“Pretty small place,” Bear said, breaking the silence that had reigned since they’d left the house. “But that’s not always a bad thing. Better ratio of teachers to students, more one-on-one attention.”
Logan didn’t respond. Didn’t even acknowledge he’d heard.
Bear tried again. “Ms. Davis seems nice. She’s been there fifteen years, knows everyone in town. She’ll help you figure out which classes to take.”
Nothing. Not a flicker of interest, not a single nod.
Bear turned onto Maple Street but kept driving past their house toward Main Street. The last thing he wanted was to go back to that empty shell with its unpacked boxes and half-assembled furniture, the silence between them stretching from awkward to unbearable. He needed a plan, needed somewhere to go that wasn’t just more of the same.
Logan noticed. He pulled out one earbud. “Where are we going?”
Bear checked his watch. “You hungry? We could hit Nessie’s Place.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Of course he wasn’t. The kid had eaten three bites of toast that morning and nothing at lunch, despite Bear’s best efforts to find something at the grocery store that Logan would actually eat.
“You need to eat something,” Bear said, keeping his tone neutral.
Logan’s jaw tightened. “I’m fine.”
They had circled town and were passing the turn for Maple Street again. Bear kept driving and instead turned onto Ridge Road.
“This isn’t the way home,” Logan muttered.
“We’re making a stop first.”
“Where?”
“Valor Ridge.”
Logan’s head snapped around, eyes narrowed. “The prison ranch?”
“It’s not a prison. It’s a rehabilitation program for vets and?—”
“Ex-cons,” Logan finished for him. “I know what it is. Mom told me.”
The steering wheel creaked under Bear’s fingers, and he made a conscious effort to relax his grip. He didn’t want to think ill of the dead but…
Fucking Amber.
Of course she’d made sure their son knew exactly what his father was. Exactly why he’d been absent for twelve years of his life.
Even as the thought crossed his mind, he hated himself for it. He shouldn’t be cursing the dead.
“Valor Ridge is a place for people to rebuild their lives after they’ve hit bottom.”
Logan snorted. “Sounds like a prison with better PR.”
“Walker—the man who runs it—he’s a good man. He gave me a chance when no one else would.”
“Good for him.” Logan shoved his earbud back in and turned to stare out the window.
Hell.
This wasn’t about him. It wasn’t about Amber or the choices they’d both made. It was about the kid sitting in his passenger seat, lost and angry and scared.
It was about not making things worse.
