Her gaze slowly meets mine, and she nods. “Always.”
I inhale slowly. “When you left me back in Colorado, something inside me broke.”
Confusion and maybe something hopeful flashes through her eyes. “Logan . . .”
I take her hand and press it into my palm. “Hold on. I’m not done.”
She nods for me to go ahead.
“I know it scared you, but I meant every word I said to you that day you left. I’ve fallen for you. I think about you every second.”
Summer doesn’t answer, and my heart hammers uncomfortably against my ribs.
I squeeze her hand. “Summer. Say something.”
“Total honesty,” she says. “Yeah, it does scare me. It scares the hell out of me.”
“You’re not alone anymore. You know that, right? I’ll be your family.”
“Just you?”
“Yes.” I bring her hand to my lips and press a soft kiss to it. “You can have all of me. All I want is to make you happy. To make you whole, just like you did for me.”
Tears fill her eyes. “I want that too.” She draws in a deep breath. “But I’m scared. What if it doesn’t work out?”
I press my lips to her knuckles again and then hold her hand in my lap. “Aren’t you the one who told me it’s okay to be vulnerable sometimes?”
She smiles. “I guess I was. Are you thinking I need to take my own advice?”
“It was good advice. Come on, sweetheart. Take this chance with me.”
“You’re a hard man to say no to.”
I place my fingers beneath her chin and bring her mouth to mine. Our kiss is slow, sweet, soft. When I pull back a moment later, there are unshed tears glistening in her eyes. I tug Summer into my lap, needing her close, needing to comfort her.
“I love you, Summer.” My voice is thick with emotion, and hers is too when she says it back to me.
“I love you, Logan.”
They’re the four best words I’ve heard in a very long time.
“But just so you know . . . being with me comes with a big, loud family.”
She laughs. “Yeah. I kinda figured that out.”
“They love you, you know.”
“I love them too,” she says, and I know she means it. “We can spend Christmas snowed in with them?”
“Of course.” I trail my hand along her spine, gently rubbing her back. Now that she’s finally in my arms again, I can’t seem to stop myself from touching her.
“And Thanksgiving?”
“If you like. My mom makes the best sweet potato pie in the entire world. And my brothers fight over who gets to carve the turkey.”
She lifts her head from its resting place on my shoulder and meets my eyes. “Who usually wins?”
“Grandpa Al,” I say with a grin.
“Of course he does. It sounds perfect.”
“It is, but wherever you are will be perfect too. You’re what I want. We can make our own traditions. If you want to have Thanksgiving dinner right here in this apartment, we’ll do exactly that.”
She glances toward her efficiency kitchen with its tiny two-burner stove. “My kitchen sucks.”
I chuckle at her honesty. Her kitchen does leave a lot to be desired. “I’ll build you a better one.”
“My hero,” she says wistfully, grinning at me.
I brush her hair behind her ear. “I tell you I love you, but you’re more excited about me telling you I’ll build you a kitchen.” I raise one eyebrow in her direction.
“Sorry! No. Not more excited, but maybe equally excited? And I love you too. It’s just that I had a lot of good times with your mother in her kitchen. I think I might like a nice kitchen of my own someday. I’ve never had a nice kitchen,” she says quickly, babbling like she does when she’s excited.
I quiet her with another kiss. “It’s yours.”
“I could bake you bread, and scones, and a cake on your birthday . . . They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
“You already have my heart.”
We kiss and hold each other on her sofa for a long time. When I finally pull back, I meet her eyes again. “You looked so sad when I first walked in.”
She nods. “I was happy to see you, so happy. But then I realized that I couldn’t put my arms around you, couldn’t hug you or kiss you or touch you, and that made me so incredibly sad.”
I brush my fingers along her collarbone. “Sweetheart, you can touch me as much as you want.”
This makes her laugh, and it’s the best sound.
“I missed you,” I say, pressing my lips to the top of her head.
You can’t appreciate the sweet if you never have the bitter.
And having Summer back in my arms is the sweetest thing in the world.
24
* * *
SUMMER
Two months later
There comes a moment when you know a house has become a home.
It starts as the smallest bit of warmth in your heart the second you step over the threshold, but with a little time, it spreads to your knees, then fills up the spaces between your toes.
You know it’s coming when the smell of dirty work boots and dinner in the oven isn’t just familiar, it’s comforting, like an old sweater that still fits, or a song you forgot you knew all the words to. It’s a perfect, special feeling that doesn’t come around too often, a feeling I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to feel again.
And then the Tate family changed all that.
The first time I stepped into this house, I was a stranger, only here for one reason—to convince a hotheaded hockey player to seek counseling. A few short months later, that hockey player isn’t so hotheaded, and the list of reasons why I’m here could stretch from Lost Haven to Massachusetts.
Reason number one? I’m madly in love with him.
Reason number two? I’m meeting his extended family, all of whom have flown from different parts of the country to stay in the cabins on the Lost Haven property.
Why? Well, that would be reason number three—
Logan and I are getting married tomorrow. And sitting here, surrounded by the people who are soon to become my official family, I’ve never felt so at home.
“Go ahead, lovebirds! Open another present!” Jillian calls out between nibbles of a homemade currant scone.
While she promised to keep this bridal shower small, the pile of presents in the middle of the room is anything but. I’ve spent what feels like hours on the couch with my knee pressed against the hard muscle of Logan’s thigh, each of us taking turns peeling tape and silver wrapping paper off of packages.
With each present opened, a new wonderful feeling bubbles to the surface. Pride. Joy. Complete and utter bliss. And most of all, disbelief that this beautiful life is really mine. A loving family, a sunny winter day, and in less than twenty-four hours, the promise of forever with the incredible man beside me.
“Go ahead, babe.” Logan nods toward the pile of boxes and gift bags, which is still awfully big, despite the hour and a half we’ve been chipping away at it. “You pick the next one.”
“No, you pick,” I say. “I picked out the last one we opened.”