Hail Mary: Book 7 Last Play Romances: (A Bachelor Billionaire Companion)

by Taylor Hart

  “Tell me.” He squeezed her hand.

  So she told him about how she felt lost when they knew her mother wouldn’t beat it. “It was so sad and confusing. It didn’t feel fair, you know? I went on all these cancer walks to raise money and we did fundraisers and we tried an experimental treatment, and she was just wasting away.” Tears fell down her face. “But at least she got to know Ty a little bit. He was two and a half when she died, so he kind of remembers her.”

  He flashed a grin. “Keep going.”

  “Oh, yeah. Logan, I have a son.”

  He looked at the walls. “Uh, I kind of noticed the fifty million pictures.”

  She smiled. Everyone teased her about how many pictures of Ty she had up. “Yeah.”

  He traced a T on the back of her hand. It was a game they’d played in every high school class they were in together. One where the teacher let them hold hands, but they couldn’t really talk.

  “T,” she said and for some reason, it felt intimate again, this hand-holding, being near him.

  He traced another letter.

  “Y.” She grinned. “Ty. Yes.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I do pay attention.”

  They sat on the beanbag, facing each other, him holding her hand and tracing letters, her guessing them. He reached up and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Man, you’re so beautiful.”

  Feeling a bit self-conscious she shrugged it off.

  “You are,” he insisted. “And yeah, I’m crazy, but I don’t know how my future … well, past self, could ever let you go. How I could mess up so royally? How I could ever let you go?” His voice had turned husky, and he leaned forward and gently brushed his lips to hers. “Tell me all about Ty.”

  She was more than happy to change the subject. Anything to slow down her racing heart. “Well, he’s just barely five. Went to kindergarten this year. He’s such a sweet kid. He and Shane are close. Ty loves all sport things. He started coach pitch.”

  Logan frowned, shaking his head.

  “He can’t start football until next year,” she said, already reading his mind.

  He laughed and she rambled for an hour on and off, talking all about Ty. The more she told him, the more questions he had. “Tell me about when he was teething. Tell me about changing diapers. About staying up all night with a baby. About being pregnant. About how it felt to grow a baby.” He was so sincere and sweet, and she remembered why she really had loved Logan. It was because he made her feel unique. He was genuinely interested.

  They paused in the conversation, and she couldn’t help but do a laundry list of differences between him and Shane. Things as to why it had been Logan instead of Shane. She didn’t like the list, but she couldn’t stop it.

  “What?” Logan asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “What?” Then understanding darkened his eyes. “Shane …”

  Her eyes met his green eyes, flickering toward the mole right beneath his eye. A touch of wrinkles was starting in on his face right around the eyes.

  “It’s okay, Pear. I know you were married to him.” He sighed. “I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all, but … I know it. So what can I do? Tell me what you were thinking about Shane.”

  Slowly, she looked up at him. “I can’t help making a list between the two of you.” She sighed. “Shane, when we got in a fight and then all the time since we’ve been divorced, would say ‘It’s always been Logan’ or ‘I know you’re thinking about him.’ When it was a childhood memory that had all of us in it, what was I supposed to do?” She felt desperate for someone to understand. A tear fell down her cheek. “Brain erase you?”

  He chuckled. “Get a concussion, it’s easier.”

  She scoffed. “Yeah.”

  He studied her. “Okay, fine. Of course you would compare us. That’s fine, but I just have to know, what did I say to you at the funeral, in that picture? I saw it yesterday at the library. We looked like we were talking. You looked intense. What did I say?”

  Her whole body froze. How would he even guess that?

  “Okay, I guess you’re not going to tell me.” He sighed and leaned back, still keeping her hand, but relaxing into the beanbag. “I … you don’t know how hard this is, not remembering.”

  Paris felt bad, but not bad enough to tell him. She couldn’t. The other Logan knew, but she didn’t have to tell this Logan. He would wake up and know and it wouldn’t matter.

