“Maybe it would help to supervise him this weekend. Make sure he studies.”
Logan unpacked a jumbo box of bran cereal. “Maybe.”
“I think Seth can be a good influence on him. And you.”
“Me? I ain’t studying for jack shit.” He slid some jars of baby food across the island. “Thank Christ. You know school wasn’t my strong suit.”
She rolled her eyes. “I mean just that you and Seth could, you know.” She shrugged. “Become friends.”
The back of his neck prickling, he shrugged. “I’m going to go say hi to Pop.”
“No, no, no.” She blocked his path and stared at him, hands on her hips. “You always blow me off when I bring this up. You used to hang out with your buddies from the railway all the time. But when was the last time you talked to them? Saw them? Liked one of their Facebook posts?”
He huffed. “You know I hate that shit.”
“Yes, I’m well aware you and social media are not on the same wavelength. But you used to go out drinking and watching football games with those guys every week. Why don’t you call them up?”
His lungs tightened, and he forced a jagged breath. “Just leave it alone.”
“But those guys—”
“Those guys never came to see me in the hospital.” He raised his voice, clenching his fists. “Okay?”
She blinked, jutting her chin forward. “What?”
“The bosses said the accident was my fault. Huey went along with it—said he couldn’t remember anything. Everyone knew I was taking the fall for faulty equipment, and since it happened in the train yard and not out on the line, and no one got killed, there was no investigation. Maybe they paid off the feds, I dunno. But they said Huey got hurt because of me. I was poison after that. I haven’t fucking seen my friends once since I woke up broken on a ventilator.”
Jenna opened and closed her mouth. Then her eyes glistened with tears, and Logan felt like a piece of shit. He begged, “Don’t cry. It’s fine. Really.”
“It’s not fine! I should have known!” She hugged him fiercely, standing on her tiptoes. She smelled like Vaseline and spit-up, and Logan held her tightly. Voice tight, she whispered, “It makes so much more sense—why you moved so fast with Veronica.”
No sense in denying it. “Yeah.”
“I should have known.” She stepped back and shook her head. “Why didn’t I know?”
“Because I never told you?”
“I should have realized.”
“You can’t read my mind. You’ve spent your whole life taking care of other people. What do I ever do for you?”
She slapped his arm. “You do plenty. You’re my big brother. Remember when you terrified that asshole Billy Morgan after he made fun of my training bra? Not that I condone the threat of violence, of course.”
Laughing softly, he swiped at her tears with his thumb. “Haven’t done much for you lately.”
“True,” she joked with a wink. “Think you can keep an eye on Noah for half an hour or so before I have to pick up Ian from his half day of preschool?”
Logan was more than happy to stop talking about all this emotional shit. “Sure.” The kid was still fast asleep, so it would be simple enough.
“Awesome. I know eventually when Ian is Connor’s age and wants nothing to do with me that I’ll long for these days when he wants to be with me every second he can, but sometimes it’s just so nice to go to the bathroom by myself. Maybe even have a shower all alone.”
“Go nuts. Noah and I’ll be fine.” Then he frowned. “If you need help with the kids during the day, I can come over. It’s not like I have a job.” He should have offered ages ago and kicked himself silently. Useless sack of shit. Can’t even babysit.
“No, no, we’re fine. Jun helps before and after work. I shouldn’t complain.”
“Why not? Wanting to drop a deuce in peace isn’t exactly asking for the moon.”
She grimaced. “Must you use Pop’s old classics? And I know, but the kids already spend time away from me at preschool and daycare. In January, I have to work full days. I’m lucky I’ve been able to ease back part time.”
“If boss lady’s got such a hard-on for families, she should pay for more maternity leave.”
Jenna smirked. “Indeed. But she gives a lot, comparatively. I was damn lucky to get almost six months off because BRK took over—it was barely a month with Ian. Okay, if he gets fussy, just shout.” Smiling down at Noah, she ghosted a kiss over his forehead before straightening. “And just… I’m sorry I pressed. I only want you to be happy again.”
“I know. Now go read Facebook and take your dump.” He kissed her cheek and waved her off before easing out a chair at the round kitchen table. Sunlight beamed in over the sink, which was full of dirty dishes. Logan wondered if he could wash them quietly enough.
The TV murmured distantly from the den, Pop watching some morning game show by the sounds of it. Noah was still fast asleep, making little whimpers from time to time, opening and closing his round little mouth. His dark hair was spiky the way Ian’s had been.
It was strange to imagine Ian and Noah at Connor’s age, and just as hard to imagine Connor ever being so small and peaceful. Of course he had been—Logan had seen the pictures. Veronica had said Connor was a happy, easy baby, and a good toddler until his father had abandoned them.
As Noah fidgeted, kicking out his little boot-covered foot and grasping the air with tiny fingers, Logan wondered if Connor would ever be happy again. God, he hoped so. He wanted to help, but he was so unqualified to be a father figure. And had Mike bothered to return Connor’s messages? Sometimes it took weeks.
