47. Logan
logan
Work on the ranch had been especially draining lately. We were gearing up for winter, which was heading toward us at a rapid rate. I wasn’t sure I was prepared for it at all.
Pulling into the driveway, I notice the front porch light is out. Without it, the front of my house is completely dark. I curse, adding that to my list of things to do, the list that was growing longer and longer by the minute.
I fumble my way inside, nearly ramming my knee on my mom’s car before I finally make my way up the front porch steps. Freaking daylight savings.
Entering the house, I hear laughter spilling down the foyer and smile, happy that Lue is finally coming back around to herself again.
It’s been a rough week, and more than once, I’ve caught her upset over the situation with Thea. I tried to push it to the side, hoping that the out-of-sight method would work, but it never seems to be the case .
A waft of whatever Lue and Mom are cooking hits me, and my stomach growls in response. It’s been hours since I ate anything, and that warm, home-cooked meal smell after being out working all day is one of the best feelings in the world.
“Smells good in here,” I announce, hearing the laughter stop. I frown, kicking off my boots, my hat already neatly hung up.
Following the lowered voices to the kitchen, I turn and am shocked to see none other than Thea standing there with my daughter.
“What are you doing here?” The words leave my mouth rather rudely, and I almost chastise myself, but my daughter beats me to it.
“Dad! Rude much?” Her big eyes meet mine, and I sigh, running a hand over my head.
“It’s okay, Lue.”
Thea looks at me for the first time, and my breath catches in my chest. It’s been a week since I’ve seen her—the last time being in the hospital—and what I see has my breath catching in my throat.
Her eye and cheek are still bruised, and she has dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. If I’m not mistaken, she looks like she’s lost weight as well, and I immediately want to make her sit down and eat, to rest, to have some semblance of peace.
Her wrist, in its brace, makes me flinch, thinking again of how it got there in the first place, and my anger—not even really at her anymore—overwhelms me.
“Didi asked if I could drive Lue home today,” Thea tells me, announcing the betrayal of my own flesh and blood.
“I see.”
“And Lue requested shepherd’s pie, so I went ahead and made that. ”
I bite my tongue, wishing I could push past the wall that was erected over the last few weeks.
Her breaking up with me wounded my pride and my heart, and as much as I love her, as much as I want to just shove aside all the questions and hurt and anger, my tongue won’t allow it.
My brain won’t function enough to say the words.
So I stay silent.
Lue clears her throat, and I glance at her. Her eyes widen, and she tilts her head to Thea, who’s staring down at her splinted hand on the counter.
“I—thank you,” I fumble out, pressing my hands against the opposite side of the island. “I appreciate you getting her home safe.”
Thea smiles, glancing up at me quickly and nodding. “No problem. It needs about ten more minutes.”
She turns to Lue and opens her arms. Lue happily steps into them, holding Thea tightly to her.
I watch Thea’s eyes shut, her face shuttered in sadness, and she holds Lue just as tight, kissing her once on the top of her head before releasing her. “Be good.”
“I will,” Lue replies softly.
Thea turns slowly and starts to make her way out of the kitchen, limping as she does. She steadies herself using the island on her right side, and I grimace when I see the pain on her face as she puts weight on her left leg. The cuts that piece of shit left behind clearly did some damage.
“Let me help,” I say, reaching for her, but her hand shoots up.
“No, it’s okay. I’ve got it.”
I bite my tongue, my sudden need to get in her face and just shake some sense into her, to say, “Just let me help you! ”
The urge is so real that I have to grip the counter to prevent myself from actually doing it.
Pain lances through my chest as I watch her limp her way down the hallway. She’s almost out the door when I march up behind her, grasping for her hand.
Don’t let her go.
“Why are you here?” My words come out more harshly than I intend, and when she turns to me, I see the tears in her eyes. Regret hits me all over again.
“I’m showing up.” She swallows hard against tears that are obviously threatening to fall.
“I’m sorry for everything. I want you to know that if I could go back, I would do so many things differently.
” She bites her trembling lip, and I unintentionally squeeze her hand in my own.
“I don’t know what else to do but show up. ”
With those parting words, she releases my hand.
Thea leaves, and I watch her do it.