Chapter 4
Logan
Logan latched the frost-covered gate to the dog park behind him and unclipped Jasper’s leash.
In his new red fleece-lined booties, the dog raced across the empty park, creating a circular track in the freshly fallen snow.
They’d only been together these past few months, but Logan couldn’t recall a time when the pup seemed happier.
It gave him the smallest reassurance that picking Alaska for his Reserve assignment was the right decision.
He spotted a bench buried beneath two inches of snow, and brushed it clean with his gloved hands to sit.
For a few blissful moments, the utter stillness of the crisp winter night gave him a much-needed reprieve from reality.
The tree branches glistened with frost, and the sky was filled with so many stars it was breathtaking.
He scanned the dark dome overhead for a trace of the Aurora Borealis but came up empty.
Which was when reality came rushing back in with a gut punch.
Dylan had a daughter.
The little girl—Melly, the cashier at the gift shop had called her—was the spitting image of Dylan Webber.
She had his startling blue eyes, unlike her mother whose eyes reminded him of the tiger’s eye stone Mom gave him when he was accepted into West Point.
The little girl also had Dylan’s sharp nose and a dimple on her left cheek.
Seeing Melly had been like seeing a ghost.
Had Dylan known?
Jasper rushed up to him, skidding to a stop at his boots with snow erupting around them as he did. His red booties were barely visible through all the snow gripping them, but at least they were still secured on his feet. Logan didn’t much feel like searching for them in the vast snow-covered park.
“You want your ball?”
Jasper hopped on all fours, dancing around him as he held up the yellow tennis ball.
His first toss was pathetic at best. Jasper ran past the ball he expected to be thrown twice as far, stopping only when he realized it wasn’t where it should be.
“Sorry, bud,” he said quietly.
If Dylan knew about his daughter, he would have told Logan.
Right? For as much as he talked about Haylee, there was no way he would have abandoned her had he known she was pregnant.
A selfish part of him wished he’d read that letter before delivering it to Haylee.
He was willing to bet the answer was in those words.
Jasper finally found the ball and ran back to him, dropping it at his feet.
He bent to grab it, but the pup yanked it away and ran off with it. A red bootie went flying through the air.
One down.
He stood and trudged through the snow to retrieve it. Had he not spent an absurd amount of money on a Christmas tree they couldn’t keep, he might have splurged for a second pair. Just as he bent to pick it up, Jasper started barking.
He scanned the area, on the lookout for a moose. He’d been warned the beasts didn’t care for dogs.
Jasper kept barking, running toward the fence. He sounded more ferocious than he was, especially with his deep barks echoing in the still, windless night.
“Jasper—”
Another dog began barking, and he turned toward the newcomers.
Haylee gripped a leash with both hands as her pup pulled hard and barked right back in familiar excitement. Ultimately, she lost the battle, the leash slipped from her grip, and she fell back into the snow. Onto her bottom. Allie rushed to the fence to greet Jasper.
Tails wagged on both sides of the fence.
“Don’t worry, Allie. I got it,” Haylee called to her dog as she pushed to her feet.
“You okay?” Logan asked, stuffing the stray bootie into his pocket.
“That’s a loaded question,” Haylee answered, brushing snow off her leggings. “You mind if I let Allie in the park?”
“Jasper wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t.”
He opened the gate, catching Allie long enough to unclip her leash before she bolted after Jasper, and then held the gate for Haylee.
“Thanks,” she said, taking the leash from him. Even through their gloves, he felt a zing of warmth.
After the secret he uncovered today, it shouldn’t feel so easy and effortless between them. He should be furious with her for keeping something so important from Dylan. Because that was the only explanation that made sense.
And now, his buddy would never know his daughter.
He should be angry. But mostly, he was tired. Tired of the loss, the grief, the anguish. Anger, in the grand scheme of things, seemed like such a wasted emotion.
“I’m starting to think you’re bad luck,” Haylee said.
“Me? Why?”
“Every time I run into you outside, I end up bottom-first in a snowbank.”
He let out a soft chuckle. It was harder to be upset with her when he liked her as much as he did. But did he really know her? He only knew what Dylan had shared, and looking back, he suspected his friend’s view was slightly skewed.
“You come here often?” he asked, the silence suddenly uncomfortable.
“That sounds like a pickup line,” she teased, her laugh hinting at nervousness. She looked out at the dogs racing around the park, at the frosted fence, and at her snow-covered boots. She looked everywhere but at him.
