Chapter 2
2
E rin was thankful to be in the shade of the porch that afternoon. It was an unseasonably hot day, even for July, and she’d suggested that Samantha and Parker have a water balloon fight to stave off some of the heat. Erin split her attention between watching them and painting the old swing on the porch. The white paint had been chipping for as long as Erin could remember. She thought back to the many nights she spent out here with Jake and Logan. Even then, flakes of paint came off with the smallest amount of pressure. Now, the paint came off in large sheets. The brown of the wood was more visible than not.
The scuffs to the paint hadn’t bothered Erin—she loved the natural wear on the bench—until she saw Logan. With his return came the undeniable urge to give the old piece of furniture a refresh. She wanted to cover those memories with something new. Aunt Betty never minded when Erin made repairs to the house, in fact, she’d always been grateful when Erin painted trim or patched holes in the walls. Erin hoped that painting over the old porch swing would be no different, especially since she’d decided to go with a pale pink. It was a far cry from the neutral colors real estate agents preferred, but it was Samantha’s favorite color, and Erin hoped that it might help cheer her daughter up and help pull her from the pattern of grouchiness she’d been falling into. Besides, with any luck, Erin would be the one buying the house, and she loved the color.
Erin paused and stretched her arms above her head as she stifled a yawn. The stress of Logan’s return and the reality of Aunt Betty selling the house were finally catching up to her. Erin hadn’t been able to get a full night’s sleep. No matter how tired she felt, sleep seemed to evade her at every turn.
Thankfully, Erin could take that anxious energy and turn it into something good. She’d attacked her midweek order of brownies and cheesecakes for Good Eats with a renewed fervor, and when she finished that, she’d started working on some projects around the house.
All the old cabinet pulls in the kitchen were now replaced with bright and shiny ones. The front flower bed was freshly weeded, and now she was painting the porch swing .
The water balloon fight paused as Samantha filled up more balloons, and Parker walked over to where Erin worked. He stood on the front steps, water dripping from his clothes.
“I’m not sitting on that anymore,” he said with a wrinkled nose, and pointed at the swing.
Erin set the paintbrush on the top of the paint can. “Once it’s dry, we won’t have to worry about the paint getting on us.”
Parker shook his head. “I know. But I’m still not sitting on it.”
Erin walked over to her son and kneeled in front of him. Once at his eye-level, she tilted her head. “Because it’s pink?”
Parker looked down at his feet. “Rock Man says only girls like pink.”
Erin pinched the bridge of her nose. Ever since her husband’s death, Parker hadn’t stopped talking about Rock Man. He was big and strong, and nothing could hurt Rock Man. He’d become the Carlisles’ silent protector.
The only problem was that no one could see him.
The doctors told Erin that Parker’s imaginary friend was a coping mechanism that her son created to deal with the immense pain that came with losing his father at such a young age. Aunt Betty told Erin it was harmless, and she shouldn’t discourage the boy.
Still, it was hard to listen to Parker go on and on about Rock Man. She worried about what his friends said about him. She worried the neighbors would judge her.
Most of all, Erin worried that Rock Man would be a part of their lives forever because moving on from Jake’s death seemed utterly impossible.
Erin lifted her hand to Parker’s cheek and tilted his head so he looked at her again. “Rock Man is amazing, but he doesn’t know everything. A lot of boys like pink.”
Parker crossed his arms and gave her a challenging look. “Name one.”
Erin scrambled to think of a guy, any guy, who might confess to liking the color, but drew a blank. Partly because she didn’t think she’d ever discussed the color pink with a guy, and partly because she didn’t really speak to anyone other than Aunt Betty these days.
“Mr. West likes pink,” she said. The words rushed out of her so quickly, she wasn’t sure where they came from.
Parker watched her skeptically. “The man who lives in the guesthouse?”
“Uh huh.” Erin nodded enthusiastically.
“But he doesn’t even have a real house.”
Erin choked on a laugh. Neither did they, but she didn’t point that out to her son. She was glad he viewed this house as his home and was thankful for the stability it provided for him and Samantha. It was just one of the many reasons she wanted to be the one to buy it when the time came.
She shook her head. “Well, I don’t think something as insignificant as the color should prevent you from enjoying it.”
“What if someone in my class walks by and sees me sitting in it?”
