Neat (Becker Brothers, #2)(9)

“That is, if you can part with one piece of your perfectly put together puzzle here,” I added with a smile.

Logan blinked. “You want to read one of my books?”

“I do. In fact, I want to read your favorite one. You said we should get to know each other better, right?” I shrugged. “I imagine reading your favorite book is a good place to start.”

The corner of Logan’s mouth tilted up marginally, and he took a step, reaching for a leather-bound book with gold letters on the spine.

“Wait,” I said, wrapping my fingers around his forearm. He paused as soon as I touched him, the book hovering halfway off the shelf. “Something written in the last century, please,” I amended. “I haven’t read anything outside of required textbooks. Go easy on me.”

I smiled, but Logan’s face was completely blank as he stared at where my hand touched his arm. I pulled it back tentatively, not realizing how warm he was until I felt the brush of cold over me once we were no longer touching.

He replaced the book he had originally grabbed, reaching across the shelf in front of me for a hardback wrapped in a paper sleeve, instead.

“Try this,” he offered, and as soon as I had the book in my hands, he took a step back.

“All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr,” I mused, running the pad of my thumb over the beautiful cover. It was a blue-tinted photo of what looked like a coastal town in Europe somewhere, and a shiny, gold emblem boasted that the book was the winner of a Pulitzer Prize. “What’s it about?”

Logan finally smiled again. “That’s the point of reading it, Mallory — to find out.”

I bit my lip against my own smile, and I wasn’t sure if it was because he was joking around with me, rather than looking at me like I was a mosquito, or if it was because he’d said my name in a way that only a long-time friend would.

I wondered if it could be possible — a Scooter and a Becker being friends.

“Thanks for the tour. I guess I’ll see you Thursday?”

He nodded, taking another step back so I could pass between him and the desk behind us. “See you Thursday.”

His eyes darted to a space beside me, and I followed, chuckling when I noticed the now-blank space where the book had been.

“You’re going to fix that before you leave, aren’t you?”

“As soon as you’re out the door.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I slipped past him. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” I paused at the door, and couldn’t help but smile at the difference in how I felt leaving as opposed to when I’d arrived. “Bye, Logan.”

“Bye, Mallory.”

Before I’d even made it out of the tour guide lobby, I heard him shuffling the books on the shelf.





Logan


“That was one hell of a game tonight,” I told my older brother, Jordan, Friday night as I heated up leftovers from dinner for him in our mother’s kitchen. I opened the fridge and offered him a beer as soon as the microwave was started, but he shook his head, reaching into the cabinet behind him for a whiskey glass, instead.

I smiled, putting the beer back and opting for the bottle of Scooter’s Winter Whiskey Mom had on the counter. It was a special release we did each fall that went away again in January, and it was one of Jordan’s favorites. I poured him two fingers in his glass, and cheersed my own to his before he took a sip.

“It was more fun to watch than to coach, I assure you,” he said, sucking in a breath through his teeth as the whiskey settled in his stomach. “We had too many errors. It shouldn’t have been that close.”

“Ah, but that’s what makes it a good game,” I offered, clapping my hand on his shoulder. “Have them run some drills on Monday, but tonight, we celebrate a win.”

He tipped his glass toward me. “Hear, hear.”

It was tradition for my brothers and I to get together at Mom’s every week for family dinner, but during the fall, when dinner fell on a Friday, Jordan was always absent. He was the head coach of the town’s high school football team, and that meant a game every Friday night for him. So, we’d have an early dinner, and then head to the field to watch the game. And after, we’d all meet at Mom’s again, heat up some food for Jordan, and have family dinner round two.

Noah and Mom were at the table when Jordan and I made our way back to the dining room. Mom sipped on her sweet tea while the rest of us enjoyed our whiskey, and Jordan shoveled food into his gullet like he hadn’t eaten in years.

“Careful,” Mom warned with an amused smile. “The plate isn’t edible.”

Jordan made some noise that could have been a chuckle, if his mouth wasn’t full, before shoving another bite in.

“Where’s Mikey?” Noah asked.

Mom shifted, sliding her finger over the rim of her glass with a sad look in her eyes. “Back in his room. He was playing guitar for a while, but he’s been silent for about an hour now… think he might be asleep.”

My brothers and I exchanged worried glances of our own, wondering how long our youngest sibling would wallow in misery. His high school sweetheart had broken up with him last month, leaving school to chase her music dreams in Nashville. It had always been their plan to go after school ended… together. But, like we all feared, Bailey changed her mind and asked Michael for time and space to do her own thing.