Small mercies, I guess.
I dress in warm clothes and leave the cabin for the house, already dreaming of whatever pastry Jillian has decided to make this morning. But I stop short when I see all the firewood in neat stacks outside my door—a large pile of split logs and a huge basket of kindling. Logan’s work, obviously.
How long does he think I’m staying? There’s enough wood here to last me all winter.
Or maybe he just really needed to work off some tension?
I hesitate, but decide to knock on his cabin door. A few footsteps approach from inside, and the door swings open.
“Summer,” he says, sounding somewhat surprised.
“Hey. Good morning.”
Maybe I should feel embarrassed or regretful about the kisses we shared last night, but even in the light of day, any negativity is just absent.
“Thank you for the firewood.” I tip my chin toward the neat stacks.
“Sure. Wanted to make sure you’d be warm. The weather is turning.” He glances at the sky before meeting my gaze again.
“I’m going up to the house. Can I bring you some coffee?”
“I’m good.”
I shift my weight, nerves suddenly setting in. “Are we okay? Last night . . .”
He stops me. “We’re fine. Last night was my fault. It won’t happen again,” he says, his voice sure and steady. “In fact, let’s meet tomorrow for another counseling session.”
“Sure,” I say. “What time?”
He scratches his chin. “How about tomorrow afternoon? I’m helping Graham today, and then I’m going hunting with Matt tomorrow early in the morning. I’ll be back by lunch, though.”
Filled with a renewed sense of purpose, I nod. “Okay, I’ll see you then.”
13
* * *
LOGAN
It’s still dark out the next morning when my brother Matt wakes me with three quick knocks on the cabin’s front door followed by one slow one. Our secret knock as kids.
My eyes are closed, but I smile before grunting and rolling over. It’s too damn early for this, but I agreed to go hunting with him today. He said we had to get an early start, but if I’d known he meant before dawn, I might have reconsidered.
The door opens, and he calls out, “Wakey, wakey.” His voice sounds way too cheery for whatever ungodly time this is.
“Go away.” I tug the blankets over my head, as if that will block out his enthusiasm.
“I brought coffee.”
“Leave it on the table and then go away,” I say with a groan.
A low chuckle is followed by the sound of his boots crossing the floor. “Come on, it’ll be fun. And I need your help.”
“You do not,” I grumble.
Matt hunts without me all the time. Turkeys in the spring, elk in the early fall, and then deer later on.
He chuckles. “Come on. Get up.”
Realizing he’s not going to stop until I do, I shove off the blanket and sit up. “Fine, but give me that coffee.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m dressed in warm clothes and hiking through the woods beside Matt. Thankfully, the thermos of coffee he had for me is strong, and it’s working to improve my mood.
“So, did you and Graham make up, or what?” he asks, referring to our fight the other night. One that I’m not proud of, for the record.
“Yeah, we did. All good now.” I spent the day yesterday helping him brew beer.
He shoots me a curious look. “Do I want to know what you were fighting about?”
“Nope.”
The less stress for this family right now, the better, I figure.
“All right, let’s talk about Summer.”
Uncertainty squirms inside me. Last night, things went too far. I’d hoped kissing her would take the edge off the need that had been clawing at me for days. But it didn’t, not at all. It only made that need grow more insistent, fiercer. Darker somehow.
“What about her?”
Matt smirks. “First, she’s smoking hot.”
“Don’t.” Stepping over a fallen log, I give him a warning glare.
“What? I have eyeballs.”
“Well, keep your balls to yourself.”
He chuckles. “Oh man, don’t tempt me. Do you know how fucking horny I’ve been?”
“No, and I don’t want to know.”
But the truth is, I do know, because I’m in the same boat. Or at least a similar canoe. An adjacent watercraft.
Fuck. I’m being weird. Pay attention to what he’s saying, Logan.
Matt takes a swig of coffee and carries on, completely unaware of the entire monologue that just took place inside my brain. “You don’t live here, so you don’t understand how there’s like one woman for every ten dudes out here.”
I roll my eyes. “This isn’t like Alaska in the Gold Rush, bro. What about dating apps?”
He laughs. “Yeah, I tried that, dumbass. Believe me, it’s bad. The single men in this town far outnumber the eligible women. Half the town has blue balls.”
Not the conversation I expected to be having this morning. “That sucks,” is all I manage to say.
“It does. Not all of us are pussy-slaying NHL stars.”
“Well, I’m not anymore. That second thing, anyway. I’m suspended, remember? And that first one . . . believe me, I’m not slaying anything.”
“No puck-bunny action?” His tone is filled with surprise.
I shrug. “Not really. There was this one girl last year, but I got the sense she liked the idea of posting about me on Instagram more than she actually liked being with me.”
“When’s the last time you . . . ya know.”
“This is a conversation you and I will never have,” I mutter.
He gives me a pointed look.
“Fine.”
I realize I’m being evasive. Matt and I have always been honest with each other. Back when he was eighteen and freaked out that he’d gotten Tessa Elford pregnant, it was me he came to for advice.
Thankfully, she wasn’t pregnant, but I listened to his worries and gave him advice during the stressful week when she thought she was. Maybe talking this stuff out is part of being a good brother. Or maybe that’s just Summer’s advice getting into my head. Either way . . .
“It’s been a while,” I say begrudgingly.
“So, why don’t you make a play for Summer?”
“No.” My tone leaves little room for negotiation, but Matt is undeterred.
“Why not?”
“Because,” I mutter rather brilliantly.
My brother rolls his eyes. “Okay, then let me ask her out. Like I said, she’s gorgeous. Someone should go out with her.”
“No.”
He scoffs. “I don’t have to ask your permission, you know. I could just ask her out.”
The idea of that is not a pleasant one.
Summer isn’t mine, and she’s free to date whoever she wants. But the idea of her with another man? Well, I don’t like it.
The surge of territorial instincts that hit me take me by surprise. Summer’s a grown woman. She can choose who she dates. And it’s not like that man is going to be me—for obvious reasons.