“It’s not,” he shot back, instantly regretting his harsh tone when she flinched.
“It was a joke.”
“I know. I’m sorry—”
“I know you know,” she said, shoving her hands in her coat pockets and letting out a heavy exhale that clouded the air in front of her. “I know you know Melly is Dylan’s daughter. So, there’s no reason I’m going to pretend otherwise.”
That was . . . unexpected.
He didn’t know what to say, so he waited for her to continue instead.
“Dylan didn’t know, in case you’re wondering.”
“He would’ve told me.”
Haylee nodded.
“You don’t know me, and after finding out about Melly, you’re probably in no mood to do me any favors. But I’m going to ask one of you anyway.”
“What?” he asked, his question guarded.
“Please don’t say anything about Melly to anyone.
” The plea in her soft tone nearly broke him.
He recognized the desperation, the fear.
“No one knows about her father. And now that you do, and there’s this letter .
. .” She flicked her gaze to his, her amber eyes shiny with what he pegged as fear and unshed tears.
“I’m going to do the right thing. I promise I am.
But I’m a little overwhelmed and need some time—”
“Hey,” he said, gathering her into his arms without a second thought when the first tear made landfall down her cheek. It was an instinct more than a decision, but before he had time to decide if it was a mistake, Haylee clung to him—her face pressed against his leather jacket—and sobbed.
He should be outraged by her plea for more time when she’d already had a good number of years.
He shouldn’t be hugging her as she cried in this deserted park.
He definitely shouldn’t be noting the faint scent of vanilla that reminded him of freshly baked Christmas cookies, or the way she fit so perfectly against him.
He forced his attention to the dog. Both were oblivious to the situation as they raced around the park, making a hardpacked trail in the snow. Allie had stolen the tennis ball, and Jasper was chasing after her. It was clear who would be the boss in this dynamic.
“I’m sorry,” Haylee said against his shoulder. “I didn’t mean—”
“You don’t have to apologize. Not tonight.”
He should loosen his grip now that the worst of her sobs had quieted.
Instead, he cupped his hand around the back of her neck and drew her closer, catching another whiff of her Christmassy scent, as though this was how he always comforted her.
It didn’t make logical sense, and yet, he didn’t fight it. Not really.
“I can explain,” she said, her tone wobbly with emotion. “And I will explain.”
“Tomorrow,” he said, a silent agreement forming between them when she nodded against his shoulder. “You didn’t think I was letting you get out of lunch, did you?” he teased, hoping to lighten the mood.
Haylee made a noise that sounded like a laugh choked by a sob. “Just like that?”
“Just like what?”
“Don’t you think I’m an awful person?” Her question felt fragile, like a thin sheet of ice vulnerable to the lightest footstep.
“No, I don’t think that.”
“Why not?”
“A hunch.”
“That’s a very Dylan answer.”
She stiffened in his embrace as he felt his own shoulders tense. But the temporary reaction gave way to shared, soft, easy laughter because it was true. That was a very Dylan thing to say.
“You never told me where you wanted to meet for lunch.” She pressed her palm into his chest, pushing herself free from his hold. “Or when?”
He felt the absence of her warmth instantly, and for the first time since he clipped on Jasper’s leash to take him on a walk, he was chilled.
“You’re the local,” he said. “What would you recommend?”
“Willamina’s Big Dipper,” she said. “Definitely The Dipper.”
“The Dipper it is. What time would you like me to pick you up from the store? Laurel may have mentioned your work schedule to me.”
“She’s subtle, that one,” Haylee murmured.
She bit down on her bottom lip, her gaze cast out over the park.
She watched the dogs for a few beats before answering.
“You can pick me up if you want to,” she finally said.
“But I have to warn you, my sisters and best friend are mildly convinced this is a date, so I won’t be offended if you want me to meet you at the restaurant instead. ”
A warmth rushed him at the thought of taking Haylee Evans on a date. The sensation was immediately doused by the overwhelming amount of guilt that followed.
“That’s probably my fault,” Logan admitted.
“You mean because you asked me to lunch in front of one of my very nosy sisters? Yeah, definitely your fault.” She sniffled through her laugh, wiping away at the moisture on her reddening cheeks.
“You have more than one?”
“I have two,” she said. “And just be glad it wasn’t Sadie in the store yesterday. She’d be planning our wedding by now.”