"Can it, Two." Logan's voice was icy hard.
Harlan looked on with interest. Was I the only one who hated the tension in the room?
"Two?" I said, and laughed, trying to lighten the mood and wondering if Logan was putting Caleb down again. "What kind of a nickname is that? Is it for number two son? Who's One?" I smiled at Logan. "That must be you."
Four pairs of eyes turned to me and stared at me like I'd made some kind of major mistake. Like calling Logan One was almost heresy.
Logan came to my defense. "Forgive her. She's not the baseball geek we are. Two is the catcher's number."
"Oh." I blushed, but I kept smiling. "What was your number?" I realized I didn't know. I'd never even asked or bothered to look it up in an old yearbook.
"I was the pitcher—number one, of course."
So I was right, even though it was for the wrong reason. But no one seemed to care or acknowledge that.
"That's only in the numbering system used to record defensive plays." Caleb snorted. "Stop bullshitting her. We affectionately call him Twenty-six. That was his jersey number. But he should have been Sixty-six."
I didn't get it, but it was obviously a putdown. I turned to Logan. His jaw ticked. "Players with numbers larger than sixty are usually cut from the team," he said, staring at his brother.
I had to bite my tongue to keep from making a snarky comeback. How dare Caleb poke at Logan's tender spot! He had to know what he was doing.
Caleb laughed. "Lighten up, Logan. I'm just teasing."
I took Logan's arm. "It was a long, tiring drive," I said, making excuses for him. "Foggy across half the state. We're both a little tense and tired."
It was the wrong thing to say. Logan stiffened, making it obvious he didn't need me to come to his defense.
Sue came to the rescue. "I held dinner. It's on the table. Let's not let it get cold."
Chapter Twelve
The Walkers' house was built and situated just like you'd expect from a house on the water—it was long, all windows, with a stunning view of the water from every room and Seattle sparkling in the distance. Designed to catch and maximize the view. Every inch of the living area was expensively and tastefully decorated for Thanksgiving: glass pumpkins, ceramic turkeys, fall wreaths, and floral arrangements.
We sat at a spacious kitchen table in a room with curtain-less windows that showcased the view. Lake Washington calmly sparkled with lights from the houses around it. Sue and Harlan sat at the ends of the table. Caleb on one side, Logan and me across from him, with Logan nearest his dad and me next to Sue.
Conversation bounced around the table. The boys and Sue laughed and joked. I sat quietly by, answering politely when someone remembered to ask me a question. And Harlan contributed only minimally.
It wasn't until dessert that the focus shifted to me.
Sue set a plate of warm gingerbread and cream in front of me. "Tell us about your family, Ellie. What are they doing for Thanksgiving?"
Her question was so innocuous it was calculatedly dangerous. She knew exactly what she was asking. In fact, I was sure she knew the answer.
I smiled and looked directly at her. "Thank you. This looks delicious." I grabbed my fork. "My mom's on a cruise with her latest boyfriend."
"Any other family?" Sue set a plate in front of Logan and sat down.
"Not really. I'm an only child. I don't know my father." I almost stumbled on that lie, but it was the accepted story. "I don't even know who he is. That cuts out one side of the family." I laughed like it was a joke.
"Mom has never gotten along with her family. It has always been pretty much me and her and the stepdad of the moment. With her on a cruise, it's just me. Thank you so much for inviting me here for break. You're lifesavers."
Harlan answered for her. "We're glad to have you." His voice was seething with something unsaid. He turned to Logan. "What's this I hear about you testifying against Dr. Rogers?" The words burst out of his mouth with the force of having held them in for so long.
Logan froze with a bite of gingerbread on his fork. He set it down. "You heard right. It's the right thing to do." He stared his father down.
Harlan glared back at him. "I told you I have things under control—there's no need for you to get involved."
"I want to, Dad. It's the right thing to do." Logan's tone was surprisingly calm, but it was clear he wasn't going to back down.
Harlan pounded the table with his fist. I jumped.