  He scooted closer to her. “Can I just hold you and we’ll finish the movie?” When she hesitated, he asked, “Can we just brain erase you for a little bit back eight years ago, before … I still don’t know what happened.” He sounded resigned and pulled back. “Never mind.”

  She did something she knew she shouldn’t have. “Okay,” she said quietly. She scooted to him, and he pulled her into him. She loved the way she fit perfectly against him. He gently kissed the back of her neck.

  They snuggled in and he grabbed a blanket off the couch and put it over them. Not listening to the movie. Not paying any attention to much, except the feel of him against her. He’d always been her safe place and she’d forgotten that.

  Before she drifted off, she heard him whisper, “I love you, Pear. You have to know that will never change.”

  Chapter 14

  Logan knew he was in a dream because the woman with the zebra-print dress was upside down, shouting his name. “Logan! Logan!”

  He thought he smelled grass and the smell of cleats, but he couldn’t see any of the other faces.

  “Wake up!” the zebra-print woman shouted.

  His mind flashed to an image of a green beer bottle smashing against a wall and glass shattering. Reflexively, he tried to cover his face to protect it from the glass.

  His movement woke him, and he felt the beads of sweat on his forehead and all down his back. He turned to look at the clock. Five-thirty in the morning.

  He was alone, in the guest bedroom. He lay back down, thinking it had been three when he’d put Paris to bed, then gone to bed himself. He couldn’t get back to sleep, just lying there, his heart racing. Thinking about his dream, the woman. Kim.

  How, in this alternate reality, had he gotten engaged to Kim? He lay there, thinking about all he’d learned about his life yesterday. He went through each piece of information and placed it in the puzzle of the gap of eight years.

  Was there something he didn’t want to remember?

  To him, the answer was obvious. He’d screwed up his life; that’s what he didn’t want to remember. The longer he thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense. He still didn’t know exactly why things hadn’t worked out with Paris.

  Why? Why? Why?

  Why won’t she answer the question?

  Getting up, he pulled some gym clothes out of the bag he’d packed and quickly put them on. He needed to run. He could tell he did. The minute he hit the trail around the lake, it felt good, more than good. His mind began to clear and he could pinpoint the gaps in the timeline.

  Gaps that he wanted—needed—answers to.

  By the time he got back to the cabin, it was almost nine. He’d been running a long time. He noticed he was sweating, but not very tired. His stomach grumbled. Luckily, when he pulled back the sliding door, Paris’s dad was in the kitchen and Logan could smell bacon.

  The sound of music drew him toward the piano, where Paris was engrossed in her playing. He watched her hands dance across the keys, even though her eyes were closed. Was she composing? Pausing, he tried to decipher if he knew the song, but he couldn’t tell.

  “Logan, you’re back just in time. Go shower and we’ll eat before we go attend a service,” her dad said.

  Logan turned and her dad had a big smile on his face. He nodded to Paris and winked at him.

  Logan hesitated, then remembered all the times he’d come in the summer and stayed the weekend. He’d gone to church with them, an old church on the outskirts of Star Valley. He didn’t move. How did he tell Paris’s dad that
he didn’t want to go?

  He could tell by the look on her dad’s face that there would be no telling him no. “Go on, get showered. Paris, sweetheart, it sounds so beautiful, but it’s time to get ready.”

  As if pulled from another world, Paris opened her eyes, her hands slowing and stopping on the keys. She looked guilty.

  His heart raced and he smiled at her.

  “Go on, now, you two,” her dad said. “We’ll eat and then go.”

  An hour later, they were sitting in the Faith Hills Chapel. It was an old country church, white stucco with vines growing up the sides and pretty flowers out front, all surrounded by trees. The inside was well taken care of. They were late, so they found a seat in the back row. Paris’s dad ended up between them.

  Paris’s dad leaned over to whisper something to him just as the prayer finished and the song had begun. “Did you know that Paris’s mother and I were married in this church?”

