Chapter Thirty-One
LOGAN FINALLY RETURNED ALMOST TWO hours after he’d left. He appeared harried—his posture tense as his eyes darted around the room, not focusing on anyone or anything. At first, I thought it might be because his mom and Eden were still on the bed with me and it was weird for him, but upon further inspection, I didn’t think that was the case.
“Hi,” I said, eager to talk to him, to find out what had happened.
He finally looked my way and offered me a subdued smile. “Hey.”
Eden grabbed her mom’s hand. “Let’s leave these two alone.”
I kind of wanted to beg them to stay. The way Logan acted didn’t give me warm-and-fuzzy vibes. Not that I’d been expecting him to come back with news that Maxwell wanted to sing “Kumbaya” with me and welcome me with open arms. And not that I even wanted that outcome. I didn’t.
The man had ignored me my entire life, and even when he’d had the chance to tell me who he was, he hadn’t done it. Instead, he’d tried to get rid of me. He definitely wasn’t getting any Father’s Day cards from me. But I guess I’d expected a grand entrance from Logan where he swept in and kissed me passionately after saving the day and defending my honor. Okay, so that was a little dramatic, but it still would have been nice.
Marianne grabbed the empty mug from me and kissed my cheek. “Good night. ”
“Good night,” I said, though it was now early morning.
She and Eden rushed out of the room, each giving Logan a pat on their way out before they shut the door, leaving us alone.
“Is everything all right?” I blurted, more than anxious. I had the racing heart to prove it.
Logan blew out a heavy breath, having to think about his answer, which made me feel sick to my stomach.
“Does Lola hate me?” That was honestly my worst fear in all of this. After everything was said and done, I at least hoped to gain a sister out of the deal.
“No. Of course not,” Logan was quick to say. “She’s worried about you. She wants you to call her.”
“Oh, good,” I responded, more than relieved. “I’ll call her when it’s daylight.”
Logan offered me a small smile.
I patted the bed. “Come talk to me. Something is obviously wrong.”
Logan eyed the spot on the bed and shifted his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of joining me. What did he think I wanted to happen?
A heat wave of something a lot like rejection and embarrassment swept over me as I was hit with a sickening thought. I recalled the moment we’d had on the couch earlier, when it was very apparent Logan didn’t want things to go too far between us.
“Did Maxwell tell you my mom tried to trap him by getting pregnant?” It was what he had basically implied in one of the letters he’d written to my mom and that she’d returned to sender. She’d sent back every letter he’d written to her—I think it was her way of telling him his words meant nothing to her.
“Is that what you think I’m trying to do?” I couldn’t help but ask.
Logan rushed to my side. “Brooke, no. Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know. You’re acting weird.”
Exhaustion seemed to overcome him, and he fell into the chair by the bed and took my hand between his own, cradling it cautiously. It felt different. Not as affectionate as usual .
And it didn’t escape me that he refused to sit on the bed with me.
“I’m sorry. It’s just been a long night.”
“I’m sorry about that.” Maybe I should have just cried all night on the phone with Claire. I felt like coming to Logan’s house might have been a mistake. But all I’d been able to think after finding out about Maxwell was how much I needed Logan.
“It’s not your fault. That coward needed to know what he did to you, and he does.”
“What did he say?” I was almost afraid to ask.
“He just gave some lame excuse about his father running for governor when your mom told him about you. And he rambled about the guilt he’s carried all these years. It’s why he kept the letters and still listens to your mom’s music. It all sounded pathetic,” Logan spat. “Though I do think he’s ashamed about what he did. Especially since his wife and Lola are furious with him. I don’t envy his living situation right now,” he said, with a hint of satisfaction.
“Why didn’t he tell me who he was?” That’s what I really wanted to know. “Is it because he thinks I’m a loser?” I did my best to keep my emotions steady, but the sting in my eyes threatened tears.
“Brooke.” Logan raised my hands to his mouth and kissed them.
His warm lips sent a zing through me. I loved those zings, but I had this nagging feeling I wouldn’t be enjoying them for much longer. Judging by his standoffish behavior, it seemed like Logan didn’t love the idea of dating a CW girl or the fact that I’d come to emotionally rely on him. My heart told me he was more comfortable with big studio productions, with A-list actors and large budgets. The type of productions Erica would be in.
“Not that his opinion should matter, but he’s not ashamed of you. His poor decisions have nothing to do with you. He’s the loser.”
“So, I’m guessing there’s probably not a family reunion in my future. Not that I’m interested.”
Logan shrugged. “He didn’t say. I think he’s more focused on repairing things at home.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “Why try to fix things with me?” It wasn’t like I was his daughter or anything .
“Hey,” Logan said affectionately. “You don’t need him. Don’t let him in your beautiful head.”
“On paper, that sounds good.” But I couldn’t help but think that Maxwell didn’t find me worthy of an apology or to be in his life. It kind of does something to a girl—a daughter.
“I know. I wish I could make this better for you.” Logan squeezed my hands before gently placing them on my lap.
