Chapter 19
nineteen
BLAIR
How in the hell did I get myself roped into this?
I’m sitting in the front seat of Logan’s very nice SUV, trying not to be jealous of the heated seats, while Reed chatters away in the back.
Luckily, he and Logan have kept the conversation going while we drive to some hole-in-the-wall place Logan swears is a hidden gem.
Apparently, they have the best pho anywhere in the Twin Cities.
Considering how much I love pho, we’ll see if his choice lives up to the hype.
“Here we are.” He pulls into a small parking lot and clears his throat before throwing me a quick glance.
The building is nondescript. The red brick exterior is nothing special; they covered the windows with that reflective stuff that makes them look like mirrors, and the neon sign at the roofline simply reads Noodles. I definitely would have driven right past this place.
“Dude, I’m so hungry,” my brother says, climbing out of the car excitedly.
I can’t help it. I grin. Because it’s been so long since I’ve seen Reed genuinely excited or act like the teenage boy he is. And I can’t believe I have Logan freaking Byrne to thank for it.
“Blair?” The aforementioned hockey player’s voice is uncertain. “Is this okay?”
I need to get out of my head. The last person I want to see me all vulnerable and soft is the man who’s convinced I’m some kind of gold digger or spy or…
Well, I don’t really know what he thinks I am.
So I paste a smile on my face, ignore the strange wobbly feeling that’s throwing off my equilibrium, and turn to him.
“Yeah, this is great. Thanks for bringing us. I haven’t seen Reed this excited about dinner in, well, ever.”
Logan chuckles, and damn him, but the sound is pure sex. It rolls through my body, lighting me up as I recall the way he made me feel. “I think all teenage boys get excited about food. Especially athletes. He probably eats you out of house and home.”
“He can,” I agree as we both climb out of the SUV. “I cook enough for four people most nights, and sometimes that’s not even enough.”
“You talking shit about me?” Reed asks with a smirk.
“Quit swearing!” I playfully push Reed, or I try to. He’s big enough now that my efforts barely move him.
Logan is clearly fighting laughter as he opens the door and waves us inside.
I’m immediately hit with the savory scent of bone broth and spices, and my eyes widen when I take in the colorful decor.
The tables are old and well-loved looking, the chairs are painted in every color of the rainbow, and there are beautiful tapestries hanging on the exposed brick walls.
What the restaurant lacks in charm on the exterior, it more than makes up for inside.
“Mr. Logan!” A jovial older man bustles out from the kitchen, his face lit up as he extends a hand, which Logan takes. “So good to see you again. And you’ve brought some friends.”
“Hey, Mr. Phan, it’s good to see you too. How’s the family?”
Who is this charming, kind man? The Logan I’ve known since moving to Minneapolis is taciturn and arrogant. This Logan is…surprising.
“Good, good,” Mr. Phan replies as he leads the three of us to a table in the corner. “My granddaughter made the chamber choir. We’re very proud.”
“That’s awesome. Has she had any concerts yet?”
“Not yet, but they always have a holiday concert, and Lucy is very excited about it. Now, please, can I get you some tea or soda?” The kindly man looks expectantly between the three of us, waiting for our answer.
“Can I get a Coke?” Reed asks, picking the menu up off the table and scanning the photos.
“And I’d love a cup of tea,” I say.
Logan smiles at Mr. Phan. “Two teas, please.”
“Coming right up. Take a look at the menu, and I’ll be right back to answer any questions you may have.”
We say our thanks, then fall silent as the three of us read the menus.
Everything looks delicious. There’s pho, bhán mì, fried rice, and every other delicious Vietnamese dish I could have hoped for.
I should try something a bit more adventurous, but chicken pho sounds so good. It’s what I always get.
Mr. Phan brings our drinks and an order of fresh spring rolls, then takes our orders. I surreptitiously watch Logan as he interacts with the older man. Or at least, I think I’m being stealthy until Reed elbows me.
“Why are you staring at him like that?” he whispers.
“Shut up. I’m not staring.”
