“Have you been here very long?” I ask, reaching for a slice of pizza. Taking a bite, I close my eyes and moan as the flavours burst on my tongue. As I begin to chew, I open my eyes and see Logan watching my mouth.
“Not that long.” Sitting back in his chair, he tries and fails to discretely adjust himself.
Laughing, I continue to eat. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was. Thank you for the food and flowers; they are my favourite.”
“I remember. You’re welcome.”
We sit quietly enjoying our meal for a moment before Logan clears his throat.
I look up and meet his sad eyes as he says, “Do you want me to leave?”
Furrowing my brow, I ask, “Do you need to go?” I’m confused. Logan and I have been spending the night together for weeks.
“I mean leave Emerley.” He rubs the back of his neck with his left hand before continuing. “More than once in the past eighteen hours, I have questioned if it was a good idea to buy the yellow house and move home.”
“What are you saying? You don’t want to be here?” My stomach clenches with anxiety. He can’t leave me again.
“Of course, I want to be here,” he quickly reassures me. “Coming home, back to you, is all I have dreamed of for years.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand. Searching my eyes for answers, he continues, “I want to be here more than anything, but I don’t want to hurt you more than I already have.”
“How about you let me decide for a change?” Dropping his hand, I push my chair back.
Standing up, I walk to the window and stare out at the rain. Lightning cracks and brightens the grey sky quickly followed by a boom of thunder. The waves on the lake have become choppy as they hit the shore. Logan comes up behind me, his arms circle my waist.
“Okay. I’ll do anything, just tell me what to do,” he whispers in my ear. “Talk to me, please.”
“Come,” I say, leading him to the couch and push him to sit.
Morgan grumbles that we are encroaching on his territory before sliding to the floor and flopping back down on the rug.Penelope follows, spins a few times and curls up beside him. Bizarre.
Once Logan is seated, I straddle his lap and rest my palms on his shoulders. His large hands hold my hips. I noticed earlier that his right hand has a bandage wrapped around his split knuckles.
“How’s your fist?”
“A little tender, but I don’t think anything is broken. I’ll keep it wrapped for a couple of days so the skin heals up. I did reschedule my appointments for the rest of the week, though,” he scowls.
“You don’t have X-ray vision. You should really get it checked,” I huff. “Fighting with him was stupid. What were you thinking?”
“He called you a name and was being rude to you,” he says defensively.
This man.
I roll my eyes. “I don’t need you to protect and defend me. I can handle anything hateful Jackson spews. What I can’t handle is not being told the truth,” I say softly.
Closing his eyes, he sinks further into the couch. “I know. You are one of the strongest people I have ever met. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything immediately. I felt so guilty.”
“You have been trying to tell me nonstop since you moved home and I was too stubborn to listen, so that’s on me.”
“I should have tried harder.”
“Why did you feel guilty? You were kept in the dark as much as I was. Your mistake was not telling me as soon as you found out about the affair. Maybe then, we could have navigated it together.”
Dropping his eyes, he clears his throat and says, “My family is responsible for your father’s death and your mother’s breakdown. My family destroyed your life.”
My eyes widen and my mouth parts open. Is that what he truly thinks?
“No, Logan.” I shake my head. “Nobody was responsible for his death. It was a terrible accident, and you know that.”
“But if he hadn’t been on the road that night to come home to see us it would have never happened,” he mumbles.
