Page 39 of Somewhere Without You
The way he said it made my chest hurt a little.Therewasmore tothatstory, but I figuredhe’dtell me when hewasready.
I popped a sucker into my mouth, letting the tartness settle on my tongue.“SothatMaddie girl. . .” I started. “What’s up her butt?”
Logan glanced down at his scuffed sneakers, the laces frayed and uneven.“Her name’s Madeline McBride. She’s the mayor’s daughter. Her mom’s on the city council, so their familyprettymuch runs this town.”
“Oh,” I tilted my head slightly. “Isn’t she going to be mad at you now?”
The late afternoon sun cast long, golden shadows across the porch. Logan stood, wiping his hands on his jeans.“Maybe,”he said, reaching for his bike.“Guess I’ll find out.”He straddled the frame,“Listen, I gotta go, butmaybeI’llseeyou at school?”
I nodded, watching as he pedaled down the driveway, the wheels kicking up tiny clouds of dust as he disappeared behind the curtain of magnolia trees.
The screen door creaked open behind me and Gran poked her head out.“Where’d your friend go?”
I climbed the porch steps, ignoring the sting in my knee as I passed by her.“Home,”I said, a hint of a smile in my voice.“Buthe’ll be back.”
Twenty Three
Now
Logan’shandssmoothedoverthe last of the repair tape, patching up the broken pipe.
“It’sjusta temporary fix,”he said, catching me staring.“You’re going to need to replace these pipes.Butthe epoxy should hold for a bit.”
Eleven years. That’s how long ithadbeen sinceI’dlast seen Logan Graham.Andnow, here hewas, coming to my rescue again.
“Thanks, Logan.”My voice wavered a little more than I liked.
“Iheardyouwereback in town.”He straightened, his eyes meeting minebrieflybefore turning to gather his tools.“I’m sorry tohearabout Gran.”
I cleared my throat.“Yeah, well. . . that’s life, I guess.”
“Shewasagoodwoman,”he offered kindly.“Made the best damn pot roast I’ve everhad.”Thatmade me smile.“So, when’s the funeral?”
“No funeral,”I said with a shrug.“She didn’t want one. Said she wanted to be returned to the earth the natural way.”
“Sounds like her,”he said with a short laugh, and we started up the stairs together.
Whenwe reached the landing, Logan set his toolbox on the kitchen counter.“Mind if I bother you for a glass of water? I want to make sure everything is working the way it should.”
I nodded, grabbed a glass from the shelf, and turned on the tap—nearlycrying with relief when the soft sound of water sputtered from the faucet.
Logan thanked me as I handed him the glass.“Doing some remodeling?”he asked, glancing at the pile of stones still on the floor near the fireplace.
I thought about the satchel still in the fridge,thenquicklyshrugged it off.“Sort of. More like a distractionreally. It getsprettyquiet when you’re here by yourself.”
His gold-flecked eyes met mine as he set the empty glass on the counter.“Where’s Katherine? I figuredshe’dbe helping you with all this.”
“Kats with her family.It’sjustme,” I said simply.
“Alone?” he asked, tilting his head.
A flicker of irritation rose in my chest.“Why are you asking so many questions?”
He gave a slight smirk, clearly amused by my annoyance.“Didn’t realize I was poking a bruise.”
I crossed my arms over my chest.“What’sthatsupposed to mean?”
“Nothing,”he chuckled—reaching for his toolbox again.“It’s justgoodtoseesome things haven’t changed.”
