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Logan
Ichannel surf, bored out of my damn mind. I should’ve accepted my parents’ offer to go see the movie with them and Campbell, but I knew they wanted the time with him. They’ve been spoiling him since we arrived in Coree Harbor, making up for lost time I suppose.
When I worked up the courage to tell them Jolene was pregnant, they cried and prayed. I was a wreck. Seventeen years old, and all I could see was my future being flushed down the toilet over a broken condom and reckless decisions.
It was my parents who helped me keep my career on track. My parents who helped support Jolene and me so I could still go to college and live my dream. And my parents who welcomed me back to Coree Harbor and assured me I was making the right decision in leaving the NFL. They’ve always been on my side.
Finally, I settle on a rerun of a classic football game and toss the remote control onto the sofa before getting up to find something to eat in the kitchen. I’m searching through the pantry when I hear the doorbell. I frown and close the pantry door before going to see who’s here.
I open the door, and Sailor stands there with her back to me, her hand in her hair as it runs down her long dark locks. It tangles at the end of her waves, and she mumbles a curse. When she turns around and faces me, her cheeks tinge red, and she snatches her fingers through the knot in her hair.
“I changed my mind,” she explains. “If I’m not too late.”
Her eyes drift over the gray sweats I’m wearing, lingering on my crotch a moment before returning to my face. I can’t help but grin. She’s fucking adorable.
“Just let me change. Come on in.”
I hold the door open, and as she walks by, I lean in and say, “You look stunning.”
And she does. The dress suits her. The deep shade of red is remarkable against her skin, a gold bracelet on her arm, matching clutch in her hand. Fashion isn’t important to me, but having had my time in the limelight, I know what it looks like.
I take a moment to kiss her, only brushing my lips against hers for a brief moment before leaving her while I go throw some decent clothes on. Gray sweats are not appropriate public attire. Trust me. Already made that mistake once, and photos outlining my junk were plastered all over the internet.
When I emerge wearing jeans and a white button-down shirt, Sailor arches an eyebrow. Her gaze drifts once again to my crotch.
“The sweats were fine,” she teases.
“Ha. I want to take you out. We’ll save dessert for later.”
I open the door for her and chuckle when she says, “Promises, promises.”
We get in my truck, and I turn the radio down from the usual ear-splitting level Campbell prefers. I’m curious as to why she changed her mind, but I don’t ask. I’m happy she did.
“You want to go to Dip Net? My folks love the food there,” I suggest.
She shrugs. “I’m not really a fan of seafood.”
I laugh. “You mean you worked around fish that summer, but you don’t eat fish? And you live in a seaport town?”
“What can I say? I’m an enigma.”
I reach over and take her hand in mine. “That you are, Sailor Leigh.”
She lets me hold her hand only a minute before easing it away, resting her hands in her lap as she gazes out the window. She may have changed her mind and showed up at my door, but there’s a part of her that’s still closed off from me. Still keeping me at bay. And I don’t know how to get her to open up to me.
