Giving It All

by Christi Barth

“Please.” Knox grabbed a beer out of the ice-filled stainless-steel tub, opened it, and passed it to Logan. “You’re too stubborn to be a coward. You’ve outskied the leading edge of an avalanche. And there was that time you stared down some weird Eastern European version of a cougar who came near a group of sleeping children at a site. You’re plenty brave, Marsh. Hell, you taught me to stick up for myself and be brave.”

  “You’re not a coward, Logan. You’re just human.” Madison crouched in front of him and put her hands on his knees. “I know we just met, but let me get a jump start on being your sister, by hitting you with a big truth. We’re all scared of losing someone we love. But the real loss is if you don’t let yourself be happy. If you don’t let yourself experience true love.”

  Yeah, her words struck a chord. As did the honesty shining in her eyes. Both of which made Logan as itchy as wearing four-day-old underwear. “Is that a direct quote from the last chick flick you saw? It should come with a sound track and the background noise of fifty sniffling women eating popcorn.”

  She pinched him sharply on his calf. Damn. She didn’t need to catch up on all the little sister stuff. “Make Brooke happy. Make your dad happy. Make all of us happy. Stay.”

  Of course he wanted to. To stay all the time with all the people he loved. To not sleep on the ground. To not literally shit in the jungle, always looking up to watch for spiders falling out of the trees.

  But if he didn’t do it, somebody might not survive. How was he supposed to live with that guilt?

  Logan pushed out what was basically the mission statement he’d tried to live since graduating from college. “Giving my all to save entire populations in need is more important than making one or two people happy in my own life.”

  “That depends on who those people are,” Riley said.

  God, they kept pushing at him. It was a miracle Josh was still down making magic in the kitchen and hadn’t come up to poke at him. Logan pounded his armrest with his fist. Leaned forward to spit the words out like nails from a gun. “Don’t you see? I can’t live with myself knowing there might be a difference I could make.”

  “Don’t you see?” Madison shot back. “What if making that difference here at home is what’s best? Why does it always have to be a faceless stranger?”

  Logan fell back against the wooden slats of the chair, stunned.

  She was right.

  She’d done a one-eighty on everything he said and thought. And her way made sense. It made a hell of a lot of sense.

  What if he could stay home without feeling guilty?

  Without feeling punished? Without feeling useless?

  Without feeling constantly alone anymore?

  He’d missed so much. He’d missed Knox’s concussion and the chance to beat the shit out of the asshole who gave it to him. He’d missed the start of their podcast, which was huge. The ACSs did things as a single unit, and he’d missed out on taking this enormous leap with them. Logan didn’t want to do the same thing if and when they started taping in front of cameras. He’d missed…well, Madison’s entire fucking life up till now. He sure as hell didn’t want to miss any more of it. Or whatever time was left with his father—that couldn’t be wasted.

  Unintentionally, he’d built this life that pushed him away—halfway around the globe away—from the very people he most cared about. Kept himself closed off to avoid the pain of losing anyone. But he had lost already. He’d lost so much damn time. Lost the chance to build memories, to have fun, to share his life instead of just walling up and giving himself away to strangers. And maybe his stupidity had caused him to lose Brooke, too.

  No more.

  With a heave, he pulled Madison up as he stood. Then Logan hugged her for a long time. The deep, long hug that she’d made clear she wanted the first time they met. A real hug that bridged all the years they’d missed out on together. One that cemented them as siblings who loved each other no matter what.

  Because, yeah, he’d been pissed that her discovery of him led to his ditching a rescue site early. And Madison was a living representation of his dad’s epic fuckup, not to mention a decades-old lie he’d perpetrated. She was also probably a hell of a lot of the reason Logan’s mom had been unhappy for as long as he could remember.

  But most importantly, she was the best gift he’d ever received.

  When Logan finally let his arms drop, Madison’s cheeks bore trails of a single tear on each. They were paired with a smile brighter than the sun glinting off the Potomac.

