Page 107 of Perfect Playbook

My cup of coffee finally fills, but it’s Nino who makes me cheerful. He always has the most vivid, cutest dreams. “You should tell Logan. Who knows, maybe one of your plays from the dream really is for the pros.”

“It’s true that math is all around us. Even in sports.”

I sit opposite him with two toasted bagels. Butter for me. Peanut butter for Nino. I swipe the spread on his. “Maybe even especially in sports. Think about it. The arc of a basketball. The angles on a pool table.”

“I know! It really is the most useful subject.”

I slide his bagel on a plate across the table, and he munches.

Logan walks in with those glorious gray sweatpants on. “Morning.”

He looks rough. Heneverlooks rough.

“Logan! I had a dream about math and hockey!” Nino exclaims.

Logan pops a pod into the coffee machine, and it whirrs. “That sounds like you went to heaven for a little while. Nino heaven.”

“I know, right?” He bites into his bagel again.

Logan quietly waits for his coffee. Logan is never quiet. It’s the secondneverof the morning, which makes my ears prick up. And then, the third comes.

“Are you having breakfast?” I ask.

“Uh…” He scratches his head, pausing as though it’s some complicated decision. “Not today.”

Heneverskips a meal.

Something is wrong. Really wrong. I knew it last night.I knew something changed. Something was different. It seemed different in a good way then, but now?

Logan has a game and needs to get to the arena. I planned to meet his teammate, Rosario’s, mother to plan thequinceañeracake, and she lives an hour north of Longbrook. So I’ll need to drop Nino, head to the meeting, and Logan won’t be back until it’s too late to talk.

I’ve never been good at sitting with bad news. It’s both a strength and a weakness of mine. It’s always opened the door to conversations others might avoid, but it’s closed some doors, too, because I’m a hopeless type who has always chosen to end things instead of sit and wait it out.

There isn’t much time for Logan and I to chat before I leave. He stirs his coffee with a spoon, even though he doesn’t add any milk or sugar.

My laugh is hollow and half-hearted, my comment just to see if I can make him smile. “You’re stirring what exactly?”

I see his cheeks lift a bit, but he doesn’t lift his head.

“The metal is supposed to cool the coffee down faster.”

“There’s temperature control on your fancy machine. Or like most men you didn’t read the manual?” I tease.

I hope my little prod makes him come alive like it usually would, but he still stares at his mug.

“I actually didn’t know that. Maybe you can show me sometime.”

Oh God. Logan is not himself this morning. Should I ask him what’s the matter? But what if it’s me? Then I have to think about it all day, and we can’t resolve it, and I might mess up my meeting because one thing that stresses me the hell out is love. It’s what’s going on with Logan. It’s wanting him to be okay.

Ninofinishes his bagel.

“Baby, I set your clothes over the chair in your room. Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll come help you brush your teeth in a minute.”

“Okay.” He grabs his mitts from the table and heads back down the hall.

I swallow thickly and make my way next to Logan. I slide my arms around his waist and hug him from behind, laying my head on his broad back. “Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

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