Chapter 12
Logan
The hotel room is too quiet.
Staring out at the city lights sprawling toward the bay, I wonder about the twists of fate that brought me here.
It's after midnight, and Violet's been asleep for hours in the adjoining room, but sleep eludes me.
My mind won't stop replaying the day. It had been the second round of interviews with team executives, a tour of the training and stadium facilities, and a brief meet and greet with select staff.
Everything about the position is perfect, from the state-of-the-art equipment to the extensive support system designed for one thing: winning the World Series. The salary is nothing to sneeze at either. This is the opportunity retired baseball players dream about but rarely achieve.
So why does it feel wrong?
I lean my forehead against the cool glass. I close my eyes and Sunday morning replays in my mind—Heather's hollow smile, the way her arms circled her own waist like she was physically holding herself together.
I'm serious, Logan. This is your career. Your dream. You can't pass this up.
She'd been so certain, so insistent that I go. But I'd seen the truth in the slight tremble of her hands, heard it in the forced brightness of her voice when she'd wished me luck. She was pushing me away to protect herself, building walls before I could hurt her.
My phone sits dark on the nightstand. I've texted and called several times since arriving, casual updates about the interviews, asking how Cookie's doing.
When she actually does answer, her responses have been just as casual, just as careful.
Surface-level pleasantries that tell me nothing about what she's really feeling.
I miss her. God, I miss her so much it's a physical ache in my chest.
The city sprawls below me, all lights and possibilities. But all I can think about is a small Florida coastal town, a woman surrounded by books and a guarded heart, and the perfect life I've been building there.
Wednesday morning dawns gray and drizzly, the kind of San Francisco fog that blocks out the sun. Violet picks at her hotel breakfast, her usual chatter subdued. She hasn’t been herself since we left Pelican Point.
“You okay, sweetpea?”
She shrugs, pushing eggs around her plate. “I miss Cookie.”
“I know you do. I miss her, too.” And I really did. I missed the light Cookie brought to Violet’s eyes, the comfort she delivered just by being her doggy self.
“I want to go home.” My heart breaks at the lone tear that streaks down her sweet face.
“I know.” I wanted that, too. “Soon.”
The school tour for one of the top private schools in the city is scheduled for ten o'clock. It's impressive with its immaculate facilities and even more impressive test scores. The admissions director herself leads us through gleaming hallways lined with student artwork and achievement awards.
“We have a robust STEM program,” she says, gesturing to a state-of-the-art science lab. “And our music program is particularly popular with our students.”
Violet moves through the tour like a robot, clenching my hand and sucking her thumb. It’s obvious she wants nothing to do with it.
In the library, with its modern furniture and digital displays, Violet pauses by a reading nook with sleek bean bag chairs.
“What do you think, Violet?” I ask.
“I miss Aunt Heather’s library.” She looks up at me. “I want to be there with Cookie.” Her voice gets smaller. “I miss Cookie.”
Something twists in my chest. “I know, sweetpea.”
“Do you think she misses me?”
“I know she does.” Knowing that corgi and her attachment to my niece, she’s probably in a full-blown diva tantrum by now. I pull her into a hug, breathing in the strawberry scent of her shampoo.
That evening, while Violet works on a coloring book in our hotel room, she says without looking up, “If we move here, can Cookie and Aunt Heather come, too?”
The question hits me like a punch to the gut. “What?”
Violet's crayon pauses over the page. “Can they move with us? So we won’t be sad and lonely anymore?”
The innocent question pierces straight through me because Violet's already thinking of them as a package deal, as people who belong in our lives permanently. The thought of leaving them behind suddenly feels like choosing to amputate part of myself.
I sit down heavily on the edge of the bed. Out of the mouths of babes. My niece has seen what I've been dancing around for weeks—that Heather and Cookie have become essential for both of us.
Would I unravel all that to take a job I'm not certain I want?
The final interview dinner is at an upscale restaurant overlooking the bay.
Mr. Shaw, the owner and chairman of the Condors, holds court at the head of the table, discussing the upcoming draft potential, spring training, and community initiatives with the passion of someone who loves his baseball team.
“We're on the cusp of great things here,” he says, leaning forward. “The missing piece is someone who can pull all the threads together to create excellence. I think you’re that person, Logan. You know what it takes to build a top-notch team.”
