Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Sawyer
Since my memory is faulty, we rely a lot on the paperwork Stephen put together in the database.
It’s harrowing to realize that most of that night is a corrupted blur of memory, intentions, and injury.
Waking up to Dalton feeding me lies must have planted more faulty ideas than I thought at first. And I clearly should have gone to the hospital, since I have no recollection of the bruise on my cheek or the cut lip.
He didn’t shove me. He hit me. The hit likely knocked me into the table, and I don’t remember it at all.
Logan sits beside me, holding my hand while we complete all the paperwork.
When we leave the station, he puts me in the car with his driver, and he takes my keys.
“You don’t drive,” I whisper.
“I have a license,” he says. “I just don’t use it because these streets are confusing. So many narrow one-way roads. But I’m sure I can follow just fine.”
He has a conversation with his driver that I don’t listen to, and then we’re gliding down Bellerive’s roads toward my house. He’s got one hand on the steering wheel, and the other rests on my thigh, a silent comfort.
At the house, Logan draws me a bath, and he sits on the edge of the tub while I slip under the warm surface, feeling chilled to the bone.
“Foot rub?” he offers, and I raise one foot that he takes in his big hands, gently kneading the sole.
“She wouldn’t have given you information for free,” I say, doubling back to his deal with my mother.
“You are correct,” he admits.
“What’d you agree to?” I meet his gaze, but I feel so emotionally wrung out that it’s hard to stir up more anger.
“That I’d tell you she was the one who saved the day.”
“She went easy on you.”
“Did she?” Logan asks, maintaining eye contact as his thumbs find all the best pressure points on my foot. “She knew you’d be mad. So did I. So, it feels like maybe you’re the one going easy on me.”
“You can’t do it again,” I say.
“I’d love to tell you I won’t, but I can’t.”
“Logan…”
“If you were in danger and your mother was the only one who could save you, there isn’t a deal I wouldn’t make. If she was the literal devil, I’d let her have my soul, doc. The only thing I can promise is that I’ll never do it again if there’s any other way to keep you safe.”
I run my fingers through the bathwater, and I know I should be mad. He broke my trust. But he’s been such a rock since I arrived at the police station—stable and sure and kind, that it’s hard to push him away. I don’t want to push him away.
“Listen, I, uh…” He sets my foot gently back into the tub and then lifts the other one into his large palm. “I have to leave soon to catch a flight. I called your brother, Nathaniel, and he’s going to come stay with you.”
“The trade?” I ask, a hint of panic gripping my lungs.
“No. Not yet.” He shakes his head, and he keeps his focus on my foot. “I’m going to see my biological grandparents. Quick trip. See what they’re like. I’ll be back on the island tomorrow night.”
“Oh,” I say, and the numbness that’s been eating away my sanity seems to spread. He’s already cutting me out, and maybe it’s what I said I wanted, but it doesn’t feel like what I want at all. “Okay.”
He takes a breath as though he’s going to say more, but then his shoulders relax, clearly deciding not to say whatever he was thinking. While I might normally pry, I don’t have the energy today.
“I also have one of your cousin Owen’s guys watching the house for the night.”
“What?”
“They’re arresting him today, but he’ll get out on bail,” Logan says. “Nathaniel is staying here, but I don’t want you in danger. The timing…” He lets out a sigh. “I should just reschedule.”
“No,” I say with a shake of my head. Life has to go on, doesn’t it? “I’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.”
His worry is clear when he meets my gaze.
“You don’t have to take care of me,” I say.
“I want to,” he says. “If murder was even a little bit legal, Dalton Worthington would be dead. I want to take care of you and protect you and never let anything bad touch you again. So if it’s in my power to stop bad things from happening, that’s what I’m going to do.
Always. Even if I’m not on this island anymore.
Even if it’s not my place to do that anymore. ” His voice cracks.
I draw my foot out of his hand, and the water around me sloshes as I make my way to him. I rise onto my knees, and I loop my soapy arms around his neck.
“No one has ever loved me like you love me,” I whisper before I kiss him. “I love the way you love me.”
He wraps his arms around me, drawing me tight against him, and he doesn’t seem to care that I’m getting him soaked.
The doorbell rings, and Logan pulls away. “That’ll be your brother.” He searches my face for a beat and then gives me another kiss. “I’ll be back tomorrow night.”
“I’ll be okay,” I say.
His brows are pinched, and I don’t think he quite believes me. “I love you.” He kisses my forehead before he stands up and leaves the bathroom, closing the door tight behind him.
I knew he was leaving, but there’s still an ache of disappointment when I come down the stairs to find my older brother stretched out on my couch, making it look almost too short like Logan does. Logan is nowhere to be found.
