Page 67 of Seven of Hearts

Logan waited by the door while I wiggled into a pair of thick socks and shoved my swollen ankles into my duck boots.

“Don’t fret about poker night,” Logan said as he took my hand and led me down the stairs. “You know most everyone there anyway. And Zoey makes bank babysitting all the kids, so you’re off the clock.”

I was still in the second trimester, but I had started taking stairs more slowly. It seemed like my whole life was slowing down.

Part of me enjoyed it. The other part was a little scared by it.

“I don’t even know how to play poker. I kind of know the rules of blackjack, but I’ve only played it once. Kylie and I went to Las Vegas for her bachelorette and walked through the casinos, but we were too chicken to actually gamble.”

Logan chuckled. “Don’t worry. We never actually play poker on poker night. It’s just everyone hanging out.”

The drive over to Davis Bay wasn’t nearly as long as I wanted it to be. I didn’t really feel like socializing, but if it was important to Logan, it was important to me.

Logan kept his hand in mine as we parked in Kristin’s driveway to avoid the pile-up of cars next door.

“I feel like I just left work and now I’m back. And then I’ll be back in less than twelve hours,” I joked. “I actually might need you to check on me this week. Chances are, you’ll find me asleep on the couch.”

He chuckled, but it wasn’t a full-bellied laugh. It was a little sad. “I’ll make sure you’re awake through the week. But I’m—uh—I’m not gonna be around on Saturday until after supper. It’ll probably be late, so I might just stay at Kristin’s.”

That was strange. Logan was usually insistent about staying at my place, even if he was working late.

“Is everything okay?” I prodded. Honestly, I wanted to ask him what the hell his problem was and why he didn’t want to spend the night with me, but that was probably just the hormones talking.

“Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

I stopped dead in my tracks in the middle of the yard. “Remember that thing you insisted on? Being friends because you needed someone to talk to?”

He huffed, but it was good-natured and not at all cross.

I laid my hands on his chest. “This is usually the time that you invoke that privilege and tell me what’s going on.”

Logan looked down. “I’m going to see my dad. I do it once or twice a year. It’s about an eight-hour round trip. Four hours there and four back.”

Oh.

“Is anyone going with you? Will or Kristin or Hunter or?—”

“No,” he said. “I’m the only one that has contact with him. I keep it limited. I just...”

“Hey. You don’t have to explain it to me if you don’t want to.”

“I hate him,” Logan said.

The confession was shocking. I knew the details. I had heard Kylie’s take on it for years. But according to her, Logan had always stayed in contact with his parents for some inexplicable reason.

“But it keeps me in control,” he admitted.

In some strange way, it made sense. “It’s like . . . exposure therapy?”

He nodded and laced our fingers together, leading me around to the back patio that walked out from the basement. “Something like that. I don’t take his calls as often as I do my mom’s. I’ll put a little money on his books, but not enough for him to fuck around with it. I know it’s stupid to care, but?—”

“It’s never stupid to care.” I squeezed his hand. “But you can still come over tomorrow night, even if it’s late.”

The corner of his mouth twitched with a smile. “Thanks, baby.”

True to his word, no one was actually sitting at the poker table in the DeRossis’ basement.

I loved their basement lounge. I didn’t spend much time in it, but I would peek into it from time to time. It was like stepping back into a vintage speakeasy.

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