  In fact, that was the only thing he knew about this church, because her dad had told him every time they came. He’d actually talked to Paris about getting married in this church. “Really?” Logan said, taking the hymnbook from the bench in front and looking up the song.

  “Hmm. Hmm.” Paris’s dad shared his book with Paris and belted out the hymn.

  Logan began to sing. He’d never been raised in any church, but he’d always believed in God. He’d liked Christmas, always liked the idea that a Savior had been born to the Earth. He probably thought about Christmas because he always came to church with Paris on Christmas.

  They finished singing and listened to the preacher talk about faith.

  “Faith is the key to all good things in life. Government. Community. Marriage. Having faith is the only thing that allows you to get through life. To forgive, as Christ forgave, even when he was hanging on the cross.”

  Logan listened and thought about faith. Did he have faith? Him? The young him had faith in Paris and in Shane. He had faith in something like God. He’d never been able to square things, like why he’d been given a mother who overdosed on drugs and an alcoholic father. But he’d looked at having Paris’s family as some kind of compensation. His heart raced and he decided somehow, he would demand answers from her. He didn’t care if she didn’t want to tell him or that she was afraid to tell him. He would find out.

  The preacher continued for a while longer, and when he had finished, they launched into another song and then a prayer.

  Logan jumped when her dad shot up and rushed to the front. “Hold up, everyone.” He gestured to the preacher.

  “Wait, everyone,” the preacher said. “Please.”

  Her dad put up both hands. “I know that many of you know the drama with Logan Slade. Please, don’t rat us out to the press. Let him have a chance to remember. Don’t post on social media anywhere. Don’t take pictures.”

  Many of the people in the congregation smiled or nodded to him.

  As they left, it was near impossible to stay out of people’s way. Several people stopped them and he was surprised to get a few hugs from people who he kind of remembered, but looked older now.

  One old lady, Ms. Pixley, who lived next to the cabin, said, “I always told everyone you were the nicest boy and I didn’t know what happened. It seemed like after your daddy passed away you had a breakdown.”

  Paris and her dad glanced at each other, and then Paris took his hand. “Good to see you, Ms. Pixley, but we have to go.”

  As they got to the car her dad said, “I wonder how long we have before the press shows up.”

  Chapter 15

  Paris was surprised that no press had shown up the rest of Sunday, or Monday, for that matter. Even stranger, her father stayed and helped Logan with the boat all morning. She went for a run, and made them sandwiches, and then turned to composing.

  For three hours she sat at the piano and the ideas poured out of her. At one point she couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down her face. Logan was back in her life and so was the flow of creativity she’d always had.

  When she went out to the boat, she smiled because she heard her father telling Logan something else about one of the games he’d played in. It was funny that her father hardly took a breath, acting like Ty when he wanted to tell her something.

  “How’s it coming, gentleman?” She put the plates on the side of the boat next to the steering wheel.

  Logan wiped off a part of the pump. “Well, there’s this wire that doesn’t seem to want to connect.” He smiled at her and took a sandwich, wolfing it down in two bites.

  She laughed. “Glad to see you’re still a pig.”

  “Did that ever change?” he said through a mouthful of food. He washed it down with a drink of the water.

  She and her dad both laughed. It was weird and sort of wonderful to see them like this. To see Logan like this. A strange sort of fear had been growing bigger and bigger inside her chest. He would “wake up.” Right? He would remember everything, and then … She didn’t want to think about it. The selfish part of her liked this Logan. She liked them all being together.

  “You sounded good in there,” Logan said, trying to act nonchalant.

  Their eyes held for a moment.

  “Sure did.” Her dad kept working on a boat part, not looking at them.

  Looking away, Paris let out a shaky breath. It was so strange that Logan was back in her life, and that she was able to compose again.

  Logan winked at her, but gave her a look from a long time ago that said, What’s wrong?

  She shook her head and felt her phone buzz. Pulling it out, she assumed it would be Michelle, giving her updates. She’d used her hot spot and had been sending emails back and forth.