  “You know what? I’m grateful as hell that I’ve had the ACSs as brothers my whole life. Now, though, I’ve realized how lucky I am to have a sister, too.”

  Chapter 24

  Brooke climbed the shallow cement steps slowly. She’d avoided making this trek for months now, so dragging her heels another few minutes wouldn’t make much of a difference. Aside from turning her into a worse procrastinator than Jonah, her sophomore who’d turned in his October pumpkin pie assignment in March—he’d waited for his actual pumpkin, sitting on the porch, to cave in on itself before baking. He’d already received an incomplete on the project, but she did give him ten points extra credit for actually following through. Inedible, borderline-poisonous though it was.

  It was impossible to be back on the Roosevelt Prep campus without thinking about her former students. Or thinking about when she’d been a student here. With Logan. Before he decided that saving other lives was more important than living his own.

  No. Brooke stomped her foot to break out of that thought cycle. But stomping a flip-flop, no matter how cutely bright red and white striped, made a far less-than-satisfying sound in the deserted courtyard on this sunny Friday evening. She’d cried plenty in the two nights since her and Logan’s fight.

  Breakup.

  Whatever.

  Crying more, right now, wouldn’t change his mind. Nor would it change the fact that she loved him. Logan was in her heart. He’d lodged there back in high school, with the foundation of a friendship. Which, after bumping into each other on Dominica, had then escalated into a true partnership of passion and respect, love and lust. Brooke wouldn’t be able to cry him out of her heart; or gorge him out with ice cream, as Katrina had suggested; or run him out, even if she did a circuit from the Kennedy Center up and around the Capitol, like Captain America.

  Her original plan had been to enjoy her time with Logan. Period. At first, just for one day on the island. Then, for as long as he lingered in D.C. To not expect, want, or ask for any more than that. It’d been a good plan. In theory. Now? Brooke knew she’d always have the currently raw, tender spot in her heart for Logan. And it would be a very long time before it would begin to even scab over. You didn’t just move on from loving someone like Logan.

  So she’d start her new direction in life with a heavy heart. But that was okay. Because she’d walked through her days with a heavy heart before. Brooke knew she could do it. It would hurt. It would suck. If there was anything in her power to change the status quo, she would. But she could only change herself, her mind-set.

  If a large part of her hoped Logan’s would change while he slept on the ground, not showering, and with his hands covered in blisters? That he’d realize all the physical discomfort was nothing compared to how much he missed her? Well…a girl could dream, right?

  Her slow, reluctant footsteps stopped her in front of what any nonsnooty prep school would call the cafeteria, but they called the “dining room.” Its glass walls overlooked the courtyard. So much so that Brooke had stopped eating there last year, in a fit of what she now knew to be cowardice rather than grief.

  Because the courtyard was where they’d buried Sarah Jamison.

  Her suicide had prevented a Catholic graveyard burial with her deeply religious family. So her friends, already deep in planning a memorial, had suggested the school. They’d turned it into a multiclass project; the government class studying municipal burial laws, the ethics class touching on why the Church frowned on interrin
g her in a sanctified space, and the science class learning what had to be done to change the pH levels of the soil they’d mix with the ashes at the base of a newly planted tree to prevent toxicity.

  Brooke had refused to have anything to do with it. She’d been too raw, too wracked with guilt. And she’d walked considerably out of her way the rest of the semester not to pass the thoughtful memorial, planted and tended by her loving friends.

  No longer. She couldn’t move on with her new life until saying a proper goodbye to her old one. Squaring her shoulders, Brooke lifted her head to face the center of the courtyard. The red maple stood strong, rooted well. In a few months it would flame a vibrant scarlet, eventually growing tall enough to leaf above the adjoining buildings.

  Just like Sarah used to balance on top of the pyramid.

