me, then he’s glaring as if I kicked his wished-for puppy.
My head tells me to give the man a wide berth, but my traitorous body thrums with anticipation when he’s near. It’s very confusing.
“So.” Bryse sticks his hands into his pockets and rocks back on his heels as he glances at me. “Is something happening between you and Logan? There seems to be some…tension between the two of you.”
An undignified snort erupts from me before I can stop it. “If by tension, you mean he clearly hates my guts, and I want nothing more than to avoid him at all costs, then yes, there is tension. And no, there is nothing happening with us.”
Even if part of me wanted to explore something with Logan, there’s too much weirdness between us. We had one night of epic sex, and that’s it. For whatever reason, he’s since decided that I’m the enemy, and no amount of great sex is worth dealing with that kind of behavior.
The teasing smirk drops from Bryson’s face as turns to look at me fully. “Are you sure? Because sometimes he looks at you like he wants to devour you in a sexy way, and sometimes he looks at you like he wants to devour you in a very non-sexy I can’t stand her way, and I’m concerned.”
My throat tightens slightly. Bryson is becoming one of my friends, but he’s also my coworker, and even though I don’t know the full story behind why my predecessor was fired, I do know it had to do with relationships with one or more of the players.
The very last thing I want is for Bryse, or anyone else I work with, to believe I’m skipping down the same path.
I can’t lose this job.
“You don’t have to worry,” I reassure myself as much as him. “I’ve hung out with a few of the players’ wives and girlfriends a couple times, so we’ve run into each other outside of work, but Logan’s mostly indifferent to me. I would never risk my place here by blurring those lines.”
Bryson frowns. “Blair, you know there are no ru—”
“Hey, Blair, can you help me with something for a minute?”
Relieved to have this conversation interrupted before it turns into a potential problem for me, I smooth my hands over my slacks and offer Bryson a shaky smile. “Sorry, I’ll be right back.”
Striding over to the photographer, I try to calm my nerves. “Hey, Greg. What can I help you with?”
The photographer waves Logan over, and that’s when I notice the blond hockey player is holding the little Yorkie as far away from his body as he can. There’s a yellow puddle on the ice behind him, and his skates shine with what has to be puppy pee. It’s a battle to keep myself from giggling.
One I lose.
After stealing a glance at Logan’s pinched face, I focus on the yipping dog, who is obviously not happy about being held away from the man it was previously licking affectionately. “Did someone have an accident?”
“She peed all over my skates.”
“You can’t help it, can you, baby?” I coo at the puppy. She gives me a happy little bark in response, and my grin grows. “Poor thing. Now the big, angry Viking is tossing you aside, huh?”
Greg coughs, trying to hide his laughter as one of the assistants rush over with a towel to clean Logan’s skates.
“Her legs and tail are covered in pee,” Logan grumbles. “She’s shivering and cold.”
Oh. Oh.
When my gaze rises to meet Logan’s, I suck in a breath at the intensity I find there.
I still don’t know why he’s pissed at me, but I’m not delusional enough to convince myself that I don’t see the heat that also flares in those steely gray irises.
A silent moment passes between us, and I clear my throat and look away when Greg chuckles again.
“Think you could switch this little lady out with a different puppy, Blair? We don’t quite have it yet.”
“Of course.” I carefully take the Yorkie from Logan’s hands and scurry over to the puppy pen, my heart thrumming in my chest at warp speed.
Why does he affect me like this? Stealing a glance at Bryson, I find him watching the interaction with a frown, and I have to take a long, deep breath to keep my hands from shaking.
I don’t think he would rat me out to Tess, but that’s also not a risk I am willing or able to take.
I don’t even need to consider which puppy to grab once I’ve handed the Yorkie over to one of the shelter workers who begins to clean her up. My hands find Pugsly, and I cradle him to my chest as I straighten up and turn on my heel. His thrumming heart and warm body help calm my raging nerves.
“Here you go,” I murmur, holding the puppy out to Logan.
The winger searches my face, blowing out a deep breath before he reaches for the pug. I shiver when Logan’s fingers skim mine, and his eyebrows furrow. I swear, he’s trying to see inside my soul, and I shiver again. “Thanks, Blair.”
The deep rumble of his words skates over my skin like a caress. When I realize his fingers are still touching mine, I pull away. My skin tingles where we touched, and I fist my hands at my sides, pasting on a smile I hope looks confident.
“Of course. Greg, let me know if you need anything else.” Then, like the coward I am, I scurry away from Logan’s long fingers and intense stare.
I don’t look at him again for the rest of the shoot.
The bleachers are cold when I flop onto them after work. Reed waves when he notices me, but his focus quickly shifts back to the coach and his instructions.
Pride swells in my chest, warming me from within as I watch my little brother interact with his teammates and coaches.
