“You practically begged me to live out here. You were aman.”
“Not quite a man.” He shook his head, but he still remembered how grown he’d felt. It was the first timesince his parents died that he hadn’t felt helpless, that he didn’t feel like he was at the mercy of someone else’s kindness or pity. He’d wanted so badly to prove that he was capable of taking care of himself. Moving into the guesthouse was the first step of his plan toward independence.
Logan had big plans of quitting school and working full time, but Aunt Betty had made him promise to do a trial period in the guesthouse first before making any rash decisions. Logan was so sure he’d breeze right through it, but within a month, the guesthouse was filled with dirty laundry and fast-food wrappers.
“It was a mess out here and it smelled like a locker room.” She laughed. “I didn’t realize teenage boys were such disgusting creatures.”
Logan felt the corner of his mouth curving upward. “By that point, I was begging for you to let me come back. I missed your home cooking.”
Aunt Betty stared hard at him. “And what did I say?”
“You said I could move back to my old room, but you made me promise to finish school. To go to college.” And, boy, was he glad he followed her advice. He’d never been able to leave Frostford if he were still working at the old feed store—and he wouldn’t be able to help Aunt Betty fix up her house and bring her to Florida with him either.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What else did I tell you when you came back to the main house?”
“You told me you missed me. That you’d always be there for me.”
“That’s right.” She dropped her arms and smiled warmly at him. “It was true then, and it’s true now. I’ve missed you, Logan. I hate that you ran off and barely wrote home. I hate that I had to get updates from you through social media, and not just because I hate that computer.”
“Aunt Betty . . . ”
She held up her hand. “But I love you, dear boy. I’ll always love you. And I’ll always be there for you.”
Logan felt like that young man again. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes, and he blinked them away. With a steadying breath, he pushed those insecurities down. He might be back in Frostford, and as much as he loved Aunt Betty, he was not that boy anymore. He refused to be. Just like he refused to rely on anyone anymore. He was here to help Aunt Betty—not the other way around.
Aunt Betty watched as he straightened his posture, and he could have sworn he saw a flash of disappointment cross her features before she started walking around the space that served as the dining room and living room. Her gaze lingered on a box from Good Eats that sat on the counter.
“It’s one container.” He rushed over and tossed it in the trash.
“I can’t let you stay in the house, for obvious reasons.” Aunt Betty jerked her chin toward the main house. “But there’s no reason for you to be eating takeout every night. You can come eat dinner with us.”
“Us, meaning . . . ”
“Me, Erin, the children.”
Logan took a step back. “No. I don’t think so.” The idea of sitting across the table from her and her children for an entire meal was enough to make him sweat.
She stopped just inside the front door, her back turned to him. “You can’t hide forever.”
Logan wasn’t hiding, he just didn’t want to let himself get close to Erin, knowing he’d be leaving in just a few short weeks. It had been hard enough to leave the first time, and he was saving himself from unnecessary pain by keeping his distance.
Aunt Betty tapped the doorframe before she walked out of the guesthouse, leaving the door wide open.
Logan moved to close it, but not before he caught a whiff of what smelled like steak coming from the main house. The microwave dinner in the freezer seemed much less appealing, but Logan still wasn’t willing to face what waited for him there.