He gave Noah his finger to grasp, the baby gripping on with surprising strength and blinking blearily. Logan tried to imagine actually abandoning your own kid and couldn’t. There was a special place in hell for cowardly fucks like Mike.
When Noah started kicking harder and whining, Logan carefully unbuckled him and lifted him out, taking off his coat and boots and holding him. The kid seemed to settle a bit when Logan walked around with him, patting his back and making soothing noises the way Jenna and Jun did.
Logan headed into the den as Noah gurgled against him wetly. The blinds were shut, probably to avoid glare on the TV. The Christmas tree was lit with gold in the corner, strands of silver decoration stuff all over the carpet. There weren’t any presents under it yet.
“Hey, Pop,” Logan said, walking closer to the tree with Noah still in his arms.
On his ancient stuffed armchair, slippered feet up on the matching orange footstool, Pop grunted. He’d never been much of a talker, but after the stroke, he talked even less. He could after a lot of speech therapy Jenna paid for, but chose not to most of the time, especially when watching TV. On the screen, a contestant played Plinko.
“Anyone guess an exact price today?” Logan asked, peering at the tree’s glass balls and icicle ornaments along with the old decorations he remembered from his childhood. He smirked at the butt-ugly beagle he’d made in Boy Scouts, its tongue too long and ears too short. He didn’t know why Jenna had hung on to all that stuff, but he had to admit it wasn’t bad to see it every December.
“Pop?”
“Nah. These guys are guessing for shit.” Pop took a sip from his mug of coffee, which was probably stone cold by now. He folded his hands over his gut, the TV reflecting in his glasses.
He was only sixty, but after the stroke five years before, he’d stopped dyeing his thinning hair, and it had gone completely gray now. His glasses slid down to the end of his nose, and he was constantly pushing them up.
Shifting Noah to his other arm, Logan reached up to the treetop to brush his fingers along the fringed bottom of the old angel’s dress. His mom had loved that angel with her gold-flecked halo that got bent one year in storage. It was still bent, but the angel beamed like everything in the world was perfect.
“Getting big already,” Pop said.
Logan rocked Noah gently.
“He is.”
“How’s Connor?”
“Fine,” Logan lied, lowering himself and Noah to the worn couch carefully.
Pop grunted, watching the TV again. They sat in peaceful enough silence until the next commercial break. “Jenny says you need help finishing a kitchen.”
“Yeah. The bones are all in place. Just needs the finishing touches.” Truthfully, Logan probably could have done the work himself as long as there were enough extra hands to carry the heavy pieces. But it would be good to get Pop out of his chair. “Could really use your help.”
He grunted again. “If it’ll make you and Jenny happy.” Pop was the only person allowed to call Jenna anything but her proper name.
“Thanks. Maybe we can go over and take a look. See what equipment or materials we need.”
The grunt was accompanied by a shrug this time. “After the Showcase Showdown.”
“Sounds good.”
“It’s Jenny’s boss’s kitchen? She said you’re staying over there.”
“Yeah. Just temporarily.” They’d decided there was no need to tell Pop about the deal Seth and Logan had made. It would probably just confuse him. Mostly Logan didn’t want to go there. His father had never seemed to have an issue with gay people, but… Yeah. Just didn’t want to go there.
“That warehouse job fell through?”
Shame simmered in his gut, and he braced for Pop’s judgment. Yet Pop only grunted when Logan nodded. After a few moments, Logan added, “I’ll get a job soon.” Noah gurgled and squirmed, and he rocked him. “I’m trying.”
Pop actually looked away from the TV, bushy eyebrows drawn tight. “’Course you are. Those bums at the railway fucked you over. Sons of bitches. You always tried hard. Skinned your knees raw, but you rode a bike before any of the other kids.”
Logan blinked. He couldn’t remember the last time Pop had talked about something from the past. After the stroke, just getting him to talk about The Price is Right had been a massive win. He tried to think of something to say, a swell of emotion sticking in his throat.
Pop turned back to the TV and farted. Smiling to himself, Logan settled back on the couch. Maybe he wasn’t good or great, but he hadn’t felt so okay in a long time. He still didn’t have a job, and his stepson still hated him, but at least thanks to this deal with Seth, he wasn’t homeless.
He watched the Showcase Showdown with his Pop, yelling at the contestants for their stupid bets, and let Noah suck on his finger until the kid started screaming for the real thing.
Chapter Six
“Left!” Bill Derwood barked, leaning on his cane.
Straining, Seth, Logan, and Jun shifted, trying to line up the quartz counter just right on the island. When Bill gave them the okay, they lowered it, and Seth exhaled and rolled his wrists when he could let go.
From where he was playing with a toy dump truck in the would-be sitting room, Ian clapped. Strapped in his car seat, Noah kicked and gurgled. Jun raised his palms, and Seth and Logan high fived him.
