Page 92 of Chaos At Second Sight

I gave him a pat.

Logan liked the position so much he actually fell asleep, with me as his pillow. I’d discovered the perfect way to study with Logan and even took a selfie—me trying not to laugh, my giant mate snoring peacefully in my lap—and sent it straight to Gentle Eyes.

“Masturbator.” Mom dragged her orange sunglasses down her nose and looked at Logan over the rims. “Good to finally meet you!”

She smacked his shoulder with enough force to stagger most wolves. Today she sported a loose Iron Maiden T-shirt over a leotard, her hair braided into a crown.

Logan didn’t react to the nickname anymore. “Likewise, ma’am.”

She wagged a finger at him. “Call me ma’am again and I’ll slice your⁠—”

“Mom!”

She smirked. “Alpha or Isabella. Your pick.”

Logan barked out a laugh. “Alpha Isabella, then.”

We chatted a little longer until Mom promised to see us at dinner.

“Your mom’s cool,” Logan said as we walked hand in hand. “Sure the Islander’s her son? I’m convinced he was adopted.”

“Don’t be fooled. Mom’s the personification of competition and would do anything for the Comets. She’ll charm you into revealing Dark Diamond’s full game plan before the next match.”

“Seriously?” A grimace deformed Logan’s face. “She sounded genuine!”

“Nothing personal. Everyone falls for it.”

We rounded the corner and my stomach dropped faster than a stone off a Scottish cliff.

Lachlan stood outside Ian’s bedroom, his forehead against the door. Eyes shut, shoulders shaking. At our footsteps, he straightened and scrubbed a sleeve over his face.

His bloodshot eyes met ours. Years of practice kicking in, he shoved his emotions behind the mask; he definitely didn’t want his mortal enemy to see him broken.

“Lachy…” My own eyes watered, tears gathering.

Logan said nothing.

“I’m fine.” Lachlan forced out a tight-lipped smile that never reached his eyes. “I’ll…see you later.”

“But—”

“I want to be alone,” he said quietly. He gave us the briefest nod. Logan returned it. He dragged his feet away, shoulders slumped like someone had tied a stone to his back.

I started after him, but Logan’s arms slipped around me. “Let him go,” he said, his voice gentle. “He wants to be alone.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, my eyes glued to Lachlan’s retreating form. “Please don’t tease him about this, Logan.”

“I would never.” His lips brushed mine as if sealing a promise, and goosebumps erupted over my chest. He cocked his head toward the bedroom. “Now, are we going to meet the little man?”

With my hand in the warm comfort of his, I pushed the door open, trying not to notice the damp mark Lachlan’s pain had left on the wood.

“Yva!” Ian chirped from the Ferrari-shaped bed, face lighting up. His cheeks flushed when he spotted the giant looming behind me. “Who’s that?”

“This is my mate, Logan.” I was at his bedside in three strides. “Logan, Ian.”

Logan’s eyes swept over the tubes and monitors pumping both life-saving fluids and poisons into my brother. But he didn’t flinch, like he was used to seeing kids hooked up to high-tech machines every day. “So you’re the famous Ian.” He stretched out his hand. “Heard loads about you, buddy.”

Ian shook it with both of his tiny hands. “Have you kissed already?” I did not expect.