He’s in his element on the football field.
All the heartbreak, awkwardness, and insecurities that come along with being a thirteen-year-old in a new city bleed away, and I can envision the man he’s becoming.
Someone self-assured, steady, and thoughtful.
For the millionth time, I wish my parents were here to see it.
Deep, familiar melancholy tempers the pride, and I wrap my arms around myself.
The truth of it is, I don’t merely wish my parents were here to see the man Reed is becoming.
I wish they were here because I know I’m not enough for him on my own.
He deserves parents who can be there for everything, not just an older sister who has no idea how to juggle work, Reed’s school, practice, and games, let alone how she’ll continue to pay for everything.
And selfishly? I wish I could be a normal twenty-five-year-old woman. I wish I could date or go out with my friends without worrying about my brother. I’m lonely and scared and exhausted.
Reed catches a pass from the quarterback, his teammates cheering as he races into the end zone, and guilt floods me.
I may not have asked to become my little brother’s sole pseudo-parent at age twenty, but he didn’t ask for any of this, either. As much as I wish things were different for both our sakes, I wouldn’t give him up for all the normal experiences in the world.
And that’s the eternal dichotomy of family, isn’t it? There are moments you wish you could run away, but then you come to your senses and realize that all the friends, parties, travel—whatever grass seems greener in the moment—would be meaningless without the people you love most.
A whistle blows, and the coaches huddle everyone up before telling them to hit the locker room and change. Reed looks for me in the stands and holds up a finger, asking for a minute. I nod, watching him saunter off the field with his new friends. At least one of us has people in his corner.
When I catch the familiar thought, I still.
That’s not accurate anymore, is it? Because, for the first time in a long time, I do have people in my corner.
I have Adrienne and Bryson, and even though we haven’t hung out in person much yet, I also have Isla, Lexi, and Mira.
They don’t go a day without texting our group chat and checking in on me.
I’m not alone anymore. Not entirely.
There’s no wiping the grin off my face when Reed comes jogging out of the locker room with his backpack slung over his shoulder.
“Hey.” He arches one eyebrow at my expression. “What are you smiling about?”
Looping my arm through his, I shrug. “Just had a good day, I guess.”
“Oh yeah? How so?”
“I got to hold puppies at work.”
That gets Reed’s attention. He’d like a dog as much as I would, and I make a mental note to call our contacts at Happy Tails to see if I can bring Reed in for some puppy therapy. “Really? Why?”
“We had a photoshoot with some guys on the team and puppies for a calendar.”
Reed snorts out a laugh. “Seriously?”
“Yep. It was pretty funny.”
“I’ll bet. Oh, I almost forgot to remind you that we don’t have school on Friday. Teacher institute day or something.”
Well, shit. I stumble a little before I can get my moment of panic under control. I completely forgot about that. Reed is a responsible thirteen-year-old, but I’m not comfortable leaving him home alone for nine hours.
“Yeah, I definitely forgot about that. I think you’re going to have to come to work with me.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, sorry. Just bring any homework you have and a book or something. Maybe the team will have practice. I bet Joe the security guard would let you in to watch it.”
“Ugh. Fine. But I’m old enough to stay home alone.” Reed nudges my shoulder with his before he walks around to the passenger side of the car.
“Not that long. Nice try, Reedy. So, how was your day?” I ask him as I unlock the Civic and he throws his stuff into the backseat. “You were looking great out there at practice.”
“Thanks. My day was good. Got an A on my math test.”
“That’s awesome.” My chest expands with pride. Reed works so hard, and he’s such a great kid despite everything stacked against him. “Proud of you.”
His cheeks warm, and he ducks his head, curls bobbing. “Thanks.”
“We should grab dinner to celebrate. What are you in the mood for?”
“Really?” He grins when he turns my way, his face still so young and boyish, but there are hints of the man he’s becoming in the sharpening of his jaw.
“Really.”
“How about Chinese?”
“Chinese, it is. I’m really proud of you, Reed. I know this move hasn’t been easy, but thank you for rolling with it.”
My little brother ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck. He doesn’t do well with praise and being the center of attention, but I’m determined to change that. He’s such a great kid, and I want him to be confident in that.
“It’s not like it’s been easy for you, either. I’m sorry for being a dick about moving. I get you were just doing what you thought was best for us.”
Emotion clogs my throat, and I reach across the car and give his shoulder a quick squeeze. “It’s okay. I know it was hard to leave your friends behind.”
We fall into a comfortable silence, and some deep part of me takes a full, unrestricted breath for the first time since our parents died.
“We’re going to be okay, you know,” I tell Reed.
“I know. You’ve always made sure we are.”
If Reed notices the tears that fill my eyes, he doesn’t mention it.