Page 13 of The Rookie
I take a deep breath, then give him my truth. “I paid someone to deliver my mother’s eulogy.”
“What? Why?” The words leave his lips in a rush, and he stands up straight, forgetting about starting the fire and concentrating entirely on me.
I smile gently. “Because I knew I wouldn’t be able to deliver it myself. I was a mess, barely able to function, so I knew there was no way I could stand in front of people and speak. And my mom’s best friend felt the same. There was no one else but us, and I couldn’t stomach the idea that no one would stand up for Mom and talk about the amazing woman she was, about the incredible and selfless life she’d lived.”
Swallowing hard, I gather my composure. It was such a difficult and dark time. I give myself a moment to draw a few steadying breaths as flashbacks slam into me.
“I found this website where you can hire someone for a small fee, and I paid seventy-five dollars to a woman who was well-versed in public speaking.”
Logan lays a hand on my shoulder and gives it a light squeeze. It’s the first time he’s touched me. I’m sure he doesn’t mean it to be anything more than a comforting gesture, but a sudden flash of heat passes between us at his touch.
Can he feel it too?
Warmth rushes from my shoulder and settles in my chest. Unexpected emotion wells inside me. It’s been so long since anyone has touched me. I’m sure that’s the only reason why his touch affects me so much. It can’t be anything else.
When he removes his hand a second later, I pull in a breath, urging myself to continue. “And as I sat there listening to her read the words I’d written, I felt ashamed.”
“Why?” Logan asks, looking genuinely perplexed.
I shrug. “I don’t know. Just like I had lied or something.”
He meets my eyes, and there’s a newfound understanding between us. “It wasn’t a lie, Summer. I think it was really nice what you did.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.” I smile.
We stare at each other for a beat too long before his gaze darts away and his body becomes rigid again. It’s as if he’s remembered why I’m here.
Up go his walls, and I feel like I’ll have to begin to chip away at them all over again.
7
LOGAN
After the weighty discussion we’ve just had, the air around us is tense, but there’s also a sense of calm and healing that I haven’t felt in a long time. I shake out of my daze and refocus on the fire that I’ve yet to start.
“Give me a few minutes, and I’ll get this going.”
As I load the woodstove with kindling, I focus on the task at hand and allow myself to clear my head of thoughts of how easy it felt to tell Summer things I’ve never told anyone. Admitting that I was glad I wasn’t here when Dad died ... I never thought I’d ever say that out loud to anyone.
But I can’t say I regret it either. There was something kinda freeing in admitting that.
The kindling catches, and the first crackle of fire licking at the logs makes Summer hum happily to herself. The temperature is only in the forties. I can’t imagine how cold she must have been in here last night.
All the animosity I felt earlier overhearing her gossip with my mom is gone. Summer is here to do a job, and I haven’t made it easy on her. I’ve been an asshole. Simple as that.
Stacking more wood in the fire with some paper, I say, “Tell me about your mom. What was she like?”
When I glance at Summer, she has a faraway look in her eyes. “She was spunky and fun, not at all one of those helicopter parents. She never hovered. She let me figure things out, but I knew she’d be there if and when I needed her.”
“That’s cool.”
Summer nods. “She was.”
When I close the door to the stove, I feel Summer behind me. “Do you want me to show you how to get this started again if it goes out?”
She nods. “Yeah, that would be helpful.”
“So, you want to get the kindling just right. That part’s important.”
