“I can meet you there afterward, we can eat there when the place closes up,” Logan suggests. “Just you and me. I’ll kick the rest of the family out.”
“No one knows we’re dating but Terra. Won’t that give it away?” I ask.
“Jake knows and now Finn knows thanks to the other night, so we might as well just out ourselves entirely,” Logan replies.
“Mrs. Green knows too,” I confess, and he looks shocked. “Earlier tonight she came by about the stupid petition she’s started and she started gossiping about your family, and I just kind of snapped at her and might have called you my boyfriend.”
“Okay, well, I’ll make sure to tell the fire marshal and save him some time,” Logan says, deadpan, and I blink in confusion before he adds, “Because now I’m certain the cause of fire was Mrs. Green updating her Ocean Pines blog. She was probably typing so fast her keyboard caught fire.”
I laugh. It feels good. “So you’re not mad?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t give a shit who knows. Trust me when I say I’ve been called worse things than your boyfriend.”
I nod, grinning. “See you Sunday night then. Night Logan.”
I reach for the door handle but pause and turn back to face him. My hands cup his rugged face, his stubble scratching my palms, and I kiss him, long, deep, and hard. My hands tangle in his hair. His hips push into me as my back presses into the closed door.
“Daaaad!”
And just like that, we pull apart, both smiling sheepishly.
“Night.” I pull the door open and step outside, making my way to the stairs to my own front door, but I don’t feel the bite of the cold night air at all. Every part of me is warm. And as I crawl into bed, careful not to wake Stevie and Boss, who have fallen back to sleep on the rug by the bed in my absence, I think of my conversation with Denny and the guilt and pain are not overwhelming anymore. I feel like what’s happening in my life, with Logan, is the right thing. At the right time. But I also feel uneasy not clarifying my past. And I don’t know how much longer I can live with that.
22
Logan
I stiflea yawn as we make our way down the dock. I’m exhausted after the drama of last night, but luckily the little disruption in sleep hasn’t seemed to affect River. He’s as bouncy and bright as always.
My dad looks up from the back of the boat, and a smile explodes on his face. “River!”
“Grampy!” River squeals and lets go of my hand to run down the rest of the dock.
I open my mouth to yell ‘careful’ but my dad beats me to it. “No running, River. It’s dangerous on the dock.”
River stops immediately, but he’s already made it to the foot of the boat. He waits impatiently, bouncing up and down for me to get there too and lift him into the boat. My dad reaches out for him as I lift him up, and as soon as both his little feet are on the deck, he wraps his grampy in a hug. My dad has never, in the history of my life, looked as happy as he does when River is hugging him.
“I didn’t know you were bringing my favorite first mate with us today,” Dad says as I climb onto the boat.
“He insisted.”
“No complaints,” Dad replies and puts River down on the deck. He ruffles his blond hair. “Go get your life jacket, Riv. You know where we keep it.”
He nods, and I watch him make his way to the inside of the boat. Someone else emerges as River starts inside—Declan. He looks down at River. “Hey! I didn’t know you were coming. How’s it going buddy?”
He holds up his hand for a high-five, which River enthusiastically gives him before he continues down to get his life jacket with a cheery, “Hey Unkie Deck!”
I shoot my dad a WTF stare, but he just shrugs. “He insisted,” he repeats my words.
I frown because I doubt that. Declan isn’t interested in this side of the business, the heart of it. He only wants to do the flashy advertising and tally receipts. Declan gives me a tentative smile because he can probably tell I’m less than thrilled at his presence.
“Thanks,” I say and shrug it off.
Declan looks out at the relatively calm seas and the sun that only rose less than an hour ago gleaming off the water. “Thankfully, we got a great day for this.”
I nod and scan the coast myself. “Yeah. Supposed to stay good all week now. ‘Nother nor-easter hitting us on the weekend though.”
My dad grunts his disapproval. “Damn storms. This year’s Farmer’s Almanac says they aren’t letting up til May.”
