Page 104 of Perfect Playbook

My head whips up. My eyes narrow because I recognize those words. And I’ll recognize the advice to come. It was mine to him not so long ago.

“Yeah, bro,” he continues. “It’s your decision to make. There’s no right or wrong answer, just a series of possibilities.” He smiles smugly, referring to the time we were on thepond and I made his tough decision with my sister out to be, well, a little simpler than it might have been.

I punch his arm. “Fuck off.”

“Seriously, though, Lo, you do have choices here. You might not like them. I know how hard some of them are to make. But you aren’t trapped. Figure it out.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Well, let me help you by using your own logic. First, you figure out if you want the girl.”

I run my fingers through my hair. “I fucking want the girl, Dane.”

“Then take her and screw the rest.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

He cocks his eyebrow, brown eyes glazed with satisfaction at being able to repeat my own advice back to my face. “You make a decision, you work around that decision.”

“Fine, dickhead. You win. I get it. What you went through with Jolie was hard.”

“Damn hard. But worth every second.”

The flight attendant comes over and offers us drinks. I choose the wine because I really need it now. Ashton, a bottle of water. We drink for a moment. Let the gravity of what he’s saying sink in. He doesn’t need to explain himself. What he’s suggesting is clear as day.

I do have options.

But am I ready for that permanency? Am I ready for that level of identity shift?

I pop in one earbud. “Thanks.”

He nods.

I put the other earbud in. It goes without saying that if I have more questions I can talk to him. But I don’t need to talk. I need to think. I need to listen to my heart. Because the decision on the line will forever change life as I know it.

Chapter Thirty-Four

When I became a mom,I lost my ability to deep sleep. Logan gets home late. It’s one-thirteen in the morning. I’m groggy when the door clicks open and shuts.

I told him not to change what he likes to do when we moved in and to just be natural, so he makes his way to the bathroom. I can tell the difference in the sound of his regular footsteps from his quiet ones. He’s considerate, so he tries not to wake me.

But when he goes into the bathroom, he closes the door without shutting it by the handle, hoping to not make more noise. Only thing is, it creaks open one millimeter at a time until it’s wide open and I see the reflection of him in theshower. Steam rises off his back. His muscles are lean and strong. I make out the sharp edges and angles of a body so capable, so honed to perfection through the pursuit of passion.

He braces his arms on either side of the temperature dial and hangs his head, his posture wilting from the strong stance he usually has to something more… defeated? I know they won tonight. I know his performance was insane. He scored six goals, and I don’t think the world record is more than seven or maybe eight by one player alone. He was off the charts.

Maybe he’s tired.

I’dbe tired.

He doesn’t stay there long. I know he showered thoroughly before leaving his venue, but Logan explained he can’t climb into bed naked and think he’s dirty. I like that about him. He towels off his firm chest, sliding the towel down to his groin and rumbling his thick, long hanging shaft.

He switches off the light and pads quietly to the bed, crossing the sliver of moonlight his window coverings never quite blot out. In the moment of spotlight, I peek from under the covers, glimpsing a rugged god.

He slides under the sheets, and despite having made an effort to be quiet, slips his body in perfect sync with mine. He breathes one last slow exhale, as if it’s the very last time he’ll breathe today.

I reach behind, grab his hand, and wrap it around my middle. “You had an amazing game.”

“You’re awake.”

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