Chapter 17
Logan
The job site was calm in a way that kept my shoulders tight.
I felt the faint pinch of the Kevlar at my collarbone and every ounce of tension in my shoulders felt heightened. It was easy to become hyper-aware of every sensation on jobs like this, where there were too many open sight lines, too many exits, and way too much time to think.
I leaned against the railing overlooking the lot, sun beating down on concrete and steel, while the radio clipped to my vest hummed with radio chatter.
I checked the time again. It was mid-afternoon so Harper would be out of school by now and probably at Cami and Hunter’s with Dani. That thought alone led to equal parts relief and irritation.
I told myself it was about Harper. At least that was the truth I stuck to as I stepped into the shade on break and pulled my phone out, thumb hovering for half a second before I hit call.
Hunter answered on the third ring. “Hey, Carter.”
“Tell me you’ve got eyes on my kid,” I said.
He snorted. “She’s right here, man. You’d think she lived at our place with how often she’s over.”
I could hear kids in the background: high-pitched laughter, something crashing, Cami’s voice calling out reminders about shoes and snacks.
“You alive over there, old man?” Hunter said, clearly grinning over his own humor.
“Watch it. I’m not that much older than you.”
“A couple of years counts when your knees sound like Rice Krispies,” he shot back, then shifted the phone. “So, you calling to check on your girl?”
My chest tightened at the phrasing, even though I knew what he meant. “I’m callin’ to check on my kid.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly unconvinced. “Well, you’re gonna have to be more specific. Which one?”
I scowled. “Don’t start with me.”
Hunter laughed, that familiar sound that had carried us through worse places than this.
“Relax. Harper’s good. She’s over here with Cami, Dani, and the kids,” Hunter went on. “They’re in the backyard. Chalk, bubbles, something involving a hose I explicitly said not to turn on.”
I could picture it without trying. Harper barefoot, laughing too loudly. Dani, with her hair down, pretending she wasn’t the center of the chaos while fully encouraging it.
I shifted my weight, fingers tapping against the railing as if the rhythm could distract me. “She good with her?”
Hunter didn’t tease me for that one. “Yeah. She’s great with her. But you know that already.”
That landed heavier than it should’ve, because he was right, and Hunter never backed down from calling me out on things I tried to ignore.
“She’s not some random,” he added. “and you wouldn’t have left Harper if you didn’t trust her.”
I had known that Cami and Dani had been close friends since high school. Dani wasn’t just around because she helped with Harper while I was gone. She’d always been around for Cami and her three kids. Birthday parties. Soccer games. Movie nights. The kids had known her their whole lives.
“I know that,” I muttered.
“Do you?”
I leaned my forearms against the railing, staring out at the city. In front of me, the skyline spilled out in a monotonous stretch; buildings stacked up like dominoes under the heavy sky.
“She’s helping out. That’s all.”
Hunter let out a deep laughter at that, “You keep telling yourself that.”
I straightened. “Don’t start with me today, Bennett.”
“What?” he said, too innocent. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“Okay,” he sighed. “I’ll say it straight. Dani’s been around a lot. Harper’s happy. Cami says she’s beaming. But you’re down there in Tampa calling me every night.”
“I know where this is going and the answer is no,” I shot back. “She’s too young.”
“She’s twenty-nine,” he quipped.
“Still too young.”
Hunter laughed outright now. “Dude, you’re thirty-nine, not sixty.”
“Hunter.”
“No, listen. You sound like you’re making a lot of excuses.”
“Excuses?”
“Yeah. Too young. Too complicated. Too busy. Too much history.” He paused. “You know who else sounded like that?”
I didn’t answer because I knew.
“Cami,” he said anyway. “Before I convinced her to give me a chance.”
“This isn’t the same,” I said, because it wasn’t.
Hunter was older, ready to settle down, when he met Cami and decided to date a single mom with three kids.
Dani was just starting to live life after law school.
“She’s got her whole life ahead of her. A career, freedom.
She doesn’t need to get tangled up with a widowed guy, a kid, and a schedule built around school pickup. ”
“Didn’t say a thing about settling down,” Hunter said. “Plus, from what I’ve seen. She’s enjoying being a part of it all.”
My throat suddenly felt dry, and the silence stretched between us, filled only by distant traffic and my own thoughts too loud, too sharp.
“I don’t date,” I said finally. “Haven’t. Not since…”
“I know.”
“She doesn’t deserve that,” I said. “Not someone half-in, half-closed off.”
Hunter didn’t interrupt this time.
