Page 29 of Best Kept Secret (The New York Thunder #3)
LOGAN
I glance at the door for the third time, checking my watch. Millie and Hannah have been gone a hell of a long time considering they only had to meet the food delivery driver downstairs.
“So, what was last night about?”
I startle, looking up in time to see Robbie drop into the sofa next to me, eyeing me intensely.
“What about last night?” I play dumb.
“You didn’t seem yourself,” Robbie says. “And then you left without even saying goodbye to anyone. Everyone noticed.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes. Sometimes the locker room is so fucking high school. “I had to meet my dad for dinner.”
Robbie looks at me for a long moment, not saying anything, as if he’s waiting for more. But when I don’t speak, he quirks a brow. “You good?”
I swallow thickly, nodding once. “Yeah, all good.”
I’m not sure if he believes me. That’s the thing about Robbie Mason. He just knows things. You’ve got to be careful around him because the guy’s like magic or some shit.
Thankfully, before Robbie can interrogate me any further, the door to the apartment swings open and Hannah walks in, followed by Millie.
I stand, watching them. They don’t look like they’ve been trying to tear each other’s hair out, although Hannah’s eyes are a little red.
But they’re smiling and talking quietly between themselves, so I think that’s a good thing?
When Millie’s gaze meets mine from where she’s placing the bags on the island counter, she flashes me a small smile, and I don’t know why, but that’s all the confirmation I need, and I release a breath I didn’t even know I’d been holding.
“Food’s here, y’all!” Millie announces, her Texas accent emphasized and making me grin.
Everyone jumps up and rushes to the kitchen, but I lag behind, taking my time because sitting around a table with everyone right now sounds like hell.
“I’m just going to the restroom,” I mutter to no one in particular, turning and heading for the hall that leads to the guest bathroom.
When I get inside, I lock the door, leaning back against it and taking a few deep breaths to calm my hammering heart.
“You’re being an idiot,” I hiss under each breath. “Get a fucking grip, Cullen.”
I close my eyes, doing those stupid breathing exercises that officially do not work for me, and when I realize I’m on the verge of an attack, I pull my phone from the pocket of my jeans, my hands shaking as I tap out a message.
Me: Nutella.
I stare down at the screen, seeing the read receipt appear.
Chewing on my thumbnail, I stare at the device. Please don’t fail me now, Red.
Red: I’ve got you.
I rub at the pain in my chest, unease coursing through me as I walk out of the bathroom and see everyone seated at the table, including Millie.
Her eyes meet mine as she takes a bite of pizza, and so subtly even I almost miss it, she nods at me, and my unease dissipates enough so that I can at least breathe normally.
“Hey, Loges, come have some food,” Emily says, waving me over and patting the spot available next to her.
I nod once, moving to the makeshift buffet set up on the island counter and grab a plate. But just as I’m about to start loading it with food I know I won’t eat, Millie groans from behind me. Turning, I watch as she looks at her phone in her hands, shaking her head.
“Everything okay, Sis?” Dallas asks from across the table.
With an exaggerated sigh, Millie stands. “It’s my boss. I just have to go take this.” She mutters something under her breath and walks away from the table, answering the call from the other side of the sprawling great room, her voice kept to a low murmur.
With a slice of pizza and a couple tacos on my plate, I make my way to my designated seat, glancing over at Millie as she stands in the far corner, talking low on her phone.
“What’s up with you lately, Loges?” Dallas asks the second I sit down. “You’ve been a wild cannon out on the ice the last few games.”
All eyes are focused directly on me, and suddenly, all I can hear is my own pulse thudding hard in my ears.
“You know me,” I say with a dismissive shrug and a fake laugh. “I’ve always been a little crazy out there…”
“What did Coach say?” Dallas presses.
“Usual bullshit.” I shrug again, picking up the slice of pizza because if I have to stuff my mouth full of food to avoid talking, I will.
“Speaking of Coach ,” Hannah says, thankfully changing the subject. “It’s his birthday on Sunday, and I really wanted to make it a special occasion.”
“Stripper?” Happy pipes up, eyes wide with excitement.
