Chapter 6 #2
His question cut to a hidden part of her she didn’t easily expose. If he was trying to knock her off balance with his emotional maturity, he succeeded.
“Um…that’s a deep question.” She laughed and tried to think of a truthful answer. “That there’s someone out there for everyone—like a perfect soulmate.”
“You don’t believe in soulmates?”
“Not anymore. How about you?”
He shrugged. “Hard to say. I’ve never actually been in love, but I think it’s possible to meet someone who fits your personality so well they complement your soul and fill in all the missing pieces.”
“That’s really sweet. What’s something you stopped believing in?”
He took a deep breath and smiled softly, staring into the murky wine. “I used to think love was something you had to earn. Like, if you worked hard enough, stayed out of trouble, did everything right, eventually, the payoff would come.”
“What do you mean? Of course love begets love.”
“Not always. I think some people are incapable of deep emotion.”
She wondered if he was referring to romantic love or his father’s approval. “Maybe you’re trying to win the hearts of the wrong people.”
He shrugged. “People are too self-centered to care about love anymore. Nobody pays attention. Everyone cuts corners, and cheaters end up at the top.”
But Logan paid attention. He remembered the books they used to read and the flowers she no longer liked. He knew things about her that other men never could know, things that came from sharing a long history with someone. “Are you saying you don’t believe in love?”
“No, I believe in love, but love isn’t a paycheck. It’s not some reward for good behavior. It’s a choice. You either show up for someone or you don’t. You either pay attention, or you don’t.” He finally met her stare. “I pay attention, Wren. I see you.”
Her breath turned shallow, and she sank a little on her milk crate. “I know you do, Logan. And I’ve always loved you for it.”
“I’d make a good husband.”
Worry crowded her thinking. Although he’d not pushed the subject, she felt the pressure of the other day return. “Logan.”
“Take my dad out of it. I’m just talking right now.
It’s just us. You know I’ve always supported your vision for The Haven.
I love watching you follow your dreams. I have security and enough money that—if we were married—you’d be able to streamline your plans and get them finished in a fraction of the time—“
“Logan.”
“I’m just saying, even without Hawthorne Fishery, I have a lot to offer.”
“I know what you’re saying, and I want you to stop.”
“But it makes sense.”
“Logan, I can’t marry you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not in love with you.” She winced as her words came out harsher than anticipated. “And you’re not in love with me.”
“Love takes time. I know I could love you, Wren. And you could fall in love with me if you’d just be a little open-minded about it.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re putting too much pressure on me. This isn’t about your feelings for me. This is about your dad—“
“It’s not.”
“Logan, it is. You never would have even asked me out if he hadn’t changed his will and added that silly clause requiring one of you to marry someone in a rush.”
“I always expected to get married, Wren.”
“But now? With me? Come on. You’re with a different woman every other week. I’m not saying you won’t make a great husband someday, but you’re not ready to settle down right now.”
“You don’t know that.”
Despite the truth, he was taking great offense at her appraisal of the situation. “Don’t be mad at me.”
“You just called me a player with daddy issues.”
“You are a player. And you do, in fact, have issues with your father. But that’s okay. Anyone would in your situation. Magnus has never been easy.”
His jaw ticked, and he looked away. “We should go.”
“What about the next clue?”
His mouth formed a flat line. “This was a dumb idea.”
Unease tightened her shoulders. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. “Logan, you know I love you. I’d do almost anything for you and your brothers. But what you’re asking—“
“Forget it. I get it.” He twirled the stem of the wine glass and wouldn’t meet her eyes.
She hated leaving like this. The night had started so pleasantly, and now he was upset with her. “Do you want to take me home?”
“That’s probably best.”
She stood from the milk crate and pulled on her mittens, a lump of regret tightening her throat. He dumped the last of the cheap wine on the pavement, blew out the candle, and gathered up the blanket. He didn’t say a word as he stashed everything in the back of the truck.
They couldn’t leave things like this. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s cool.”
None of this was cool.
A gold-edged paper blew from the pallets through a hole in the chain link fence. That was her clue, and now it was gone. Game over.
She grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. “Look at me, Logan.”
When he did, it wasn’t with the eager inquisitiveness she was used to from him.
His eyes darkened, and there was an intensity about him that hadn’t been there before.
Or maybe it was, but she continued to see him through layers of memories, unable to wash away the recollections of the sweet young boy who was one of her best friends.
“Can I have a hug?”
He hesitated, but then he saw her regret and sighed. “Yeah.”
His arms closed around her and a sense of safety enveloped her. She rested her cheek on the cold wool of his coat.
“You aren’t allowed to get mad at me. Ever.”
His arms tightened. “I can’t stay mad at you anyway.”
She smiled and looked up at him. “One day, you’re going to make an amazing husband for a very lucky woman.”
He studied her, their faces only an inch apart, and his arms still hooked snugly around her back. When he leaned in, she drew back but could only go so far. “Logan—”
His hold tightened. “Just let me try something.” His lips pressed to hers, and her eyes went wide.
His kiss was soft and sensual, the slow kind that begged to go deeper. But she couldn’t go deeper with him.
Turning her cheek, she looked away. “I can’t.”
Neither of them moved for several long seconds as they died in the awkwardness and had to wait to be reborn.
His arms loosened, and she pulled away as soon as he unhooked his hands from her back. Wind whipped at her face, but she was too embarrassed to feel the cold.
“Just tell me one thing, Wren.”
She nodded, her voice having disappeared.
“Would it be any different with Soren or Grey?”
She thought back to the shed and the weight of Greyson’s mouth on her.
She recalled how her body responded to his touch, shivering at the memory of him pressing her into the wall.
Her cheeks burned when she remembered the way he’d forced her hand over the bulge in his pants.
No one had ever been so aggressive with her before.
Even now, her body clenched at the intense memory.
But Greyson didn’t want intensity. He regretted touching her at all.
“My relationship with each of you has always been different, but I love each of you equally.”
He glanced at her under a firm brow. “Now, who’s in denial?”
“Soren and I are just—”
“I’m talking about Greyson.”
She couldn’t argue that she and Grey had always had a complicated relationship, but that didn’t make them more than friends. “He doesn’t see me that way.”
He laughed without humor. “If you really believe that, you’re blind.”