Chapter Twenty-Eight
LOGAN
Logan stood on the lawn beside Abby, watching their world detonate like a missile hitting its target. To think, not too long ago, they’d stood in that exact spot welcoming Max home. And now, he’d be leaving them again for who knew how long. Maybe forever.
Logan’s jaw clamped tighter. You can get through this .
Max chatted cheerily as Sam loaded Ron’s enclosure into the back seat of the run-down Camry. Strangely, Max had been in a chipper mood all day, completely unfazed by his impending departure. Not that Logan wanted the poor kid to be broken up about it, but he’d expected some show of emotion.
With all his belongings loaded in the car, Max skipped over to where Logan and Abby waited to say goodbye. “Thanks for the party! That was fun.”
“Glad you enjoyed it.” Abby smiled, but Logan knew she was dying inside. The woman deserved a medal.
Logan reached behind him for the Top Gun teddy bear he’d tucked into the waistband of his jeans.
The scuffed leather jacket and aviator sunglasses had seen better days, but the gift from his grandmother had held up shockingly well over the years.
“Here.” He offered Max the stuffed animal. “Maverick wants to go with you.”
“Really?” Max’s eyes widened with delight. He’d slept with the bear every night since he’d arrived—when Logan lent it to him for comfort—despite needing the occasional reassurance that eight wasn’t too old for stuffed animals.
Max had respectfully left the toy sitting on the bed when he’d packed up his belongings, and Logan had been surprised by how sharply the sight of the lone bear had affected him. “Yeah,” he said, burying the mental image. “Mav told me he likes that you don’t snore.”
Max grinned and grabbed the doll, hugging it to his chest. “I’ll take good care of him.”
“I know you will.” A lump formed in Logan’s throat, but he choked it down. Dropping to one knee, he pulled Max into his arms, holding him close, committing every sensory detail to memory, from his distinct scent to the dimensions of his small hand splayed against his back.
He’d always heard having a child changed a person, whether they were prepared for the transformation or not.
Over the last several months, he’d experienced that truth firsthand.
Max’s love—the pure, unconditional, unconstrained depths of it—had made him a better man in more ways than he could count.
He’d do anything for Max, even give his own life—a sacrifice that, at that moment, seemed preferable to the piercing pain of goodbye tearing through him.
When Max started to squirm, he realized he’d reached the maximum time allotted for a reasonable hug. Closing his eyes, he whispered a barely audible “I love you, Max” before letting him go.
Max said goodbye to Abby next, fitting effortlessly in her arms.
She gently cupped the back of his head with her hand, cradling him against her heart. “You will always, always have a place here,” she murmured in a surprisingly steady voice. How had she managed to keep it together this long?
“I know,” Max said brightly, as if he didn’t quite understand their mushy display of emotion.
Sitting back on her heels, Abby reached for his hands, holding his gaze. For the first time that day—that Logan had noticed—she let the tears well in her eyes. “I love you, Max Bailey. Always and forever. I want you to know that.”
Max cocked his head, his expression quizzical. “Why do you look so sad? I’ll be back soon. Right after our trip. Right, Dad?”
Max glanced at his dad, who waited by the car.
Sam stared at the ground, his sunken cheeks flushed with guilt. You’ve got to be kidding . Logan’s fists instinctively coiled. All this time, he’d kept Max in the dark?
Sam must have felt his glare boring into him, because he slowly lifted his gaze. The glint of contrition in his eyes confirmed his suspicion.
“You didn’t tell him?” Logan growled.
“Tell me what?” Max asked, all innocence.
Logan fixed Sam with a look that said, Either you tell him or I will , despite a nagging feeling he’d be crossing a line. Even if Max deserved to know the truth before they took off, perhaps for the last time, it wasn’t his place to interfere.
Wasn’t his place…
No matter how hard he tried, Logan couldn’t wrap his head around the new chain of command.
His whole world had shifted around Max—around having a son.
He’d finally settled into the role of fatherhood—relished it, even—only to have it snatched away in an instant.