  Brooke swallowed hard. Choked back the tightness in her throat. Because today wasn’t for sadness. Lifting her white sundress, she crouched at the base of the tree, right in front of the brass plaque engraved with Sarah’s name and listing her as a devoted member of the RPHS cheer squad. She traced the raised lettering. Brushed her lips against the white rose she’d brought, then laid it across the plaque.

  “All I ever wanted to do with my life was help people. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you, Sarah. But I can’t stop living, can’t stop trying to help others because I’m so caught up in wondering if I could’ve helped you more. So I’m here today to say I’m sorry.”

  She put her palms on the cool bronze and bent forward, leaning her forehead against the tree trunk. “And I forgive you for leaving all of us who loved you behind. I hope you’re happy now, at peace. I think I finally am. Because a wonderful man told me that I have to stop thinking so much, and just feel. He reminded me that I can revel in the moment, instead of always wallowing in the past.” Okay, there were tears flowing now, but not hard enough to prevent her from getting the rest of her thoughts out. “Logan showed me the way back to the warmth of sunshine and the scent of cookies and the rhythm of a good rock song that buzzes in your bones. I’m going to feel all of those things for you from now on.”

  A weird crinkling noise whipped her around. She shoved at the long curtain of hair obscuring her view of what should have been a private spot in early August. The motion upset her balance. Brooke tipped forward onto her knees. And when she glanced up, there stood Logan Marsh. Looking impossibly handsome in khakis, an open-necked white shirt, and a tan sports coat. Looking…impossible to ever truly be hers.

  He helped her to her feet, the heat of his grip searing her bare arm. Brooke’s pride warred with curiosity and confusion. But she’d ripped all the protective covering off her heart to come here and finally say goodbye to Sarah. So she couldn’t help but blurt out, “What are you doing here?”

  —

  Brooke’s face was as white as her dress, aside from two blotches of color high on her cheeks. Tearstains laid a wet path from her eyes down to her chin. Logan drank in the sight of her. He didn’t know where to start. Because after what he’d just witnessed, he didn’t simply second-guess his plan. He kind of wanted to throw it in a gully and bulldoze over it.

  But she deserved an explanation. And he couldn’t walk away from her in this state. So, smart or not, Logan went with the truth. “I wanted to talk to you. But once I caught up and heard you talking to the tree, I realized it was a bad time to interrupt. I swear I didn’t mean to.”

  “Okay.”

  “Although I’m glad I heard you. Obviously it was a private moment, but I’m so proud of what you said. You’re incredibly strong, incredibly brave, Brooke, to break free of all that sadness.”

  She swallowed hard enough he could see the muscles of her throat flex. “Thank you. But how did you know I was here?”

  “I followed you.”

  “Why? From where? Why would you do that?”

  Yeah. He got the repetition, just like he got the reason why she’d pulled out of his grasp as she stood and why she hammered the words at him.

  “I went to your house to talk to you. Katrina was there, unpacking the last of your boxes. Which seemed weird.”

  “She wanted to be sure I was one hundred percent committed to staying. Committed to starting our business together. Frankly, I’m surprised you could even bear to watch someone actually putting down roots right in front of you.”

  He deserved that. Hell, he’d take whatever she threw his way. Better to get it all out of her system at once. Trying to break the tension, Logan joked, “Now that I know it’s what she was doing, maybe I should’ve taken notes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m staying put, too. Not in a year. As of right now.”

  “Poor you.”

  The sarcasm stung, but he deserved that, too. Brooke had no idea he’d been trying not to hurt her when he sent her away. That he’d done it to protect her. Of course she was mad. Probably almost as mad as Logan was at himself for pulling such a boneheaded stunt.

  “No, it was my choice. I just left the Board meeting. You could’ve knocked my dad over with a feather when I said I wasn’t headed off to Colombia after all. I announced to all of them that I’d become the junior director, effective immediately. Not stepping straight into his shoes, but working alongside him for a few months to learn as much as I can, as fast as I can. He’ll taper off his hours bit by bit. Hopefully be down to two days a week within six months.”

  “You did this for him.”

