Logan Kade (Fallen Crest #5.5)(3)

I didn’t recognize this man who let some woman call him Broozer, like that was his name. He was known as Coach Broozer, but his name was Hank. Hank Bruce. Coach Broozer had always been his alter ego. Wild. Yelling. Passionate. That was Broozer. Hank was quiet, kind, loving to my mother. Hank was my father. But Coach Broozer stood in front of me now, looking like he regretted coming out to check because now he actually had to talk to me.

“Is that a date in there?”

His eyebrows pinched together, and the corners of his mouth strained. I looked away from his eyes. He kept his body trim, his dark brown hair didn’t have any graying strands, and he had a strong jawline below clear blue eyes. He was dressed nice: a pastel blue polo over trendy jeans. He and Mom had me when they were eighteen, and he was only thirty-eight. I knew that made him prime dating material, but that didn’t mean I liked it.

He glanced over his shoulder, giving the dining room a wary look before he lifted a shoulder. He still held his cloth napkin, and his hand closed a fist around it. “I don’t know, to be truthful. Mike and Evelyn brought a friend over, but it’s just a night with friends for me.”

Beep! Beep!

“Is that Jason and Claire?” My dad gestured to the car outside.

I nodded. “Yeah. Hold on.”

Opening the door, I stuck my head out. Claire waved from the driver’s seat, smiling widely at me while Jason leaned his head out his window. He made an impatient motion.

“Two seconds,” I yelled.

His eyes rolled. Claire gave me a thumbs-up.

“I should go,” I told my dad. “We’re going to a party.”

“Taylor Laurelin Bruce!” Jason yelled from outside. “Get your cute patootie out here. We’ve got parties to attend and beverages to regurgitate. Let’s get a move on, son.”

My dad chuckled, waving me off. “Go ahead. Have fun. We can catch up later.” He chuckled, then said, “Oh—”

I stepped back and waited.

“Did you need a ride to campus tomorrow? I’ll be leaving around six. Early practice.”

I cringed. “I think I’ll take my own car and deal with the parking lots. Thanks for the offer, though.”

“Anytime. I’m there every day. I’m sure we can figure out times when we can ride together.”

I nodded before slipping out the door, but I doubted it. As of today I attended Cain University technically as a transfer freshman, but I knew I’d be going it alone most of the time—unless Claire got a bug up her rear and wanted to ride together. That seemed unlikely, though. She lived a block off campus in an apartment with three other girls. Driving all the way to my house, through traffic, and back to campus would be an hour’s venture. She’d only driven tonight because the party was outside of town.

“About time.” Jason twisted around as I slipped into the backseat. “Were you contemplating world peace in there? I could’ve joined the local monastery and became a nun by now.”

I grinned as I clipped my seatbelt in place. “Monasteries are for monks.”

“Hmm-mmm. Not for me they ain’t.” He wiggled his eyebrows, flashing me a smile and his dimples. He waved a finger at me. “You know I’d be the only non-practicing nun in there, too.”

“Was that your dad?” Claire looked in the rearview mirror at me after she had pulled out into the street. Ten and two. Her hands were positioned perfectly on the steering wheel. Even her posture was perfect. Her back was straight. Her head stood tall and confident, like the rest of her.

Claire had almost-white blonde hair, and it was wavy and spiraled like she had a perm that would never go away. With the right shampoo and a little bit of gel, hairspray, and fluffing, her hair fell past her shoulders and down her back like she’d stepped out of a hair commercial. She had the golden tan, a light smattering of freckles, and blue eyes. If anyone was going to joke about being a nun, Claire had the best chance of persuading someone to believe her. She actually looked angelic.

Not that she was a nun, though. I’d been the one with the steady boyfriend all through high school—from eighth grade until the day my mother died. Claire had had her fair share of boyfriends. She averaged two a year, and one time, after a night of too many daiquiris in high school, she confessed that she enjoyed starting the school year with a new guy and ending with a new guy. She said things never got too dull, but they lasted long enough to get into a comfortable routine. She only started blushing our senior year, so I figured that was when she lost her V card.

Jason was the opposite, not just with his sex life, but also how he dressed. Claire was elegant, and Jason was anything but with his pink collared shirt and red plaid shorts. I was a little more conservative in a black tank top and frayed jean shorts. Claire liked to point out that it didn’t matter what I wore, I usually wore it best—her words, not mine. I thought she was ludicrous whenever she said that. We all stood at the same height—around five feet, eight inches—though Jason’s hair was currently gelled up into something like a Mohawk. Claire’s hair was loose, and I had my light brown hair back in a messy fish braid.

“Tay?”

I remembered her question about my dad. “He came to check on me. He has friends over tonight.”

“Well, that was…” Jason shared a look with Claire. His mouth flattened into a disapproving line. “...sure nice of him.”