Only to be told to step aside, that he was no longer needed.
Although Sam deserved to take his rightful position as Max’s father, Logan couldn’t suppress the internal war raging inside his heart.
“Max.” Sam’s voice shook. He cleared his throat. “Can you come here for a sec?”
Max shot a puzzled glance at Abby before shuffling over to the car. He stared up at his father with such open, unbridled trust, Logan found himself praying Sam had the right words to smooth all this over. The last thing he wanted was to see Max hurt.
“Max,” Sam repeated, stealing more time to compose himself. “I don’t know when—or if —we’ll be back.”
“What do you mean? We live here.”
The confusion on Max’s face clawed at Logan’s heart. He wanted to step in, to intervene in some way, but knew he’d only make things worse.
A similar instinct must have gripped Abby because she slipped her hand into his and squeezed hard.
“I live in Redton now,” Sam reminded him. “I have a job, a life there. I need some time to sort a few things out, then we’ll start over somewhere new. Together.”
“But—but I like it here,” Max said in a soft, small voice.
“I know. And I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’ve been happy here.
But—” Sam hesitated, as if searching for words that eluded him.
He gathered a breath, and his shoulders sagged with the weight of his exhale.
“It’s complicated, Max. I wish I could explain it all in a way that made sense to you.
For now, I’m just asking you to trust me.
As long as we’re together, it’ll all work out. Okay?”
The five-second pause that followed felt like forever.
Abby’s nails dug into the back of his hand, but Logan didn’t flinch, too anxious to register the sensation.
Sam’s a good dad . He loves Max. It’ll be fine.
Although Logan knew the words to be true on a mental level, they did little to dull the ache in his rib cage.
Finally, Max nodded slowly.
“Great.” Sam flashed a smile that didn’t mask the uncertainty in his eyes. He opened the passenger door. “Ready to start our adventure?”
Max glanced over his shoulder to where they stood.
Logan clasped Abby’s hand tighter, hoping to steady her trembling fingers. The vibration of her heartbreak traveled up his arm with the sharpness of a knife’s edge.
“Come on, bud.” Sam took the teddy bear from Max’s hand and tossed it on the passenger seat, gesturing for Max to follow.
The grooves on Sam’s forehead deepened, as if he struggled against his own internal angst. Did he have doubts about his decision?
Did he realize the damage he may inflict on his son if he went through with his half-cocked plan?
Logan’s chest compressed as if he were back in the cockpit of an F-16, the pressure building rapidly with a sudden altitude change.
Take it easy, man. You’re out of line. Max isn’t your kid.
The mental reminder stung like a fresh wound.
True or not, the facts didn’t dampen the visceral reaction clawing at his stomach—the gut-level knowledge that Max claimed a permanent place in his heart, and he’d do anything to protect him.
Logan fought the urge to cry out, to say something to stop the wheels in motion. Nothing about the situation felt right. But what could he do? What recourse did he have?
Looking back one last time, Max hesitated. A flicker of indecision flashed in his eyes, then a spark of resolve. With all the speed his scrawny legs could manage, he sprinted back across the lawn, launching himself into Abby’s arms.
He didn’t speak or whimper or shed a tear; he simply clung to her with all his strength. The way Max’s small fist fiercely gripped the back of Abby’s shirt broke Logan in a way he didn’t think could ever be fixed.
“Max,” Sam said gently, tapping his son on the shoulder. “Time to go.”
Max slowly slid his arms from around Abby’s neck. His gaze darted from Abby to Logan, then back to his dad, as if he didn’t know what to do.
Sam took his hand, and together, they walked toward the car.
Max climbed inside.
The door shut with a resounding slam .
As the car pulled away from the curb, Logan’s gaze followed Max’s outline through the rear window, tracing his silhouette.
Abby leaned into him, and he drew her to his side.
Neither of them cried.
They merely stood in the silence of their shared suffering.
It was the silence that scared him the most.
Tears he could handle. Tears could heal.
But silent grief swept over a person like a noxious gas, promising to numb the pain while it quietly stole their life away.