Parker went to preschool for a couple hours a day at the local church. It gave him a chance to play with friends, while giving Erin some much-needed time to focus on baking or home repairs. Overall, Erin thought it was good for Parker to socialize with kids his age, but she’d noticed a recent gravitation toward caring what the other kids thought about him. She wondered how much of Rock Man’s opinions were actually those of the other boys at school.
Erin shrugged. “So what if they do?”
“They might not want to be my friend anymore.”
Erin brushed Parker’s hair back and looked him in the eyes. “Did someone say that they wouldn’t be your friend if you liked pink?”
He shook his head.
“Then don’t worry about it.” She pulled him into a hug. “Besides, if someone doesn’t want to be your friend because you like a certain color, you might want to reconsider wanting to be their friend.”
“Okay,” Parker said, as he struggled to get free of her embrace. She let him go to the front yard, and he rejoined his sister, who had just finished filling more water balloons.
The concept of choosing friends wisely was a little over Parker’s head, especially when most kids only cared about things like your favorite colors or whether you liked monster trucks, but she wanted to ingrain certain truths in his mind from a young age.
Who you made friends with was important. You wanted friends you could count on, friends who wouldn’t leave when things got hard. Friends who didn’t return ten years later and rip open old wounds.
Erin watched Samantha and Parker chase each other for another moment before picking up the paintbrush and working on the bench again. She fell into a comfortable rhythm as she dipped the brush into the paint and ran its bristles across the rough wood of the swing. It was peaceful, and she lost herself in the task until a deep groan came from the front yard.
Erin’s eyes darted to the clearing. There, Logan stood frozen in the crosshairs of Parker and Samantha’s water balloon fight. Even from her spot on the porch, she could see the water dripping down the side of his face. Logan’s stiff posture was a clear indication that he wasn’t sure what to do now that he’d been hit. As much as she didn’t want to talk to him, she couldn’t leave him there either.
Erin sighed as she set the brush down once more and walked down the stairs to where he stood, both kids watching her closely as she approached. When she stopped in front of them, she could see their eyes were wide. The beginning of tears formed in Parker’s as he said, “It was an accident, Mama.”
She smiled down at him, hoping to reassure him that she wasn’t mad. “I know, baby. You wouldn’t hit someone who wasn’t playing on purpose.” Relief replaced the look of fear in her young son’s eyes.
When she was satisfied that Parker was okay, she looked up at Logan—literally. At six foot four, he was a foot taller than her, and now, standing next to him for the first time in a decade, memories flooded her of how she used to tease him for being such a giant.
Water dripped from his face, down his cheek and onto the collar of his shirt. She was so used to their younger days when his wardrobe consisted of jeans and t-shirts, that it was startling to see him standing in front of her in a button-down and slacks. Not that this was a bad look. Logan looked handsome, even with the wet spot that continued to spread across the top of his shirt. Not that she cared whether or not he looked attractive.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Logan wiped water from his eyes and dried his hands on the bottom of his shirt. “It’s just a little water.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded. “It was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention when I left the guesthouse. I walked right into it.”
Erin looked down at Parker. “I know it was an accident, but I think we still owe Mr. West an apology. What do you think?”
“Yes, Mama.” He shuffled closer to Logan and looked up. “I’m sorry, Mr. West, for hitting you with the water balloon. I promise to be more careful.”
“Okay.”
That was it? Parker had just asked for forgiveness and even added the part about being more careful without being prompted, and Logan had said, “Okay?”
Good grief. Logan had a rocky childhood and didn’t have kids of his own, but surely, he was able to give Parker a little more than that. Erin lifted her brows and nodded in an exaggerated motion, pressing Logan to keep going, hoping that he would play along.
“I’m not mad.” Logan scratched the back of his neck. “And I’m glad you’ll be more careful.”
Erin tensed at the clipped words, but thankfully her son was satisfied. Parker smiled and said, “I promise.”
Erin’s shoulders sagged in relief when Parker started to walk away, but then he stopped and faced Logan again. “Do you like pink?”
Logan’s brows furrowed. “I ... ”
Erin held her breath. She never expected Parker to follow up on her little white lie, yet here he was asking this complete stranger if he liked pink.
Serves me right for making things up.
Logan looked at Erin once more for guidance. She gave him a barely perceptible nod .
