He took the ring from his pocket. She gasped. He was smiling as he dropped to one knee. “Sarah,” he said.
And that was as far as he got.
Because she covered her mouth with her hands and cried, “No!”
Chapter Eleven
Logan felt as though she’d walloped him a good one—just drawn back her little fist and sent it flying in a roundhouse punch. He reeled. “What? Wait...”
“Logan. Get up. Don’t do this, okay?” She actually offered him her hand, like he needed help to get up off the floor.
He rose without touching her and put the ring back in his pocket. He had no idea where this was going—except it was nowhere good, that was for sure.
She backed up until her knees touched the bed and then she kind of crumpled onto the edge of the mattress. He watched her hard-swallow. She didn’t look well—her face was dead white with two spots of hectic color, one high on each cheek.
“Uh, sit down,” she said and nervously patted the space beside her.
He shook his head. “I think I’ll stand.”
She stared up at him, begging him with her eyes—but for what? “I’m so sorry.” She spoke in a ragged voice. “This isn’t—I mean, I just can’t, Logan. You’re the most incredible man and I’m wild for you, you know I am. But I couldn’t say yes to marriage. I just couldn’t. Please try to understand. This thing with us, it’s just for now and we both know that. We have to remember that.”
“No.” He shut his eyes, drew in a slow, careful breath. “No, I don’t know that. I’m not going anywhere. Never. I want to be right here, with you.”
“But it’s not going to last. We’re just, I mean, well, living in the moment, having fun, enjoying the ride. And it’s beautiful, what we have together. Why ruin it with expectations that will break my heart and could hurt my daughter when they don’t pan out?”
How could she think that? “You’re wrong.”
“No. I’m not wrong. I’m realistic. Nothing ever really does last, you know?”
“No, Sarah. I don’t know.” He also didn’t know what to do next, how to reach her, how to recover from this. But then it came to him that he had to go all the way now, to say it out loud, to give her his truth. It was all that he had. “I love you, Sarah Turner. I want to marry you.”
She let out another cry and clapped her hands to her ears this time. Her eyes glittered with moisture. A tear got away from her and carved a shining trail down her cheek.
He tried reassurance. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m not going to stop loving you. Not ever. This is for real. I swear it to you.”
“You say that now—”
“Because it’s true. Because what we have, what I feel for you, I’ve never felt before. I trust what we have. I love you. I love Sophia. I want to take care of you, of both of you. I want to be here when Sophia says her first real word, when she takes her first step. I want to be here for all the days we’re given, you and me. This is where I’m happy. This is where it all makes sense. With you, with Sophia. The three of us. A family.”
“I can’t,” she said again. “I just can’t. I can’t do that. It’s one thing for us to take it a day at a time. To enjoy what we have while it lasts. But marriage? Logan, that’s not what this is about.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“No. It’s not.” She said it so firmly, her shoulders drawn back now, her expression bleak, closed down.
He kept trying to reach her. “It’s so simple. It’s just you and me doing what people do when they love each other, starting to build a life together. Making it work.”
“Your father hates me.”
Really? She was going to go there? Patiently, he answered her, “No, he does not hate you. My mother broke his heart and ran off with her lover, abandoning him and me and my brothers. We never heard from her again.”
She gasped. He saw sympathy in her eyes. “That’s horrible.”
“Yeah. It was pretty bad for all of us. And that’s why he is the way he is. He’s a lonely old man with some weird ideas about love and marriage. You’re too smart to let Max Crawford chase you away.”
“It’s not only your dad. It’s, well...” She blew out a breath, folded her hands and then twisted them in her lap. “Love just never works out for me.”
“That’s faulty reasoning, Sarah. You know it is. There was what? That idiot Tuck who didn’t know the best thing that ever happened to him when he had it? Good riddance. And that Mercer guy? That wasn’t love anyway, was it?”
Her eyes reproached him. “You’re making fun of me.”
“No, I’m not. I’m just saying that whatever you’re really scared of, I don’t think it’s anything you’ve brought up so far.”
“I, well, it’s only... Logan, what if a year goes by and you realize you made a mistake?”
“That’s not going to happen. I know what’s in my heart. You’re the one for me. That’s never going to change.”
“But, Logan, what if your feelings did change? What if we, you and me, didn’t work out after a year or two or three? Think back. Try to remember how it was for you when your mother deserted you.”
“I know exactly how it was, which is all the more reason I will never desert you.”
She just couldn’t believe him. “In a couple of years, Sophia will be old enough to suffer when you leave us.”
“You’re not listening. If you say yes to me, I will never leave you.”
She only shook her head and went right on with her argument. “My daughter would count on you to be there and you would be gone. She would suffer because of my bad choices. It’s just better not to go there. It’s just better to leave things as they are.”
He stood over her, burning to get closer, to reach down and take her hand, pull her up into his arms that ached to hold her. But she looked so fragile sitting there, as though his very touch would shatter her.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered on a broken husk of breath. “I’m so sorry but I can’t. It’s not possible. Not for me.”