“You are. And your face looks weird.”
“I will put laxatives in your protein shakes if you don’t knock it off,” I hiss.
Reed barks out a laugh but thankfully knocks it off before Logan finishes his conversation with Mr. Phan. Squirming in my seat, I feel out of place and awkward once the restaurant owner walks away with our orders, leaving the three of us alone.
“So,” I start, clearing my throat as I meet Logan’s gaze, “thanks for showing Reed around. That was very nice of you.”
“No problem. He’s a cool kid. I didn’t realize he was your brother.”
I arch one eyebrow. “Because he’s cool and I’m not?”
Reed snorts beside me, but Logan just smiles, not rising to take the bait.
“Fishing for compliments?”
This time, Reed practically chokes on his Coke. I slap his back hard and glare at my little brother before turning my ire on the stupidly handsome hockey player.
“Not even a little,” I say with syrupy sweetness.
Hopefully, it hides how annoyed I am by that comment.
How does this man throw me off-kilter so easily?
It’s infuriating. So he has a pierced dick that he knows how to use?
In every other way, he’s deficient. A pompous, self-absorbed asshole who thinks so highly of himself that he actually believed I followed him from California to Minnesota.
I mean, honestly, that level of ego should be studied.
“Sure,” Logan replies. His Cheshire grin makes me want to slap him. Or kiss him. No, definitely slap him.
The thing is, I don’t feel cool, and no, I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, but I can’t deny that it would be nice to receive one every now and again.
Because I used to be cool. Before our parents died, I used to have friends—lots of them—and I always had plans.
I dated plenty in high school and at the start of college before things with Noah got serious.
I was confident and bold, and the world was filled with possibilities.
Now, I’m exhausted, serious, and I don’t have time to date around or even have many friends.
Not that I’ve had prospects for either camp knocking down my door in the last five years.
Hell, Logan was the first man I’d slept with in years, and Adrienne and the WAGS are the first women who’ve genuinely pursued a friendship with me in at least that long…
Reed’s arm brushes mine, and it brings me back to the present. Of course, I’d zone out in front of Logan Byrne and his massive ego.
“Blair’s way cooler than I am,” my little brother says. His voice drips with protectiveness, and my tired heart grows three sizes. He presses his arm to mine, as though he’s ready to square up and lend me his strength. “It’s not her fault she has a little brother cramping her style all the time.”
Oh, Reed.
Reaching over, I squeeze my brother’s hand. “Nah, Logan’s right. You’re cooler than I am now. I don’t even know half of the slang you use. And I can’t remember the last time I stayed up past midnight and didn’t regret it the next day. I’m definitely old and lame now.”
“You’re twenty-five, Blair-Bear.” The eye roll Reed gives me is so quintessentially him that I burst out laughing. He’s such a ballbuster. Mom would have loved it.
When I risk looking across the table at Logan, he’s watching us with a soft expression on his face. It makes my chest ache because there’s so much warmth and longing there. Does he have a little brother he’s missing right now? I realize I don’t know. I don’t know anything about him, really.
“Here we are,” Mr. Phan says, interrupting the moment with a tray full of food. He carefully places each dish in front of us and wishes us a good dinner.
We eat in silence for a minute before I can’t take it anymore.
“So, do you have any brothers or sisters, Logan?”
The blond man across from me pauses, his chopsticks full of noodles hanging over his bowl. An expression that looks a hell of a lot like sadness flickers over his face before he peers up at me with a smile on his face. “No, I’m an only child.”
“Ah, so you had peace and quiet growing up,” I tease, elbowing Reed as he scoops a spoonful of fried rice into his mouth, earning a grunt.
“Yeah. It was definitely quiet.”
My stomach does an unpleasant little flip at the way he says that. Despite his smile, it’s pretty clear Logan doesn’t view that quiet as a good thing. “Did you live with both of your parents?”
That would have seemed like such a strange question to ask, considering Reed and I grew up with two parents who loved us and each other. Our home was always full of laughter and lively conversation. And when you’re a kid, you just assume everyone else’s family must be like yours.
