Page 68 of Ice Dance Hockey

Jack snickers. “Yeah, I suspected. The toaster wasn’t working the other morning and I forgot to tell Merc about it. Suddenly, it began working again.”

“A car is a lot different than a toaster, Jack.” But, yeah, I fixed that. Walking over to him, I run a hand across Stanley’s head of “hockey lettuce”.

“Still, I put two and two together.”

“Why haven’t you told him?”

“I want in on this prank. I know the others will too. It’ll be epic. His face when he finds out! I can picture it now.”

Chapter15

Forgetting Jack

Rhett

“He isn’t even your type, Rhett,” Father had said after that disastrous dinner. We met for our usual breakfast at the club post-training, and he lambasted me.

I don’t fight with my father often, but I did that morning. Protective energy surged through me, and all I wanted to do was hide Logan somewhere my father couldn’t touch him.

“Things don’t work out with the kind of men I’m used to. I’d appreciate it if you’d welcome him.”

“I’m not welcoming him. You know the plan, son. I figured this was part of it. A clever way for you to get close to Jack.”

I hated how well he knew me. That was the plan …isthe plan.

“If you aren’t cordial to him, I won’t bring him around.”

“Rhett, you’re required to attend family dinners when you’re in town. You know this.”

“And I will be there, but I won’t subject him to you if you’re not kind to him.” I meant it. I surprised myself with how fierce I was willing to be for Logan.

Father huffed, fed up with me. “I don’t like your attitude and I’m not a fool. I saw the pictures of you with Jack. You still love him. I won’t settle for you settling. It’s not what Elkingtons do.”

Coffee with Jack was foolish. I handed Father the proof he needed to call my bluff—at least, all evidence seems to point to me and Jack. But getting to see Jack hadn’t even crossed my mind. I should have said as much and told Father about that little puke Scott Orser, but I hadn’t done either of those things.

The truth of why I called the meeting with Jack dawned on me later.

I was jealous.

The hollow of my chest twinges, and I rub the area with my thumb.

I was bone-crushingly jealous, and I still don’t know what the fuck to do with that. But what’s certain is that Father will be redoubling his efforts, so I had to redouble mine.

With the long slender box in my hand, I head over to the Meyer residence—the Mercy division—and climb the porch steps with my mind on Logan. I try knocking on the door; no one answers, so I turn the knob and invite myself in. I know Logan’s home. There’s nothing written in the calendar for him.

The door opens into an entryway, which leads into the open-style kitchen. There is a wall that I know leads into the living room and that’s covered with flowers made out of construction paper in various colors. There are names beside some of them and the age the person was when their flower was added.

Lorelei Meyer Age 7

Theo Meyer Age 5

Mercy Age Super Old

Jack Leslie 24

Logan Wescott (Meyer) 19

I smile. Logan must have loved that. They included him as a Meyer.

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