Chapter 9
Haylee
The unread letter from Dylan burned a hole in the bottom of Haylee’s very full purse.
The one tucked between her feet on the floor of Logan’s truck.
She had every intention of reading it last night, to prepare herself to meet Dylan’s parents.
Maybe there’d be something helpful in his words that aided in dropping a bomb on Jim and Marianne Webber.
Yet, fear held her back.
Or maybe it was the tiniest shred of spite.
Why should she read his letter when he clearly never read hers?
She didn’t have the option to stamp the envelope with a return to sender message.
And leaving it with Logan only put him in the middle of this mess more than he already was.
He’d been kind, understanding, and not quick to pass judgment when he had every right to.
There was also the slightest possibility she was holding back reading Dylan’s letter because once she did, Logan would leave.
“It’s going to be okay,” Logan said, for what had to be the tenth time since they set out that morning.
“I hope so.” It was her go-to response, because what else could she say? Whatever reaction Dylan’s parents had to the news was out of her control, but it didn’t stop the dread from twisting knots in her stomach.
“It will. They’re understanding.”
“You’ve met them?”
“I went to see them after Dylan passed, of course. But initially, I met them while Dylan and I were at West Point. They visited a few times. They also invited me to spend Christmas with them a couple of years ago, in Hawaii.”
“Wow, you must be close with them to earn a trip to Hawaii.” Haylee didn’t mean to sound bitter, but she’d never been extended an invitation to take a holiday trip in Hawaii with the Webbers, despite dating Dylan for almost a year. In fact, she was blatantly left out.
“Close like distant family,” Logan said, shifting his hands on the steering wheel as the first signs of Anchorage appeared through the mountains.
“Dylan’s the one who made sure I came with them that year.
My grandparents were spending the holidays in New Hampshire with old friends. I had nowhere else to go.”
“Sometimes I forget your family’s so small.”
“I wish my family was as big as yours. I’ve always wanted that.”
“You have?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
She sensed there was more to this story, but Logan had gone quiet. She didn’t want to press twice in one conversation, so she returned the topic back to the Webbers.
“I don’t think Dylan’s parents ever really liked me,” she admitted, fidgeting with the phone in her hands. The screen was off, but she kept checking it for notifications. As though some miracle email or text message might save her from this sure-to-be-awkward lunch. “Do they know I’m coming?”
“I mentioned I was bringing a friend.”
“So, they don’t know it’s me?”
Low-level panic crept through her, her pulse picking up speed. She wished she were driving so she could turn this truck around and head back to the safety of her hometown. Life made sense there. Or, it had until Logan showed up on her doorstep.
“It’ll be okay, Haylee.” Logan reached his hand across the center console, gripping hers and squeezing. “I promise.”
Her pulse skipped, but this time, it was from Logan’s fingers intertwining with her own.
The same fingers that cupped her cheek last night in the doorway of her old room.
She could practically feel the graze of his thumb along her soft skin.
She was certain he was going to kiss her, which made the forehead kiss all the more confusing.
What did it mean?
“You can’t promise that, Logan,” she said, pushing away the memory of last night. There would be time to unravel that mystery after lunch. “You don’t know it’ll be okay. They could hate me. They could sue for custody—”
“That won’t happen,” Logan said, his protective tone firm enough to instantly soothe her anxiety, like a cooling balm giving immediate relief to a nasty burn.
“You never told me about your dad,” she said, not knowing why she brought it up other than desperately wanting a change in conversation before the last few minutes of peace as she knew it were shattered.
He pulled his fingers free from hers and returned both hands to the steering wheel. Maybe it was the question, or maybe it was because they were turning off the main highway.
“There’s not much to tell.”
“Oh,” said Haylee, glancing out the window. It was the question.
She expected to feel hurt at his holding back, but her emotions were fried. They were blocks away from what Haylee assumed would be the most awkward lunch of her life. She didn’t think the Webbers would be as compassionate about the news as her own parents had been.
When she told Mom and Dad the truth yesterday, they looked .
. . relieved. Sure, they were confused about why Haylee kept it a secret all this time.
They didn’t quite understand that part, and pressed a little more than was comfortable.
