Free Up In Flames by Nicole Williams

almost adoring.
    “Which one?” he said in that low voice.
    Instinctually, I leaned closer to him. “Both of them.”
    I knew I was an inch or a word away from pressing my lips to his in the middle of my boyfriend’s baseball game, in broad daylight, for all my friends, family, and lifelong acquaintances to witness. Another instance where my heart didn’t give a darn about what I knew.
    “Logan’s up, Elle.” Dad’s voice broke through my haze.
    I might as well have been electrocuted for the way my body snapped upright, my head turning towards the game. I chanced a quick look my dad’s way. He was totally oblivious to the man lingering beside me and the flushed expression that man had given me.
    Logan was already squared up at home plate, his number twelve facing me. I was usually so focused on the game I knew when he was on deck, long before he went up to bat. Exchanging waves and smiles as he walked up to the plate had become something of a tradition.
    I’d been so consumed by Cole, this was the first time I’d looked at Logan since arriving.
    “Go, Logan!” Dad hollered beside me. “Hit a homer, son!”
    I was usually the most vocal one in the stands when Logan was at bat, but now my vocal chords wouldn’t work. Dad shot me an odd look as he continued to cheer with the rest of the spectators.
    Logan was something of a hometown hero when it came to baseball. Well, when it came to just about anything, but especially when it came to baseball. He was good. Always had been, too. I remember Logan dragging an old wooden bat around when most boys his age were playing video games. He was so good I was certain he could have received some athletic scholarships if he applied to some schools, but he didn’t.
    Logan’s dad was the town’s pastor, but he also ran a good-sized cattle ranch Logan had been planning on taking over since the day he knew what taking over the family business entailed. It was eery how similar Logan and I were at times, although I knew his reason for staying behind and working the family business had very little to do with the duty and obligation I felt for mine.
    He was staying because he wanted to. Playing minor league baseball was the cherry on top of his dream of running the cattle ranch and coming home to me and our little homestead every night.
    Why did I feel like I was suffocating again?
     “Who’s Logan?” Cole asked, his eyes narrowing at Logan’s back.
    And there was the question. The one I’d been hoping to avoid by either A. explaining to Cole about Logan before we got to this point, or B. continuing to ignore Cole so I never had to explain who exactly Logan was, or C. waking up from this messed up dream.
    “Logan?” I began, having no idea what I was going to say. “Logan’s my . . .” I stopped and took a breath. Why was getting the last part out so hard? Logan was my boyfriend. Soon, if he had his way, to be my husband. When I glanced at Cole, who was studying me again, I knew why it was so hard. I knew when I told Cole I had a boyfriend, I’d never see him again.
    I wanted to see him again.
    Just then, a sharp crack sounded from the diamond. I looked just in time to see the end of Logan’s swing as the baseball sailed high and long. The center fielder made a valiant run for it, but that ball landed a good ten yards past the fence. The stands erupted, chanting Logan’s name. My dad was the loudest one of them all.
    Cole caught that, studying my dad with the same intensity. Finally, as Logan rounded third base, Cole nodded. “Logan’s your brother,” he said with confidence.
    I shifted in my seat. So he’d figured there was a closeness shared between him and my dad and me, but of course, he’d guessed wrong.
    “Not exactly,” I mumbled as Logan jogged over home plate.
    The cheering went up a notch.
    After high-fiving a few of his teammates, Logan turned around and jogged down the fence line until he was in front of me. He was grinning that boyish grin that had