21. Logan
21
LOGAN
In hindsight, coming to dinner with Eric and my mom was a terrible idea. I work my jaw to the side. “If you don’t understand why your son would be upset that you haven’t watched him pitch any of the games he’s played at EU and then you show up for me, I can’t help you.” I aim a steely stare at my stepfather, willing him to at least act somewhat human.
I do see the telltale signs that he’s cracking. His breath comes out heavy as he eyes me with apathy. He clears his throat, steepling his fingers under his chin. He’s all but abandoned his meal. “Awfully ballsy of you to suggest there’s something wrong with the way I treat my son. It made him tough, made him grow up.” His tone is carefully even, as if we’re simply having some easy family conversation over our lobster pasta. He pointedly jabs his finger into the table, making the silverware jump. “And he needed that.”
I don’t get a chance to ask what the hell that means because a moment later, he’s reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He grits his teeth, staring down at the screen. “Frankly, Logan, Jaxon would know better than to accuse me of being a poor parent in the middle of a celebratory dinner. Disappointing that you don’t.” His jaw works to the side as he narrows his eyes on me. After three uncomfortable beats, he growls, “I’ve gotta take this,” before reaching for my mother’s hand and patting it where it’s balled on the table. “Sorry.”
Giving him a tight smile, she nods. “Okay. Don’t be long.” With that permission from his wife—which I’m positive is all for show anyway—he pushes back from the table and carefully places his napkin on his seat before leaving the room.
“You shouldn’t be goading him like that. He’s never been anything but good to you.” My mother gives me a wary glance. “Bad idea, Logan.”
“Yeah, well, maybe it’s time someone called him out for his bullshit,” I huff, throwing out my hand. “Have you ever stopped to ask yourself what exactly Jaxon did to deserve—” I jerk to a stop, unsure how to present my suspicions. I swallow, shaking my head. “Mom, in what world does it make sense that Eric practically dotes on his stepson but looks down on his own flesh and blood?” And now that I’m on a roll, I can’t stop. “Or worse yet… he fucking ignores him. Acts like he’s not even good enough to spare a single goddamn minute of his time!”
“Logan”—her eyes dart around to make sure no one’s paying attention—“lower your voice.”
My teeth grind as I stare at her with questioning eyes. I know she can’t be this oblivious. “Mom. How do you not see it?”
She lets out a tiny groan. “Why do you think I’ve been trying to get him and his mother over for dinner?”
I stare at her as if she’s got three heads, as bewilderment spreads over her face. “Mom. Did you hear me earlier? Why would you think Macie would want to come to a family dinner?”
She blinks, fidgeting for a second in her seat. “I-I thought maybe it would help.”
“Well, all it did was help her straight into the hospital.” At the look of dismay on her face, I cover her hand with mine. I know she didn’t intend to be cruel. “She’s having a lot of health issues, you know that.”
“I do, but—” A line forms down the middle of her forehead. Her eyes flick past me, and I carefully turn, checking to see where Eric is. Fortunately, he’s nowhere in sight. And it doesn’t make me feel any better that my mother is nervous for her husband to come back to the table. “I guess I didn’t realize how bad it was.”
If I’m going to ask her any questions, it’s gotta be now. “Mom, I need to ask you something. In case it’s not obvious, Jaxon and I have—” Ha ha. Well, now that I’m ready to discuss this with her, I don’t know how to put it. Not that I’ll ever tell my mother the private details of it. I scrub a hand through my hair, peering at her.
She tilts her head to the side. “Are you getting along now, the two of you?”
A small laugh trips up from my chest as the memory of Jaxon jacking off on my ass in the shower comes back to me. “Uh, I don’t know if I’d go quite that far. It’s complicated. Um. But we’ve had a few conversations since we’ve been around each other quite a bit.” I rub my hands on my thighs, deciding to go for broke. “I did want to ask you about something.”
“Well, go on, then.” She searches my face, a leery edge to her gaze.
I clear my throat. “Can you tell me what was going on with Eric and Macie when you met him? And, uh… how did you meet?”
“I’m not sure exactly where this is coming from, but he and I met at a mutual friend’s dinner party.” Tucking some hair behind her ear, she stares steadily at me.
I let out a frustrated sigh, thinking back to how adamant my stepbrother had been when his truth had finally erupted from him. I’ve gotta ask her directly. “Did you know the divorce wasn’t final?” The last part of my question practically sticks in my throat. My voice lowers, disbelief coating my words. “Did you date him knowing that?”
Her mouth drops open. “No. That’s not true.” She blinks several times as she falls silent.
“Well, Jaxon is under the impression that you— Um. That you knew they weren’t divorced yet. And you broke up their marriage.”
Her eyes wild, she shakes her head. “No. That’s not true.” Blinking once again, she whispers, almost as if she’s speaking to herself, “It can’t be. They were already divorced.” With a shaking hand, she picks up the cloth napkin from her lap and places it over her plate, even though it’s still full of food. Whether she’s done eating or has just lost her appetite is anyone’s guess.
“Is it possible he didn’t tell you the whole truth?” I ask softly, wincing as I bite down on my lip.
She’s silent at first, but a tempest of emotion has whipped up in her eyes. She looks… lost. And that has my heart hurting for her. I swallow, a lump filling my throat. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement, shift slightly, and realize it’s Eric on his way back to the table. Fuck .
Exhaling quickly, I meet my mother’s eyes. “Look, I’m gonna take off. But if you need me, just call.”
