Adate?
Withhim?
I felt hot, skin prickling. The idea of her with him—laughing and smiling on a date—made my ears ring with irritation. Jealousy. Envy. Longing.
But none of how I felt mattered because my feelings weren’t out in the open. I’d been holding them close to my chest to respect her transition back to Faircloud.
If I’d known she was open to the idea of dating, I would’ve taken my shot.
Would I have, though?
I’d been too chickenshit to ask Ellie Cassidy on a date, and it looks like I lost my chance…again.
12
ELLIE
Me: I’m on my way over! Boone told me what happened. Are you okay?!
Logan: I’m fine, just twisted my ankle. Nothing a little ice and relaxation won’t fix.
Me: Well, make sure your door is unlocked because my hands are going to be full
Logan: I’m not going to deny you coming over but really, I’m fine and I’ll be back ranching tomorrow, pinky promise
Ikicked at the front door of Logan’s house, announcing my arrival the only way I could, since my hands were full of everything I thought he might need and he never unlocked his front door.
Ice packs. Ace bandages. A leftover splint I’d had tucked in my closet at home since Boone sprained his ankle a few years ago. And dangling from my arm was a bag filled with Logan’sfavorite snacks and drinks. If I was going to play nurse, I might as well do it right.
I shifted my weight from foot to foot, each passing second making the load feel heavier.
Finally, the lock clicked, and the door creaked open. Logan stood there, leaning on one side, his other foot barely grazing the ground. I glanced down to find his ankle swollen, angry, and red.
“We need to get you off that,” I said, pushing past him without waiting for permission.
The door clicked shut behind me as he let out a dry laugh. “Hi to you too, Ace.”
I dropped everything beside the couch just as he limped behind me, making his way over like a wounded cowboy too stubborn for his own good. From one of the bags, I pulled out a little bouquet of flowers with a “Get Well Soon” balloon tucked in the wrapping. I turned and held it out with both hands.
“For me?” he asked, mock-gasping as he took it with exaggerated grace.
“Men deserve flowers too,” I said, smirking as I planted one hand on my hip.
“I appreciate all the effort, but I’m totally fine,” he said with a laugh.
“Maybe,” I replied. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to take care of you tonight. Someone’s got to make sure you stay off that ankle and actually let it heal.”
“Well then.” He grinned. “I guess there’s no denying your pampering.”
“Sit,” I ordered, pointing to the couch.
Logan and his new flowers hobbled over and eased down. I dragged the coffee table closer, set a pillow down on top, and gently lifted his leg, adjusting it until his ankle was propped up just right.
He didn’t flinch. He didn’t complain.
That was Logan.
Tough as nails, calm as ever, and yet somehow still the softest place I’d ever landed.
