I nodded. “I’ll be back Sunday night.”
“Got it. Okay, well I’ll talk to you then.”
“Yep.”
He moved to give me hug at the same time I did, but with our height difference and my choice of angle, he ended up giving me a shoulder to the face.
“Geez, Crys?—”
“I’m fine. I?—”
Logan scooped me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me and holding tight. “Sorry.”
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I was surrounded by warmth and clean soap and strong arms. A sound I’d never made before slipped past my lips, and I snapped my mouth closed. When Logan released me and stepped back, his pupils were blown wide. His lips parted, a flush crawling up his neck.
I blinked and cleared my throat. “Okay. See you soon.”
He nodded, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “Mmhmm.”
“Have a good night.”
Logan drew a quick breath, then turned and stalked back to join his teammates.
Maddie’s eyes were on me from across the tunnel, and I knew I was screwed before she even started to mouth,“That didn’t look fake!”
Chapter
Nineteen
I spentthe weekend at my parents’ house, and by hour three I remembered exactly why I both loved it and needed long breaks between weekends home.
The MacMillan household didn’t have an “off” switch. The thermostat was permanently two degrees too warm, the TV was always on, even if no one was watching it, and someone was always cooking something with every pan we owned.
My mom threw open the door before I even killed the engine on Rob’s truck. “There she is!” She gave me a hug then pushed back to inspect me. “You look thin.”
“I’m exactly the same as I was last time you saw me.”
She shook her head, then dragged me inside with one arm while simultaneously yelling, “Doug! She’s here!”
The kitchen was already a battlefield. Pans everywhere, two cutting boards in active use, my mom’s holiday season apron dusted with flour. My dad sat at the table reading a newspaper. Hence the discovery of my relationship with Logan.
He stood when he saw me. “Hey, kiddo.” Then, without missing a beat, “We need to discuss this Logan fella.”
“Oh my gosh,” I groaned. “Dad?—”
Thankfully, Mom deposited a plate of food in front of me, and even though I wasn’t especially hungry, I dug in to avoid that conversation.
Lisa showed up twenty minutes later. My older sister, the golden child, still wearing her nursing scrubs.
She dropped her bag on the counter, eyeing my plate before giving me a hug. She stepped back and frowned. “Seriously?”
I whipped my head toward the fridge. There it was. TheCalgary Heraldphoto of me and Logan front and center. Paired with my kindergarten handprint turkey Mom always pulled out in the fall.
I covered my face. “Please remove that.”
“No,” Mom said. “I need it for scrapbooking.”
Lisa leaned over the island, chin in her hand. “So. Tell us about hockey boy.”
