The Tight End (Red's Tavern 6)

“I don’t usually drink, but I have before,” he said. “It’s not a big deal.”

I leaned back and caught his eye. “As long as you’re okay with it.”

“Honestly, the only reason I don’t usually drink is because it makes it harder to read before I sleep,” he said with a shrug. “And I don’t think I’m going to get much reading done tonight, anyway.”

“What have you been reading lately?” I asked.

He waved a hand, shaking his head. “Nothing that interesting, I promise.”

A pang of sympathy hit me as I watched him look down at the table. It seemed like he was used to this. Used to shutting down conversations about his own interests, because most people probably weren’t interested at all.

“I really want to know, though,” I said softly. And I meant it. I didn’t normally have conversations about books, but I desperately wanted to hear Logan talking about the things he enjoyed.

He glanced up at me from under his lashes, like he was trying to figure out if I was serious or not. God, who had hurt him, in the past?

“It’s a book called History of the Kingdom,” he finally said. “I’ve actually read chapters of it before, but now I’m working through the whole thing for Hist 405. It’s all about the history of the British empire.”

I nodded. “Kings and queens and stuff?”

He pondered. “More like wars and imperialism and stuff,” he said. “But definitely kings and queens, too.”

“I don’t know a damned thing about British history.”

He cocked his head to one side. “Did they not teach it in your high school?”

I snorted. “They might have. I don’t know. I wasn’t very good in class, to be honest.”

“I’m sure you were fine,” Logan said.

I shook my head, pulling in a breath. “I barely made C grades in most of my classes. Handful of Ds, too. I always got distracted. I was always daydreaming about something, usually hot guys or football. I would do homework assignments and then forget to turn them in.”

I was more than a little embarrassed admitting how bad I’d always been in school. It had been an uphill battle for my whole life, and if it wasn’t for a great counselor and a football scholarship, I probably wouldn’t have even made it into college.

“Didn’t your parents ever help you out?” Logan asked.

Oh, how innocent and sweet the question seemed.

I looked down at the tabletop, running my fingers over a chip in the wood. “My dad wasn’t in the picture, and even if he had been, he’d be more interested in reading the label on a liquor bottle than helping me read my homework. My mom never even finished high school. She’s worked in hair salons her whole life.”

“I see,” Logan said. His eyes were completely calm, sympathetic, even. But I knew the gears must have been turning in his head.

I shifted in my seat.

I was different. So, so different from Logan.

I didn’t have half of the support he must have had growing up. I couldn’t imagine how different things must have been in his childhood. Two super smart, college professor parents, guiding him along the way. Logan was probably smarter than I was now by the time he was ten years old.

“I always had my older brother, though,” I said. “Roman was more like an older brother and a dad, all rolled up into one. Even if he wasn’t that great in school either, he definitely taught me how to be a good person. How to think about things, from every angle. Got me into football, too, which was my saving grace. I’d probably be in jail from fighting with homophobes right now if I didn’t discover football as an outlet growing up.”

“It sounds like you two are so close,” Logan said. “I always wished I had a sibling. It was always just me and my books.”

I could picture Logan, sitting alone in his childhood bedroom, surrounded by books the same way he was now. It crushed my heart, thinking about someone so interesting feeling so alone. Logan actually had so much to say—so much to talk about—but it was like he’d trained himself not to bother trying.

“I still am close with my brother, yeah,” I said. “I love Roman with all my heart. But it wasn’t all sunshine and roses. Believe me, we fought, when we were young. Mostly when he tried to eat my leftovers out of the fridge.”

A small smile appeared on Logan’s lips, and I loved seeing it. “I wasn’t even allowed in the fridge for leftovers when I was little.”

“What?” I said.

Logan shrugged. “My parents were smart as hell, and definitely loving, but they were very strict about some things. I definitely wasn’t allowed in the fridge after dinner. When we ate Chinese food on the couch the other day? That would have been a code red back in my childhood home.”