Page 116 of Because of Logan

“How dare you!”

“No, the question is, how dare you fuck your boyfriend’s father? Did you go after the uncles too? Any other rich and powerful men in your little black book? Do your legs automatically fall open at the sight of power and money?”

There’s murmuring all around the room.

“What? You thought no one knew you were cheating on your boyfriend with his own father?”

Shit! Did I just say that out loud in a room full of people? Oh my God. I can’t believe I exposed Logan like this. All my old fears and insecurities come rushing in. I look at him, expecting to see anger, regret, and disappointment. He surprises me with a smirk, his hand holding his chest as it heaves in silent laughter. I’m reminded of all I lost and the metaphoric wind goes out of my sails.

A small smile touches my lips. I did what I set out to do and a little more. It’s time for me to go and learn to be the new me. A little more than the old Skye, but maybe not as much River.Jesus!The world is not ready for that.

I take a step toward the door, and the people in the room part for me. His father and Amanda just stare, mouths open. Bruno grins like the Cheshire cat. It’s a little creepy. I make my way out of the hospital and don’t look back.

I feel like I just shed a thousand-pound armor.

Chapter Sixty-One

It’s beenseventeen days since I last saw Skye. Sixteen days since I got released from the hospital. One day since my last doctor visit and clearance to drive. Short distances, he said. Short is relative, right? A two-hour drive through Vermont’s countryside is not stressful. It’s relaxing. My left arm will be in a cast for a few weeks more, but the pain from the gunshot wounds is gone and what I’m left with are ugly scars and numbness. The spots feel a little tender and numb, but not painful. The headaches are less intense and less frequent. I’ll have to wait until the cast is off before I can start physical therapy and regain some of the strength in my arm. I have a medical leave from work, and once I’m cleared to go back, I’ll ask for a regular shift. I’m no longer the guy who will fill in for everyone else. The truck window is open an inch or so, despite the cold January day. The skies are clear, the air crisp. I’ll never take another breath for granted again. I fill my lungs with the cool, clean air. I love Vermont and how green it smells.

I spent Christmas and New Year’s alone. Haven’t heard from Skye since she came to the hospital.

I have since unblocked her number. I did a lot of thinking and re-thinking. I had nothing else to do but think and heal.

After Skye left, Doctor Marcus came in and kicked everyone out of my room—everyone except Bruno. He hid in the bathroom again. He came out when all was quiet, unlocked his phone, and handed it over. The photo app was open. I didn’t have to see the dozens and dozens of pictures of him and another dude—hugging, kissing, holding each other—to believe him. They looked good together. I already believed him. The moment Skye came into my room and looked at me, I knew they both spoke the truth. But I wasn’t ready to accept that just yet.

I made sure to put my parents and Amanda on the persona non grata list and take Skye off it. But she never came back. The only visitors were other cops.

And now, I find myself driving to her house. I could have waited until next week and seen her when she’s back at Riggins for her new job and her master’s—the spring semester always starts on the second week of January—but I can’t wait a moment longer. I’ll face her at home, where she’ll be surrounded by her family.

No one knows I’m coming. I don’t know what to expect. Her father might finish the job the asshole who shot me started. I made this trip once before, for Thanksgiving, and we had planned on coming back for Christmas, but it never happened. Skye’s gift sits unopened in a drawer at home.

I open the window all the way as I turn into the long driveway that goes up to the house. Gravel crunches under the tires of my truck. The blue sky betrays the scent of impending snow. They called for several inches later tonight. I packed a bag. If she doesn’t want to listen to me today, I’ll stay in a motel in town and come back tomorrow. I’ll come back every day until she forgives me. I can only hope she gives me a chance. The chance I never gave her.

I park in front of the house and turn off the engine but don’t leave the truck just yet. A flood of memories of us together here comes unbidden. In this house, I got to see what a family is meant to be. They took me in as if I were one of their own. I felt more at home here than I ever felt in the house I grew up in.

“It took you long enough.”

I nearly jump out of my skin. River stands outside my door, her head barely visible above the sill. I close the window all the way up and open the door. Grass meets my feet.

“River.” I nod.

“Logan.” She smirks at me.

We don’t say anything for a while.

“Are you here to apologize and grovel? Because if you’re not, you can get back into that truck and turn right back around.”

“I am, but I’m a little afraid your dad might shoot me before I have a chance to talk to her.”

“You’re in luck. They’re out of town. Went to visit some friends. Won’t be back until tomorrow.”

“Can I go in?” I nod at the house.

“You could, but she’s not in the house. She’s out back, by her favorite tree.”

I walkaround the house and along the fence that houses one of the horse enclosures. I can see the weeping willow tree several yards away. The long, thin branches, now naked, graze the ground. A little over a month ago, the yellowing leaves were so dense, you could hide behind them. Skye’s favorite place in the world, she told me. Her own little green universe sat at the base of that tree. It was the place she went to disappear, to think, to read, to just be. I wonder which of those things draws her to it now. At the base, a red and blue quilt cocoons Skye. I can’t see any part of her, but I know she’s in there with a book. She’s facing away from me, and my steps are silent, muted by the yellowed winter grass. I stop three feet away from her. All I can see now is the top of her blond head. Her hands in blue fingerless gloves hold a Kindle.

I hope whatever she’s reading makes her happy. She deserves a happily ever after, even if it's just fiction.

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