Chapter 8
L ogan awoke disoriented . It took him a second to realize that the loud noise he heard was Max, Carly’s dog, snoring. And that reminded him that he was on the couch at Carly and Mel’s. And he was on their couch because somewhere between his eighth and twentieth beer, he’d decided that it was a good idea to go and visit Melanie in the middle of the night.
He groaned and sat up. The sun was shining through the windows letting him know that he had slept the morning away. Looking around, he didn’t see or hear anyone other than Max. He tried to remember what day it was through the pounding in his head. It was either Saturday or Sunday and since neither Mel nor Carly was home, he assumed the former.
Standing, he stretched his arms above his head. He needed water and ibuprofen, something fierce. Five straight days of drinking was finally catching up to him.
After his phone conversation with Melanie following his meeting Tuesday, he had gone into a funk of sorts. Dave had spent the next whole day calling other New York City galleries, only to find that Missy’s reach was as she said. No one would take a chance on him.
That’d left him depressed and angry. Somehow the depression had won and he’d spent the next three days taste-testing every alcoholic drink in his reach.
And that was how he had ended up at her house in the middle of the night.
Alcohol was no match for Melanie Hughes.
She was stronger and more potent than anything he could ever put in his body.
Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, he opened the cabinet that he knew Carly kept the ibuprofen in and took two. Leaning against the counter, he downed the water before grabbing another one. It was going to take a lot to clear his system of all the alcohol.
Shockingly he remembered all of his conversation with Melanie.
He hadn't planned on telling her about Missy. Didn't want her to ever know that he was a failure. But she had always been the person he had talked to. The one person who helped him figure things out. Without her input, there were so many things in his life that would be different. So it had only felt normal for him to come and talk to her.
Even if it had been three in the morning and he was drunk.
Now that she knew though, he wasn't sure if he felt relieved or something else entirely. He never wanted her to worry that he didn’t truly care for her. And while he knew that spilling his heart and all the ugly details of what went down in New York might make him look like a pussy, it was the right thing to do.
She deserved to know why he couldn’t be with her.
Slowly, he moved back to the couch and sat down. He needed a plan. Something that would help him get out of his self-induced funk. Deciding that maybe Brandon could help him, he looked around for his phone. When he didn’t see it anywhere in sight, he checked his pockets. Coming up empty, he figured that he must have left it at home, and he grabbed the cordless off the end table and dialed Brandon.
“Graham,” he said when he answered.
“Bran, hey. It’s Logan.”
“Are you home and calling from Carly and Mel’s?”
He should have known that would be his first question.
“Yeah,” he sighed into the phone. “I’m home. Have been for a couple of days.”
“A couple of days? Really?”
“Don’t give me shit. I’ve got enough to deal with.”
“Something’s wrong.” It wasn’t a question but a statement.
“Is it an older brother thing that you just automatically know that?”
He laughed. “Let’s just say, I know you.”
“Do you have some time to talk to me today? I could use your advice on some things.”
“Come by the station. You’ll be saving me from death by paperwork.”
Logan looked at the clock on the wall. It was already ten thirty. “I’ll be by in an hour.” He needed to go home and clean up before meeting Brandon.
“I’ll be here. Maybe...” he said dryly. Logan knew how much his brother despised paperwork. And his voice told him that today was no different.
Forty minutes later he was showered, changed, and headed to the police station. Katie, the receptionist who had been at the station since he was a kid, was sitting at her desk when he walked in. Not wanting to be rude, but not really wanting to chat with her, he said, “Bran in his office?” and just kept walking.
He heard her “Yeah, go on back” as he passed by her desk.
The door to Brandon’s office was open and he had his head down, fingers scratching his scalp.
“I see that paperwork is winning this battle,” he said from the door.
“Thank Christ. I was about to stab myself with a pen just so I could go to the hospital.”
Logan laughed, walking into the office and closing the door behind him. Bran had two chairs in front of his desk and a more comfortable recliner in the corner. Logan chose the recliner hoping it would relax him some.
Brandon leaned forward, elbows on the desk. “You look like shit.”
