Logan nodded in agreement.
“And also,” I added, because I was clearly already on a roll, “please consider me eternally grateful for your morning lumberjack games. The fire in the stove tonight will be stocked solid.”
He shot a look my way before shaking his head. “You are such a wise ass, you know that?” he said, putting the car into gear.
I smiled brightly as I kicked my feet up onto the dash.
After a few moments, Logan cleared his throat and I looked over to find him watching me. “This is nice, you know,” he said, quickly looking back at the road before finding my eyes again. “I’ve missed you, Mills.”
And just like that, my heart was soaring.
ChapterNine
NINE YEARS AGO (AGE 16)
The smellof burgers and bacon from the grill wafted into the house along with the fresh chill of autumn as my father came in through the back door. He was wearing a black apron with the words “Kiss the Chef!” emblazoned across the front in bold, white lettering. Ironic, since he was the one who kissed the top of my mother’s head as he passed us all sitting in the family room.
It was Labor Day weekend, and Adam was home from campus where he’d been living in his own studio apartment. Logan, who’d earned his Associate’s degree in business at the local community college and was taking a break from school to commit to a full-time job at a mechanic shop, had taken the long weekend off to spend time at the house while Adam was in town. Both boys were lounging on the large sectional, watching the first week of college football games.
Since graduating high school a couple of years ago, they’d developed lives beyond the ties of this family and little town outside of Denver. Adam was taking pre-med college courses at CSU’s main campus an hour north of here, and Logan had been working hard on his dreams of owning his own shop. In the last two years, I’d begun to feel the loss of them as they’d made new friends, dated various girls, and spent more and more time away from here.
Without fail, though, they’d always made it a priority to come back home, usually coinciding their visits with each other so that we could all be together as family. This holiday weekend was no exception, and it felt so good to see them both sprawled out on the couch.
I missed them.
My mother and I sat on the opposite side of the large sectional with my laptop, looking through an online catalog of semi-formal dresses that I could potentially wear to my homecoming dance.
“Oh honey, this one is beautiful,” she said, pointing to a sleeveless pink dress with a sweetheart neckline. The hem of the dress was above the knee in the front and cascaded down to the floor in the back.
“It’s a little . . .girly.” I winced. A little too princess, which I certainly was not.
“Okay, what about this one,” she asked, pointing to a slinkier dark purple dress that was less frilly and more sophisticated. “Better, for sure. But still not convinced it’s the one.”
“Who are you going with to that thing, anyway?” Adam asked, keeping his eyes on the game.
“Paul,” I responded casually.
I felt Logan glance at me. “Who’s Paul?”
I looked up to meet his gaze. “Just a guy I’ve been kind of seeing.” He frowned, keeping his eyes on mine for a long moment before he turned his attention back to the television.
Adam chimed back in, “You’re a little young, aren’t you?”
“I’m sixteen! You guys were dating girls at my age.”
“Yeah but it’s . . . not the same,” Adam retorted.
“How is it possibly not the same?” I asked incredulously. If either one of them said it was because I was a girl I was going to sucker punch them both in the gut. Adam didn’t respond, and Logan kept his eyes locked on the game. I didn’t miss the clench of his jaw.
I rolled my eyes as I stood up, closing my laptop. “I’m going to go see if Dad needs any help,” I announced as I made my way toward the kitchen. I found him standing at the sink, washing the platter that he’d used to carry the raw burgers out to the grill. “Hey Dad, need any help with dinner?”
He glanced over at me, eyes always full of warmth. “Thanks, sweetheart,” he replied. “Trying to spend some time with your old man?” He threw me a sly grin.
“Yeah, that,” I responded, “and the boys are being asshats.”
My father chuckled. “Well, in that case, I could use an extra hand to prepare the lettuce and tomatoes for the burgers.”
“Done!” I moved to the refrigerator and grabbed everything out from the drawer. My dad handed me a long knife and a cutting board, and I got to work on slicing the tomatoes.