  “Yeah. To start, anyway. I agreed to take over for him. And I could barely stand from the chip on my shoulder about it. Which was stupid. Shortsighted. Ultimately pretty fucking selfish, coming from a guy who swears up and down that he’s in this to help others.”

  “You figured that all out by yourself?”

  “No. And yes. I figured it out. It took a bunch of other people, you included, to make me realize that what I said applied to me, too. Because I told you this.”

  “What did you tell me?”

  “That night, at the Summerhouse. When you told me about Sarah. When you were still beating yourself up about not saving her. I told you that your quick actions saved some other kid from going through what you did. That saving that one person could be enough. That you’d made a difference, and that was what mattered.”

  “You did say that,” she murmured. Her lashes swooped down to make dark red fans against her pale cheeks. “It really impacted me.”

  “Me, too.” Two weeks later, though. “Wait. I’m doing this all backward. Will you give me five minutes? To explain? Just listen, instead of slashing back at me?”

  “Four minutes. You’ve already used one up.”

  He led her over to the table in the grass where they’d sat so many times back in high school. Back then, she’d sit on the tabletop, her long legs exposed in her short cheer skirt. It’d driven him crazy. Now she sat on the attached bench, feet firmly on the ground. Funny how he still saw the vivacious, sweet girl layered over her, like a sunny shadow.

  Logan didn’t sit. He couldn’t. He was too nervous. Just because he knew what he wanted didn’t mean she’d be willing at all. Hell, it was a miracle she’d relented to give him these four minutes. Which he was wasting, pacing along the edge of the grass.

  “Look, the accident in the Alps changed me. Focused me. Or so I thought. It really overshadowed my entire life. What happened during those three days, how close my friends came to death, how the doctors swore they would’ve died after one more night? How they would’ve died if I hadn’t kept going, pushed on and rescued them? It all made me believe that I can only make a difference by literally being there, physically helping people.

  “My dad calls it my hero complex. Which pissed me off. I only wanted to help. To save. To do everything possible. But I took a wrong turn when I started thinking that it was the only way a difference would be made. That it rested all on my shoulders. That I held the ultimate responsibility for everything and everyone. That’s not a hero complex. That’s a fucking messiah complex. One I�
��m not proud of at all.

  “You helped me see that I was wrong. That I don’t have to save everyone, all by myself. That helping a single person can be enough. You showed me that. The ACSs tried to tell me. Then, finally, Madison beat it into my skull with some tough love.”

  “You took your baby sister’s advice?”

  “She’d been saving it up for twenty-four years. I figured it was pretty powerful stuff by now.”

  “You connected with Madison.” For a second, Brooke looked like she was about to jump up and hug him. Then, instead, she wrapped her arms tight around herself and just gave him a half-assed hint of a smile.

  He’d grab it like a damn lifeline that he was getting through to her. “I did. On the rectory’s roof deck—no sightseeing required. So really, a win-win.”

  “So you’re glad you raced across six thousand miles and through a hurricane to meet her.”

  “Yeah. But I’m a little more glad that I got stuck in a hurricane. With you.”

  Brooke held up her hand. “Don’t. Don’t try to smooth it over. We both said harsh things to each other. We’re both sorry. There’s no need to go back and rehash. Now is when we both move forward. On our separate paths.”

  “Not if I can help it. Brooke, I’m not just staying to help my dad. I’m choosing to stay, to help myself, too. To give myself a real life, rather than giving it all away to help others.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’ll still make a difference. Like my dad tried to make me see, I can impact way more than one disaster site at a time by drumming up resources and funds and attention and then allocating them. But I’ll start by making a difference with the people who matter the most. My friends, who I miss like hell every damn day I’m gone. My family, especially now that it’s got a whole new person in it. And, hopefully, the beautiful and interesting woman in front of me. Of course, I’ll need her help as I figure out how to juggle this next version of my life.”

  Brooke looked around—left, right—and then she put a hand to her chest. “You mean me, right?”