Page 51 of The Wallflower and the Running Back

LOGAN: Now I’m running. Your brother is going to like Dante more.

I laugh silently to myself then look up through my lashes in time to see them laughing and clapping over some game they both saw three years ago. Logan’s right. My brother might.

“He’s on his way,” I say, breaking up their bro-fest. Dante’s eyes catch mine and I try to convey my nerves with a quick flare. He winks at me.

“Ah, great. Man, you’re gonna love my boy, Logan. He’s such a good guy. This one here makes him better, though. Like, way better.” Dante gives me another sideways hug and while I appreciate the compliment, the fact he showered me with it has my brother moving him up the ranks for sure. I can see it in his familiar grin.

“Nice to meet you, Dante. Hey, good luck next week!” Casey says, holding out a fist. The two of them bump, then Dante heads toward the back of Patty’s to join a few other guys from the team.

“That’s a cool dude right there,” Casey mumbles over the rim of his mug.

“I knew you’d like him. But I’m not dating him, Case. Give Logan a fair shake.”

My brother’s gaze hits mine as he takes another sip, and he nods as he puts his mug on the table.

“I will, I will. Promise,” he says.

Thank God, Logan walks through Patty’s doors a second later, his T-shirt a bit soaked with sweat, and his black joggers pushed up on his calves. He’s delicious when he looks like this, post workout, sporty, and a dash tired. He pauses when our eyes meet and he rolls his shoulders back as he draws in a visible breath. My brother catches my fawning expression and follows my gaze to the door, spotting him.

“Oh, you’re in trouble,” Casey says, chuckling as he turns back to the table to take another drink of beer. His eyes flit to me, his mouth this amused slight curve.

“What does that mean?” My voice is panicked as I lean into him, but all he does is chuckle and get up from his seat, meeting Logan the second he steps up to us.

“Hi. I’m Logan. I’m so sorry I’m late. I’m rehabbing a knee, and apparently I don’t get to control the healing process.” Logan shrugs as they shake hands, and my two favorite men quake with this strange, quiet, similar laugh.

“How bad do you hate those bands?” my brother asks.

Logan huffs out a laugh then covers his face with his palm.

“Dude, the worst! You know what I did today?”

My brother leans in a touch, interested, but also testing Logan. Everything for the next hour will be a test.

“I was doing this one,” Logan begins, bending a knee then drawing in the air with his hand to show how the band was around both his feet.

“Let me guess. You shot that fucker off like a bow and arrow?” My brother’s relaxed with him, all part of his test. Making Logan feel at ease, and seeing how he handles bro-speak and swear words.

“Worse! I shot that fucker in my face!” Logan says, pushing his hair back to reveal a still very present welt across his forehead.

“Dude!” My brother actually touches it lightly. Even from here I can see the raised skin.

“I asked our trainer if that was all part of the process,” Logan says as my brother drops his hand. He pulls out the third chair and takes a seat, holding up a finger when the waitress walks by. He taps on the side of Casey’s mug and leans back as she gets close.

“Make it three for the table,” he says. “This round’s on me,” he adds, slipping our waitress his card and nodding yes when she asks if she should open a tab.

My brother’s gaze passes mine behind Logan’s back throughout the exchange, and it’s hard to tell for certain, but I think that might have just been an impressed simper he’s sporting on his lips.

The three of us ease into conversation quickly, Logan and Casey comparing knee injuries for a while, then moving into strategies that might help Logan clear through some of the defenses in our conference. My brother has always aspired to coach one day, and I think he’s flexing those muscles with Logan right now. But also, I think there’s a genuine bond forming. And respect. Or I’m blinded by love and hoping for a miracle. That could very likely be the case.

We dive into our burgers but the conversation never stops flowing. After a while, Logan calls Dante over to join us, and the three of them sink into a natural comfort that, to anyone new, might seem as if they grew up together and have known each other for years.

Dante excuses himself first, noting that he’s off to hang with Meg. I’m guessing they are on again. And while Logan’s in the bathroom, I pin my brother down for a report card.

“So, am I still in trouble?” I ask, his warning weighing on my chest from the moment he said it.

My brother drains the dregs of his beer then rotates the glass on the table, his mouth pinched as he falls into his thoughts for a second. His gaze lifts to mine, and there’s a look to him that I don’t think I’ve ever quite recognized. I see his adoration for me, the soft smile that stretches the width of his face. But his eyes are heavy, and I swear he seems about to cry.

“You’re in worse trouble than I thought,” he says, sliding from his seat and pulling my head into his chest, kissing the top.

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