Chapter Twenty-Eight

He doesn’t move his hand the entire drive and when he parks at his house, he’s at my side the moment we’re out of the truck, taking my hand. I stare at him in surprise, but he doesn’t explain and I don’t pull away. I can’t. The last two weeks since Grandma’s ER visit have been exhausting and today stole my last fragment of willpower. Logan is next to me, and I’ve missed him, and if he wants to hold my hand, then I won’t stop him.

Logan glances to his right and mutters under his breath. A woman who I assume is his mom walks toward us. Her long blond hair is pulled into a ponytail, and she’s wearing jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and a black puffer vest. She has a steaming mug in each hand.

“You must be Quinn?” she asks with a wide smile.

I pull my hand away from Logan, feeling suddenly self-conscious, and wave to her. “Yes, I’m Quinn. You’re Mrs.Weber?”

“Emily,” she says. “Is everything okay? I was so worried when I heard what happened.”

“Yes, my dad is with Grandma and the police, and the tow truck just arrived so…” I trail off, not sure how to explain why we’re at her house. But she doesn’t question or seem concerned.

“I made you both hot chocolate. I always find a hot drink is comforting when I’m shaken up.”

This isn’t some little cup of brown liquid. Mine is a gigantic ceramic mug in the shape of a sleeping cat, the drink topped with a swirling mountain of whipped cream and a dousing of red sprinkles. I glance at Logan, who gives me an embarrassed half-smile. His mug is a fluffy white sheep. Two seconds in and I already really like his mom.

“Thank you so much,” I murmur, and take a small sip. My eyes pop. Whoa, that’s sweet hot chocolate.

“A specialty of mine.” She smiles.

“Thanks, Mom, but, uh, I was just going to show Quinn the shed for a few minutes. She’s never seen inside.”

I glance at the shed, which I still find utterly charming. It also looks very small and very secluded. Probably not the kind of place parents would want two teenagers to hang out alone.

Her expression says the same thing. “The shed, you say?” She gives us an appraising look. “It’ll be cold in there.”

“We won’t be there long. I have to get her back to town.”

She nods. “Okay. Glad you and your grandma are okay.” She retreats into the house and Logan steers me to the shed. He opens the door and ushers me inside.

“Your mom wasn’t wrong,” I say, and take a drink of the hot chocolate. The inside of the shed is just as cold as outside.

“It’ll warm up quickly.” Logan puts his mug on a desk, flicks on the overhead light, and plugs in a large space heater.

I walk the space slowly, taking in all the details while I hold my mug in two hands. The walls are simple stacked stone. Some still have dried lichen on them. There isn’t much furniture. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves cover the left-hand wall, there’s a beat-up desk pushed up against the right-side wall, and there’s a love seat under a window in between. Logan has found a way to tack posters to the stone, so much of the space is covered in maps of various D&D lands and characters.

“I see you and Grandma have another thing in common,” I say as I check out his things. “You hoard your collections like a dragon, too, except you have fewer Portuguese tiles and more fantasy novels.”

It’s not exactly the curated stone cottage that would send cottage-core Instagrammers into a tizzy, but to my eyes it’s glorious. Absolutely perfect. I forget the cold and the accident and every other thing except the outstanding hot chocolate in my hands and this treasure of a space around me. I circle the room slowly, studying the details in the maps and reading the titles on the spines of the books. If that love seat is comfortable, I might try renting the space like an Airbnb.

I turn around. “Loga—” I pause. The heat of his gaze pulls the words from my mouth like a tornado sucking a tree out of the ground. “Are…you okay?”

“You were making little humming sounds.” His voice is rough.

I duck my head in embarrassment. “Was I? I didn’t realize.” I glance around the room again. “It’s just this space…it’s like heaven.”

“Really, you like it?”

“Are you kidding me? You have, like, a little stone cave where you can hide from the world and read and build campaigns. I’d spend every waking hour here if I could.” I point to a map on the wall. “Is this the map for the assassin campaign? I’ve never seen this one.”

He jumps into action, pointing to a few of the locations where he’s thinking the assassin could hide and rattling off some backstory about why the child prince might be in league with an assassin. We sit down on the love seat, and I swear under my breath.

“What?” Logan asks.

“The love seat is so comfortable.”

He frowns. “Is that a bad thing?”

“It is for you. I’m not leaving—this place is officially mine now.” I set my mug down and put both arms along the back of the love seat to claim it as my own. “I’m willing to negotiate on rent, but I’ll warn you that I’m broke.”

“You’re trying to evict me? That was quick. And after my mom gave you her famous hot chocolate.”

I pretend to consider. “You could probably stay—I might get a little lonely all by myself. But I’m claiming the loveseat.”

“You’re welcome anytime.” His teasing tone shifts to more serious. “Although I should probably remind you that we agreed to stop being alone together and this place is…very alone.”

He gestures around the space and out the window. His house is in the distance, but it’s far enough away that I can’t see in the windows…which probably means they can’t see in here either. The love seat is suddenly extra small with him next to me, the air heavy with the realization that almost anything could happen here and no one would know. I understand now why Logan’s mom was hesitant to let us come out here together.

“I’m sorry I texted you,” I say. “It wasn’t fair to do that after we agreed to keep away. I could have waited with Grandma and Dad.”

“No.” His tone is vehement. “Don’t apologize. You should always text me if you need something. I want to be the one you text.”

There isn’t enough oxygen in this shed. Words and thoughts scatter in my mind. What would one kiss matter? Just a kiss to get it out of my system. To get it out of both our systems. It would be the smart thing to do…the logical thing…

Logan stands abruptly and runs a hand through his hair. “Wow, this is even harder than I thought it would be.”

