Bear shook his head. “We should get going. School tomorrow.”
The mention of school made Logan’s face darken again. The brief connection with X seemed to evaporate as he shoved his earbuds back in and turned away from the fence.
Fuck. He always said the wrong thing.
“Thanks for the offer, though,” he added, keeping his voice even. “Maybe another time.”
“Anytime.” X clapped him on the shoulder. “And seriously, bring the kid back. We’ll get him on a horse.”
four
The drive home was silent. Logan stared out the window, music leaking faintly from his earbuds. He tried twice to start a conversation—asked about Lazy Susan, mentioned X’s offer to teach him to ride—but Logan responded with shrugs and one-word answers.
By the time they pulled into the driveway, Bear’s jaw ached from clenching it. He killed the engine and sat for a moment, trying to find the right words.
“Thank you for giving the ranch a shot,” he said finally.
Logan didn’t look at him. “Whatever.”
Bear’s patience, already frayed after two weeks of this, snapped. “You know, I’m trying here. I know this isn’t easy, but?—”
“I’m not going to school tomorrow.”
“The hell you aren’t.”
“I said I’m not going.” Logan finally turned to face him. “I don’t know anyone. The year’s almost over. The teachers are all?—”
“Logan.” Bear cut him off. “You have to go to school.”
“Next year, I’ll be back at my old school, so what does it matter?”
The anger drained away, replaced with a hard knot that rose up his throat to choke him. Did Logan really think that? “You’re not going back to your old school. You’re staying here, with me. This is your home now.”
“I don’t have a home.” Logan’s face twisted. “Not anymore.”
“You have me.” The words sounded hollow even to Bear’s own ears. “You have this house. We’ll make it work.”
“Make it work? You don’t even know me. You haven’t seen me since I was three, and now you think we can just... be my dad?”
“I know this is hard?—”
“You don’t know anything,” Logan snapped and swiped at his eyes. “You don’t know what it’s like to have your whole life ripped away. To have to start over with nothing.”
He did know. Better than Logan could imagine. That was exactly what going to prison had been like. And then getting out after so many years was just as bad. Maybe worse.
Logan yanked the door handle and shoved it open. “You were gone for twelve years. Twelve years, and now you think you can just show up and tell me what to do?”
“Logan—”
“I’m not going to school tomorrow.” He slammed the door with enough force to make the truck rock, stormed up the porch steps, and into the house.
Bear sat for a moment, hands still on the wheel, listening to the tick of the cooling engine and the sound of his own heart beating in his ears.
He’d handled that badly. Had let his own frustration get the better of him and pushed too hard when he should’ve pulled back. He always pushed too hard—first with Amber, then with Logan, even with himself. It’s why he’d ended up in prison, why he’d lost his son, why the gap between them now seemed too wide to cross.
Goddammit.
Bear ran a hand over his beard. Twelve years of missed birthdays and graduations and the everyday moments that made up a life.
