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“I think you are lucky.” Quinn shoves his hands in his pockets.
“I think we are, too,” Logan whispers.
“The important question is, does she have any crazy ex-boyfriends, stalkers, shifters, coyotes, rabbits, or family that will come after her? With this group, all the mates you find have one, the other, or all,” Quinn says gruffly.
“We just met her,” I reply.
“She did say something about her family,” Logan muses.
“We’ll take care of it,” I say firmly.
“You say that now,” Quinn snorts.
I frown. “You both can leave now.”
“Let us know when you need help,” Bash says, lips twitching again as they leave.
“Assholes,” I whisper.
Silence descends in the room. I hear Breeane’s chatter and Las's deep response upstairs, but Logan gazes out the window. I hate the distance that has been between us since we reunited. We are both angry; it’s hard to know if we are angry at each other or the situations that tore us apart.
“We have to work through this,” I tell him.
“We will.” He shuffles his feet. “Tomorrow, we should have a beer,” he offers.
“Sounds good,” I agree. Up until now, he has refused to talk about it. This is progress. “What are we going to do about Breeane?”
“We give her what she wants—dates, time—and hope she comes to the decision that we all want.”
“Right,” I sigh. “I don’t like her being at a hotel. I want to be close to her.”
“I agree, but we can’t exactly demand that she live with us.”
“We could offer her a discounted room,” I ponder. Understanding lights his eyes. We bought a small piece of land and built our house. We have a small cottage next to the house. Our thought process, at least on my part, was that if Logan gave in and allowed our parents to visit us, they would have a space to be.
“I haven’t been in there for a while.”
“We go home tonight, make sure it’s good, get everything she needs,” I say.
“Then we have to convince her,” he says.
“We have to try. Then we only have to suffer one night being away from her,” I say. I already feel the anxiety building up at the thought of not having her close by.
“Let’s take her out to eat; we can mention the subject then,” Logan says.
“Sounds good.”
“I have everything we need,” Las says as he returns with Breeane’s hand still in his.
I don’t doubt him. I have no problem admitting to my strengths; studying a job and putting together a plan is not one of them. I do the physical work; Las can look at a potential project and know exactly what needs to be done.
Logan is the organizer, the leader—as much as he denies the fact. He has always been the one we looked to for guidance. Until he wasn’t there anymore.
“Are you hungry?” Logan asks Breeane.
“Yes, I didn’t have time to eat before I came. I fell asleep by the pool.”
“Fuck, what color is your swimming suit?” I ask.