“And Harper,” I added, voice rougher now. “I don’t get to screw that up. I don’t get to bring someone into her life and then take ‘em away again. Or risk her losing someone else.”
“Logan,” Hunter said carefully, “nobody’s saying you gotta promise forever.”
“Feels like I would,” I muttered.
I closed my eyes.
“She’s happy,” Hunter said again. “Your kid. That’s all that matters.”
Yeah, it did.
I stood there long after we hung up, phone still warm in my hand, staring out at the city like it might give me answers.
I told myself this was short-term; that Dani was just helping. That Harper was just enjoying having a new person around. That this weight I carried would ease once I was home and things went back to normal.
But before I could delve deeper into my thoughts, a coworker appeared from around the corner, breaking my internal monologue.
“Tough day?” he asked, glancing at the cityscape with a casual demeanor.
I shrugged, trying to mask the turmoil that had been whirling inside. “Just ready to get back home and get things back to normal,” I replied, forcing a lightness into my voice.
He nodded, giving me a knowing look. “I hear you. Still—sometimes change knocks some sense into a man.”
We shifted back to the job. The rest was left unsaid, hanging in the air like unfinished business.
???
Later that night, I sat on the edge of the hotel bed, boots kicked off, phone in my hand, while the air conditioner rattled on insistently.
The rest of the day had been long and tedious.
My head was full of procedures and perimeter plans and I could feel a dull ache in my temples, the tension coiling tight like a spring.
It had been a while since I’d done this type of work, and there was a heavy throb of loneliness that sat alongside the missing ease of remote work.
I pulled up Harper’s name first, hoping her iPad was charged, since it rarely was.
The phone rang for a moment before Harper’s face filled the screen.
Her hair was pulled into a messy half-pony, curls sticking out in every direction, cheeks flushed like she’d been running wild instead of winding down. There was a smear of chocolate near her mouth that she definitely hadn’t noticed.
“Hey, bug,” I said, my voice softening automatically. “Did you have a good day today?”
She grinned, missing-tooth smile bright and unapologetic. “YES.”
I squinted at the screen. “Why do you sound like you’re up to no good?”
“Dani let me have two scoops of ice cream,” she announced, holding up two fingers for emphasis.
I frowned. “That’s one too many.”
She leaned closer to the camera, eyes wide and serious. “I brushed my teeth super good.”
I let out a laugh, shaking my head. My chest tightened in an unfamiliar way, the ache of missing her mingling with the relief of seeing her happy.
“I’ll allow it,” I said after a beat. “You ready for school tomorrow?”
She nodded, curls bouncing. “Yes.” Then her smile faltered just a little, and she blinked as if warding off a yawn. “Will you be home after that?”
“Not yet, but soon.”
“You gotta call me before bed again, okay?” she asked. She always checked to make sure I would call, even though I’d never missed saying goodnight.
I swallowed back the guilt I was feeling. It was the distance, the time away, and the moments I feared I might miss—little growing-up moments I couldn’t be there for. “Of course I’ll call.”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” I said, firm.
She relaxed instantly, already shifting the phone as if someone off screen had caught her attention. “Okay. I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you more,” I said. “Be good for Dani.”
She scrunched her nose. “I always am.”
“Night, bug,” I said. “Sweet dreams.”
Just as the call ended, an alert popped up on my screen. It was a message from work, urgent enough to stir the tension back into my shoulders.
Then another alert dinged, this one from Dani.
Dani: For the record,
I negotiated the scoops.
of ice cream down from three.
Me: You’re spoiling her.
Dani: I prefer fostering
her independence.
There it was again, that easy confidence. Like she could lighten a room just by walking in.
Me: Thanks for watchin’ her.
The g slipped. I noticed it as soon as I hit send. I didn’t usually do that, especially with auto correct. But it seemed that with Dani, my usual no longer existed.
Dani: …did you just
text “watchin”?
Me: No.
Dani: Uh-huh. Is that the
famous Southern drawl
making an appearance even
in text messages?
I could hear the smile in her voice without hearing it at all.
Me: I don’t have a “drawl”.
Dani: You absolutely do.
Especially when you’re tired.
I shifted back against the headboard, phone warm in my hand.
Me: Downside of being raised
in Tennessee, I guess.
Dani: Tennessee…That explains
the boots and the cowboy
hat hanging up in the hall.
Me: That hat’s practical.
Dani: Sure it is, cowboy.
Cowboy.
I stared at it for a second, unsure of how to respond. Unsure of how to feel about the way that the nickname made me feel.
Me: You always go snooping
around people’s homes?