He shrugged. “Sure, I like pink.”
Parker didn’t look convinced. He crossed his arms across his chest. “Would you sit on a pink bench?”
Logan’s eyes went to the front porch and back to Parker. “Are you asking because of Aunt Betty’s swing?”
Parker nodded.
“If it wasn’t wet, I’d sit and swing on it right now,” Logan said.
Parker pulled on his ear. “Do you think kids would make fun of me if I swinged on a pink swing?”
Erin bit her bottom lip. It was painfully obvious that Logan had no idea how to talk to children, but Erin wasn’t sure if her jumping in would make things even more awkward or not. She waited with bated breath to see how things would play out.
Logan cleared his throat. “Well, I think if people make fun of you for sitting on a pink swing, that’s their problem.”
Parker’s gaze went between Logan and Erin. “That’s what my mama said.” His eyes narrowed. “Did she tell you to say that?”
“Nope.”
Parker continued to look at Logan with a stern expression that was in stark contrast to his face, still round with baby fat. After a moment, he nodded solemnly. “Rock Man says you’re telling the truth, so I believe you.”
“Rock Man . . . ”
Erin rushed between the two, eager not to let Parker talk about his imaginary friend. That was the last thing she wanted Logan to know about. He didn’t know what it had been like since Jake’s death. He might not understand Parker’s need for Rock Man when Erin herself struggled to accept him as part of their family.
She looked down at Parker. “You know, I bet Mr. West is very busy. Why don’t you go inside with Samantha and get some dry clothes on before we get dinner started?”
“But we still have some water balloons left.”
She forced a cheery smile. “That’s okay, that just means you two will get to have another water balloon fight again tomorrow.”
Parker’s body sagged, but he didn’t argue. With dragging steps, he walked toward the house. Both he and Samantha disappeared inside the front door and Erin prayed they were doing what they were supposed to and not getting water all over Aunt Betty’s house in the process.
Erin and Logan were left standing alone in the front yard and Erin wished she was anywhere else. Sure, it was nice for Logan to play along with Parker, but that didn’t take away from the pain that his disappearance had caused. Erin had so many unanswered questions about why he left. Why had it been so abrupt, and right before her and Jake’s wedding? Why hadn’t he come back home when Jake was diagnosed, or when he died ?
“Thanks for not being mad at him,” she eventually said.
“Of course, I wasn’t mad.” Logan shoved his hands in his pockets. “I just wasn’t sure what to say after that surprising hit to the face.”
Erin closed her eyes. “No, that’s okay. What you said was fine.”
Even if everything else felt anything but fine. The words hung in the air.
There was a time when conversation with Logan came as easily as breathing. In high school, their unlikely friendship had somehow morphed into something special. Before he’d left, Erin almost believed he was her best friend. Of course, a ten-year absence had a way of clarifying things. He hadn’t been there on the happiest day of her life, and he hadn’t returned on the darkest. In the end, their friendship was one-sided, and it had been easy for him to leave her behind. Just like everyone else she’d ever loved.
Now it almost felt like standing in front of a stranger. Except that Erin thought she could still read Logan’s feelings in the slight downturn of his lips and the way he was unable to keep eye contact with her for longer than a second or two.
Her stomach twisted in knots as they stood in front of one another. As much as she hated it, the desire to know how he was doing was still there. She wanted to ask what he’d been up to since she saw him last. She wanted to know if he still ate ice cream for dinner on Sunday nights. She wanted to know if he found whatever he was looking for in Chicago—and why he was moving to Florida. Eventually, she landed on something safe.
“I didn’t thank you for cleaning the kitchen the other night,” she said, looking down at her hands.
“It was the least I could do.”
If that wasn’t the understatement of the century.
Erin played with the hem of her shirt as an uncomfortable silence settled between them. The heaviness of it made her want to bolt, even though she hadn’t finished painting the porch swing. She turned to follow her children inside.
“They can call me Logan.”
Erin stopped and looked back at him. “What?”
“You called me Mr. West ... to Parker.” He shrugged. “Your children can call me Logan, if you want.”
There was a time when she hoped her kids might know the man standing in front of her. She thought they might call him Mr. Logan, or even Uncle Logan, but that opportunity had come and gone. Logan West wasn’t a close family friend who got an honorary title like that.
