Page 64 of Betrayed

“Forgiven me? For what? You’re the one who—”

“For being a crappy husband. News flash, Logan, I was grieving too. I know I was an awful wife. I didn’t know how to help you through your grief because you wouldn’t talk to me. I needed you to be there occasionally, not burying your face in a stupid glass of whiskey. I needed a hug, Logan, a hug.”

He took a step back. “I couldn’t. Every time I looked at you all I could see was Bree.”

“Same. Every time I looked in your eyes it was hers staring back at me. But I was willing to face that. I needed to face it. And so did you.”

“She’s gone. And then so were you.”

“Only because you kicked me out and refused to work through any of it. The affair was long over, yet you couldn’t even look at me. Still all you do is look at me and think about that one act of indiscretion. I love you, Logan, not him. I was wrong. And I’ve owned up to it. Please, I beg you to forgive me. Let it go. See Bree in me again.”

He spun around and hopped back on his bike.

“Logan, please don’t leave.”

He started the motorcycle and peeled away.

AJ collapsed to the ground. What had just happened?

Logan sped the whole way home and whipped into his driveway, barely stopping soon enough in the carport not to hit the planters stacked in the back.

He kicked a random stone, then the stupid trash can, which was still a decent distance from the house. The bin was empty after this morning’s pickup and fell over.

A car drove by. “You all right, Logan?”

Miles. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Not in the mood, Miles. I’ll talk to you later.” Logan went straight for the front door and didn’t look back. AJ’s words were swimming in his head, and Miles wouldn’t understand the faith aspects he was wrestling with. If he wanted to talk, he needed to go to someone like Will or Caleb. Miles was a decent friend, but drinking was too tempting as it was.

He closed the door, locked it, then leaned back against it, sinking to the floor.

“Why, God? Why did you let all this happen? If it wasn’t to punish us, then why? I don’t get it. I know I’m not going to, but I want to. No, I want my little girl back. She’d practically be a young lady by now. But she’s not.”

Bree was gone.

AJ was gone.

“And AJ. I can’t get out of my head that that filthy excuse for a man put his hands on her, and she let him. How can I get over that?”

He shoved himself off the ground, snatched a pillow from the couch, and chucked it at the floor. He had so much pent-up energy. He wasn’t sure if he was more mad at AJ, God, or himself.

Crappy husband.

Had he actually driven her into Daryl’s arms? He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees, sick to his stomach. He’d closed off to her so much. He’d been so afraid she blamed him for Bree’s death that he couldn’t look her in the face.

He felt so guilty that he couldn’t hold her, couldn’t think straight, couldn’t do anything but put one foot ahead. And at times that had felt like too much.

“God, is AJ right? Does my guilt not lie in letting my daughter drown, but in being a lousy husband, a selfish jerk?”

He righted himself and plodded to the kitchen.

The bottle of whiskey still sat on the kitchen table. He wanted to down the entire thing. Too bad it was already half gone.

Logan snatched a glass from the drain board and set it next to the bottle.

Rubbing his face, he yanked out a chair and plopped down.