He didn’t know how to answer her. Because words weren’t making a damn bit of difference. He could stand here and argue with her all night long.
And where would that get them? What would that fix?
“Just tell me what you’re really afraid of.” He was actually pleading now. Imagine that. Logan Crawford, whose heart had always been untouchable, pleading with a woman just for a chance. “I can’t fix this if I don’t know what’s broken.”
“But that’s it,” she cried. “It’s nothing you can fix. Nothing anyone can fix. I can’t let myself count on you—on anyone, not really. I have to look out for my daughter and my heart. I have to be strong, be the mom and the breadwinner, the decision-maker and the protector, too. I don’t have the trust in me to let someone else do any of that, not anymore. It doesn’t matter how I feel about you, or how much I care. If I can’t give my trust, well, it’s not going to work.”
Trust. There it was. The thing she feared to give. The real problem.
She couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow herself to trust in him.
How the hell was he supposed to break through something like that?
What a spectacular irony. He’d finally found the one woman he wanted to spend a lifetime with. And she couldn’t let herself believe in him.
Where did that leave them?
His heart felt so empty, hollowed out. What now?
Should he back off, forget about forever and try to convince her to simply go on as they were?
Really, it was so achingly clear to him now: he’d messed up. Jumped the gun, made his move too soon. He should have kept his damn mouth shut, not crossed this particular line until she’d had more time to see that it was safe to believe in him.
He’d rushed it. He got that.
And it really didn’t look l
ike there was any way for him to recover from this disaster.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he made a last-ditch attempt to salvage some small shred of hope. “So then, I have to know. I want you to tell me. Is it that you need more time?”
She gazed up at him, a desolate look on her unforgettable face. “No.” The single word came at him like a knife blade, shining and deadly, flying straight for his heart.
He made himself clarify. “Never. You’re saying never.”
She nodded and whispered, “I am so sorry.”
Well, okay. That was about as clear as it could get. She hadn’t hedged. She’d given him zero hope that he could ever change her mind.
And now she was watching his face, reading him. “You’re leaving,” she said.
Before he could answer, the baby monitor on the dresser erupted with a sharp little cry.
They both froze, waiting for Sophia to fuss a little and then go back to sleep.
Not this time, though. Sophia cried out again. And again. Each cry was more insistent.
Sarah started to rise.
“I’ll get her,” he said.
“No, really, it’s—”
He cut her off. “Let me tell her goodbye. Give me that, at least.”
She pressed her lips together and dipped her head in a nod.
He turned for the baby’s room.
* * *
Sarah watched him go.
Dear Lord, what was the matter with her? She loved him. She did. And he’d never been anything but trustworthy with her, with Sophia.
And yet, she just couldn’t do it, couldn’t put her future in his hands, couldn’t let herself believe that he would never break her heart, never change his mind after she’d given him everything, never turn his back on her and her child.
Sophia’s wailing stopped.
Sarah heard Logan’s voice, a little muffled from the other room, but crystal clear on the monitor. “Hey there, gorgeous. It’s all right. I’ve got you. I’m right here.”
The camera had come on. It used infrared technology so that even in Sophia’s darkened room, she could see the tall figure standing by the crib with her baby in his arms.
“Ah, da!” cried Sophia. With a heavy sigh, she laid her head against Logan’s chest. “Da...”
“I think we’ve got a wet diaper here, don’t we?”
“Unngh.”
The camera tracked him as he carried Sophia to the changing area. Handing her a giraffe teething ring to chew on, he quickly and expertly put on a fresh diaper. “There now. All better.”
“Pa. Da.” Clutching the ring in one tiny fist, she reached out her arms to him.
He scooped her up against his chest again and carried her to the rocker in the corner. “We’ll just sit here and rock a little while, okay?”
“Angh.” She stuck the teething ring in her mouth.
He cradled her in both arms and slowly rocked. “I wanted to talk to you, anyway.” The baby sighed and stared up at him. “Sophia, I have to go now. I am so sorry, but I won’t be back. I want you to know, though, that I would stay if I could. I would be your ‘da’ forever and ever. I would watch you grow up, teach you how to ride a bike and how to pitch a softball, help you with your homework, chase all the boys away until the right one came along...”
Sarah’s eyes blurred with tears. On the monitor, Sophia gazed up at Logan so solemnly, as though she understood every word he said.
He fell silent. For a while, he just cradled her, rocking, looking down at her as she stared up at him. Slowly, her eyes fluttered shut. She let go of the toy. He caught it and set it on the little table beside the rocker.
Several more minutes passed. In her bedroom, Sarah watched on the monitor as Logan bent close to brush the lightest of kisses across her daughter’s forehead. He whispered something more, but she couldn’t make out the words.
And then, moving slowly so as not to disturb the little girl in his arms, he rose and carried her to the crib. Carefully, he put her back down again, pulling the blanket up to tuck in gently around her. He leaned down for a last light kiss.
