Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
I feel so much love for Mom. She’s always been a dedicated mother. In the early years, she would carry me in a chest harness as she delivered packages around LA. Then, when Dad’s business picked up, she threw herself into motherhood. She became an expert at it. I’m lucky. She beats herself up too much.
I go to her chair, sit on the arm, and lay my hands atop hers. “I was hiding it, Mom. Anyway, the pregnancy glow is just something people say.”
“No.” Mom tenderly touches my face. “That’s not true at all. You are glo…”
She trails off when Eric’s voice comes through the open window. “Hey, Dad!” This sounds overly excited and forced, but then Jack must spot Logan. Jack starts screaming. “Logan Ice! The Ice Demon! Oh my God!”
I rush to the window, more love expanding in me when I see Logan kneel and shake Jack’s hand. Jack is beaming. I’ve never seen him this ecstatic in all the years he and Eric have been friends.
Jack skates toward his house, and Logan stands, hands in his pockets. He’s wearing a slick silver suit. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in something so stylish. It fits him well, emphasizing his broad shoulders. He turns and spots me, his whole body stiffening. He quickly turns away.
In the old days, before that glorious night in the hotel when we discovered we were made for each other, I would’ve messed with my own head about this. Is he mad? What’s going on? Is he going to split up with me?
Not anymore. Not since that night or since he’s proven his dedication through all those texts and phone calls. Jack skates out of his house. Then Logan kneels again, putting his arm around him as Jack’s dad takes a photo.
When they’re done, Dad and Logan head toward the house. The warmth whelming in me starts to turn cold at the edges when I hear the door open. It’s so sweet to see Logan with a child, not that I ever needed proof he’s going to be the best dad. However, now, it could shatter and break into irreparable pieces.
Dad walks into the room. Mom stands, her hands flustered, tugging at her clothes. She looks at me, stands up straighter, and looks at Dad. Logan, towering over everyone, stands behind Dad, his intense blues glinting sharply as he glances at me.
“Should I make us some coffee?” Mom says after all the staring.
“Uh… what’s going on?” Dad asks, walking slowly into the room.
I step forward and swallow. The emotion in my throat is trying to stop me from speaking again, but I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep running. Anyway, Mom’s going to burst if I don’t say something. “I have to tell you something, Dad. Actually, Logan and I have to tell you something. Please.”
Dad turns to Logan and raises his eyebrow. Logan looks so conflicted. He nods at Dad, trying to seem like this doesn’t affect him, but I can see the pain. I can always see the pain in my man, even when he hides it from everybody else behind a layer of ice.
“Let’s get some coffee,” Dad says, a note of suspicion in his voice. Ducking his head as if purposefully avoiding everybody’s gaze, he strides into the kitchen muttering to himself. Logan shakes his arms out like he does before a game. I’m not sure he knows he does it, but every time he steps onto the ice, he does that like he’s getting his body ready for battle.
The three of us awkwardly follow Dad. I want to fall into Logan’s arms, kiss him, and feel his security wrapped around me. I know this isn’t the time or the place, especially when I hear Dad slamming around in the kitchen.
Mom walks forward as if to help him as he aggressively opens and closes drawers, then she retreats, her hands raised. She looks at me like she wants help. None of us knows what to do when he finally slams a door shut and spins, his eyes red, glaring at Logan.
I can’t read his expression. It’s like a mixture of everything. “What could you and Em have to tell me? What could you possibly have to tell me? There’s nothing. Nothing, Edouard.”
“I think you’ve got it, Michel. Or at least some of it.”
“Yeah, I’ve got it.” Dad grits his teeth and shakes his head as if thinking of all the signs he should’ve read, mentally replaying it. “You invited me to Canada and screwed my daughter. Then, when I called you, you felt so guilty you decided to give this sad sack a helping hand. Well, which part is fucking wrong?”
“Michael!” Mom rushes forward, putting her hands on his arms when he steps forward.
I clasp my hands over my mouth. I’ve never seen him like this. Mom wraps her arm around him, and Dad calms down, but only a little.