Hannah glares at him. “No. ”
Happy rolls his eyes. “Party pooper.”
“Dad hates parties, so I’m taking him for dinner, but I was thinking it would be so cool to have everyone at his favorite bar and we can stop in for a beer on our way home.” She smiles widely. “I mean, he’ll of course act like he wishes he was anywhere else, but deep down, he’ll be so touched.”
“Aw, how fun!” Emily coos.
“Will you guys all come?” Hannah asks, looking around the table.
“Of course.” Robbie nods, snaking his arm around Fran’s shoulders. “We’ll be there.”
“Any excuse to wear a cute dress.” Fran winks.
“What if I arrange the stripper?” Happy adds. “She’ll be classy, I promise. And you can pretend like you had no idea.”
Hannah looks at him in disgust. “We’re not having a stripper.”
“What a fucking bitch!”
Silence falls around the table as we all turn to where Millie is storming back from the far end of the room with a murderous scowl, cheeks flushed, phone held in her white-knuckled grip.
“What’s up, Mils?” Emily asks, worry etched between her eyebrows.
“I have to go,” Millie says, shaking her head and collecting her bag.
“Go?” Dallas guffaws. “Where?”
Millie huffs, smoothing her hair back from her face.
“That was my quote-unquote boss ,” she continues.
“She needs me to complete an entire strategy for her to present to board tomorrow. And if I don’t have it to her by nine a.m.—” She pauses for effect, looking around the table.
“Then she said I can look for a new job.”
Emily gasps.
“What?” Fran balks, slapping her hand on the table.
“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal,” Hannah says.
Millie rakes her fingers through hair again, shaking her head, and her eyes turn glassy with tears I’m sure are due to frustration more than anything else. “She’s horrible .”
“Tell her to go fuck herself,” Dallas snaps.
Millie rolls her eyes, flashing her brother a get serious look as she shrugs on her jacket.
“Well, how are you getting home?” Dallas stands, looking around for something, patting the pockets of his jeans. “Just wait and I’ll drive you.”
“It’s okay,” I say, standing. “I can just take her back.”
“Are you sure?” Dallas asks me.
I nod, my gaze flitting to Millie’s to see she’s on the verge of a meltdown. “Yeah. I’m fucking wiped anyway.”
“Okay, thanks, man.” Dallas slaps a hand on my shoulder, glancing at his sister. “And you and me need to talk about this whole work situation because ain’t no one meant to be working at this time of night. I don’t care if you’re an intern or a fuckin’ CEO; that’s some straight-up bullshit.”
“Whatever.” Millie rolls her eyes.
“No. Not whatever, Millie. You didn’t move to New York just to burn yourself out.”
“Dallas,” Emily warns, flashing her fiancé a shut-the-hell-up look before wrapping Millie in a hug and saying goodbye.
Dallas snaps his mouth shut, muttering something under his breath before giving his sister a quick, one-armed hug.
With a hurried goodbye to everyone, Millie rushes for the door, looking back at me with an impatient, “Are you coming or what?”
I jump, snapping to action and following her out. And when it’s just the two of us waiting for the elevator, I look at her from the corner of my eye as she studies her cell phone intently, tapping furiously into it.
“Do you need me to take you to your office to get anything?” I ask, just as the elevator arrives.
“Huh?”
I finish securing the cage, pressing the button for ground, and as I look back at Millie, she’s watching me like I’ve sprouted another head out of my shoulder.
“To do your strategy thing,” I say. “Do you need to stop by your work to pick anything up?”
She’s laughing. Head thrown back, eyes closed, belly laugh laughing. Confused, I wait for her to finish, and when she finally manages to stop, she looks at me for a long moment, clearly confused, and suddenly, it all makes sense.
“Your boss didn’t call you, did she?”
“No,” Millie says, a soft look in her eyes as her gaze meets mine. “You said Nutella .”
Before I can say anything, the elevator stops on ground, but as we walk out of the building and through the cool night air to my car, I don’t miss the way my heart tugs in my chest, and not in a bad way for once.