Page 86 of The Games We Play
“You haven’t heard?” I asked, resting my elbow on the edge of the window, smoke curling from my fingers into the breeze.
“Oh, I’ve heard,” he replied with a pointed glance.
“Let me guess… Aspen?”
Logan snorted. “Rhodes who heard it from Theo.”
“Of course,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.
“So, you’re going to help Penny. But why not just… show up on your own?”
I stared at the street ahead, lips twitching into a half-smile. “She doesn’t know I’m coming.”
Logan looked at me sideways. “And now I’m being roped into one of your grand schemes.”
“I guess you could say that,” I said with a shrug. “It’s a soft entrance.”
He shook his head with a small laugh, but didn’t press.
When we pulled up in front of Petal Pusher, Logan shifted into park and killed the engine.
I took one last drag from my cigarette before snuffing it out in the truck’s ashtray, the final ember flaring before it died, then I exited the vehicle.
“If she’s pissed,” Logan said, rounding the front of the truck to meet me. “I’m pinning this all on you.”
He tapped his fingers against my chest and turned toward the shop door with a grin, but I caught the quick flicker of nerves in his eyes.
“Fair enough,” I murmured, my gaze already drifting to the soft glow of the shop window.
The cool airof the flower shop hit my skin the moment Logan and I stepped through the door.
Inside, the space was already buzzing with early-morning customers, all of them searching for the perfect last-minute bouquet for a mom or a special woman in their life. I glanced at my phone. Eight o’clock sharp. The day was only just beginning, but Petal Pusher was alive with color, scent, and soft conversation.
Behind the counter stood Ellie, ringing up purchases with her usual bright smile. The resemblance to her mother, Mrs. Cassidy, was borderline eerie—same sharp cheekbones, same infectious energy. Her blond hair contrasted the rich brown she used to wear, softening her features in a way that made her seem more kiddish than she already was.
I’d always seen Ellie as a little sister, just like I’d seen Logan as a little brother. Both were a few years younger than the rest of us.
She looked up as Logan and I neared, her face lighting up with recognition. With a quick wave, she acknowledged us before returning her full attention to the elderly Mrs. Winchester at the register, handling her with the kindness and patience Ellie had always been known for.
Logan gave her a quick wave back, his long stride taking him ahead of me.
To my left, a kid stood still in front of one of the tall coolers, anxiety seeping from his pores. He couldn’t have been older than seventeen, and the way he tapped his chin, surveyed the flowers while rubbing his hands over his face told me this wasn’t just about picking something nice for his mom. This was something else.
A girlfriend, maybe?
I watched as he reached out for a bouquet of soft pink flowers, hesitated, then drew his hand back like he might make the wrong move and ruin it all.
I stepped up beside him, keeping my voice low. “Hey, man. You can never go wrong with red roses.”
He looked over at me, startled at first, then grateful as I grabbed a bouquet of classic red roses—the same ones I always bought for Penny—and offered them to him.
“Really?” he asked, hope creeping into his voice as he took the flowers from my hand.
I nodded. “Really. Let me guess, these for your girlfriend or her mom?”
His mouth twitched into a shy smile. “Both.”
I grinned and reached for a fresh bouquet of tulips. “Roses for the girlfriend. Tulips for her mom. Can’t miss.”
