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Jack’s eyes widen. That’s a sentence that could probably cause trouble for him. “Wasn’t flirting, Lo.” But Logan’s already gone again. “God. He hates me and I have no idea why.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. You have a way of making everyone fall in love with you. Give it time.” I use the soothing voice I always have with him. A subtle reminder that it feels good to have me around. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Yeah. See ya, and thanks again for being so understanding about this. Really sorry about the mix-up,” he says as if it’s his fault.
Once he’s gone, I form the rest of my idea, a whole solution coming to me. The excited tingle I’m used to in my blessed life bursts through me and not even a shortened practice session will ruin my good mood. The universe has my back and it’s gifted me with the perfect person to solve my dilemma.
Chapter2
Life Sucks
Logan
My life sucks. After the world’s shittiest childhood, I was rewarded with an even shittier adulthood—my mother sucked all my college money away for her gambling habit.
“I’m gonna make it big tonight, Lo. You’ll see. A full ride for you,” Mom said. Often.
The problem is that she wins sometimes, which leads her to believe she has the skill enough to win again and that it’s not just dumb luck. I wasn’t given a choice. She was taking the money one way or the other. I had to watch as she walked out the door, ready to gamble my future away.
There wasn’t much I could say about it. Technically, most of it was her money. She’d really turned her life around two years ago and began socking money away for me to use while I was in school. It was money she’d managed never to touch, until last year. For Mom, that’s a huge achievement.
Columbia University doesn’t do scholarships, or they didn’t until this year. They built a brand-new arena so they could have an ice-dancing program, and in celebration, handed out a limited number of scholarships. Somehow, I managed to secure myself one of those very limited-time scholarships. It pays for four years of their outrageous tuition fees, but not for housing. I haven’t mentioned that part to anyone yet because I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do about it.
Columbia has a rule that as a first year, you have to live in the dorms on campus, but that costs a mint. Mom had most of the money, and I’d saved up a healthy five grand myself, fixing cars in my limited spare time, but she took it all. All of it. And now it’s gone.
I was pissed so I left. I didn’t want to have to rely on my half-brother who I know very little about, but here I am. Mom talked about him all the time. Just him. She didn’t tell me about Bea or Ari, but it doesn’t matter. What she said about Mercy was probably all bullshit she invented, but I’m so damn gullible when it comes to her.
Ugh!
It’s been just me and Mom since Dad died in a car accident when I was seven. The depression nearly killed her, too, and I spent most of my childhood grateful that I still had her, bringing her fucking cups of ramen noodles and powdered hot chocolate. We lived in a beat-up trailer park and money was scarce until she started to get back on track. Still, I had to get creative to find figure skating coaches and decent equipment. A part-time job improved my circumstances but holding a job’s just not feasible while taking courses and handling a grueling training schedule. I needed that money.
Okay, not thinking about her or my old life today. Both those things are in the past. I’ve got to deal with this bullshit “house decision”. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s sickeningly cute that my brother and his boyfriend want to play house together, but my life is on the line here. I’m going to do whatever I have to do. If they break up, good. I’d rather have Mercy to myself. Jack can take the baby with him, though. No one sleeps around here because of that darling bundle of screeching lungs.
We’re in the kitchen, the place that seems to be for meetings. Though, I’m not sure we can call it a meeting when it’s just me and Jack waiting for Merc the Almighty’s decision. Jack usually nods along and says something like, “Yeah, babe. Good plan. You’re so fucking smart,” while I try not to gag.
I don’t get them at all.
If Jack’s not going to help me, then I’m taking matters into my own hands. “How are we just giving this Rhett jackanapes my ice time? Merc, you of all people know how important practice is.”
“I also know how important recovery is. If this were about Rhett, I’d be on the phone in a heartbeat. But it’s about your well-being and it’s as good an excuse as any for me to enforce this.”
“But—”
“Matter closed, Lo. I have enough shit to deal with.”
Right. I’m, like, one hundredth in line on Mercy’s list. I come first to no one. I have no one. I let out a frustrated sound. “He was flirting with the hockey ogre,” I say out of spite.
Jack’s jaw drops. I almost feel bad about it since I know what will happen—my brother’s a jealous mother fucker—but almost is almost.
Mercy plants his cornflower blue eyes on him. “Jack?”
“I was fucking not. That’s such bullshit. I was nice, but I was with our baby.” It’s clear he’s insulted that Mercy would even ask. “Why would I flirt with Rhett while holding our child?”
Perfect. It’s a sore spot for them and one I’ll continue to capitalize on. Plus, they’re both running on fumes. They might be more rational if they actually got sleep.
“So, if you weren’t with our baby, you would have been flirting?”
“No. Not what I meant, dude.”
