Chapter 22
Logan
“She is perfect for you.” Carly sat on the porch swing and patted the seat next to her as Logan stepped out and closed the back door behind him. When he didn’t immediately respond, she grabbed his shoulders and shook them. “The woman is literally writing a book about you!”
The kids had been wiped out from their day in the sun and both had fallen asleep reading their new books. Carly had wanted to go outside so they could talk without waking the kids and listen to the sound of the waves.
Logan pinched the top of his nose. “What have I told you? I cannot get involved with Lucy Sullivan.” He took a drink from his water bottle. “Besides, she’d never see me like that. She thinks I’m a heartless bureaucrat here to destroy her town. Trust me, she does not want me to be Gatsby’s Ghost.”
“Nope.” His sister’s tone was matter-of-fact. “I saw the way she looked at you. That is not a woman who hates you.”
“Well, I don’t think she hates me anymore, but I’m definitely not her type.”
“And what do you think her type is?”
“The stable kind who stays in one place. Someone who loves this island as much as she does and who wants to raise a family here.”
“And you could never be that guy?” Carly raised an eyebrow, the lights from the house combining with the light of the full moon to bathe the back deck in a pale glow. “I saw the way you looked at that house today. Almost the same way you looked at her.”
Logan sighed. “You know how I feel about being stagnant. I don’t want to become the kind of person who gets set in my ways and resists change.”
Carly raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you already that guy? You’re stuck in a never-ending cycle of your own, and you’re refusing to believe change for you could be good.”
He’d never thought about it like that before. Just because he moved a lot didn’t mean he wasn’t set in his ways.
What would it be like to live somewhere like Heron Isle, restore an old house, settle down and start a family? Growing up, he’d sworn he’d never live in a small town again, but thirty-six-year-old Logan knew a lot that eighteen-year-old Logan had not. He’d thought the endless excitement of seeing new places, eating different things, and taking on new challenges would be all he’d ever need. But being here on Heron Isle had highlighted the importance of having people in his life he could count on and who really knew him. It was something he hadn’t realized was missing until he came here.
He let himself lean into the swing as he used his feet to begin rocking it back and forth. He’d always planned to advise the town to hire someone to manage the city-owned real estate and businesses on the waterfront. The last manager had retired and never been replaced because they’d been waiting to see what sort of person they’d need to manage whatever project got through the town council. Logan was overqualified for the job, and they certainly couldn’t afford to pay him what he could make in Boston. He’d made smart investments, though, and he’d learned money was pretty useless if he didn’t have time or people to spend it on.
“You have to write her back.” Carly broke the silence. “Whether you decide to tell her it’s you or not, you can’t just leave her hanging like that. She’s too sweet. She doesn’t deserve it.”
She was right. Lucy had experienced enough pain in her life. He couldn’t be the source of more, at least not when it came to their pen-pal relationship. It was bad enough they might not ultimately agree on what happened with the waterfront.
“Yeah, I know.” He grabbed his water bottle. “I think I’m going to need something stronger.”
Logan went inside and poured a scotch for himself and a glass of wine for Carly, carried them outside, then went back in to grab a pad and pen. He sat at the small glass-top table on the deck and took a sip of his drink, the amber liquid burning its way down his throat.
“Okay, so what do I say?”
Carly got up from the swing and walked over to sit across from him. Folding a leg underneath her, she leaned her forearms on the table.
“Tell her you got unexpectedly called out of town and feel terrible you left her sitting there alone. And you need an excuse for why you’re not immediately setting up another time to meet. Tell her your schedule is up in the air at the moment, but that you got a new book for her while you were out of town and can’t wait to hear what she thinks.”
Furrowing his brows, he met his sister’s eyes. “And what is this exciting new book?”
Her lips pursed as she thought, and then she bolted upright in her chair. “I know just the one! We read it in my book club earlier this year. She hates change, right? Definitely not one to take a risk? Time to change that.”
She took her phone from her back pocket and punched some things in before handing it to him. “Here, put in your address. It’ll be here Monday.” When he gave her a skeptical look, she said, “I know, I know. We should be supporting indie bookstores and not online megastores, but just this once, the fast shipping wins out.”
It wasn’t where they were buying the book that had him questioning her, but the whole plan. Carly wanted him to commit to continuing the letters with Lucy. Was that really the right thing to do, or should he just tell her he had to leave town and end it now before it got any more complicated?
He picked up his scotch with his free hand and swirled it, the two ice cubes inside clinking against the glass.
“What? Why aren’t you writing?”
“I just don’t know if I should keep this up. Maybe I should just tell her it’s time for me to leave town and that I enjoyed it while it lasted.”
Carly gave him the look she always gave when she was getting ready to dole out sisterly advice. As if she could see everything clearly and didn’t understand why he didn’t, but she was going to walk him through step-by-step.
“Tell me this. What do you miss the most about St. Louis?”
His forehead wrinkled as he frowned. “St. Louis? Why?”
“Just answer the question.” She rolled her hand in the air, indicating he should get on with it.
He shrugged one shoulder. “The baseball games, I guess. My apartment was right down the street, and the city always had extra tickets.”
“And Phoenix?”
“The golf. I hear they’ve got some good courses here, too, but you’d have to play at dawn to keep from dying of heat stroke this time of year.”
“What about San Diego? Can you think of anything good there?”
Despite the black mark it had left on his resume, he’d still liked the city. “Sure, the weather was always perfect, and nowhere does fish tacos like San Diego.”
His sister leaned forward, her eyes locked on his. “And what about Heron Isle? What will you miss the most when you leave here?” She raised an eyebrow.
He didn’t have to answer. She’d asked because she already knew. Lucy.
“All the cities over all the years, and how often do you ever think of a single person you met anywhere?” She paused, and when he didn’t answer after a few seconds, she said, “There’s your answer.” Carly relaxed back into her chair and sipped her wine with the expression of a prosecutor who’d just delivered the smoking gun in front of the jury.
Like a man on death row with nothing to lose, Logan lifted the pen and began to write the letter to Island Girl.