“I feel cheated, though,” I told him, the edges of my mouth curving up. “I got the finger offer. I mean, seriously. Come on. If I’m going to take you up on this, I want the full deal. I want to be tied up, stuffed from behind, and throw in a butt plug for you. How about that instead? I don’t want a finger job. Not from the legendary Logan Kade.”

I could have sworn I was joking, but as I sat back, a part of me was serious. Well, not about the butt plug. That was a joke...I think.

Logan flashed me a smirk. “Only if I’m the submissive. I like to be dominant outside the sheets, but every guy likes to have his softer side nursed.” He winked. “Or whipped.” He was damn near charming. “When do we start?”

I shook my head. It felt good to laugh. I sighed. “Thank you for that.”

“For what? I was serious.”

I gave him a look.

He cracked a grin. “I’m kidding, but I’m kinda serious about my first question. What are we doing here?”

“Oh.” Craning my neck, I counted the cars. Four cars. Four coaches. And I lingered on the last Civic. “My dad.”

“Your dad?”

“He’s here.” I pointed to the last car. “I just wanted to make sure.”

“Ah, the old, ‘I’m at my buddy’s, but I’m really with my secret mistress’—or something worse…” Logan trailed off, watching me. “For what it’s worth, Mason’s never mentioned your dad having a proclivity for hookers or strippers, if that’s where you thought we’d end up tonight.”

The humor was gone, and I chewed the inside of my lip. What he didn’t know… “Yeah, well, since my mom died, he’s not really the same guy.” My voice softened as I looked back at his car. “She wouldn’t want him somewhere like that.”

I expected Logan to defend him, but nothing came. I glanced over and saw him watching me, only watching me. No judgment. Nothing except mild curiosity.

“What? No comeback there?” I asked.

“I thought we were being serious.” He lifted a shoulder. “Didn’t seem in good taste.” A wicked grin curled over his lips. “But if you want a comeback, speaking of good taste—”

“Stop.” I held my hand up. “I already got the finger offer. I don’t want to hear the next one.”

“Okay, but I have to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“Why’d you want me for this? I asked around. You’ve been friends with that girl and Delray since high school, right? That means you must be tight with them.”

“I am…or I was.”

“Which is it?”

“I am.” One breath. Take one breath. “A lot happened last year, but I’m still tight with them. They’ve been there for me.”

He nodded. “So, why not them tonight? Why me? I know this wasn’t about Delray’s response.”

“I—” I was going to lie, but no. He deserved the truth. “I didn’t want to deal with their pity. It’s worse than stranger pity.” I gestured to him. My gut shifted, thinking about the other reason, which I shoved aside. “I didn’t want to deal with their questions.”

“Then you got the right guy. No pity here. Trust me. I get screwed-up parents.”

I eyed him. “Yeah?”

He nodded.

Jason and Claire never pushed for answers, but the questions were there. I felt them. Every day. They wanted to know, and I couldn’t blame them. They were concerned. I waited to see if he would ask more, but I didn’t grit my teeth. My stomach wasn’t clenched in knots. He didn’t strike me as someone who would care. He wouldn’t ask the invasive questions. He was easygoing with a joke at the ready all the time. There was also a darker side, but I don’t know…maybe I was just lonely, and he was the only other person I knew.

That was it.

I was lonely. Good God. How pathetic.

Logan pulled back into the street and headed to the next intersection. “Now that I feel all close to you, you’re stuck with me,” he announced. “I’m hungry. You’re going to keep me company.” He rubbed his flat stomach. “The taco place by my house doesn’t close for another half hour.”

LOGAN

I whistled as I locked my car and headed for the house, bag of food in one hand and keys tossed in the air with the other.

I’d been at a party. Texted Hot Girl, picked her up for a random adventure, and now I was home after dropping her off. It was a few minutes till four in the morning on a Monday night, but this was college. This was life. This was what I was supposed to be doing: staying out, going where I wanted—not sleeping a solid eight hours a night and being wifed up.

Nothing against my brother’s girlfriend, but the writing was on the wall. Mason and Sam had been through too much at an early age; they were going to be together forever. And that was the kicker. I don’t even think they cared. They probably relished the idea of being only in each other’s arms for the rest of their ninety years. I wasn’t giving them an extra ten. Shit, Sam might endure that long—who knew if all that running she did was good for her body or was slowly killing her.

Nah, I guessed she’d tucker out around eighty-nine. My big brother? Seventy-five, and that was being generous. He was too cold, calculating, and disciplined. He’ll have been under too much stress to make it longer than that.