  It was Shane.

  “Hello,” she said quickly, her heart racing. She couldn’t imagine why he would call.

  “Ty got hurt. We’re coming home early.”

  She put a hand over her stomach. “What? How?”

  “It’s fine, he cut his foot on the beach where we were snorkeling. He wasn’t wearing the swim shoes I told him to wear and touched some of the corral on the bottom.”

  “Is he okay?” She turned away from Logan and her dad, who had both stopped working and were staring at her.

  Shane sighed. “Yes, but we’re going to get off in Cancun and fly home. I just think the cut’s too deep. The ship doctor isn’t really experienced in doing surgery and I’m really not too keen on having it done in Mexico. I’ll keep you posted on details. I’m thinking we’ll be home tomorrow afternoon. We might have a doctor look at it in LA depending on how he’s doing.”

  “Okay.” Her mind whirled. “Thanks for calling. Can I talk to him?”

  A brief shuffling as the phone was past, and then she heard, “Hi, Mom.” His voice sounded brave, but she could tell that he was afraid.

  “Hey, baby,” she said, trying to sound clear-minded and calm. “Dad said you hurt your foot. Are you okay?”

  “I saw the coolest fish and then I felt a scratch almost like a claw on the bottom of my foot. It’s kinda deep.”

  Paris bit her lip. Shane wasn’t the type of dad who babied him, so it must be pretty bad. “Well, I bet you’re going to be just fine and Dad and Shari are taking good care of you.”

  He giggled. “They’re letting me have all the ice cream I want.”

  That made her feel better, to hear him laugh. She sucked in a breath and brushed away a tear that had escaped down her cheek. “That’s good, baby. You eat that ice cream.”

  “I want you, Mommy.”

  Another tear slipped out. “I know, baby, but listen. I’ll see you right when you get back. I’ll be at the airport waiting, okay? And I’ll bring Mr. Blankey.”

  It’d been a thing, whether to take Mr. Blankey on the cruise or not. Ty had chosen not to because he could sense that his father thought he was too big for it. Now she was kicking herself that she hadn’t stuck it in his bag.

  She could hear Shane in the background.

  �
��Daddy says I have to go. Love you, Mom.”

  “Love you too.” Even though she didn’t want to, she knew her voice sounded desperate. She pushed end and sucked in a breath, without turning to face Logan or her father.

  “Is he okay?” her dad asked.

  Turning, she pushed past them before her churning emotions could break loose. “No, he’s hurt and he’s coming home. But it’s going to take two days. They might have to do surgery; the cut is pretty bad.” She climbed out of the boat and rushed to the house, hating the fact she couldn’t stop the sobs from taking hold of her.

  A couple of hours later, she sat in her room, her ear buds in, working on her hot spot, scrolling through all the activities and the checklist of things Michelle had sent her an hour ago. Country music blared into her ears and she tried to drown herself in her work.

  She hated thinking of Ty hurt and her not being there. Not being able to do something. She should be the one on that vacation with Ty, not Shane.

  Guilt nagged her. Here she was, hanging out with the ex-boyfriend, while they were gone. She could only imagine how it would go down between Logan and Shane if Logan was still around. No, no, no. She was a mother. She had to put Ty first. She could not be involved with Logan. Ty needed her.

  There were still some details that had to be taken care of, so she finished drafting an email to Michelle. She may have to go in to work, but she didn’t want to. The hunt for Logan had grown stronger. Honestly, she couldn’t believe someone from the church hadn’t ratted him out.

  There was a knock on her bedroom door and she jumped. Yanking her ear buds out, she stood. “Yeah,” she said as she threw open the door.

  Her dad was next to the door. “You okay?”

  Tears threatened again, but she pushed them down. “I should be there. I should … I should be with my son.”

  Her dad took her into his arms and held her as she cried.

  She saw Logan coming in through the sliding glass door. Their eyes met, and she pulled back from her father. “I’m going to finish up some work, okay?”