Losing my parents at twenty taught me not to assume that everyone has the same kind of family unit.
Logan clears his throat, and I squirm in my seat when I see him carefully weigh his words before speaking. I should have kept my mouth shut, because I’m pretty sure I just stepped in it.
“When I was little. My mom left when I was six. My dad was a pro hockey player, so he was gone a lot. I spent a lot of time with babysitters.”
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I shouldn’t have asked that. It’s none of my business, and I know intimately how uncomfortable it can be when someone asks about your parents…”
I fiddle with my chopsticks on the table, debating crawling beneath it, when Logan’s hand lands over mine.
“It’s okay. It’s not… It’s not my favorite thing to talk about, but it’s not so bad with you two. I know you get it better than anyone else would.” He holds my gaze for a beat, and then it’s as if he’s remembered his hand is still over mine, and he pulls it away like it burns.
Reed’s head swivels as he looks between me and Logan, and he’s undoubtedly going to give me shit about this later. Not as much shit as I’m going to give myself, though.
“Was your dad good? At hockey, I mean,” Reed asks, steering the conversation to what I hope is slightly safer territory.
“He was one of the best wingers in the league and his team won the Cup twice. I guess he’s kind of a legend.” The way Logan describes his dad, it’s clear they don’t have the closest relationship.
What must have it been like to grow up without any siblings and a dad who was never around?
From what he said about his mom, it doesn’t sound like she was part of his life after she left, but I won’t ask.
It makes me ache for the little boy he was, because I can’t imagine growing up without my parents.
But Reed can. Maybe that’s why they seem to have sparked such a quick connection. Like calls to like and all that.
“I bet you’re better,” Reed says confidently.
That makes Logan smile. It’s genuine, and it transforms his face into something so beautiful. He should smile more. Not that I’d ever say that to him. I suppose people probably think that about me sometimes.
And people who tell others to smile can get fucked.
“I don’t know about that. My stats are good—almost as good as his were at this stage of his career—but I don’t have a Cup under my belt. I doubt I’ll ever achieve the kind of notoriety he did.”
Reed makes a dismissive sound around a mouthful of fried rice. “You will.”
Logan’s lips twitch. “Thanks, man. So when’s your next home game?”
“We have one Wednesday. I’m starting.” Reed’s cheeks turn pink, and suddenly his plate of rice is very interesting.
“We don’t have a game that night. Think it would be cool if I come?”
It’s my turn to go stock-still with chopsticks full of noodles halfway to my open mouth. I lift my eyes to Logan and find him shifting in his seat, his own cheeks suddenly rosy. He rubs the back of his neck as his attention pings between me and Reed.
“Seriously?” Reed’s voice is high and boyish. I can’t blame him. A professional athlete just asked if he could come to his junior high football game. I’m shocked too. And worried about what it will do to Reed if Logan promises to show and doesn’t.
“Uh, yeah, if that’s okay?” Logan looks at me questioningly.
“Of course,” I say dumbly. “It’s open to the public.”
That makes Logan’s lips twitch again, the corners curving. “Right. I guess I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I sat with you? I don’t want to look like a creeper and show up to a kids’ game and sit there by myself when none of the kids on the team are mine.”
“Oh,” I say, choking on laughter. “Right. Um, sure, you can sit with me.”
Reed is practically bouncing in his seat beside me, making the floor shake. “You really want to come to my game? You know I’m in eighth grade, right? It’s not going to be great.”
“Neither were mine at that age.” Logan chuckles. “It just makes it more fun.”
Reed shakes his head, his smile so wide it must hurt. “Whatever you say, bro.”
As if the moment couldn’t be more surreal, Logan looks at me and asks, “Do you think I could get your number? That way, I can text you to find out where you’re sitting at the game?”
Reed bumps my knee with his and smothers a grin. My palms grow sweaty.
“Oh, uh, sure.”
And that’s how I end up giving my number to the man I once refused to even share my last name with.
How is this even my life?