Reed’s arm brushes mine, and it brings me back to the present. Of course, I’d zone out in front of Logan Byrne and his massive ego.
“Blair’s way cooler than I am,” my little brother says. His voice drips with protectiveness, and my tired heart grows three sizes. He presses his arm to mine, as though he’s ready to square up and lend me his strength. “It’s not her fault she has a little brother cramping her style all the time.”
Oh, Reed.
Reaching over, I squeeze my brother’s hand. “Nah, Logan’s right. You’re cooler than I am now. I don’t even know half of the slang you use. And I can’t remember the last time I stayed up past midnight and didn’t regret it the next day. I’m definitely old and lame now.”
“You’re twenty-five, Blair-Bear.” The eye roll Reed gives me is so quintessentially him that I burst out laughing. He’s such a ballbuster. Mom would have loved it.
When I risk looking across the table at Logan, he’s watching us with a soft expression on his face. It makes my chest ache because there’s so much warmth and longing there. Does he have a little brother he’s missing right now? I realize I don’t know. I don’t know anything about him, really.
“Here we are,” Mr. Phan says, interrupting the moment with a tray full of food. He carefully places each dish in front of us and wishes us a good dinner.
We eat in silence for a minute before I can’t take it anymore.
“So, do you have any brothers or sisters, Logan?”
The blond man across from me pauses, his chopsticks full of noodles hanging over his bowl. An expression that looks a hell of a lot like sadness flickers over his face before he peers up at me with a smile on his face. “No, I’m an only child.”
“Ah, so you had peace and quiet growing up,” I tease, elbowing Reed as he scoops a spoonful of fried rice into his mouth, earning a grunt.
“Yeah. It was definitely quiet.”
My stomach does an unpleasant little flip at the way he says that. Despite his smile, it’s pretty clear Logan doesn’t view that quiet as a good thing. “Did you live with both of your parents?”
That would have seemed like such a strange question to ask, considering Reed and I grew up with two parents who loved us and each other. Our home was always full of laughter and lively conversation. And when you’re a kid, you just assume everyone else’s family must be like yours.
Losing my parents at twenty taught me not to assume that everyone has the same kind of family unit.
Logan clears his throat, and I squirm in my seat when I see him carefully weigh his words before speaking. I should have kept my mouth shut, because I’m pretty sure I just stepped in it.
“When I was little. My mom left when I was six. My dad was a pro hockey player, so he was gone a lot. I spent a lot of time with babysitters.”
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I shouldn’t have asked that. It’s none of my business, and I know intimately how uncomfortable it can be when someone asks about your parents…”
I fiddle with my chopsticks on the table, debating crawling beneath it, when Logan’s hand lands over mine.
“It’s okay. It’s not… It’s not my favorite thing to talk about, but it’s not so bad with you two. I know you get it better thananyone else would.” He holds my gaze for a beat, and then it’s as if he’s remembered his hand is still over mine, and he pulls it away like it burns.
Reed’s head swivels as he looks between me and Logan, and he’s undoubtedly going to give me shit about this later. Not as much shit as I’m going to give myself, though.
“Was your dad good? At hockey, I mean,” Reed asks, steering the conversation to what I hope is slightly safer territory.
“He was one of the best wingers in the league and his team won the Cup twice. I guess he’s kind of a legend.” The way Logan describes his dad, it’s clear they don’t have the closest relationship.
What must have it been like to grow up without any siblings and a dad who was never around? From what he said about his mom, it doesn’t sound like she was part of his life after she left, but I won’t ask. It makes me ache for the little boy he was, because I can’t imagine growing up without my parents.
But Reed can. Maybe that’s why they seem to have sparked such a quick connection. Like calls to like and all that.
“I bet you’re better,” Reed says confidently.
That makes Logan smile. It’s genuine, and it transforms his face into something so beautiful. He should smile more. Not that I’d ever say that to him. I suppose people probably think that about me sometimes.
And people who tell others to smile can get fucked.
“I don’t know about that. My stats are good—almost as good as his were at this stage of his career—but I don’t have a Cup under my belt. I doubt I’ll ever achieve the kind of notoriety he did.”
Reed makes a dismissive sound around a mouthful of fried rice. “You will.”
