I glanced back at Logan now, who was still sitting awkwardly, and let my mind wander.
At twenty-nine years old, he was all man now. The boy I’d once known was long gone, and in his place was this breathtaking, dazzling presence of a man. The realization hit me like a tidal wave. The boy had been one of my closest allies, my most precious confidant. Somewhere along the way of him being my brother’s best friend, he had also become myperson. He’d been a safe space for me in times of trouble, and had never made me feel inferior despite our four-year age difference.
Whispers of past memories flitted through my mind, where, somewhere along the way, my feelings for him blossomed into something different. Something more. I wasn’t even sure exactly when it happened, if it was within a single moment or a hundred moments over the years—but it’d happened. And it changed me completely before that night.
Now, looking at the man sitting next to me, I wasn’t sure who he was anymore. Was he still the Logan I’d loved long ago, or had life changed him into someone else? Did he still reserve his raw smiles for only those closest to him? Did he still favor plain white T-shirts and worn jeans? Was he still quick to explode if someone that he loved was hurt or taken advantage of?
His hair was different. It had once been long and unruly under his go-to Rockies baseball hat. Now, it was cropped shorter and styled with some sort of product—although, I still saw the way it naturally waved, begging to break free, reminiscent of the days it hung wild over his eyes.
I didn’t want to let myself wonder whether he was single. Logan was every woman’s dream. He was careful and focused, unwavering in his support for those he cared about, and could make you feel like you were the only other person in the world with just a look. And mygod, he was gloriously handsome. There was no way somebody hadn’t snatched him up.
Here we were in the backseat of this car, two adults who no longer knew the intimate details of each other’s lives, but who were forever entwined because of our past. Would the kids we once were recognize who we’d become? The thought made me unhappy as I leaned my head against the window and closed my eyes.
After beingon the road for an hour and a half, we finally made it to my parents’ place. As we drove up the long, winding driveway, I couldn’t help but hold my breath as the big house came into view. It was one of the most beautiful houses I’d ever seen, and even after a few years of them owning the property, I still felt a giddy surge of excitement about being here.
My parents told us that they bought this home for moments like this, for the whole family to comfortably come together during the holidays or just whenever we all wanted to be together. There was even plenty of room for their future grandchildren, they’d said. They still owned our house in Denver as well, wanting to keep the home that we grew up in, but as my father neared retirement I was certain that my parents would eventually end up in Breckenridge full time.
The house was grandiose as it sat proudly upon a small hill. Two gorgeous, stone pillars flanked the large front door, and I could tell my mother had been planting recently because beautiful splashes of white, purple and orange mums bordered along the front of the house. Large evergreen trees grew scattered around the property, making everything feel safe and secluded. It was simply serene, a magical chateau tucked snugly within the snowcapped Rocky Mountains.
As Adam parked the car at the end of the driveway, Rachel let out a soft, “Wow.”
I opened my door to step out, swiftly fastening the top button of my coat. There hadn’t been any fresh snowfall here in the mountains in almost three weeks, but a heavy storm was forecasted for the next couple days and a cold breeze had set in as if in warning. Adam retrieved his and Rachel’s bags from the trunk of the car, and before I could protest, Logan grabbed mine along with his to carry into the house. When I went to reach for it, he gave me a look that sent a shiver through me—a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold air.
My father waited for us on the front porch with a huge smile on his face. “You made it!”
“Hi Dad,” Adam said, reaching forward to give him a hug. When he stepped back, he turned his body toward Rachel and smiled. “Dad, this is my girlfriend, Rachel.”
Rachel stepped forward with her hand out in front of her to shake my father’s hand, but he ignored it and pulled her in for a hug as well. “Rachel, Liz and I are so happy to meet you. Thank you for coming out here for the holiday.”
“Thank you for having me, Mr. Campbell,” she said into his shoulder.
“Oh that’s not necessary,” he chastised, pulling away from her to look her in the eye. “Please, call me Richard.”
Rachel smiled back at him and stepped back toward Adam, who put his arm around her. I took the opportunity to step forward and wrap my arms around my father, who was warm and soft in a comfortable, black sweater. “Hi, Dad.”
“It’s so good to see you, sweetheart.” He released me with a quick peck on the cheek just as Logan came up from behind me to give him a hug, too. It was hard not to notice how tightly Logan held my father during their embrace. Moments like this always felt like a gentle reminder of how much he trulywasa part of this family.
We all made our way inside and I once again felt enraptured by the beauty of this house. The high ceilings seemed to soar above us as large, dark beams hung in formation all throughout the space. The walls opened up through the floor-to-ceiling windows, providing incredible views of the property all around us. An enormous, cobblestone fireplace stood as the focal point in the front living room, burning with a fire that radiated a heavy warmth.
My mother came skipping in from the kitchen around the corner, an apron tied around her waist. “You’re here, you’re here!” One by one she handed out hugs, giving special attention to Rachel. “Oh, my goodness, you’re beautiful, darling!” The guys had set our bags down, abandoning them for later, and we all moseyed into the kitchen where my nose picked up the nostalgic combination of cinnamon and cloves.
“Mom”—I nudged her gently on the arm—“you’re not supposed to be cooking. It’s pizza night!” For as long as I could remember, our family always ordered pizza the night before Thanksgiving. We’d all sit around the table, eating way too many boxes of mediocre pizza as we played games all night and drank festive cocktails. It had started out of some long ago desire to save all cooking energy for the next day, but it had transformed into a lasting tradition that I couldn’t imagine us not carrying out.
“We are, dear,” my mother assured me. “I just thought I would make us a little treat for later.” She gave me a quick wink and playfully nudged me back.
My father decided to give Rachel a tour, and we all followed along as if this were also our first time seeing the house. Logan hadn’t been here in quite some time either. He’d missed out on the holidays last year because he was focused on his newly opened business, so he was just as focused and curious as Rachel was while my father led us through the various rooms.
I was excited to learn—after we were all led down the staircase that brought us to the house’s massive basement—that my parents had finished renovating the space earlier this year. Before, the basement had existed as a dark and dreary storage dungeon underneath the structure of the house. Now, it had been transformed into a charming game room, complete with a foosball and pool table on one side, and a circular poker table with eight chairs on the other side. There was even a small kitchenette with a sink and fridge, and a built-in tap to pull beer from a keg.
“Damn, Dad,” Adam exclaimed as he plunged himself down into one of the heavily cushioned poker chairs. “This is amazing!”
When we made our way back up the stairs and to the second level of the house, my father pointed out the bedrooms that my mother had prepared for everyone earlier in the day. I was slightly on edge to learn that Logan had been placed in the bedroom directly across from mine at one end of the hallway. Adam and Rachel were sleeping in a room on the other end, and my parents would be in the primary suite on the other side of the house.
After the tour, we all scattered to collect our bags and bring them up into our respective rooms. Once again, Logan grabbed mine and carried it with his up the stairs as I followed behind him with a lump in my throat. As we reached our end of the hallway, he turned to look back at me, holding out my bag.
“Here you go,” he said quietly.
I reached out to grab it and sling it over my shoulder. “Thank you.”
