Logan (Carolina Reapers 4)

“I know you do. Mom, do you guys want the box or the family seats? The family seats are up on the glass, but the box might be a little quieter.”

“Hmmm. What do you think, Kate? Do you want to see the game up close? Or from the box?” Mom asked. She’d always given her choices when she could.

“Will we see you after the game?” Kate asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“Absolutely. Dinner. Dancing. Ice cream. Whatever you want.”

“Let’s do the box. Those have the soft seats.” She nodded.

“It’s decided,” Mom announced.

“Logan says you work at the library,” Kaitlynn said to Delaney.

“That’s right. I really love books. What about you?” Her hand tensed in mine, but her smile was soft.

“I like books!” Kaitlynn jumped into a list of the stories she loved, and Delaney relaxed.

The two went back and forth about their favorites, and after a few minutes, Mom and I relaxed too. I caught her smile across the table and echoed it.

“You like my brother,” Kaitlynn said to Delaney as our desserts arrived.

“Kate,” I started, knowing this could go bad so very fast.

“I do,” Delaney interrupted, putting a hand on my knee.

“Not as much as I do,” Kate said matter-of-factly, but without jealousy or judgment.

Every muscle in my body locked. This was where every other girlfriend had gone wrong in the past, thinking they needed to compete when really all they had to do was acknowledge.

“That’s probably true,” Delaney said with a nod, spooning a bite of her ice cream. “After all, I’ve only known him for a few months of my life, and you’ve known him for all of yours.”

Kate’s shoulders squared, and she took a bite of her pie. Then she looked Delaney over. “It’s okay if you like him.”

My mouth hung open. That had happened exactly zero times in my life.

“Thank you. I hope it’s okay if I like you, too. From looking at all the pictures he has in his house, you guys are a package deal.” Delaney took a bite of her ice cream like she wasn’t negotiating a nuclear treaty.

Mom’s lips pressed into a flat line.

I couldn’t help but wonder if Delaney realized how true those words were. If anything happened to Mom and Dad, I would become Kaitlynn’s guardian. Whoever took me on really was taking us both.

“We are,” Kate said with a nod. “But you can be in our package, too. You’re nice.” She went back to her pie.

Mom covered her mouth with her hand and took a deep breath.

We finished our desserts, and I paid the bill over Mom’s protest. For fuck’s sake, I made millions a year. I could take my family out to lunch. Then again, it wasn’t as big of a protest as when I’d paid off their house. Whoops.

We split at the cars, Kaitlynn to Mom’s rental and Delaney to my R8, leaving Mom and me on the sidewalk.

“Keep that one,” she ordered, motioning toward Delaney.

“I’m trying, but I may have already screwed it up,” I confessed.

“Ah, is that why you keep looking at her like she might disappear at any moment?” She cocked her head at me.

“I never could get anything past you.”

“Yet, you still kept trying,” she said with a laugh. “Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll pull through it. That girl loves you. I can see it in her eyes. Plus, she’s won Kaitlynn over, which hasn’t ever happened in the history of you bringing girls home.”

“She doesn’t know I’m in the NHL,” I admitted in a whisper.

Mom’s eyes flew wide. “What? Does she think you’re in the minors or something?”

“She doesn’t even know I play hockey.” I felt my face flush. Admitting you’d fucked up was one thing, confessing to your mother? That was quite another.

Mom blinked once. Twice. “Well, now I like her even more.”

“Mom, she hates athletes just as much as she hates celebrities. She’s going to end this as soon as she knows.” Panic crawled through my veins, knowing that could be any moment.

“You weren’t exactly hiding it in there,” she laughed, then stopped when she sensed I wasn’t joking. “You’re trying to find a way to tell her without telling her,” she guessed.

I nodded.

“Come here.” She hauled me in for a hug and somehow made me feel like I was small again. Then she pulled back but kept ahold of my cheeks. “Logan Ward. First, you’re not as famous as you think you are, so relax. If you were George Clooney, I’d call you a celebrity. Second, that girl doesn’t hate athletes because she obviously loves you, and you are an athlete.”

“She doesn’t know that,” I whispered.

“She will. And she might be mad—really mad—that you hid it from her, but something tells me she’ll stick by you. That’s the thing about love. Once you truly love who someone is, you find all sorts of excuses to tolerate the things they do, and that goes for the good and the bad. You’re a professional hockey player, Logan. You’re not a mass murderer. Give the girl some credit.” She gave my cheek a pat. “Now, we’ll see you tomorrow. We have plans at the spa in a couple of hours since someone I know—” her eyes narrowed on me, “—spent entirely too much money on two deluxe packages that somehow ended up in our names.”