“You have. Thank you for letting me cry all over you and steal your bed and for trying to defend my honor. It was really sweet of you.”
Logan’s lips twitched, but the smile never came. “It’s my pleasure. You should get some rest.”
Was I reading too much into it, or was he trying to be done with the conversation? With me? Maybe this fling really had become too much for him. Or had something happened at the Harringtons’ he didn’t want to tell me about? All I knew was something had changed.
Before I could say anything, Logan turned off the lamp and settled back into the chair.
Unlike earlier, when he’d tucked me in and said he’d stay with me until I fell asleep, this felt weird, not romantic.
“You can have your bed. I’ll go home,” I offered.
“I don’t mind. Just rest.” Logan sank farther into the chair, making his point.
I was pretty sure that resting was now out of the question, but I shimmied down under the covers anyway. Mom used to say that everything looked worse in the dark. It was where our vulnerabilities liked to come out and play.
Maybe when the sun rose, the unsettled feeling in my heart would disappear, and Logan and I could go back to our summer of fun. But I had a feeling the fling had come to a crashing halt. Honestly, how could I have thought that things would go back to the way they were after such an intense revelation?
My entire life had just changed. It was a lot to take in.
Logan certainly hadn’t signed up for this plot twist or my more-than-fling-ish feelings. And I didn’t expect him to.
“Good night,” I whispered, peeking at him, wishing I knew what was going on in his head .
“Good night.” He stretched out his legs and propped them on the bed.
I halfway closed my eyes, like a child who was doing a poor job of convincing their parents they were falling asleep, but I hoped Logan was buying it. For a moment, it seemed as if he just planned to sleep, but then he reached for his wedding photo. Even in the dark, I could make out the anguish in his features as he stared at his wife. My heart wrenched for him, for me.
I couldn’t take any more hard truths for the night, so I shut my eyes tight, knowing that when the morning came, things wouldn’t be better. The light would just shine on my glaring reality—the summer as I knew it was over.
Eventually, exhaustion won, and I drifted off to sleep. It couldn’t have been long before I woke up to Logan sitting next to me, gently shaking me, dressed for the day in blue scrubs. I felt bad he had to go to work on such little sleep. His clean shower scent tickled my nose, and I thought to myself it would be a lovely smell to wake up to every day. That, and the stubble on his cheeks. I liked it when he didn’t shave. For a moment, I almost forgot what had transpired the night before, but that didn’t last long.
Logan brushed my hair back, his eyes filled with the same torture I’d witnessed in the early days of summer. It appeared to be stronger than ever.
“I’m sorry to wake you.” His voice was raspy and raw. “But I wanted to say goodbye before I headed to the hospital. And ...,” he paused, swallowing hard. “I’m heading to the airport straight after my shift.”
I knew, instinctively, where he was going, but I asked anyway. “Where are you headed?”
“Seattle,” he exhaled. “I uh ... well ... I just need to be there.”
I knew that Erica was buried there, but I imagined it was the ghost of her that was calling to Logan.
“Okay.” I sat up straight, not knowing what to say.
“I know we’d talked about going to Yosemite this weekend, but I have to do this.” His voice was so strained; he sounded like he was in physical pain.
“I understand,” I said as steady as possible, not wanting to make this any more awkward than it already was.
“I know this is bad timing, and I’m sorry, but it’s important.” He pleaded with me to understand.
I understood, even though it hurt. “You don’t need to explain yourself. Say hi to Erica for me,” I said lightheartedly, trying to hold it together. I refused to cry in front of him. We’d made no promises to each other.
Logan didn’t seem to know what to say. His expression was a mix of gratitude and guilt. Finally, with an uneasy smile, he said, “I’ll call you when I get back.”
I twisted the sheet in my hands, noting how he’d said he would call, not see me, and he hadn’t mentioned when he’d be back. It spoke volumes. Seeing the writing on the wall, I just nodded.
But then, without warning, Logan reached for me, his fingers tugging lightly on the hem of the worn T-shirt I wore—his shirt. Before I could react, he pulled me to him, his lips crashing onto mine, urgent and unspoken words pouring into the kiss.
One word, really—goodbye.
I felt it in the way his lips lingered, pressing against mine but refusing to part them.
Neither of us seemed willing to sever the connection. We stayed there, locked in a silent battle—each unwilling to surrender, yet knowing deep down that there would be no winners here. Only loss.
So, I let myself sink into him, absorbing every detail—from the warmth of his careful touch to the way his fingers pressed into my skin like they were memorizing me and the way he tasted like cinnamon, sweet and spicy.
I would never forget him or this summer. I would always think of it as a gift.
Logan pulled away as abruptly as he’d drawn me to him, the suddenness leaving me breathless. He jumped off the bed, his movements frantic and disoriented. “I better go. Goodbye,” he said, his voice clipped, like he couldn’t exit fast enough.
Before I could respond, he turned and bolted out the door .
“Goodbye,” I whispered to his retreating figure, the word trembling with all the emotion I’d been trying to hold back.
Last goodbyes were always the hardest, but this one cut deeper than I’d ever imagined.