"Damn it, boy! You will not drag this family's name through the mud. You won't make a public spectacle of us." Harlan's face turned rage red. He took a deep breath. "As long as I'm paying your bills, you'll do as I say. And I say you won't."
Logan's face was set and hard. He tossed his napkin on the table and pushed back. "Delicious dinner, Mom. I'm going to bring our bags in." Logan looked at me, sending me a signal to come with him.
"Yes, wonderful dinner. Thank you," I said to Sue, and rose from the table. "I'll help Logan."
Sue and Caleb looked unfazed, like these kinds of dinner explosions were more the norm than not. Sue looked a touch sad and resigned more than anything. "I put Ellie in the green guestroom, Logan. You can take her bags there." She wrapped her hands around her coffee cup.
Logan nodded and stormed out. I almost had to run to keep up with him. It was cold outside. I stood by the car and ran my hands up and down my arms as Logan opened the trunk.
"I'm sorry," I said.
He shrugged. "It's typical. Someday I'm going to be out from beneath his control. Someday soon." He sounded defiant and adamant.
"You can be out of his control now," I said. "We don't have to stay here. Let's get a hotel." The idea was highly appealing to me.
He shook his head and smiled sadly. "And hurt Mom? No. It'll blow over."
But I had the feeling he was lying. There was another fight brewing.
Logan took a deep breath and forced a smile. "You want to hear something funny? Mom put you in the room that's farthest from mine." He grinned and pulled me to him. "She must think you're a real threat to my chastity."
"Yes, I am just that kind of vixen." I grinned back at him. "Or you're a threat to mine."
"Yeah, that's it. Mom, the keeper of strange girls' virtue."
"Hey!" I shoved him playfully. "Did you just call me strange?"
He grinned. "You're strange in the cutest way possible." He brushed my lips with a light kiss. "She's going to have to try harder than that to keep me away from you."
Logan hadn't been exaggerating. The green guestroom was at the far end of the house on the opposite side from the family's bedrooms and was exactly that—very green. Green curtains, green walls, green bedspread and pillows. It was tastefully done, obviously by an interior decorator. The curtains were closed, so I couldn't see the view.
Logan set my bags down and pointed out my bathroom, which was fully stocked with fluffy towels and high-end guest toiletries.
"A private attached bathroom—wow! Nice." I looked around the room. "Maybe your mom was just making sure I'm comfortable."
Logan hugged me. "You are so naïve! We have three guestrooms. They all have private bathrooms. And she stuck you here in the north wing all by yourself at the end of the house."
"A wing all to myself—awesome!" I hugged him back, determined to make our first holiday together memorable and happy despite his family.
Sue strolled in. "Logan, did you show Ellie where everything is?"
Logan released me almost guiltily. "Yeah, Ma."
"Good." Her tone was pleasant and she was smiling, but when she looked at me her eyes shone with fear of a rival.
I'd seen that assessing, competitive look in my mom's eyes a zillion times before. It sent a shiver down me. I realized with a start that Logan's mom was in competition with me for him. She'd always been first lady in his life. And I was the interloper.
My first, natural response was to withdraw. I didn't compete with mothers. Why should I have to? And then
I thought—why the hell not? I was sure his mother loved him, but I did, too. A mother's love was different than a girlfriend's. There was room for both of us in Logan's life. I took Logan's hand.
Sue ignored me. "Logan, I need your help getting the decorations and spare tables for tomorrow out of the attic. Caleb's already waiting."
"Sure, Ma." He turned to me. "It's a tradition. Two and I help mom while Dad relaxes and de-stresses with a glass of scotch. Caleb and I haul boxes around while Mom goes through her collection of Thanksgiving dishes, tablecloths, and centerpieces and makes the all-important decisions on this year's theme."
Sue shook her head. "Logan makes it sound like it's all last minute, like I haven't already planned everything out. You can't plan a party like this at the last second."
"But you can tweak it." There was an affectionate tease in Logan's voice. "And I mean tweak it big time."
"Are you implying that I can't make up my mind?" Sue's voice was happy and teasing, too, now that she had Logan's attention.
"Sounds like fun! I'd love to help," I said.
