Narrowing his eyes, his jaw clenches. “The fuck? Why? He has no reason to come back.”
Rubbing the stubble along my chin, I shake my head. “I don’t know, man.”
There is no love lost between my brother and me. We haven’t spoken in years and any information I have about him has come second hand. The only reason to come to Emerley is to stir up shit.
“You have to tell her,” he says with conviction as he removes the elastic from his hair and re-secures it in a loose bun at the nape of his neck. No need to clarify who her is, I know he means Hannah.
“I know,” I say, nodding my head in acknowledgement. “I’ve tried but she doesn’t want to talk about the past.”
“Try harder. I know where she’s coming from, but it will be better if she hears it from you than if she finds out from someone else,” he says reasonably.
“Trust me, I know.” Rubbing my palms over my face, I sigh deeply before meeting his eyes again. “I’ve thought about it, and I want to just get past Thanksgiving. Just one week, then I will sit her down and tell her everything. The holiday is all she has been talking about for days. I don’t want to do or say anything that takes away from that.”
“A week. A lot can happen in that amount of time, man.”
Pulling a stool out, I sit down and look at my friend. “I was thinking about going and seeing Grace.”
“To what end? What do you hope to achieve by seeing Hannah’s mom?” He looks to the ceiling before shaking his head, tired of my ongoing bullshit, I’m sure.
“Fuck, I don’t know. So much of this isn’t my story to tell.”
“You are carrying around a lot of guilt for things you are not directly involved in.”
“Can you blame me?” I have agonized about this for years and I’m so ready for the truth to come out.
“We have talked about this at least a thousand times. The only thing you should feel guilty for is walking away from Hannah when you did. She deserved better than that.”
Leaning over, I rest my forearms on my knees and hang my head. “I know. Fuck my life, this feels awful.”
“I really hate to say this, but, I told you so.” Counting off on his finger, he lists, “I told you not to leave. I told you not to stay away. I told you to be prepared to deal with the consequences of your actions if you did come back after all this time. I love you, man, but I’m afraid you’re now entering your find out era.”
“Fuck.”
Pursing his lips, he nods once. “Exactly.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Are you sure there is nothing I can do to help?” Logan handed me a glass of wine and told me to sit and relax earlier. I’m pretty sure he just wants me to get out of his way, and I’m happy to oblige. I have no problem sitting here on a stool at his island watching this handsome man cook. The sleeves of his flannel are rolled to his elbows showcasing the tattoos, corded muscle and veins running the length of his forearms, distressed jeans tight enough to hug his sculpted ass – holy fuck he is irresistible. Even the dish towel casually thrown over his shoulder adds to the allure.
“No, I’m good. Just enjoy your wine.” He smiles, glancing back at me as he washes the dishes and places them in the drain tray.
When he claimed he knew how to cook, he wasn’t kidding. No more girl dinners for me; he has been keeping me very well fed. The kitchen is filled with the mouthwatering scent of thyme, sage and rosemary from the roasted turkey. I can’t wait to sample it.
He put me in charge of decorating, and I took the challenge very seriously, choosing a traditional combination of plaid, greenery, and tiny pumpkins. I even found a mishmash ofvintage dishes from the thrift store for the occasion. It’s a vibe and I love it.
Now we are just waiting for our guests to arrive. I have never hosted anything with a partner before, and it feels pleasantly domestic of us. Hopefully, tonight is successful, and we can do it again soon.
Three soft knocks sound at the side door followed by a small voice calling, “Auntie Hannah, I’m here!”
Smiling, I set my glass down and walk towards the door. “Who’s here?” I call back. Peeking low around the corner, I see Ben’s tiny hand holding on to Riot’s much larger one. When he sees me, he squeals and runs into my embrace. “It’s me, Ben. I brought my mommy and Uncle Riot with me. I came to see the little men.”
“The little men, eh? I thought you were coming to have dinner with me.” Pouting, I lift and adjust him on my hip. He’s getting so big I wish time would slow down a little.
Squishing my cheeks in his palms, he looks me in the eyes with seriousness. “I came to see you first, but I need to meet the little men who live outside too. It’s very important.”
“By all means go.” I kiss him on the top of his head, drop him down to the floor and send him back out the door towards the fenced backyard.
“Five minutes, Ben,” his mom calls after him, “then you need to come inside and wash up for dinner.”