But the whole ordeal ended with hugs of understanding and promises of unconditional love.
Overall, they were relieved that Melly would have answers.
Her brothers seemed to mirror the same sentiments.
Marc expressed relief that he wouldn’t have to hunt anyone down to answer for their actions, which only made Haylee—and everyone else, to include his wife Taylor—roll their eyes.
Their reaction was a kindness she didn’t deserve.
She didn’t expect Dylan’s parents to be so understanding. Not when they’d missed out on the first six years of Melly’s life.
“I don’t like to talk about my dad,” Logan said, likely mistaking her silence for offense. “It’s a sore subject.”
“It’s okay.” Haylee looked back at him, but he was focused on the road. According to the GPS screen, the restaurant was less than five minutes away. Her stomach knotted tighter. “I’m sorry I asked.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” he said. “You can ask me anything you want. That’s just one question I won’t answer. Not right now.”
“Trust me, if anyone gets not wanting to talk about something, it’s me,” she said, focusing once again on the city surroundings.
Unlike tiny Sunset Ridge tucked away in its own little corner of Alaska, Anchorage was a bustling metropolis that never slept.
They didn’t even have a stoplight in her hometown.
Something Dylan used to poke fun at when they were dating.
Back then, she joined him in laughing at the notable differences.
It was easy to do as she spent her high school years wishing to be anywhere else than her dinky hometown, where everyone thought they knew everyone’s business.
But deep down, she never hated it.
Not really.
It’s why she insisted Dylan come to Sunset Ridge to meet her family instead of them traveling to Anchorage. She wanted him to experience the place she came from—the place that molded her.
All these years later, those things she once poked fun at were the things she loved most about small-town life. No stoplights. No traffic jams—unless you counted Ed blocking an intersection. Everyone knowing you meant you were never alone. If someone needed support, the entire town showed up.
The Haylee who once hoped to travel the world could no longer imagine living anywhere other than her hometown.
“Dylan was supposed to meet my family,” she said to Logan. “At the Christmas carnival. Did he tell you that?”
“No,” he said, slowing for a stoplight.
“I went to pick him up, and his bags were packed, but not for a weekend in Sunset Ridge. He and his parents were going to spend Christmas in Hawaii, and I wasn’t invited.
That’s when he told me he wanted to break up so he could focus on his military career—he just found out he got accepted into West Point.
I guess it was a big deal to get an acceptance letter in December.
He called it an early offer or something like that.
They were taking him on a vacation to celebrate the accomplishment. ”
“No wonder you’re sore about Hawaii,” Logan mumbled under his breath.
“I knew he was on the fence about our future,” she admitted.
“But I thought I had time to make him feel as certain about it as I was. He wasn’t due to report to West Point until the following fall semester.
But it didn’t matter. His mind was made up.
He was very clear about wanting to focus on his military career. ”
She took a deep breath to ward off the tears doing their best to form in the corners of her eyes. She hadn’t thought about this in years.
“He told me, in no uncertain terms, that he didn’t want kids. Not just in the immediate future, but ever. That’s why I didn’t tell him.”
“That does sound like Dylan,” Logan admitted, pulling into the semi-full parking lot of a restaurant called The Fly By. A bush plane flew overhead, landing on the frozen pond nearby.
She’d been here before, with Dylan’s family when they were dating.
They sat on the patio during that summer dinner.
One where they were celebrating Dylan for some accomplishment or another—he was always achieving something.
The high-end restaurants always made her feel as though she didn’t belong. Like she was out of her depth.
It shouldn’t surprise her that the Webbers picked this place today. They were celebrating seeing Logan, after all. They had no idea Haylee was about to completely blow up their world.
They had no idea they were going to see her at all.
“You ready?” Logan asked, hovering his hand near the push-to-start button but not cutting the ignition yet.
“I’ll never be ready for this,” she said on a pitiful laugh, her gaze snagging on Jim and Marianne Webber headed for the front door.
Marianne wore her signature full-length Burberry trench coat, this one navy blue.
It made Haylee second guess her choice of a dark red sweater and leggings—even if they were her dressy pair.
“I get that.”