The subtle frost returned to Sue's eyes. "That's sweet of you, Ellie. But if you really want to help, you'll keep Harlan company and out of our hair. Decorating decisions and physical labor make him grumpy."
With Logan and Sue both staring at me, how could I refuse? "Sure," I said.
Sue's eyes shone with triumph.
Logan went off with his mom and Caleb. I found Harlan sitting in a plush leather recliner in the living room watching a game and sipping a glass of scotch.
"Sue wouldn't let you join them? You've been banned from their little threesome, too." Harlan muted the sound on the TV. "Ah, well, it's their thing. You must have hit a nerve."
Too? I was startled—he sounded bitter, and unhappy about being excluded.
"Have a seat." He motioned to the deep sofa. "Can I get you something to drink?"
I politely declined as I took a seat, wary of him, not liking him. "I think we're supposed to keep each other out of their hair."
"You mean Sue's?" He laughed. "A word of advice—it's not me you have to worry about interfering when it comes to Logan. Believe it or not, despite your unfortunate background, I kind of like you. At least you have spunk and guts. Unlike most of the girls Logan has dragged home."
There were others? That cut. That hurt. I wasn't special? I wasn't the first. He brought girls home all the time? My heart sagged. I masked my expression. "Gee, thanks. I've always aspired to being damned by faint praise."
His laugh would have been almost warm if it weren't for his caustic personality. "See what I mean? Not many people talk back to me."
I was about to say that Logan did, but Harlan didn't give me a chance.
"It's his mother who will be your undoing. She coddles the boys. Keeps them close. Wants them to adore her and be hers always."
"And you think it's better to keep them under your thumb?" I stared at him defiantly.
He swirled his scotch in his glass as he assessed me. "Is that what you think I was doing tonight at dinner?"
I shrugged, biting my tongue. I didn't need another enemy in this house.
"It's never wise to act based on incomplete information. You don't have the whole story, Ellie. You think I'm hard and harsh on Logan because I enjoy it." He snorted and took another sip of scotch, which seemed to loosen his tongue. "I'm ruthless in business. I expect a lot out of my boys. But I love my sons, both of them." He stared at me with a piercing, hard gaze.
"No matter what that bitch deserves, I don't want Logan to testify for his own good."
"But if he wants to, if he feels it's the right thing—"
"Wants to? Right thing?" He shook his head like I was talking nonsense. "You know who Logan was when I sent him to college?"
I didn't answer. I didn't think he expected one.
"A straight-A student with a promising baseball career ahead of him. A handsome kid who was almost too kind and sensitive for his own damned good. A fun, loving, well-adjusted son I was damned proud of."
"You never showed him. You pushed him!" The words burst out of me. "You pushed him too hard. He threw out his shoulder to impress you."
Harlan stared at me. "That was a tragic accident—a freak. No one could have predicted it. I'll never forgive myself…" He took a deep breath. "A kid like Logan needs pushing. He's not like his brother. Caleb could always hold his own. Logan needed a good shove."
I swallowed hard. I didn't believe him.
"You know what kind of boy I got back at the end of the year? A strung-out, out-of-control, drug-addicted, flunking-out mess of a kid."
That my father helped straighten out, I wanted to scream at Harlan. That my father saved. Because you messed him up. I was suddenly immensely proud of Jason. And glad he was mine.
"You blamed Logan for Dr. Rogers. You didn't believe him—"
"Of course I didn't believe him. You wouldn't have believed him, either. Not the guy he was then—lying, drunken, sleeping with anything in a skirt, making excuses for all his messes and taking no responsibility for them. If you knew half the things he did then, you'd probably have less faith in him than I did." He looked thoughtful. "You haven't seen him that way. Good for you. I hope you'll never have to." He downed the rest of his drink and set the empty glass on the end table beside his chair. "I hope no one has to again."
Harlan studied me. "No father should ever have to get the call that his son just tried to kill himself."
I gasped. I couldn't believe it.
"You don't know? Logan didn't tell you." Harlan snorted again. "Maybe I've miscalculated. Maybe you aren't as close as I thought."