“What is?”

“You. Us. This.” He gestures between us. “Having you here, and watching your lips move as you read the book titles on my shelves, and listening to you make those happy humming sounds, and sitting next to you when I’ve spent way too much time imagining what it would be like to kiss you in that exact spot.” He takes a step back and restlessly messes with his hair again. “I don’t know how to do this with you.”

I hate how agitated he is in my presence, but I love it at the same time. I’m not proud of it, but it’s true. “We’ll go.” I stand and walk to the door. “At some point my mom will start wondering why I’m not home yet.”

“I don’t just mean right now, Quinn. I don’t know how to be around you at all. I’m not sure how many more times I can sit across that D&D table from you and hold myself back from kissing you.”

His words are edged with such anxiety that I want to smooth them. I try for a lighthearted comment to break the tension. “I actually remember you glaring at me a lot across that table.”

“That’s because I already knew this was going to happen. I knew it from that first morning when I took your picture. And it didn’t help that you were totally unaffected at the games while I was a mess.”

“Are you kidding? I was a mess too. Maybe I was better at hiding it.”

This shed is small enough that he’s next to me with one large step. His gaze burns a line of fire on every place it trails over. “Do you know how happy I was when your text came in earlier? And how guilty and horrible I felt when I figured out why you were texting? Not being with you is driving me crazy.” His hand encircles my own. He turns my palm up and lifts it to his mouth, his lips pressing gently on the soft skin on the inside of my wrist.

“Logan,” I whisper.

“I’ll listen if you tell me to step away,” he whispers.

He’s asking for the impossible.

My arms wrap around his neck, and my heart beats out of my chest. I tilt my head and his breathing changes. His hands grip my waist tightly.

I close my eyes and lift my mouth to his, every nerve ending inside me igniting at the feel of his lips on mine. He’s in motion immediately, his hands rising up my back, turning to press me up against the nearest wall. His hand cradles my head, protecting me from the rough stone, as his mouth presses hard against mine. I liquify at his touch. Nothing could prepare me for how much better he feels than I ever expected.

My body thrums with electricity. His hand wraps around my lower back, bringing me even closer to him, and I slide my hands over the soft flannel of his shirt and into his hair. His lips are soft as he deepens the kiss, and sparks lick up and down my spine. My awareness narrows to the feel of his mouth and body. There’s no space left for thoughts or worries—there’s only this moment. Only Logan.

He pulls away and we both suck in a breath. His eyes are wild, his hair mussed and cheeks pink, and I must look the same. This is so much more dangerous than I imagined. Before I could tell myself that it was all in my head. That kissing him couldn’t possibly be as great as I’d let myself imagine it to be. But the truth is kissing Logan is a thousand times better than that.

He takes a step back, then another, and bumps into the desk chair. “Oh, that was a bad idea.” He grips the edge of the desk. “How am I going to stop kissing you after that?” His gaze drops back to my mouth, and I heat all over again.

I put my hands on my knees and bend over at the waist. “We can’t hide this from the others.”

“No, we can’t.”

I groan. “I’m going to end up breaking apart another group,” I say to the floor.

He steps closer and touches my back. “No, you aren’t. If anything, this is my fault.”

“It’s equally our faults. But I know how this is going to go. I’m the girl—the new girl—and you’re their long-beloved friend. They’ll blame me.”

“They won’t. I won’t let them.”

My thoughts spin, possibly from my position, but mostly from the memories filling my mind. Of Paige’s and Makayla’s bitter comments, the cold shoulder I got from Travis, and Caden’s insinuations. “You can’t control how they’ll react.”

“If it comes to that, then I’ll quit.”

“What?” I straighten so quickly the room spins. “You can’t do that. D&D is your favorite thing in the world.”

His hands come to my waist to steady me. “Not anymore, Quinn.”

I swoon, somewhat literally because I’m dizzy, and then right myself. “No, Logan, that’s noble of you, but if anyone’s going to quit, it should be me.” I feel resolved as soon as I say it. My expression brightens. I’ll just quit. It won’t solve Kashvi’s reaction to this, but at least it’ll keep the group intact. And if I miss it too much, I can play with Grandma instead. “It’s okay, that’s the solution. You all livestreamed before me. You can do it again without me.”

His expression darkens. “That’s not a solution. I want us to be able to play together. I want to look across the table and catch your eye, and listen to your character voices, and watch you be a total badass.”

He brushes his lips against mine and it takes everything in me not to grab him and make him stay.

“The game is tomorrow afternoon,” he says. “Let’s text everyone right now that they need to meet us early. We’ll tell them together and see what they say.”

My thoughts rush to Kashvi. She can’t find out at the same time as everyone else. I’ve already kept so much from her—the very least I can do is tell her about this in private so she can process it at her own speed. It just feels cruel to throw it in her face with Logan at my side, pleading with her to be cool about it.

I shake my head. “No, I can’t. I need to te—” I clamp my mouth shut before I blurt out Kashvi’s name. I may lose her as a friend when I tell her, but it won’t be because I spilled all her secrets. “It’s just…I need to do something before we tell everyone.”

He frowns. “Do what?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“That sounds…very suspicious.”

“Just wait before texting,” I plead. “I have to do this first and then we’ll talk again and come up with a plan to tell everyone. Okay?”

His eyes flicker over my face and I can see the worry in his expression. “Are you hesitating because this is all happening too fast? Are you secretly freaking out right now?”

I can’t help but laugh. “Logan, this has been anything but too fast. Are you freaking out?”

His arms come around my waist. “Only that I’m going to lose you. I wish you would tell me what you need to do so I can help.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’ll all work out,” he whispers. He pulls me closer. “I’m going to make it work out.”