Chapter 27
twenty-seven
BLAIR
“Blair-Bear, there’s a package for you.” Reed scrunches his face up as he walks into our apartment with a rather large package and a box of donuts from the little place down the street.
“I didn’t order anything.” Curiosity fills me with little zings of electricity.
Reed shrugs, handing me the box. “It’s got your name on it.”
While the box is quite large, it’s not overly heavy. There’s no indication of who it’s from, outside of the store name. “Who the hell sent me something from The North Face?”
My brother grabs a donut and takes a big bite. Little flakes of chocolate frosting fall to the floor, and I try not to be annoyed. “Did you sleep-shop?”
“No,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “That’s not a thing.”
“How do you know?”
“It’s not a thing for me, at least.” After I struggle with the well-taped box, Reed sighs and grabs a knife for me. “Thanks.”
I’m practically vibrating now, my curiosity getting the better of me, since I can’t imagine who would send me something from such an expensive store. When I get the box open and remove a layer of paper, I suck in a breath.
“What is it?” Reed asks, looking over my shoulder. He better not be getting frosting crumbs in my curls.
“A coat,” I whisper. Warmth blooms in my chest and radiates out to fill the rest of me. “A really nice coat.”
Reed watches as I pull the charcoal-gray puffer coat out of the box and hold it in front of my body. It’s long, hitting mid-thigh, with a hood, and it looks warm without being overly bulky. When I just hold it out, staring at it, Reed clears his throat.
“Are you going to try it on?”
“Oh, right.” I feel like I’m in a daze as I pull it on and zip it up.
It fits perfectly.
“That’s a nice coat. But if you didn’t buy it, who did?”
“No idea,” I lie. Because I’m pretty sure I know who bought me this expensive coat.
A certain hockey player who seemed very concerned that I hadn’t made time to get myself one yet.
But why would he do this? And if he was going to buy me a coat, why would he buy one that must have cost him at least a couple hundred dollars?
I’d planned to go to an outlet store this weekend and find something on sale.
“Well, that was nice of whoever sent it. Now you won’t freeze at my game this afternoon.” Reed grabs the box of donuts and holds it out to me as I tug the coat off. “I got you a bear claw.”
“Thanks, Reedy.” He groans when I ruffle his mop of curls, but I barely notice. When he wanders away to get ready for his game, I pull my phone out of my pocket with shaking hands and open my text thread with Logan.
Me
I just got an interesting delivery.
It doesn’t take long for Logan to respond, even though I know he must be getting ready for his own game.
Logan
Oh yeah? What’d you get?
Me
Someone sent me a really nice coat. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?
…
Am I supposed to?
This is too much.
Not for me.
I don’t know whether to laugh or be annoyed at that response. My lips curve into a smile before I can stop them, so I guess we’re going with amused.
Me
I was going to get a coat this weekend.
Logan
Sure, you were. Look, it was purely selfish. It’s too cold to let you wear my coat again at the game on Monday.
My smile grows, and I close my eyes for a moment.
I’m not sure what made this switch flip in the way Logan Byrne treats me, and I sure as hell don’t need him to buy me stuff, but I can’t deny that the gesture is incredibly thoughtful.
And this puffer coat is way nicer than anything I’d be able to buy for myself.
I made sure to buy Reed something high-quality, but I was more than likely going to cheap out for myself.
When was the last time someone bought me something? Reed always squirrels away some of his spending money to get me something for Christmas, but outside of that, I can’t remember getting a present. Not since my parents died and Noah ended things.
My hands tremble as I finally type out my response.
Me
Whatever you have to tell yourself. But I know the truth now.
Logan
Oh yeah? And what’s that?
That you’re a kind person.
…
…
Just don’t tell anyone, okay? It’ll ruin my reputation.
LOL. Your secret is safe with me, Viking.
Thanks, angel. GTG. Have fun at Reed’s game today.
Have fun at yours. Go kick some ass.
Always.
I practically float through the rest of the day. I’m toasty warm in the stands all through the game, and Southwest Junior High wins, thanks to a well-kicked field goal.
I check for updates on the Rogues’ game regularly and let out a little cheer when they win too. What I definitely don’t do is stare at photos of Logan in his game-day suit from before the game or a few close-up action shots someone caught mid-play.
I feel like my entire life revolves around sports.
Working for the Rogues means hockey is a permanent part of my day, even if I’m not actively watching it.
And now that Reed’s on his school team, I’m spending my evenings picking him up from practice, going to his games, or worrying about where the money will come from for the gear he needs and the activities they’re supposed to do.
My job pays well, but there’s not a lot of wiggle room, and I’m trying to save for Reed’s college.
Every spare penny I earn goes into savings.
And that’s not even taking the holidays into account.
Thanksgiving is coming up, and Christmas will be here before we know it. It’s just a lot of extra stuff to buy.
