Page 108 of Best Kept Secret
CHAPTER 47
LOGAN
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
I’m pulled from my intense focus on the road ahead, glancing at Millie in the passenger seat. She offers me a soft smile, her hand gently squeezing my thigh in that way she does to try and calm me, and it’s only then that I realize just how tight my grip is on the steering wheel, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath for I don’t even know how long.
I relax as best as I can, releasing a steady breath, nodding once. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
“I’m proud of you, Logan.”
I glance at her to see her soft, reassuring smile, and it immediately eases the tension in my chest. Placing my hand over hers on my thigh, I give her a squeeze.
When I see the sign for the exit up ahead, my heart lurches up and into the back of my throat. Flicking on the blinker, I turn off the 208, my pulse hammering. There are so many horrible thoughts racing through my mind. So many things I’m imagining going wrong. But I couldn’t sleep last night. I know I need to do this. Even if only to make myself feel better, I need this, and I’m so fucking grateful that I have my girl by my side.
Ten minutes later, I pull up to the curb and shut off the engine. As silence settles through the car, I close my eyes and count to three, steeling myself.
“Are you ready?” Millie asks carefully.
I nod once, unfastening my seatbelt and, grabbing the envelope from the center console, I tuck it into my pocket and hop out of the car.
Opening Millie’s door, she steps up onto the curb and takes in the house, an awed gasp falling from her lips as she takes my proffered hand.
“This is where you grew up?”
“Yep,” is all I can manage as I lead her up the path to the front door. Fuck, my chest feels like it’s on fire.
I press the doorbell and wait, my heart racing, thumping hard in my ears as I stare at the black door. After a few moments, the latch clicks and the door opens, my father appearing in the doorway. His eyes dart from me, to Millie, down to our joined hands, and back to me, an unreadable expression on his face.
With a deep breath, I lift my chin a little higher, my gaze unwavering as I say, “I’m sorry for punching you.”
Dad’s hairline shifts in that way that tells me he’s shocked by my apology. His throat works with a rough swallow, and he looks back over his shoulder. “Do you w-want to come in?” he stammers, clearing his throat, another tell that I’ve rendered his inner-narcissist shocked.
I glance at Millie, and she offers me a small, encouraging smile, squeezing my hand. Looking at my father, I nod, and we walk inside after him.
The foyer looks exactly the same as I remember. I haven’t been inside this house in years. Not since my mom was transferred to Treetops. But this place hasn’t changed at all. The photos still hang on the wall lining the stairs, the silk flowers still sit in the vases dotted about. It’s like stepping back in time, and it’s unnerving because I always thought I’d hate coming back here, but there’s an unexpected sense of peace that comes overme the longer I stand in my childhood home. Maybe it’s because this was where we all existed together. And sure, there weren’t always happy days, but we were, once upon a time, a family in this house, with Thanksgivings and Christmases and birthdays.
My father moves aside, looking down at Millie, and I feel the need to step in between them. I don’t know why. It’s my protective instinct. But before I can move, Millie smiles up at him, holding her hand out.
“Hi, I’m Millie.”
Fuck, she is too damn sweet.
Dad glances at me quickly before shaking her extended hand, his smile tentative yet genuine as he introduces himself. “Geoff Cullen.”
“This is a beautiful house, Mr. Cullen,” Millie says, looking around the grand foyer.
“Please, call me Geoff,” he insists, his smile charming.
“Afraid I can’t do that, sir.” Millie grins. “I was raised in Texas.”
With a low chuckle, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his khakis, rocking nervously on his feet. “This place is probably a bit big for just me, but—” His gaze flits to mine as he continues, “I can’t find it in me to downsize.”
Millie’s smile falters, and she looks at me, placing her hand on my back and giving me a gentle push.
“So, um,” I begin, clearing my throat. Folding my arms across my chest, I look down, avoiding his eyes. “I was thinking maybe we should talk.” I lift my gaze in time to see a flash of relief in my father’s eyes, his broad shoulders dropping a touch.
“Come on in.” He juts his chin indicating the sitting room to the left of the foyer.
