Page 35

Chapter 35

Evie

Flashes of what Logan and I did in my office today still pop into my mind randomly, when I pack a few of my things and head to his house that night. I include a couple of outfits to keep at his place, for when I don't want to make the trip back to my apartment.

It was his idea, and it feels like an important clue.

An hour later, we sit at his dinner table. We're spending more time here than back where I live. My neighbors have been paying attention to my comings and goings, and have asked me about Logan a few times. It's simpler for us to be here, and now that I'm bringing some of my things to keep in his room…

I sigh.

"How did the rest of your day go?" he asks.

It's such a comfortable, long-term-relationship question, that my heart decides to skip a couple of beats. It's logical, really. I'm sure it is, if I think about it hard.

"I was in a very good mood for some reason, so that was great." I lift my eyebrows high, and let him connect the dots on his own.

He chuckles. "I count that as one of my good deeds today. "

The hanging light is off above us. Only the kitchen pot lights are on, giving us a diffuse, soft glow to eat in.

"Good," I say. "Keep that vibe in the room, because you're not going to like the next conversation."

He frowns and waits for me to come out with it.

"The Sports Media Network producer called. Melanie says they're still happy with your interviews these days, and the ratings are great."

His eyes narrow. He knows I'm stalling and trying to butter him up.

I sigh and go for it. "They want to push on asking about your dad."

His brow knots harder. His jaw clenches. The line of his mouth presses into a hard line.

I give him an apologetic look. "I knew that would bring the return of the killer frown."

"It's still a no, Evie."

I open my mouth to explain but pull back right away. His reply doesn't surprise me and, even though talking about his dad in this context makes my PR instincts tingle, the choice was made hours ago.

His solemn eyes focus on me. "I've told you things about my dad I haven't told anyone else. If you push on this…"

I shake my head and take his hand on the table. "I won't. Of course I'll respect your answer! I already did. I told Melanie the contract is enforceable and we're not open to renegotiating."

His brow relaxes somewhat. "Thank you. Regardless of what happens this season— if I can't get a ring, I at least need to redeem myself by getting us close. I need to know that by the time I walk away from my last game in my first year with the Strike, I'll be out of my father's shadow."

"I understand. I'll help, okay? But part of my job is to tell you what happened… and I should warn you as well, that they will probably find ways to ask about Kenneth King, if they really want to. "

He eats a few forkfuls of the big, colorful salad Ames' team sent him. "What can I expect?"

"They could find an indirect way to ask you. Quote one of the few comments he's made on his show, quote social media posts, who knows."

"Mhhh."

"I'll stick around for the interviews, just in case, but you'll handle it. You're a pro at this now."

"Far from it. I still need my training wheels."

He interlocks our fingers, and it clears all tension from the room. Like now that he knows where I stand, we're a unit again.

"Am I your training wheels?" I smile.

He smirks. "I promise only to poke you for advice sometimes."

"You can poke as much as you need. It's my job!"

"I'll do that at work. Here? I'd much rather poke at other things."

His eyes are steady on me, and I keep my smile. We eat some more, with him and his salad and me and my pasta.

It's the kind of evening I want to have every night.

That ache in my heart I felt last week at the stadium returns to my chest. This fantasy is feeling better and better by the second.

"Yeah," I say. "I've learned how much you like to poke at me."

He said he can't get enough of me. Maybe that will turn to more for him, too. Even if he doesn't date, maybe he'll change his mind like I think I have.

"And push," he adds. "Toss around a little."

"That part should definitely be a just-at-home thing."

"I'm sure we can bend the rules sometimes," he says, like we're discussing what we'll have for dinner tomorrow. "You liked it when I poked at work today."

I laugh. "Not too often. Can you imagine getting caught?"

"We'll be careful." He shrugs.

Like it's not a big deal. Like he's looking at the years ahead of us, and that's the least of his concerns .

He stares at me with dark gray eyes. His gaze hides a challenge—

What are you going to do, my Evie?

I can hear it clearly. Maybe I've learned how to read his mind, too.

His fierce eyes study me closely. It's easy to get lost in them, and try with all my might to figure out what color they really are.

I take a deep breath. "I do have a marketing question for you."

He raises an eyebrow.

"I need to settle something for social media," I add.

He cocks his head. "What are you up to?"

"It's one of the most common fan questions I see in the comments."

"I thought they're convinced you're my girlfriend."

I blink a few times at that, but recover fast. The title sounds too good, but I can't entertain it for long. Not when I'm on a mission.

"It's not that." I shake my head. "It's an even more important question."

"Let it out, will you?"

One day soon, I'll have to make up my mind about what all of these feelings mean, and what I'll do about them. But for now, I need the shield of playfulness.

I call him closer with a finger, like I want to tell him a secret. We're alone, but he humors me. The corner of his lips pull up.

"All your fans want to know." I peer into him, and ask the question I want answered for myself most of all. "Logan— what color are your eyes?"

His eyebrows twitch. It takes him a second, but answers in a beat.

"A37," he says.

I startle.

"What?" I'm breathless. "Are you serious? What does that mean?"

"I have no fucking idea, Evie." And he laughs.

My eyes open wide. My lips part. Several emotions move through me at once— confusion, awe, humor, and the realization that he's messing with me.

But that laugh… oh, it's glorious, and it fills me up until I could fly .

A smile takes over my face, but it's soft with the warmth spreading through my chest. Regardless of what happens with us, this is a moment I will never forget.

"Did you make that up?" I ask. "To tease me?"

He nods. I take my hand away in mock offense, as extra playfulness to distract us. He chases it and grabs it again.

His grin is wide and free. "I have no idea what color my eyes are. They are somewhere between blue and gray, but they take on the color of what surrounds me so it's hard to discern."

"I've seen them look purple, for hell's sake."

"Mhh. Was this question really for the fans?" He kisses my hand. "Or just my number one fan?"

"Are you calling me your number one fan?"

He laughs again.

"Worst of all is," I say, "I can't deny it. Not after seeing you laugh like that."

"Was it everything you thought?"

Effervescent mirth lights him up. To my poor heart, he shines like those old church paintings.

I give him a serious nod. "Unfortunately. Yes."

Grin still on, he pushes our plates away. "Am I everything you thought?"

Pulling from my hand, he maneuvers me out of my chair, and onto the table.

"No," I whisper.

"And you still like me."

It's not a question.

I smile. "I still like you, Logan."

"Good."

He kisses my neck and has me for dessert, right there on the dinner table.

Later, he holds me close in bed.

"Just be here with me," he says. "Just breathe with me."