Since it’s only the two of us, we’ll probably order out somewhere for Thanksgiving, so I don’t have to buy a whole spread, but I haven’t even started thinking about Christmas gifts yet.
I make sure Reed’s Christmases feel special.
Our mom and dad always went all out for us, and he deserves for me to continue that tradition.
I may need to pick up a side gig and do some food deliveries for the next month, so I can afford everything he’ll need. It’s exhausting just thinking about it.
A knock on the door pulls me from my worries and thoughts, and I curse when I check the time on my phone. It’s 5:45, exactly. Logan is certainly punctual. Pulling my hoodie over my head, I shout, “Coming!”
“Hey,” Logan says, amusement playing over his features as he looks me up and down. I’m momentarily breathless from running from my room to the door. “Am I too early?”
“No. No, I’m just running a little behind. Come on in. I just need to get my shoes and coat on.” I wave Logan in, little butterflies taking flight in my stomach as he takes in my space. I’m acutely aware of how it looks.
Plain cream walls, a small, used dining room set we picked out after we sold our parents’ table.
It was too large and too formal for a small apartment.
The couch is much nicer, since we did bring that from home, so it doesn’t match the rest of the small pieces Reed and I cobbled together from secondhand shops and Ikea.
There’s a blanket my grandma crocheted folded on the back of the couch, and photos of Reed and me with our parents all over the place.
I’m sure it looks like a hodge-podge mess compared to his place. No doubt Logan’s house is super modern, with matching everything, and nothing’s ever out of place.
“Are these your parents?” Logan asks as I grab my boots and lace them up.
“Yeah.”
He picks up my favorite photo, one of the four of us on the last Christmas morning before they died.
My heart aches as I wonder what he sees.
I’m hugging my dad’s shoulders, his wavy red hair a little wild and chaotic after sleeping, glasses, and pale face full of freckles—Reed inherited those—as he smiles brightly at my mom, who hugs an almost-eight-year-old Reed.
She’s practically glowing with happiness.
Her rich brown skin is warm in the lights of the Christmas tree, her eyes glittering and smile wide.
She was wearing her hair in that way that I loved—finger coiled into a dark halo around her head.
We were so happy. None of us had any idea what was coming. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been easier if we had. Would we have enjoyed our last moments together more if we knew they were limited? Or would our last months have been heavy and ruined with the knowledge of what was to come?
“They look amazing.” Logan’s voice is soft as he studies my expression. “You can tell they loved you both very much.”
My throat tightens as I rise from the couch and move to stand beside him. “They did. They should be here to go to Reed’s game.”
Logan’s attention doesn’t waver from the family photos, but his hand seeks mine out, and I hold my breath when he interlaces our fingers.
“I’m not really sure if I believe in heaven and hell and all that, but I do believe they’re watching over you.
Somehow, some way, they’re there at every single game with you both. ”
“I hope so,” I choke out. When my voice cracks, Logan gives my hand a gentle squeeze. We simply stand there for a moment: me piecing myself back together, Logan offering me his unexpected silent support.
Who is this man? I’m not sure I can trust his change of heart, but I want to. I really do. His hand is large and warm as it holds mine. Steady. Who knows if this is a onetime thing? He could go back to hating my guts in the next breath, but I hope he doesn’t. I could get used to this.
“We should get going,” he says softly, breaking the silence. Turning toward me, his gray eyes bounce across my face. It makes my palms clammy, and I pull my hand from his.
“Yeah.” When I pull my new coat—the one he bought—from the closet and tug it on, my cheeks and chest flush with warmth.
“Fits perfect,” he says, coming to stand in front of me. His lips quirk on one side, forming a charming, lopsided grin that makes my belly flutter. And when he beats me to the zipper and gently tugs it up to my chin, I suck in a sharp breath. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
That grin of his grows at my breathy response before turning into a full-blown smile when he brushes a curl away from my face, and I let out a startled little squeak.
“Come on, angel.” Then he laces his fingers through mine again and doesn’t drop my hand until he’s ushering me into the passenger seat of his SUV.
My mind is strangely quiet with the contact. Maybe it’s because all I can focus on is the sensation of his calluses against my smooth palms, and how warm and long his fingers are. He takes my hand again once he pulls onto the road, and I swear, it warms me more than the heated leather seats.
I want to ask him what the hell is happening between us, but I can’t find the guts.
Instead, I hold his hand, enjoying the slow circles he makes with his thumb and the pleasant fluttering in my belly.
I don’t ask him when he tugs me from the car and into the metal stands along the football field at Reed’s school.
And when Logan pulls me against his side, wrapping an arm around me to keep me from shivering, I don’t ask then, either.
Maybe that makes me a coward. All I know is that it’s been a long time since anyone made me feel taken care of, and I’m going to enjoy the moment while I’m in it.
I can overthink all this tonight, when I’m alone in my bed.