Page 109 of The Way We Touch

He’s wearing a suit, as always. One hand is in his pocket. The other is on his stomach. Dylan stands immediately, but my hand tightens around hers.

“Wait.” It’s a quiet order.

“Oh, yeah,” Garret’s voice is mildly sarcastic. “Your dad’s here to see you.”

I look up at my friend, and he shrugs.

“If you wouldn’t mind.” My father’s eyes narrow. “I’d like to talk to Logan alone.”

Dylan leans closer, pressing her soft lips to my brow. “It’s okay. I’ll be right outside.”

Garrett follows her, and soon I’m in a room facing the death of my proudest season with the man who never believed in me in the first place.

Anger is hot in my blood, but I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right. I don’t want to come across as a sullen child.

“You had a good run this year.” My father’s eyes are on the monitor instead of me. “I’ve been very proud of you. I’m not sure I’ve ever told you that.”

“You haven’t.”

He nods. “Well, I’m telling you now.”

The words don’t give me the satisfaction I once thought they would. I don’t even care to acknowledge them.

“Did someone call you?”

His eyes finally meet mine, and impatience permeates his tone. “I don’t have to be called to be concerned about my son.”

I shift uncomfortably, wishing I wasn’t trapped in this bed. “That’s new.”

“Dammit, Logan. I saw you lying on that field not moving, and I worried you might not get up. I wanted to be here if you needed anything.”

“You could’ve saved yourself the trip. I don’t need anything.”

Not from him, at least.

“I’m glad.” Clearing his throat, he walks over to the rolling stand that holds my water cup. “I was thinking on the flight here, you might want to come home while you recover. You could work in the office. I’d always hoped you might take over for me one day.”

He attempts a smile, but I don’t know how else to make it clear I don’t want that.

“Thanks, but I’ll probably just stay here.”

“Who’ll look after you?” He glances at the door. “That little girl?”

“Her name is Dylan.” I level him with a glare.

“I saw the article about her, and I can’t say it portrays your relationship in a very flattering light.”

“Dylan is an amazing person. She’s strong, and she’s very special to me. That article was a disgusting work of fiction.”

He holds up both hands. “I was simply saying?—”

“Look, I appreciate you coming here, but I’m not going back to Houston. Once I speak to my doctor and my coaches, I’ll have a better idea of what I’ll be doing, but it won’t be that.”

Silence fills the room. It’s a heavy silence that presses on my temples, and makes me tired. I want the people I care about with me now, not this man who has only ever seen me as an asset or worse, nothing at all.

As if reading my mind, he turns his back, putting his hands on his hips. “We never had that kind of storybook, father-son relationship. I tried, but?—”

“No, you didn’t.” The words escape on a bitter laugh, and I regret them almost at once. Even if they’re true.

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