“Look who finally decided to grace us with their presence this morning!” Logan’s dad teases from the couch.
“We all can’t be up before the sun, sweetheart,” comes from Logan’s mom before she aims a smile at us. “Good morning,honey. Camden. Are you hungry? I can make—”
“No time, Janet,” Travis cuts in, rising from the couch. “We’ve gotta get going, we’ve got a midday game. The boys left about an hour ago for the arena, and after the game, we—”
“Actually, sir,” I interrupt, only for him to wave me off.
“Travis, Camden. Please, call me Travis.”
“Travis,” I repeat slowly while plastering on a smile. “I think we’re gonna skip out on the hockey portion today. But we can meet you for dinner afterward, though.”
Travis frowns, his gaze darting from me to Logan and back again. Logan tenses beside me, as if bracing himself for the impact of whatever his father chooses to say next, and I gently rest my hand on the small of his back.
“Did Logan put you up to this?” he finally asks, and I immediately shake my head.
“No, uh… It’s my idea. It’s my first time in the city, and I wanted to spend the last day doing some other stuff. Non-hockey stuff.”
I notice Logan relaxes against my palm ever so slightly while I go to bat with his father, and I can’t help smiling to myself when it happens.
Anything his dad was planning to say is conveniently interrupted by the front door to the apartment opening, Quinton and Oakley appearing in the threshold. Which just has his eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets.
“What are you two doing here? The game starts—”
“Game’s been cancelled,” Quinton says while toeing off his shoes, careful to not step in the puddle they’ve already created on the floor.
I frown, but it’s Logan who gives voice to my confusion.
“Why?”
Oakley chuckles as he drops his jacket onto a hook near the door. “Have any of you even looked outside yet? A goddamnblizzard hit last night.”
Naturally, the three of us, along with Logan’s mom, head over to the massive living room windows to see for ourselves. Sure enough, the city streets and park down below are blanketed with what looks to be a thick layer of snow. It’s hard to tell if it’s still falling or if the wind is simply whipping around what’s already accumulated on the building’s ledge, but either way, it’s a winter wonderland out there.
Well, shit.
There goes my idea to take him to breakfast and find a museum to entertain us. There’s no way we’re trudging out in all that if the streets and sidewalks have barely been cleared.
Travis lets out a little hum before turning back to his eldest son.
“They cancelled the game even though Montreal is already here?”
“They never made it,” Oakley says, shaking the snow out of his hair. “Their flight into the city last night kept getting pushed back because of the storm. We got word from Coach that they finally called it right before getting to the arena.”
“Probably for the best,” adds Quinton, who’s now joined us at the window. “I don’t know anyone who’d wanna go out there right now.”
“Other than the kids in the park,” Logan says, still peering down at the cityscape below. He notices me looking and points to some patches of color against the white.
“Oh, yeah. They were building snowmen when we drove by,” Quinton confirms.
And just like that, I have a new idea.
I nudge Logan with my elbow playfully, whispering, “Do you wanna build a snowman?”
“Are you quotingFrozenright now, or are you actually asking me to build a snowman?”
“Both,” I reply before pressing my lips to his temple. “So go put on something warmer and come be a kid with me.”
“Not until you’ve eaten!” calls his mother. We both glance over, finding her and Oakley in the kitchen, pulling out all the fixins for breakfast.
