“You guys have lives. It’s fine,” Logan insisted. “I wasn’t suggesting you didn’t care, just because you had other things to do.”
“This has been a rough year,” Reid said. “None of this has been easy on any of us, but we’re not going back to the way it was. I don’t intend to, at least. I can’t speak for Trys. Remember Em reading us the riot act because we hadn’t seen each other in years?” He smirked and glanced over at Trystan.
“Which lecture was that?” Trystan asked, eyeing Emma. “There’ve been so many, they all blend into one.”
“You’re about to hear another one,” Emma warned tartly. “And you”—she pinned Logan with a stare—“can expect a thorough interrogation about your intentions before I sign off.”
“I’ll pass.” He plucked one of the folded face cloths from where she left a stack on the counter and wet it. “I mean, I’ll pass the test.” He wrung it out and brought it to the high chair. “Is she done?”
“Yeah, she’s lost interest. Thanks.” Emma took the dirty dishes to the sink.
“Here it comes, kid.” Logan started with her hand.
Storm was already turning her face away, squawking her displeasure.
He got the job done as quickly and gently as he could, but she was still mad at him, reaching for Trystan as soon as her bib was off and the dirty tray removed.
“How long are you staying, Cloe?” Logan asked as he wiped down the tray. “Where are you staying?”
“I was so intent on getting here, I haven’t planned beyond this moment,” she said with an unsteady smile. “I’d like to stay a few days and see a little more of Storm while I work some things out, but I wasn’t able to find anything to book ahead. I was hoping one of you would know of something that isn’t too expensive?”
They all looked at each other. The decent thing would be to offer to let her stay here. She was Storm’s aunt, but Logan didn’t expect Reid to put her up in this house. They didn’t know yet how far they could trust her.
“She can stay aboard the Storm Ridge until I leave on Wednesday. It’s my day with Storm tomorrow anyway. We can spend the day with her.” He directed that at Cloe.
“Really?” Cloe lit up like a Christmas tree. “Thank you. I’d love that. Would it be possible to shower there before dinner? I’ve been traveling.”
“Use the shower here. I’ll show you.” Trystan rose to lead her downstairs, handing Storm to Reid on his way, saying, “She needs a change.”
“Of course she does.” He wrinkled his nose at whatever perfume was coming off the kid.
“So,” Emma said to Logan as footsteps traveled up and down the different sets of stairs. “Let’s talk about Sophie.”
“Look at the time.” He consulted his bare wrist. “I have to meet Biyen. I’ll see you at dinner.”
*
“Hey, Biyen.”
“Hi, Logan”—Biyen halted as his feet hit the wharf—“where’s Mom?”
Shit. It struck Logan that the last time he’d come to the wharf for Biyen, it had been because his grandfather had died.
“She’s totally fine,” he hurried to assure him. “She’s in the office. We’ll go see her in a sec. I wanted to talk to you about something, first. You got a minute?”
“It’s summer vacation. I have nothing but time.”
“Live it up, kid,” Logan said with amusement. “You want to ruin your dinner with an ice cream?”
“What’s for dinner?”
“I don’t know. Emma’s cooking.”
“I’ll risk it.”
What a nut.
Biyen started to run, but remembered he was still on the wharf and held himself to a walk until they were at the ramp, then he grabbed both sides of the rail and ran up fast enough to make his backpack woggle.