Page 78 of That Last Secret
He nods. “Are you still going to the gym?”
“I haven’t been able to go in a few weeks.”
Logan nods his head again but says nothing back. He flips the chicken in the pan as if he’s thinking about something. Logan is one of the few people I can’t get a read on to determine his mood or feelings about something. It makes me uneasy every time I try.
“You really should try boxing,” he says before I can ask anything more. “It works for me, at least.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think I can. I’m terrified of embarrassing myself in front of everyone.”
He looks over his shoulder and offers me a smile. “You could come with me.”
“Logan.”
“I’m serious. I don’t know enough about what you deal with to understand the cause of your panic attacks. For me, boxing has always been an outlet, a release to let go of everything in my head. I think if I don’t let it out in some way, shape, or form, then I might actually go insane,” Logan says with a light laugh.
I nod in understanding.
“Or I could take you to therapy,” he continues.
My heart skips a quick beat at his final words, but he’s unfazed by them. He just continues moving the chicken around the pan to ensure all sides have the perfect golden crisp.
I stare at him in shock. “Why would you do that?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Logan speaks so casually like it’s something he would do so easily for me.
“Let me get this straight,” I start. “You’re offering to take me to therapy? I’m baffled by this entire night. It feels like I’m in an alternate universe.”
He uses the tongs to remove the chicken from the pan and put it on a glass plate. Then he turns around and places it between us on the kitchen island. I look from the plate and up to him to notice he has a smile on his face.
Not just any smile, a sincere one.
He really means what he’s saying.
“I told you I’d never lie to you, Em. I recall I also told you that your secret is safe with me. I’ve kept my word, and I’m going to continue to keep it as long as you keep one for me, too.”
I swallow, goosebumps skating across my skin at what he’s going to share while nerves dance around in my gut. I tilt my head to the side and give him a questioning glare.
“You can’t tell your brothers I can cook,” he says with a wink.
My lips part because I wasnotexpecting that. After a few seconds, I burst into laughter, and Logan does the same.
“I can’t tell them anything about you, including that, so you don’t have to worry,” I say very matter-of-factly.
“Because they would know we were spending time together.”
As the words roll off his tongue, our laughter subsides, and we stare directly into each other’s eyes.
We both swallow simultaneously, averting our gaze and once again, we fight this feeling that’s so very clear between us. There’s no questioning this. It’s as plain as black and white written in ink.
“Dig in,” he says, passing me a fork and taking a seat right next to me on the island.
There’s nothing fancy about this.
There’s no fun side dish.
Just two people digging into the—
“Most delicious chicken I’ve ever had,” I finish my sentence out loud with a mouthful of food. “Is this recipe legal?”