I ignored his insult, pushed away the thought that he was quite possibly right. I was reeling from the revelation, making it hard to think clearly. "How?"
"You want me to betray my son's confidence?"
"You opened the box." I fought to keep my voice steady.
Harlan shrugged. "You'll find out sooner or later." He paused. "Logan wrapped his car around a tree. Slammed into it at over fifty miles an hour. Would have killed him. If he hadn't been so damned drunk. You know what they say about drunks walking away from accidents. Lucky for him."
I let out a sigh of relief. "I know about that. It was an accident." Logan had told me he'd wrecked his car.
Harlan shook his head. "I don't know what he told you, but it was no accident. He left a note. I still have it. Do you want to see it?"
"No!" I couldn't face Logan's suicidal thoughts. My horror must have shown on my face.
Harlan looked almost sympathetic. "I don't blame you. It's not pretty."
"You didn't believe Logan about Dr. Rogers until I confronted you." I had to fight to keep my voice from going shrill.
"Yes, that's partially true. Your son being raped is a horrible thing to face." Harlan looked far away for a second, lost in some terrible thought. "But a man can change. A reasonable man, when confronted with the facts, can change his opinion.
"I reread Logan's suicide note when I got home from Dad's Weekend. It was cryptic, but it was clear enough—what Dr. Roger's did to him was largely responsible for his depression. That coupled with the painkillers and alcohol." He set his jaw. "We have spent the last two years getting our boy back. I won't let him go through that hell again. I won't lose him. I will do everything in my power to stop him from testifying." His Adam's apple bobbed like he was fighting his emotions.
"I need your help, Ellie. I need you to talk Logan out of testifying."
I couldn't answer. I was too confused.
"A tip, Ellie—learn how to play the politics of life. Don't make an enemy of a potentially valuable ally."
Harlan, an ally? The thought was ridiculous.
"Why did you invite me here for Thanksgiving?" I asked him. Maybe I'd been wrong about his motives before. Maybe he didn't want to break us up, but I still didn't trust him.
"To show you what you're in for if you stay with Logan. And to test your mett
le, see what you're made of. So, are you going to help me?"
Before I could reply, we were interrupted by a round of boisterous laughter as Caleb and Logan jostled a folding table around the corner.
"Mom changed her mind again." Logan rolled his eyes comically when he saw us. He looked like he'd been having fun. "Typical."
"She had us moving boxes around like slaves." Caleb hefted the table up. It was clear he was ribbing his mom, too.
Sue came around the corner behind them, beaming. "Are you two boys slandering me again?"
Logan's gaze bounced between Harlan and me like he was trying to assess how we were getting along. "What have you guys been up to?"
"Nothing much," Harlan said, unmuting the TV. "Just watching the game."
Chapter Thirteen
I didn't know what to think about what Harlan had told me. Logan—funny, sweet, gorgeous Logan—had tried to kill himself? It didn't seem possible. Why hadn't he told me? And how could I side against him with his father, no matter how much sense that made?
Logan and Caleb finished setting up the tables for Sue. Logan came to me where I was sitting on the sofa and grabbed my hand. "Mom's done working us for the night." He winked at her. "Get a sweatshirt, El. Let's go look at the lake and the stars." He pulled me to my feet.
"Just a sweatshirt?" I whispered to him. "Will that be warm enough?"
"I'll keep you warm, El," he whispered back.
His mom watched us with unhappy eyes.
I ran to the guestroom, grabbed my white sweatshirt and met him in the hall. He carried his iPad.
"Are you going to thrill me with your vast knowledge of astronomy by reading from an app again?"
He grinned. "Absolutely. You have to give me some credit for being smart enough to buy the app."
I couldn't help smiling. "And knowing how to use it. I'm in."
He took my hand and led me out the back door, across the patio and grass and onto his family's private dock, taking me to the end of it, where the lake stretched big and dark in front of us.
"There's a lot of light pollution out here. This is the best we can do." He pulled me into a sit between his legs, wrapped his arms around me, and held the iPad in front of me so I could see as he brought up the app.