“Five days of binge drinking will do that to a person.”
“Five days? This must be bad. If you need me to vouch that you were in town while you murdered someone, I’ll do it, but you’ll owe me.”
Brandon’s easy teasing tone let Logan know that no matter what, he would always have his back. “I fucked up. With Mel. With my life. Hell, with everything.”
“Tell me.”
Logan told the story, from the beginning. From the moment he left Cedarville until the moment he fell asleep on Melanie’s couch. Leaving out nothing. Brandon was surprisingly quiet the whole time, never saying a word until he finished speaking.
“First, are you fucking insane? Why would you think Mel wouldn’t want you if you weren’t a famous photographer? Maybe all that fame has finally gone to your head.”
He started to speak but Brandon held up his hand. “I’m not done. And second, maybe all that drinking killed some brain cells, but is New York really the only place with galleries that would want your stuff? Art is everywhere.”
“But New York is THE place.”
Brandon sighed. “Let me talk something out. Do you or do you not have enough money saved from the years of photographing models that you could live comfortably for years?”
Yes, but..”
“No buts. Just yes or no.”
Hating his brother at the moment, he answered, “Yes.”
“So if you had to, you could make very little money and still support a family?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“And the woman you love and want to be with happens to own a business in the town that you want to live in.”
He shook his head side-to-side, annoyed. “Yes.”
“So what the fuck is the problem?”
“It’s not that simple.” He stood and paced the room. “I want to be useful not just sitting at home being a bum.”
Brandon was silent for a minute before calmly saying. “Is being useful more important than being with the person you love?”
“I thought it was, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Let me ask this another way. If Mel was still just teaching dance at a studio and didn’t own one, would you care?”
“No.”
“Okay, let’s go even further. You get married and have kids. She stays home. Is she being useless?”
He was having a hard time wrapping his head around Brandon’s words. Married to Melanie. And her having his babies. The picture in his head was too much. His head was about to explode.
“I’m gonna go ahead and answer for you since you seem to have lost the ability to talk. No, you wouldn’t care.”
He swallowed trying to dampen his mouth so he could speak. “She wouldn't be doing nothing. She would be taking care of our kids.” Our kids. His and Melanie’s kids. Breathe Logan, breathe.
“What you seem to be failing to understand is that, with all those years of working your ass off and traveling, you have already secured your hypothetical family's future.”
He stopped pacing and stared at his brother. Was that true? Was it okay for him not to have a full time, work his ass off job for the rest of his life?
“I see I’ve made you think?”
He sat back down but this time in one of the two chairs in front of Brandon’s desk. “I guess I never really thought about it like that.”
“That’s why I’m the big brother and you’re the little one.”
Logan rolled his eyes. “But can I really just do nothing?”
“The point here is that you can do anything you want. You have options. There are other ways to make money taking photos. And you’re already highly sought after. People will take a chance on you. Screw Missy what’s her name.”
“What about Melanie?”
“What about her?”
“Do you think she hates me?”
“If I know Melanie – and I think I do – yeah, she hates you. But she won’t forever. Especially after you do some serious groveling.”
He could grovel. He hoped.
“Thanks for kicking some sense back into me.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“How’s everything with you?”
“My life is perfect,” he said. “Leah is everything.”
“You’re kinda smug, ya know that.”
“Hey don’t be mad at me for your fuck ups.”
In lieu of words, Logan flipped him off. “I better go. Enjoy your paperwork.”
He left the station and instead of heading to his house, drove to his parent’s house. He was feeling the need to be out on the water, and since he didn’t have his own boat, he would borrow theirs.
Normally he would stop and talk to them, but he wasn’t in the mood. Instead, he sent his mom a quick text letting her know that he was taking the boat.
Out on the water was his happy place. There were only two other things that made him as happy. One was being behind the lens of a camera and the other was being anywhere near Melanie Hughes.
Until today, he had thought that the three of those things could not be combined. But now, after talking to Brandon, he realized that if he wanted, he could have all three of the things that made him happy at once.
And that was what he wanted.
But the one that he wanted the most, was Melanie.