Page 27 of Sin Bin

“Hmm,” he murmured, stroking his bearded chin. “Sometimes.”

She shifted on the couch, turning to face him. “When you grow up without your biological parents, familial connections take on even more importance. It’s like…you want to establish your identity, but it’s hard because a big part of your identity is tied to the people who brought you into the world.” She bit her lip, toying with the straw in her drink. “Sometimes I feel like I’m losing pieces of myself. Pieces of my past. The older I get, the less I remember my parents. And it scares me.”

Logan was silent, those hooded eyes watching her so intently she felt seared to her soul.

“Do you ever feel like that?” she whispered.

“Actually,” he said quietly, “I remember my mother more than I want to. I was so young when she left, yet every memory of her is indelibly imprinted on my mind. And, yes, that scares the hell out of me.”

Meadow held his gaze as an odd tightness gripped her throat, leaving her slightly breathless. She’d never felt more connected to another human being. It was both terrifying and comforting.

She lowered her eyes to take a long sip of her drink. “Did she tell you anything about your father? His name? Where he was from?”

Logan’s hand clenched on his thigh. She glanced up at him, seeing the hardness in his eyes before he looked away. “She didn’t talk about him much,” he said brusquely. “She told me his name was Lucien Brassard and he was from Ontario—”

“Really? Your father was Canadian?”

Logan nodded curtly, staring down at the fire pit. “I was born in Toronto. That’s where my mother was going to school when she met my father. After she gave birth to me, she tried to get in touch with him one more time. She was hoping he’d take one look at me and do the right thing.” His lips twisted bitterly. “The son of a bitch wanted nothing to do with us. So she dropped out of school, went back home and got a job.”

Meadow’s heart swelled with compassion as she pictured his young mother, discarded and left to fend for herself. She could only imagine how scared and desperate she must have felt. So desperate that she would abandon her own child five years later.

“You said she didn’t have any family around,” Meadow recalled.

“She didn’t. Her parents were divorced and she was estranged from her alcoholic father. Her mother had gone back to Argentina—”

“Argentina?” Meadow interrupted in surprise. “Your maternal grandmother was from Argentina?”

Logan nodded, glancing up from the leaping flames to meet her gaze. “My mom was half American and half Argentinian.”

“Oh wow,” Meadow said with a fascinated smile. “So you’re a quarter Argentinian.”

“Sí,” he murmured.

“How interesting.” Her smile turned teasing. “Most Argentines are of European descent. So you’re mostly still a white boy.”

He laughed. The sound warmed her insides and lightened the serious mood between them.

She finished her drink and set the empty glass down, then settled back against the couch and grinned at Logan. “You know what we should do?”

“No.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a husky register. “What should we do, Meadow?”

She fought back a shiver at his use of her given name. She was pretty sure it was the first time he’d ever called her directly by it. It did crazy things to her pulse.

“Well?” he prompted, waiting for her answer. “What should we do?”

She licked her lips. “We should get DNA tests through one of those ancestry companies.”

“Yeah? You want to?”

“I do. I think it would be really cool to learn more about our ethnic origins. I’ve always wanted to trace my African roots, and I’d love to explore your Argentinian heritage.”

Logan gave her a lazy smile. “I’m game. When do you wanna do it?”

She made a face. “It’ll have to wait a while. My budget’s kinda tight right now, so I can’t afford any extra expenses. If I get the job at Gamenetic—”

“I can pay for your DNA test.”

“No way,” she said swiftly. “I can pay for my own.”

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