A moment later, he came and stood in the open door to Sarah’s room. “She’s sleeping now. I’m going.”
Sarah didn’t know what else to do, so she got up and followed him to the front door. He pulled it open. The night air was cool, the dark street deserted.
He stuck his hand in his pocket. She looked down and saw he was holding out the house key she’d given him. She took it. “Goodbye, Sarah.”
She wanted to reach for him, grab him close. She wanted to not let him go.
But she only stood there, the key clutched tight in her hand. She made herself say it. “Goodbye, Logan.”
He turned, went out the door and down the steps to where his crew cab waited.
She couldn’t bear to watch him drive away, so she shut the door and kind of fell back against it, her knees suddenly weak and wobbly. Outside, she heard the truck start up, pull away from the curb and head off down the street.
The big, black eye of his fancy TV stared at her disapprovingly. She should have given it back to him. That had been her plan when she allowed him to bring it here—to return it to him when their time together ended.
Sarah shut her eyes. A sound escaped her—something midway between a crazy-woman laugh and a broken sob. As if the TV even mattered. If he wanted it, he would come back and get it.
But she knew he wouldn’t. He would want her to have it.
And he wouldn’t want to see her or talk to her.
Ever again.
Chapter Twelve
Somehow, Sarah got through the next day. And the next.
It wasn’t easy. She had this horrible hollow feeling—like her heart had gone missing from her chest.
But she knew it had been the right thing to tell him no. To break it off. The longer she had with him, the more painful it would have been to lose him in the end.
She managed to avoid her parents for those first two days, taking all of her appointments away from the office, being too busy to talk when her mom called on Friday.
Friday night was really tough. Sophia was fussier than usual. It wasn’t a cold or an ear infection or the pain of teething. Sarah thought the baby seemed sad. And Opal kind of drooped around the house like her little kitty heart was broken.
It couldn’t be true that her baby and her kitten missed Logan as much as she did. Sophia was too young to even know he’d gone missing—wasn’t she? And Opal was a cat, for crying out loud. Cats got attached to their place, their surroundings. Plus, if Opal had a favorite human, it was Sarah, hands down. She’d been Sarah’s cat from the first. The kitten sat in her lap while they watched TV and came crying to her when the kibble bowl was empty.
No. Sarah knew what was really going on. She was projecting her own misery and loss onto her baby and Opal. She needed to stop that right now. She’d done the right thing and this aching, endless emptiness inside her would go away.
Eventually.
That night after Sophia finally went to sleep, Sarah sat on the sofa with her phone in her hands and studied the pictures of Logan, Sophia and Petunia that she’d taken that day they had their picnic at the Ambling A. She went through the notebook of Logan’s sketches. It hurt so much to look at them. She’d been planning to frame some of them and put them up around the cottage.
But she didn’t know if she could ever bear to do that now. Those sketches were a testimony to all she would never have, all she’d made herself say no to.
All she had to learn to let go.
* * *
Saturday morning, her mom appeared on her doorstep. “Okay,” said Flo. “What is going on with you?”
When Sarah tried to protest that she was fine, her mom kind of pushed her way in the door, shut it behind her, took Sophia righ
t out of her arms and said, “Pour me some coffee. We need to talk.”
They sat in the kitchen where the morning sun streamed cheerfully in the window above the sink and the walls were the beautiful, buttery yellow Sarah had chosen herself—and that Logan had made happen. Every wall in her house was now the color she wanted it to be.
Because of Logan. Because he’d kept after her until she finally agreed to the painting party—and then, when she did agree, he’d taken her out to buy the paint and then worked for two days painting and also supervising the volunteer crew.
If not for Logan, she’d still be living in a house with off-white walls and random brushstrokes of color here and there, promising herself that one of these days she would get around to making the place feel more like her home.
Flo put Sophia in her bouncy seat and gave her a set of fat, plastic keys to chew on. Then she sat at the table across from Sarah and took a sip of her coffee. “It’s Logan, right?”
“Mom, I don’t think we—”
“He’s not here and he hasn’t been for days.”
“How do you know that?”
“Sweetheart, it’s Rust Creek Falls. Everybody knows that. No one’s seen that fancy pickup of his out in front since Wednesday night.”
“Mom, I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“But you need to talk about it. Now, tell me what happened.”
“I, um...” Her throat locked up, her nose started running and suddenly there were tears streaming down her cheeks. “Mom, he proposed. He proposed to me and I sent him away.”
Flo got up again. She grabbed the box of tissues from over on the counter and set them in Sarah’s lap, bending close to hug her right there in her chair. “Mop up, honey. We need to talk.” Flo sat down again and sipped her coffee, waiting.
Sarah blew her nose and dried her cheeks.
“Tell me,” her mom demanded.
With a big sigh and another sad little sob, Sarah started talking. She told her mom pretty much everything, all about how beautiful and perfect Wednesday night had been—until Logan tried to propose.
Her Favorite Maverick Page 16