Page 56 of Defensive Desire

"It's good, Dad. Really good."

"She's expanding to the arena," Melanie interjects.

"Maybe," I cut in. "If I win."

Dad's eyebrows raise. "Need any financial advice? I know a hockey arena deal could mean complicated contracts—"

"I've got it handled," I say, perhaps a bit too quickly. "But thanks."

Melanie's husband Brad appears with a glass of wine for me.

"Well, well, well… Logan Kane, huh?" he says with a grin. "Saw him destroy that guy from Boston last week. Legendary."

"Hello, Brad. And he's more than just a fighter," I say automatically, then realize Brad's comment was actually admiring. "But yeah, he's pretty amazing on the ice."

Dinner progresses with the usual Carter family choreography.

Brad carves the roast beef while Melanie manages the children. Mom presides at the head of the table, orchestrating the conversation with practiced social grace, while Dad discusses investment trends and property values with Brad as he carves.

Surprisingly, I make it all the way to the salad course before the strike comes.

"So, Emma," Mom says during a momentary lull, dabbing her lips with a crisp linen napkin. "How is that hockey player of yours? Logan, is it?"

I set down my fork deliberately. "Yes, Logan. Logan Kane. He's good."

"Did you know, Cynthia… he's the enforcer for the Icehawks," Brad pipes up, suddenly interested in engaging with my mother. "Tough player. Great reputation in the locker room."

"An enforcer?" My mother's nose wrinkles at the word.

"He protects his team," I say, feeling heat rise in my cheeks. "And he's kind, thoughtful, and probably the most genuine person I've ever met."

"Hmm." Mom takes a deliberate sip of wine. "And is this... relationship... serious?"

"Yes." I say it without hesitation, surprising myself with the certainty in my voice. "It is."

"Oh, Emma!" Melanie beams across the table. "That's wonderful! The kids adored him at the festival. So… when do we get to meet him properly?"

"Yes, when indeed?" Mom's smile tightens. "Perhaps next month's garden club luncheon? I'm sure the ladies would love to meet your... hockey player."

"Logan isn't a show pony, Mom." My knuckles whiten around my glass. "And he's more than just a hockey player."

"Of course, dear. I only meant—"

"I know what you meant." My voice is quiet but firm as I set my fork down with a clunk. "The same thing you meant when you called Chapter & Grind my 'little coffee shop.' Or when you suggested I go back to school for accounting. Or when you told Aunt Judith that my business was a 'phase' I was working through."

Melanie's eyes widen, her fork pausing midway to her mouth. Brad suddenly becomes very interested in helping Ben cut his meat. My father clears his throat, looking predictably uncomfortable.

"Emma." Mom's voice carries a warning. "This isn't the time or place."

"It never is, Mom." I fold my napkin carefully, trying to channel Logan's calm strength as if he were sitting right here beside me. "But Logan is important to me. He believes in me. In what I'm building. And I'd appreciate it if you could at least try to do the same."

The silence stretches thin as tissue paper.

Mom looks genuinely startled, as if she can't quite reconcile this version of me. The girl with a backbone. The daughter who used to fold herself into smaller and smaller pieces trying to fit her expectations, but will no longer continue to do so.

"I... I only want what's best for you."

"Thisiswhat's best for me," I say, softer now. "My café. My life in Iron Ridge. Logan."

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