Page 73 of Puck Struck
I should have left when I had the chance.
"Morning," I echo, clutching my coffee mug like a shield, already knowing his carnal super powers will crack any armor I try to put up around me.
"How'd it go?" I ask.
"It was just a blood draw," Tessa says, helping Ethan take off his jacket. "The doctor wants to keep a closer eye on his levels after the last results. We should know more in a few days." She turns to me. "Are you hungry? Logan makes a mean omelet."
"I'm more of a cereal guy," I grin. “I’m a carb loader.”
"Of course you are." Logan shakes his head with a chuckle. "Give it a few years and you’ll be picking protein over sugar. Come inside. "
I sit on a stool at the island, watching as Logan moves efficiently around the kitchen. There's something mesmerizing about the way he chops vegetables, the methodical precision of his movements. Everything in its place. Everything under control.
As promised, the omelet is delicious, probably the best one I’ve ever had. Although, since I’m not really an egg guy, I don’t have much to compare it to. Breakfast is pretty much what I’d expect any normal family to experience, filled with light conversation and some laughs. Ethan talks about his dinosaur project, and every once in a while he asks me questions about hockey and my favorite players growing up.
“Your uncle was one of my favorite players,” I say beforescooping a big bite into my mouth. “He was one of the reasons why I worked so hard to go pro.”
Ethan’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “Really? That’s so cool.”
“Well, he’s pretty cool.” I grin, my eyes flicking over to Logan to find his heated gaze on me.
Tessa looks between us like she knows exactly what’s going on, but she doesn’t call us out on it. Publicly, anyway. When Logan stands up to grab the empty plates, she leans over to me and murmurs, "It's been a while since I've seen Logan bring anyone home."
I nearly choke on my multigrain toast. "We're not…I mean, it's not really?—"
"Relax," she says with a little laugh. "I'm not interrogating you. Just making an observation."
After breakfast, Tessa glances at her watch. "Ethan, we need to finish that book report before your playdate with Mason."
"But, Mom?—"
"No buts," she says, winking at Logan and then at me. "Come on upstairs."
Ethan lets out a deep sigh but follows his mother. Over his shoulder, he says, “Oh hey, Cam, I left your rookie card on the counter.”
I smile at him and give him a little salute. “I’ll take care of it, little man. Have fun with your homework”
Ethan lets out a huff and trudges upstairs.
Once they disappear up the stairs, Logan turns to me and leans against the cabinets. "So," he says.
"So," I say, because silence has never been my strong suit. "That happened."
"Yeah, it did."
"Was it... I mean, do you...?" I stop talking, hating howunsure I sound. This isn't me. I don't do insecure. But I also don’t do feelings, and Logan has my mind and heart in knots right now.
"I don't regret it, if that's what you're asking."
"Good. Me neither." I trace patterns on the table top with my finger. "But, uh, what exactly was it?"
He pours more coffee into his mug. "Does it need a label?"
"No," I say quickly. Maybe too quickly. "No, definitely not."
He nods, turning back to the sink, and I feel the familiar distance creeping in. The wall going up. But then he speaks again, voice low, as he slants me a look over his shoulder.
"I meant what I said last night. About not thinking less of you. About none of this being your fault."