“Why are you here, Logan?” she asked, crossing her arms across her chest. She already knew the answer—hated the answer—but the injustice of life took away all logical thought .
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Aunt Betty asked me to come help sell the house. I thought you knew.”
Erin let out a humorless laugh. “She was doing fine without you.”
And so was I .
Logan’s mouth opened and closed again. He refused to meet her gaze.
Erin wasn’t sure why she was even bothering to have a conversation with him. One act of kindness toward her children wouldn’t erase the last ten years.
Tears formed in her eyes from a mixture of sadness and frustration. She shook her head. “I need to go check on my children.”
Not everyone had the luxury of running away at the drop of a hat. Some people had responsibilities no matter how hard things got. Not that Erin would ever want to run away from her children. She loved them and would never leave them.
She just couldn’t understand why it was so easy for everyone to leave her.
Logan’s gut twisted as he watched Erin walk away and disappear inside Aunt Betty’s house. He was an idiot, and not just because he didn’t know how to talk to children.
He’d never been good with children—had no reason to be. He’d barely been an adult himself when he moved to Chicago, and starting a family was the last thing on his mind at the time. Fresh out of college, with a newly broken heart, Logan had put everything into advancing his career and never had the opportunity to develop the paternal side of him.
No, the reason Logan felt like the dumbest guy on the planet was the fact that he thought he could be this close to Erin and not feel like that love-sick young man again.
He’d hoped enough time and enough distance would be enough for him to get over losing her, but he’d never been able to get past his first love. Any time he’d tried moving on and started dating, he’d realized he was still hung up on the pretty girl with golden curls and a pure heart. It wasn’t fair for those women, and so he’d ended things quickly every time. No one had been able to compete with Erin, and Logan was afraid he’d compare every woman to her for the rest of his life.
The surprise of seeing her after so long had him twisted up in the worst ways. The few interactions they’d had were disastrous. He was always saying or doing the wrong thing. She never looked happy to see him and was always in a hurry to get away.
Even if he didn’t see her, didn’t talk to her, her presence filled every space of Aunt Betty’s house. Her car was parked in the driveway, baking pans were in every kitchen cabinet, the smell of baked goods came from the house almost every day, and kids’ toys were all over the place. Logan had found Lego creations inside the refrigerator, had almost tripped on a doll coming down the stairs, and in his most recent run-in, taken a water balloon to the face.
He bent down and picked up the broken piece of latex at his feet and soon found himself picking them up from the entire yard. The task was soothing in a strange way.
Logan didn’t usually like the silence that came with mundane tasks, instead favoring jobs that required him to use all of his brain power, which was why he’d been able to advance as quickly as he had through the company he worked for back in Chicago. He’d poured every spare minute into his work, and when he wasn’t working, he was keeping busy in other ways. He spent his spare time exercising at the gym or volunteering at the local soup kitchen.
Being back here made him restless. There was too much stillness in this quiet town. Not enough to do. Logan stood and stretched his arms over his head when he finished cleaning the yard, stretching his back. He tossed the broken balloons in the trash can outside Aunt Betty’s house before returning to the guesthouse.
Before Parker had hit him, Logan was busy trying to evaluate Aunt Betty’s property and make a list of the most pressing things to repair before it was ready to put on the market. While he’d mostly worked on commercial properties in Chicago, Logan wasn’t completely in the dark about residential sales .
The first thing he needed to do was get the old Victorian up to code. The wiring and plumbing were the most pressing. Curb appeal would have to take a backseat, though Logan had noticed Erin doing projects around the house. He wasn’t sure what series of events landed Erin and her children here, and he was afraid to think too hard about what would happen to them after the house sold. Aunt Betty was the most generous person he knew. She wouldn’t kick a family out of the street.
Of course, as far as Logan knew, Erin had a place of her own. The house she lived in with Jake. Logan had never been there, but he’d looked up the address once or twice while living in Chicago. The house she and Jake moved into after they married. It was here in Frostford, not too far from Aunt Betty’s.
Was it possible she was staying with Aunt Betty while she grieved the loss of her late husband and would return at some point? If so, that would make it easier to sell Aunt Betty’s home. He needed to know for sure and added it to the list of things to accomplish while here. Figure out Erin’s housing situation, sell Aunt Betty’s house, find a place to live in Florida, and get on-boarded for his new job. All in a few short weeks.