“He’s gone?” I ask, even though the house feels the way it always does when he’s not in it.
“Had a plane to catch. Said he told you?”
“He did.” I collapse into the couch across from my brother and release a deep sigh. Like all of my siblings, Nathaniel has dark-brown hair, and blueish eyes. But his eyes are a bluey-green that seem to change in the light or with his moods.
Exhaustion coats me like a blanket. Funny how emotional turmoil is almost worse than physical exertion.
“You should have told one of us,” Nathaniel says, lips pursed. “Any of us. But especially me.”
“Part of me couldn’t even believe it had happened.”
“He never crossed the line before that?” He sits up to face me.
“Pushed boundaries, ran over lines—but he always had an explanation that felt… If not reasonable, at least logical. Painted me as the emotional one. Or my reaction as out of proportion with whatever he’d done.
I forgot, for a little while, what it was like to know my own mind.
” I rub my face. “Logan told you I’m pressing charges? ”
“Yeah.” Nathaniel grimaces. “I would have helped you.”
“I just wanted to forget it happened.”
We sit in silence for a moment, and I want to ask about Hollyn or Hollyn’s sister, Kinsley, who they’re raising together, but I just don’t have the energy.
“Logan had his chef prepare your favorite pad Thai dish. His driver picked up and dropped it off while you were still in the bath. Enough for two in the fridge.”
For some reason, that makes my eyes well up with tears. Because of course he did.
“I like him,” Nathaniel says. “Logan.” As though I wouldn’t know. “So earnest about wanting what’s best for you. Shame he’s likely going to Oregon.”
“You heard that too?” I ask, sniffing away my tears. “We’re… We’re not like… We’re breaking up when he leaves.”
“Long-distance is hard, but he talks about you the way I’ve always felt about Hollyn. It’s rare to find that—take it from a guy who spent years looking for it again.”
“He really loves me,” I agree, my voice thick with tears.
“And you?” Nathaniel asks, trying to catch my gaze.
“We want different things. His career is his priority. He doesn’t see marriage and kids happening for years, and I”—I take a deep breath—“want those things sooner. If he gets traded, he’ll be off the island, and I have so many people who depend on me here.”
“You can do good anywhere,” Nathaniel says.
“But I’d let these people here down,” I say.
“And you’d raise up others. I know that’s a tough idea to swallow. We think the same about this island and its people, but happiness is never guaranteed.”
“But am I then doing exactly what I did with Dalton? Giving up my life so he can lead his?”
Nathaniel, who had been sitting forward on the couch, flops back. He gives a slow nod, as though considering what I’m saying. “When you gave things up for Dalton, did it feel like something you wanted or something you had to do?”
“Most of the time, I did whatever he wanted to keep the peace.”
“Is Logan putting pressure on you to go with him?”
“No. He asked me, but he didn’t push.”
“Wouldn’t that suggest that you have a real choice here?”
“He went to Mom,” I say, as though that has any relevance on what we’re talking about. I don’t know whether I can sacrifice my timeline or my career or if I should just let Logan go. The questions feel too big for me when I’m wrung out.
“He told me he went to Mom. Said he was worried Dalton would have tried to blackmail you back into a relationship or an arrangement that would benefit him and harm you. Yeah, he went behind your back—and to a person we know can’t be trusted—but he went with good intentions.”
“I don’t even think I’m mad about it.” Maybe I should be, but ever since we decided to be together, Logan’s never done anything to deliberately harm me.
I don’t think he ever would. That he’d rather harm himself first. “Am I an idiot for being so in love with someone who doesn’t want the same life I do? ”
“Is the timeline or the moving the biggest issue? Because I think if you can live with one of those, that you need to tell him. He can’t change where he gets traded, but he can reconsider his thinking around marriage and kids.”
“Is it fair to ask?”
“In my opinion,” Nathaniel says, palm pressed to his chest, “it would be deeply unfair not to ask. He’s obviously in love with you. Give him a chance to set his own fate. Don’t set it for him.”
My phone beeps with an alert, and I check my screen. The bolded headline stops my heart.
Beloved physiotherapist accuses advisory council member of domestic violence.
“The news is out,” I say, flashing my phone at him.
“Logan got Owen to put protection on the house—just in case. Dalton does have his supporters.”
“I helped get a lot of those.”
“You’ve always had a big heart.”
I stare at the screen, and a text filled with hearts arrives from Logan overtop of the article about Dalton. “Yeah,” I agree, my voice barely above a whisper, “and this time it feels like I’m giving it to the right person.”