Page 57 of Puck Struck
Sister. Not wife. The relief that floods through me is overwhelming because for a hot second, I was consumed by panic that my crush might possibly be married.
"Nice to meet you," I manage.
Logan's shoulders tense. "Tess, can you give us a minute?"
She raises an eyebrow but nods. "Sure. I need to pick Ethan up from school anyway. He's got that science project due tomorrow so we have lots to do tonight." She grabs her purse off a hook by the door. "Don't mind the mess. Someone around here thinks that since he pays the mortgage, he doesn't have to pick up his socks."
The pointed look she gives Logan makes it clear who that someone is.
"Thanks, Tess," Logan mutters, a hint of color popping into his cheeks.
When she's gone, Logan leads me to the living room. I scan the space, taking in the photos on the mantel. Logan in a Raptors jersey, arm around a younger Tessa. A little boy, maybe around five or six, holding up a trophy, missing his front teeth in a wide grin. Logan and a dark-haired guy his age who looks like an older version of the little boy. The boy, Tessa, and the dark-haired guy in another photo.
"That's Ethan," Logan says, following my gaze. "My nephew.”
Nephew. Not son. Another piece of the puzzle slides into place.
“What about this guy?” I ask, pointing to him in the photo where he’s posing with Logan.
“That’s Tyler, my best friend." Logan’s voice thickens. “He was Tessa’s husband and Ethan’s dad.”
“Was?”
The pained expression on Logan’s face makes my heartclench. “He died in a car accident a few years ago. I was with him.”
“Holy shit,” I mutter. “I’m so sorry.”
Logan gives a stiff nod. “Thanks.”
"So now you live with your sister and nephew?"
He nods, moving to the kitchen. I follow behind him.
"I promised Ty I’d always take care of them. After he died, Tessa had a really hard time so I moved them in to help.” His hand stills on the refrigerator handle. “Want a beer?"
"Sure."
He grabs two bottles from the fridge, hands me one, then leans against the counter. "Ethan was three when they moved in."
The admission hangs in the air between us. It's more than Logan's shared with me since I've known him, and I'm not sure what to do with it.
"I'm really sorry," I say again.
Logan shrugs, a dismissive motion that doesn't match the pain that flashes in his eyes. "Wasn't your fault."
"Still." I pick at the edge of the beer label. "That's rough."
"Ethan's got a serious liver condition," Logan continues, like he needs to get it all out at once. "It’s congenital. We've been managing it for years, but his latest labs came back yesterday. The doctor's worried. So are we."
“Shit.” I blink, caught off guard by the revelation. "Is he going to be okay?"
"They're running more tests." His voice is tight, like he’s struggling for control that is slipping through his fingers. "But they're talking transplant now."
The weight of those words hangs between us.
Logan takes a long pull from his beer. "That's why I was late to the meeting today. Tessa and I took a call from his doctor."
"Is that what you wanted to tell me?"