No big deal.
He plopped down on the small twin mattress in the guesthouse and opened his laptop. After answering a couple of emails to his new employer, he looked over his most recent search for comparable properties for Aunt Betty’s house. If his calculations were correct, and they usually were, the house could sell for more than enough for Aunt Betty to live out her golden years in style visiting the white-sand beaches that were close to his new office.
He’s just begun looking up what the local laws were for pulling a permit for these repairs when there was a knock on his door. He shut his computer and answered it.
Aunt Betty stood on the other side of the door, wearing one of her infamous floral dresses, her lips turned down in a frown. He wondered if she’d somehow found out about what had happened with Erin and was here to scold him.
“Is everything okay?” Logan asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.
“I could ask the same of you.” She pushed her way inside the guesthouse. She turned and raised her brows at him. “Do you remember when you lived out here in your junior year of high school?”
He nodded. “I’d just gotten a job down at the feed store. I thought I was so grown up.” He chuckled at the memory of how he thought he was making so much money with his part-time, minimum-wage job.
“You practically begged me to live out here. You were a man .”
“Not quite a man.” He shook his head, but he still remembered how grown he’d felt. It was the first time since his parents died that he hadn’t felt helpless, that he didn’t feel like he was at the mercy of someone else’s kindness or pity. He’d wanted so badly to prove that he was capable of taking care of himself. Moving into the guesthouse was the first step of his plan toward independence.
Logan had big plans of quitting school and working full time, but Aunt Betty had made him promise to do a trial period in the guesthouse first before making any rash decisions. Logan was so sure he’d breeze right through it, but within a month, the guesthouse was filled with dirty laundry and fast-food wrappers.
“It was a mess out here and it smelled like a locker room.” She laughed. “I didn’t realize teenage boys were such disgusting creatures.”
Logan felt the corner of his mouth curving upward. “By that point, I was begging for you to let me come back. I missed your home cooking.”
Aunt Betty stared hard at him. “And what did I say?”
“You said I could move back to my old room, but you made me promise to finish school. To go to college.” And, boy, was he glad he followed her advice. He’d never been able to leave Frostford if he were still working at the old feed store—and he wouldn’t be able to help Aunt Betty fix up her house and bring her to Florida with him either .
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What else did I tell you when you came back to the main house?”
“You told me you missed me. That you’d always be there for me.”
“That’s right.” She dropped her arms and smiled warmly at him. “It was true then, and it’s true now. I’ve missed you, Logan. I hate that you ran off and barely wrote home. I hate that I had to get updates from you through social media, and not just because I hate that computer.”
“Aunt Betty . . . ”
She held up her hand. “But I love you, dear boy. I’ll always love you. And I’ll always be there for you.”
Logan felt like that young man again. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes, and he blinked them away. With a steadying breath, he pushed those insecurities down. He might be back in Frostford, and as much as he loved Aunt Betty, he was not that boy anymore. He refused to be. Just like he refused to rely on anyone anymore. He was here to help Aunt Betty—not the other way around.
Aunt Betty watched as he straightened his posture, and he could have sworn he saw a flash of disappointment cross her features before she started walking around the space that served as the dining room and living room. Her gaze lingered on a box from Good Eats that sat on the counter.
“It’s one container.” He rushed over and tossed it in the trash .
“I can’t let you stay in the house, for obvious reasons.” Aunt Betty jerked her chin toward the main house. “But there’s no reason for you to be eating takeout every night. You can come eat dinner with us.”
“Us, meaning . . . ”
“Me, Erin, the children.”
Logan took a step back. “No. I don’t think so.” The idea of sitting across the table from her and her children for an entire meal was enough to make him sweat.
She stopped just inside the front door, her back turned to him. “You can’t hide forever.”
Logan wasn’t hiding, he just didn’t want to let himself get close to Erin, knowing he’d be leaving in just a few short weeks. It had been hard enough to leave the first time, and he was saving himself from unnecessary pain by keeping his distance.
Aunt Betty tapped the doorframe before she walked out of the guesthouse, leaving the door wide open.
Logan moved to close it, but not before he caught a whiff of what smelled like steak coming from the main house. The microwave dinner in the freezer seemed much less appealing, but Logan still wasn’t willing to face what waited for him there.