Page 73 of Paging Dr. Summers

“Hi,” I said, eager to talk to him, to find out what had happened.

He finally looked my way and offered me a subdued smile. “Hey.”

Eden grabbed her mom’s hand. “Let’s leave these two alone.”

I kind of wanted to beg them to stay. The way Logan acted didn’t give me warm-and-fuzzy vibes. Not that I’d been expecting him to come back with news that Maxwell wanted to sing “Kumbaya” with me and welcome me with open arms. And not that I even wanted that outcome. I didn’t.

The man had ignored me my entire life, and even when he’d had the chance to tell me who he was, he hadn’t done it. Instead, he’d tried to get rid of me. He definitely wasn’t getting any Father’s Day cards from me. But I guess I’d expected a grand entrance from Logan where he swept in and kissed me passionately after saving the day and defending my honor. Okay, so that was a little dramatic, but it still would have been nice.

Marianne grabbed the empty mug from me and kissed my cheek. “Good night.”

“Good night,” I said, though it was now early morning.

She and Eden rushed out of the room, each giving Logan a pat on their way out before they shut the door, leaving us alone.

“Is everything all right?” I blurted, more than anxious. I had the racing heart to prove it.

Logan blew out a heavy breath, having to think about his answer, which made me feel sick to my stomach.

“Does Lola hate me?” That was honestly my worst fear in all of this. After everything was said and done, I at least hoped to gain a sister out of the deal.

“No. Of course not,” Logan was quick to say. “She’s worried about you. She wants you to call her.”

“Oh, good,” I responded, more than relieved. “I’ll call her when it’s daylight.”

Logan offered me a small smile.

I patted the bed. “Come talk to me. Something is obviously wrong.”

Logan eyed the spot on the bed and shifted his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of joining me. What did he think I wanted to happen?

A heat wave of something a lot like rejection and embarrassment swept over me as I was hit with a sickening thought. I recalled the moment we’d had on the couch earlier, when it was very apparent Logan didn’t want things to go too far between us.

“Did Maxwell tell you my mom tried to trap him by getting pregnant?” It was what he had basically implied in one of the letters he’d written to my mom and that she’d returned to sender. She’d sent back every letter he’d written to her—I think it was her way of telling him his words meant nothing to her.

“Is that what you think I’m trying to do?” I couldn’t help but ask.

Logan rushed to my side. “Brooke, no. Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know. You’re acting weird.”

Exhaustion seemed to overcome him, and he fell into the chair by the bed and took my hand between his own, cradling it cautiously. It felt different. Not as affectionate as usual.

And it didn’t escape me that he refused to sit on the bed with me.

“I’m sorry. It’s just been a long night.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Maybe I should have just cried all night on the phone with Claire. I felt like coming to Logan’s house might have been a mistake. But all I’d been able to think after finding out about Maxwell was how much I needed Logan.

“It’s not your fault. That coward needed to know what he did to you, and he does.”

“What did he say?” I was almost afraid to ask.

“He just gave some lame excuse about his father running for governor when your mom told him about you. And he rambled about the guilt he’s carried all these years. It’s why he kept the letters and still listens to your mom’s music. It all sounded pathetic,” Logan spat. “Though I do think he’s ashamed about what he did. Especially since his wife and Lola are furious with him. I don’t envy his living situation right now,” he said, with a hint of satisfaction.

“Why didn’t he tell me who he was?” That’s what I really wanted to know. “Is it because he thinks I’m a loser?” I did my best to keep my emotions steady, but the sting in my eyes threatened tears.

“Brooke.” Logan raised my hands to his mouth and kissed them.

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