Page 63 of What Matters Most

Abby’s first inclination was not to be there when he arrived, but that was even more cowardly. In addition, Abby knew Logan well enough to realize that her attempts to dodge him wouldn’t work. Either he’d go to the park and look for her or he’d drive to her parents’ house and worry them sick.

By the time he did arrive, Abby’s stomach felt as if a lead balloon had settled inside.

“Beautiful afternoon, isn’t it?” Logan came over to her and slipped an arm around her waist, drawing her close to his side. “Are you feeling better?” he asked in a concerned voice. So often in the past year, Abby had longed for him to hold her like this. Now, when he did, she wanted to scream with frustration.

“Yes, I’m…okay.”

“What would you like to do?” he asked, nuzzling her neck and holding her close.

“Logan.” Abby hesitated and cleared her throat, feeling guilty. “I’ve got other plans this afternoon.” Her voice didn’t even sound like her own as she squeezed her eyes shut, afraid to meet his hard gaze.

A grimness stole into his eyes as his hand tightened. “You’re seeing Tate, aren’t you?”

Abby caught her breath at the ferocity of his tone. “Of course not!” She couldn’t look at him. For the first time in their relationship, Abby was blatantly lying to Logan. No wonder she was experiencing this terrible guilt. For one crazy minute, Abby felt like bursting into tears and running out of the apartment.

“Tell me what you’re doing, then,” he demanded.

Abby swallowed at the painful lump in her throat. “Last week you cut our time together short,” she said. “I didn’t ask where you were going. I don’t feel it’s too much to expect the same courtesy.”

Logan’s grip on her waist slackened, but he didn’t release her. “What about later? Couldn’t we meet for dinner? There’s something I wanted to discuss.”

“I can’t,” she said quickly. Too quickly. Telltale color warmed her face.

Logan studied her for a long moment, then dropped his arm. She should’ve been glad. Instead she felt chilled and suddenly bereft.

“Let me know when you’re free.” His words were cold as he moved toward the door.

“Logan,” Abby called out to him desperately. “Don’t be angry. Please.”

When he paused and turned around, his eyes flickered over her. She couldn’t quite read his expression, but she knew it wasn’t flattering. Wordlessly, he turned again and left.

Abby wanted to crawl into a hole, curl up, and die. Logan deserved so much better than this. Any number of women would call her a fool—and they’d be right.

—

Dressed in white linen shorts and a red cotton shirt, Abby studied her reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door. Her hair hung in a long ponytail, practical for skating, she figured. Makeup did little to disguise the doubt and unhappiness in her eyes. With a jagged breath, Abby tied the sleeves of a sweater around her neck and headed out the door.

Tate was standing by the elm tree, waiting for her. He was casually dressed in jeans and a V-neck sweater that hinted at curly chest hair. Even across the park, Abby recognized the quiet authority of the man. His virile look attracted the attention of other women in the vicinity, but Tate didn’t seem to notice.

He started walking toward her, his smile approving as he surveyed her long legs.

“You look like you’ve lost your best friend,” Tate said as he slid a casual arm around her shoulder.

Abby winced; his comment might be truer than he knew.

“Problem?” he asked.

“Not really.” Her voice quavered, but she managed to give him a broad smile. “I’m hoping we can rent skates. I don’t have a pair.”

“We can.”

It didn’t take long for Tate’s infectious good mood to brighten Abby’s spirits. Soon she was laughing at her bungling attempts to skate. A concrete pathway was very different from the smooth, polished surface of the rink. Either that or it’d been longer than she realized since her last time on skates.

Tate tucked a hand around her hip as his movements guided hers.

“You’re doing great.” His eyes were smiling as he relaxed his grasp.

Laughing, Abby looked away from the pathway to answer him and her skate hit a rut and she tumbled forward wildly, thrashing her arms in an effort to remain upright. She would have fallen if Tate hadn’t still been holding her. His hand tightened, bringing her closer. She faltered a bit from the effect of his nearness.

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