Page 85 of Under the Orchard’s Spell

“You’ve got to see this shit, Ali,” he says as Logan lines up next to a kid who barely comes up to his chest. Then, to my slack-jawed shock, he keeps nailing the flip on every try and Mason starts bellowing “check out my ringer” until a small crowd has gathered.

“Wait,” I hiss to Mason. “Does Logan have a secret backstory as a frat bro?”

He laughs as he claps. “Nah, I discovered he had this innate talent a few years ago, probably something to do with those steady carpenter hands. But I’ve also made him do this pretty much every time he’s come to visit sooo…he’s had a lot of practice.”

Eventually, we forgo the game altogether and the college students line up a full row of empty cups to see how many Logan can flip in one go. By the time he’s midway down the row, the students are chanting his name so loudly it’s drowning out the thumping bass from the stereos. He flips the last one and the assembled crowd dissolves into a fit of screams.

Logan breaks into a faint smile and takes a long sip of water.

Beside me, Mason sighs as he claps along with everyone else. “Name another man who is simultaneously so cool and so absolutely not.”

“I think it’s the plaid,” I supply and Mason laughs again.

“Again,” someone screams, eliciting a chorus of “AGAIN!”

Logan tries to wave them off, but the kids are so persistent he relents and starts lining up cups, strong hands dwarfing the red plastic. There’s a faint smile on his lips and ease in his shoulders, and I think, against all odds and his own better judgment, maybe this evening is exactly what he needs. What we both need.

I feel Mason nudge me with an elbow. When I turn, he’s taking a nonchalant sip of beer, but the tilt of his head has me wondering how long he’s been watching me. “So, tell me, Ali. What are your intentions with my brother?”

I nearly choke on my next inhale. “Excuse me?”

“Clearly you two are doing it.”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” I splutter, “but we are not.”

That one time doesn’t count as a gerund.

Mason frowns. “All right, either you’re a really good liar or my brother has kept his perfect track record of always telling me the truth.”

“The second one,” I say.

“Sounds about right.” Mason takes another casual sip. “So that circles us back to my original question.”

I wrinkle my nose. This whole conversation feels squarely in the none-of-Mason’s-business category. “Yeah? How does that ‘circle us back’?”

The college students start chanting again and Mason taps my elbow with his, angling us back a few steps. There’s no trace of his dimple-rimmed smile.

“My brother might be tough, but he’s also been piloting our family alone for more than a decade. He has no one to look out for him—no one except me.”

“I think Logan can look after himself just fine.”

Mason shakes his head. “I’m talking about my duty, here. That man gave up his entire life for me and Andrew. Everything. He thinks I don’t know about it, but I do. He had these big dreams, Ali. Dreams of being an artist. Getting out of Apple Valley.”

“I know that,” I say softly.

“Good. Then you also know he didn’t get to have that life he wanted because he was taking care of me. But I’m an adult now and that means it’s my duty to look out for him. And that means making sure he’s happy.”

I don’t quite know what to do with this information. On one hand, part of me admires Mason’s fierce protectiveness. On the other…“What makes you think I’m interfering with Logan’s happiness?”

Mason rocks back on his heels and lowers his chin. “You’ve pulled him into a lot. A whole damn curse, apparently. And I know it’s not your fault that our shitty mom left us and all that is getting dredged up for him again, but that’s what’s happening. So maybe that’s the reason this thing between you two is a lot deeper than I understood. But now that I can see it…” His lips go flat. “Look, Logan isn’t quick to let people in, but when he does, he stands by them like a load-bearing beam. Which means I need to know what future you’re picturing with him.”

I suck in a breath as Logan flips his final cup and the kids dissolve in another round of cheers and fist bumps. I’m not entirely sure how much of an explanation I owe Mason, but I get why he’s asking. And I grudgingly respect it.

“Your brother means a lot to me,” I say. “He’s such a good man. He’s loyal and kind and strong and…” I trail off, thinking of the veneers of commitment and future planning I got from Blake or the instant, probably unhealthy adhesion from Liv. Logan is nothing like either.

“Steady,” I finish. “He’s steady.”

Mason nods. “He is.”