She gets up at the same time I do, then pulls me into her arms, holding me in a tight hug.
“What’s going on?” Eric eyes the two of us, but neither of us say a word.
My mother quickly tugs me close, whispering in my ear. “If any of this is true, please believe me. I didn’t know.”
When she releases me, I nod to my stepfather. “Thanks for dinner, Eric. I’ve gotta run.” I catch her gaze one last time. “You’ll be okay?”
“Sit back down,” Eric grinds out.
“Sorry, can’t. I’ve got somewhere to be.” My jaw tightens before my eyes flick from him back to my mother. The ill-at-ease expression on her face makes me nervous to leave her. “Sorry, Mom.”
She juts her chin at me, then quietly but definitively murmurs, “Go.”
Before Eric can argue, I turn and walk away, hoping my mother is capable of dealing with her husband in the state of mind he’s currently in. The hushed back-and-forth between them as I exit the ritzy restaurant has me cringing, but my mother is an adult, and she deserves the space to be able to ask her husband some very important questions. Whether or not he’ll sweet-talk her into believing his version of things, I have no idea.
What I do know is this: if I had to choose who to believe, I’m inclined to think that despite all of Jaxon’s dick moves toward me, he’s not lying. And my mother may not have realized it, but she was the one who unwittingly got involved with a married man. Not that she’s to blame. I lay that onus directly at Eric’s feet. His failure to be honest with her about the status of his marriage to Macie—or more accurately, his inability to be faithful to his wife—is what ultimately caused all this.
I just feel terrible that I had idolized him, in a way. The more I find out about my stepfather, the more convinced I am that Jaxon’s actions are a direct result of the shit that has been shoveled in his direction all this time. Why the fuck does his own father dislike him so much?
That question plagues me while I wait outside the restaurant for my Uber pickup. Just as it’s approaching, my phone rings, catching me by surprise. I quickly glance down, my brow furrowing. Rya . My heart does a quick thud, thud in my chest. She hardly ever calls, preferring to text. Wondering what the special occasion is, I jab the screen with my thumb, accepting the call.
Before I can get the phone to my ear, she whispers, “Logan?” The distress in her voice punches me in the gut. I suck in a breath, hating the fear that laces my name.
“Rya? Baby, what’s wrong?”
There’s some fumbling on the other end, then Rya’s voice comes across the line again. “Oh thank goodness. Logan, we need help. It’s Jaxon’s car. The tire blew. I-I thought we were going to die.”
My lungs practically collapse behind my rib cage, all the air whooshing from me. Prodding my chest with my hand, I will myself to breathe again. “Rya, are you okay? What’s going on? Where’s Jaxon?”
“I think we’re both good. He’s looking at the car. But we’re off the road, and the tire is completely torn up.”
“Hey, man”—the Uber driver stares at me from his window—“either get in now, or I’m canceling the ride.”
With an uncharacteristic curl of my lip, I give him a harsh, cold stare, then walk over, throwing the back door of his SUV open and climbing in. “I need just a sec to find out where my friends are. They’ve been in an accident. I need to get to them.” And I might sound like I’m pissed—and I am—but I’m also all jacked up on the inside and trying hard to focus instead of letting myself go to the very dark place my mind is beginning to slip to.
The guy throws me a perturbed glance, but nods. “Yeah. Fine. Canceling this ride so we can start a fresh one. I need a new address, though.”
“Okay, do that,” I grit out, then turning back to the phone, I ask, “Where are you, baby, do you know?” Sweat pops out on my back as memories of my mother fielding a call similar to this from my dad threatens to take me under. Vomit surges up into my throat, but I swallow it down. That call was the last time we spoke to him. And if I’d known then that it would be, I might have handled things differently.
On the other end of the phone, Rya answers, her voice shaky, “I-I don’t know. Jaxon, where are we?”
“Put it on speaker, Rya.” Relief bursts from me as I hear Jaxon’s voice for the first time. He seems steady enough. “Hey, Logan, we’re okay. We’re on Highway 33 headed toward Big Judd’s Burgers. Maybe two miles from the ball field. Somewhere in that stretch between the diner and campus. I’ve already called for a damn tow truck. Tire’s blown, and I ran over something when we went off the road. There’s a fluid leak that’s making me too nervous to let Rya stay in the car—or even let it run—so we’re standing a good distance away, slowly fucking freezing to death. Come as fast as you can.”
I glance up to see the driver nod that he understands the gravity of the situation, his fingers flying as he plugs in the restaurant as our destination.
Every minute that ticks by is enough to push me closer and closer to the edge. My dad was able to call my mother after the accident that took him from us. We thought he was fine… and he fucking died from the injuries he sustained. How the fuck do I know they’re okay? I clutch at my chest as my breathing becomes erratic, my mind veering off into darkness because I don’t have eyes on these two people who mean so fucking much to me. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to them.
The SUV is moving at a good clip, but the voice inside my skull screams to drive faster. I lean forward, head in my hands as I force myself to swallow. To breathe. To fucking get a hold of myself.
“Is that them?”
My head snaps up, eyes focusing in the direction the guy up front is pointing. “Yes. I’ll pay you extra if you’ll wait at least until I know what’s going on and whether we all need a ride somewhere.”
The guy narrows his eyes on me in the rear view, but he nods. “Deal.” With that, he pulls off the road as far as he can get. I’ve got the door open and am out of the car before he can say another word.