I push off the counter, step in front of him, and hold eye contact. “With you—yes. You are my best friend. I’ve known you my whole life. I trust you. It only could’ve happened with you.”
He sets his mug on the counter, then pushes past me, pacing the room. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I know you want her. You’ve wanted her since the night we met her,” I say, my voice even. “Why are you running away from your feelings?”
He halts in his tracks and whips around to face me, his mouth twisting. “Don’t start, Logan.”
“I’m not starting anything. I’m telling it like it is. You wanted to be there. So why did you walk out?”
“Maybe because I don’t like being a charity case,” he grits out.
“Please.” I snort. “We weren’t taking pity on you, and you know that. You’re not as discreet as you think you are, buddy. I saw the way you looked at her, how badly you wanted her. She wanted you too, and I had nothing against it.”
He throws his head back and laughs darkly. “How generous of you. But have you stopped to think that maybe I don’t need your permission?” He narrows his eyes. “Aren’t you worried thatshe might be more into me than you? That she might cast you aside?”
The jab hits hard, but I tamp down my irritation and grin instead. His defensiveness is hilarious. He can try to dismiss the desire all he wants, but there’s no denying it. All three of us felt it last night.
“No.” I shrug. “I’m not. Yesterday was fucking perfect. I’m not opposed to the idea of sharing her. If that’s whatshewants. And only if it’s with you.”
He stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, his jaw rigid. Then he slips his fingers into his hair, tugging at the roots. “Jesus Christ, Logan, do you even hear yourself? You don’t share a woman like her.”
“Why not?Shewanted it. Yana initiated everything,” I shoot back. “Isn’t that what’s most important?”
For a split second, fire flickers in his eyes, but he douses it almost immediately. “You’re insane,” he mutters, rushing to the front door. He stuffs his feet into his shoes, snags his jacket, and slams the door behind him.
In the silent aftermath, I let out a slow breath and drag a hand down my face. That conversation didn’t go the way I thought it would. Not even close. Damn him and his stubbornness. Why does he have to make everything complicated?
With another exhale, I open the fridge. I pull out a carton of eggs and a package of bacon and turn to the stove. If nothing else, Yana deserves to wake up to breakfast.
I’m leaningagainst the counter, a mug of freshly brewed coffee in hand, when Yana wanders into the kitchen. Her hair’s in amessy bun, and she’s dressed in black leggings and a red T-shirt. Eyes still sleepy, she smiles when she catches me watching her. “How long have you been up?”
I glance at the clock on the wall. “Half an hour or so.”
She steps into me and buries her face in my chest. “Good morning,” she whispers. “And Merry Christmas.”
“Morning.” I drop my lips to her forehead. “I made breakfast and coffee.”
She leans away, beaming. “So now you cook?”
“For you? Of course.”
As we eat, she asks about my family and how we celebrate Christmas. The conversation is light and sweet, but I can’t go any longer without mentioning last night and Camden’s reaction this morning.
“So, about last night…” I trail off, my pulse picking up. “Are we good?”
With a genuine smile, she nods. “More than good. I don’t regret it. Not for a second.” She bites her bottom lip nervously, but she doesn’t look away. “I’m attracted to him too. To Camden. I think I’ve been attracted to him since the night I met you both.”
I nod despite the little pang in my chest. She met him first, technically. It’s hard not to wonder what would have happened if Camden hadn’t made that rude comment at the restaurant. If he’d approached her first.
Would I be here? Would he be so willing to share her with me if he were in my place?
“Logan?” Yana covers my hand with hers. Her brows knit together, and her lips part slightly. “Arewegood?”
I give her a reassuring smile. “Of course we are. If I weren’t okay with it, I wouldn’t have let it go that far.” I thread my fingers through hers. “And I could tell you were into him too. Just like he’s obviously into you.” I lick my lips. “But he walked out. I tried talking to him this morning, and he just…left.”
Head tilted, she studies me. Then, with a shrug of one shoulder, she says, “Then I guess I’ll have to talk some sense into him.”
I chuckle. “Good luck. He was in a mood when he stormed out.”