That should excite the hell out of me. A year ago, maybe it would have. Hell, a couple of months ago I would have already had the moving trucks lined up.
So why haven’t I pulled the trigger yet?
As Mr. Shaw talks, my mind drifts. I see Violet's face as she and Cookie chase each other around in the backyard, bright with the joy and pure peace that she hasn’t known in over a year.
I see Heather edging away from my touch, her beautiful eyes dimming as she armors herself against the hurt she believes is coming.
I see the baseball team I’m building at Pelican Point, the trust in the players faces and excitement in the community. I see home.
The realization doesn't come like a lightning bolt. It's more like a rolling tide, inevitable and gentle. Pelican Point isn't an anchor around my neck, like I used to believe as a kid. It's holding me up.
The community I've found there, the connections I've made, the life Violet and I are creating are the real deal.
And Heather. God, Heather. The woman who guards her heart like a dragon with treasure, who looks at me like I might be worth the risk, who's already fallen for my niece and doesn't even realize it.
The same woman who won't answer my damn calls, who probably watches it ring as she convinces herself she's better off alone.
The woman who's been trying to push me away to protect herself from the very abandonment she thinks I'm about to inflict.
My biggest fear isn't staying in Pelican Point. It's losing Heather and discovering too late that I gave up everything that mattered for everything that doesn't.
“Logan?” Mr. Shaw is looking at me expectantly. “What do you think?”
I take a full breath for what seems like the first time all week, feeling the rightness of what I'm about to do settle into my bones. “Mr. Shaw, I'm incredibly honored by this opportunity. The investment you’ve made in this team is extraordinary, and a year ago, this would have been an easy yes.”
His expression shifts. He knows the beginning of a refusal when he hears one.
“But I've built a life in Pelican Point. A good one. My niece is happy there for the first time since her mother died. It may be just a triple A team I’m managing, but we’re doing great work there and I’ve found a community that feels like home.
” I meet his eyes. “I'm not the right fit for this position.
Not because it isn't amazing, but because I'd be taking it for the wrong reasons.”
There's a moment of silence around the table. Then Mr. Shaw nods slowly, a hint of respect, warring with disappointment, in his expression. “It takes courage to know what you want, Logan. And even more to walk away from what you don't. I hope you find what you're looking for.”
“I think I already have,” I say quietly.
The relief that floods through me is answer enough.
Back at the hotel, Violet is coloring as I start packing. I've booked the earliest flight I could find. We can't get out of San Francisco fast enough.
“Violet.” I wait for her to look at me. “We're not moving to San Francisco. We're gonna stay in Pelican Point.”
Her eyes go wide. “We're staying with Cookie?”
I chuckle. If I ever wondered what tops her priorities, there it is. “Yep. We're staying with Cookie.”
She drops her crayon and scrambles off the bed, her whole face lighting up. “And Aunt Heather, too?”
“And Aunt Heather, too.”
“Yay!” She does a little jump, clapping her hands. “Can we go home right now? I wanna tell Cookie!”
“First thing tomorrow morning,” I promise, crouching down to catch her as she launches herself at me for a hug. “We'll go see them as soon as we land.”
She pulls back, placing her little hands on my cheeks. “You're not sad anymore, Uncle Logan.”
The observation catches me off guard. “No, sweetpea. I'm not sad anymore.”
“Good.” She kisses my nose, then wiggles down to return to her coloring. “Cookie doesn't like when people are sad.”
I pull out my phone. My fingers hover over Heather's contact, and my heart pounds as I type:
Flying home. Need to talk. Please.
Staring at the screen, I wait anxiously for the three dots that indicate she's typing. They never come. The message stays on delivered, unread.
My stomach twists with worry, but I tamp it down. I'll see her tomorrow. I'll tell her everything, that I love her, that I'm choosing Pelican Point, that I want to build a future with her if she'll let me.
I just hope I haven't waited too long.
We catch the five AM flight out, and after we land, I drive straight from the airport to the library. Violet bounces in her car seat the entire drive, chattering about seeing Cookie and Aunt Heather and showing them the books we bought in the airport gift shop.
“Do you think Cookie remembers me?” she asks for the third time.
“I guarantee it,” I say, my own nerves building as we pull into the library parking lot.