Page 68 of Winter's End

I never got the chance to answer—not that I had one. She shot me a wicked grin before rolling off the bed to grab her phone.

“I’ll order our food.” She tossed me a remote from her nightstand and gestured toward the windows. “The screen comes down over there. Pick your top five cheesy reality show options.”

I pressed the top button on the remote and a massive screen, larger than the king-size bed where I sat, lowered from the ceiling, blocking out the view of the dark city streets. I could pretend I was used to this woman’s life of luxury, but I absolutely wasn’t.

I did as she asked and chose five of the most brain-melting, cringe-worthy shows I could—secretly relishing our trashy TV date. This was girl bonding at its finest.

That Chinese food had better be the best I’d ever tasted.

Thoughts of Travis popped into my mind as I loaded an episode ofLove is Blindwhile I waited for Hillary to return. My closet romantic not-so-secretly loved this show. I took a picture of the screen and sent it to him. He was working tonight, but I knew I’d get a cheeky response when he got back to his phone.

Of all my men, I was currently most worried about Travis. Devon’s meddling had gotten Travis more entrenched in Georgio’s illegal affairs, and my stomach churned every time I pictured what he could be up to on Georgio’s behalf.

I couldn’t lose Travis. Not now, not ever.

Whatever we were building for ourselves, I knew it had a sense of permanency. I wasn’t in this group relationship—our family, as everyone continued to call it—on a whim. Whatever we wanted to call ourselves, it wasn’t just the result of a trauma bond; we were cementing a foundation of love and trust, with the goal of creating a real future. I didn’t know how all the moving parts would come together just yet, but I knew it was what I wanted. What we all wanted.

I still had to figure out where Logan and Quick fit into the mix, though. Those details were still … unclear.

Speak of the devil—Logan’s indignant tone echoed down the hall.

I strained to hear the hushed voices in the main living area before giving up and padding out of the bedroom to see what was going on.

Logan and Hillary were whisper-arguing, their heads bowed over the kitchen island in frantic discussion. As if sensing my presence, his brunette head popped up, his honey eyes roving over me with interest.

“Hey Princess, nice pjs.” Logan winked. When he reached me, he enveloped me in a tight hug.

I stiffened, not used to this level of intimacy with him, but the reaction only lasted two seconds before I felt compelled to wrap my arms around his waist and reciprocate. I could admit I liked the feeling of being in his arms. His annoying self-confidence held a safety and security only he couldoffer.

I buried my face in his tailored dress shirt and breathed him in—amber and frankincense with an undertone of clean man smell; my Logan.

My Logan? Oh god. Who had served me the Kool-Aid?

“This is cute.”

I looked over to see Hillary standing with her head cocked to the side, amused curiosity filling her gaze.

Logan ran his fingers through my hair and kissed the top of my head before letting me go. His tenderness continued to surprise me.

“Winter won’t mind if I stay—will you, Winter?”

“Wait, what?” I looked back and forth between them as I tried to catch up. “Who’s staying?”

“I was just explaining to Hill that I have an early meeting tomorrow, and I’m not booking a hotel when my name is also on the deed of this condo. I’ll just stay in the spare room. She doesn’t want me crashing your girl’s party.”

He scrunched up his face in obvious distaste.

“I won’t be crashing your girl’s party,” he reiterated. “I have work to do, and I’ll do it in the office while you gossip and braid each other’s hair.”

“She can’t sleep with me, Logan.” Hillary’s tone was sharp, and I turned to face her; now I was the one who was curious. I’d always slept in the spare room until now, and I’d never questioned it. Hillarycouldn’tsleep with me? That was a story for another time.

“She can sleep with me,” Logan responded smoothly, reaching for me again and pulling my back to his front, grasping my hips possessively.

“Not an option.” Hillary picked up her phone from the quartz countertop and started dialing a number. “I’ll book you a room at the Hilton.”

“Hill—it’s fine.” I pushed out of Logan’s arms and forced a smile. “I’ll just put a pillow between us or something. That bed is huge, anyway.”

My pulse raced at the thought of spending the night next to this enigma of a man who was getting deeper under my skin by the day. We were adults. It would be fine.

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