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“I’m not putting any money in your account,” I clarify.
With his daughter safe in my home, Dunbar’s got nothing to hold over my head at the moment, and I know his basic needs are being met in jail.
“Why the fuck not? I know you’ve got the money, tightwad.”
“I’m not putting any money into your account,” I repeat, this time slower.
“You’re a such a fucking bitch. Why the hell are you like this to me?”
I glance over my shoulder and, unable to tell if Logan’s listening, lower my voice. “I’m not sure what you want, but I’m not giving you any more money right now. I paid your utility bills two weeks before you were arrested.”
“So, you can take my goddamn kid, but you can’t give me fifty measly dollars? Is that what I’m hearing?”
“I didn’t say anything about Rainey.”
“Fine, you bitch. Just wait,” he threatens and hangs up.
It’s not lost on me he didn’t ask about Rainey or ask to talk to her. I set the phone on the counter and drop my head, imploring my tears to stay inside until I’m alone.
A slightly spicy note with a hint of citrus commands my attention. “Everything okay?” Logan’s voice comes from behind. I twist around, surprised he’s so close, before busying myself by straightening items on the kitchen counter.
“Uh . . .” I’m unsure how much he heard. “Everything’s fine,” I lie.
“That conversation didn’t sound fine,” Logan says, moving closer behind me, and laying a hand on my shoulder. The intimate gesture startles me. I spin around to face him again and we’re mere inches apart.
“That was my brother.”
“I worked that much out. I’m guessing he’s not out of town on long-term business?”
I toe backward. “What are you talking about?”
“I thought you were keeping your niece because her dad’s away on business for a while.”
“He’s in jail.”
I stare over Logan’s shoulder at the paused episode on the TV screen. No one besides Izabeth knows about my rocky relationship with Dunbar. His timing is impeccable, as always. How would I even explain this? When I refocus on Logan, his eyes are locked on mine. I expect a look of pity, but it’s nowhere to be found. Instead—when I’m ready—I find concern waiting for me.
“Logan, you don’t have to . . .” I pause, unable to articulate the free pass I’m giving him.
“I don’t have to do anything,” he finishes my thought, “but as yourfriend,I’m here if you want to talk.”
My eyes settle on the dark pools beyond Logan’s glasses, which are tucked appropriately onto the bridge of his nose for once. The scent ofhim,slight enough it can’t be cologne,becomes more noticeable as he takes the tiniest step to close the gap between us.
“Does he always talk to you like that?”
My mouth goes dry as I restlessly pick at the dry skin on my bottom lip. Logan swallows hard with the knowledge this is my reality.
“It hasn’t always been this way,” I say.
Without warning, Logan cups my chin and gently tilts it upward, a soft request for my eyes to return to him. “It’s none of my business, and I didn’t hear all of your conversation, so tell me if I’m out of line. But I hope you know you don’t deserve to be spoken to like that.”
Logan doesn’t understand the depths of hurt and anguish he’s talking about. A spark of agitation flickers in my eyes and I stumble over my words. “It’s not that simple.”
“I can’t think of a time where anyone should be spoken to like that. His tone and the things he said to you were loud enough for me to hear them across the room.”
“I thought you didn’t hear all of my conversation?”
“I didn’t. Just the parts following his yelling.”