Jenna’s husband was on the shorter side, wore round glasses, and had a build Seth’s mother would have called “husky,” with the implication that “fat” might not be far behind if he wasn’t careful.
Why he still cataloged people’s appearance through the prism of his mother’s judgment, Seth wished he knew. Maybe because when he looked in the mirror, deep down he was still imagining how she might judge him.
She’d always favored short, trimmed hair, clean-shaven faces, shirts tucked in, and slacks creased down the middle. Brandon used to tease Seth about how he ironed his pajamas.
Seth squirmed with embarrassment now as he looked at how he was dressed—polo shirt tucked into his khakis and Oxfords since Bill had insisted everyone wear sturdy shoes while the work was being done. Bill, Logan, and Jun were all in jeans and old tees, Bill with a ratty cardigan over top, and work boots.
Seth tried not to stare as Logan bent over, denim stretching tight over his firm butt as he examined something near the base of the island.
Now if I could find a rear end like that on Grindr, maybe I’d swipe right. Or left, or whatever you’re supposed to do.
Scoffing to himself, Seth turned away and ran his palm over the new counter around the rectangular apron sink. The hard, cold truth was that he was too terrified to try any of the gay hookup apps. Partly because of his hang-ups about casual sex, and partly because he hadn’t been with anyone but Brandon and it was…daunting. The whole reason he was lusting after Logan was because it would never happen in a million years.
“Hi!” Jenna’s voice rang out. “Wow, you guys have been busy!” Leaning in the front door beyond the little sitting room, she kicked snow off her boots on the edge of the top step. “Hi, baby!” she exclaimed as Ian hurtled toward her, grabbing her around the legs as if it had been days since he’d seen her instead of a few hours.
She shuffled inside with difficulty, and Connor appeared behind her at the top of the makeshift ramp they’d constructed to wheel the cabinets and quartz inside.
“Connor!” Seth smiled, saying a little prayer that there wouldn’t be any screaming arguments. “So glad to see you.”
Shoulders practically up to his ears, Connor regarded Seth dubiously. Jenna had apparently taken him for a haircut, since it was clipped neatly. “Hey.” His gaze skittered over to Logan. “She said you needed my help.”
Logan glanced at Jenna, seemingly at a loss for words, so Seth jumped in. “We do! All hands on deck. We’ll be putting Noah to work any minute.” Fortunately, Jun laughed at the lame joke as he plucked Noah out of the car seat.
Jenna gave Connor’s shoulders a big squeeze, Ian still attached to her legs. “We always need you around.”
Connor rolled his eyes, but Seth noticed he couldn’t hide a tiny smile, and he wasn’t trying to get out of her grasp. He mumbled, “Sure,” glancing at Logan.
Unfortunately, Logan said, “Are you sure you shouldn’t be studying for your exams?”
Now Connor did squirm away from Jenna. “I’ve studied more in the past couple days than you probably have in your whole life.” He reminded Seth of a stray dog who wanted so desperately to be loved but would bark and bite out of fear.
“Good,” Logan bit back, his jaw clenching.
Jun had Noah in his arms, and he beckoned Ian over with the lure of cookies. Bill had plonked down into a folding chair Seth had brought out from the garage and seemed to be staring off into nothing.
Jenna kept her tone low and even as she said, “Logan, I know you’re just concerned about Connor’s future. Right?” She glanced at Connor, who scowled, his hands jammed in the front pockets of his jeans.
“Right,” Logan said. “Of course.”
She smiled, her voice soothing. “You both want the same thing—for Connor to ace his exams and go back to Rencliffe in January. Connor and I talked about how important it is for him to do his best.” She glanced at her father, her voice still low. “We also talked about how important the family retreat is next weekend. He understands, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Connor muttered. “I won’t screw it up.”
“Thank you,” Seth said. “I really appreciate your help.” He looked to Logan, who was watching the exchange warily, as if ready for Connor to act out. When Logan didn’t say anything, Seth added, “We both appreciate it very much.”
“Yeah.” Logan nodded.
“Am I getting lunch soon?” Bill asked loudly.
“Yes!” Seth was happy for an excuse to do something to break the awkward moment. They’d moved the fridge over into the sitting room, and he hurried to take out the sandwich fixings.
They had lunch in the great room, Jenna managing to keep the conversation flowing and noncombative. They all laughed as she told a story about an explosive diaper incident with Noah. It might not have been the best topic while they ate, but if there was one thing that could unite most people, it was embarrassing poop stories.
As they howled with laughte
r, Jenna standing now to animate her story, Seth realized it had been so long since he’d heard true laughter in the house. Not just the odd chuckle when he was watching The Good Place, but full-throated, belly-busting laughter. It echoed off the high ceiling, filling him with cozy warmth.
He knew that come January, once their caper was done and Logan moved on, that he’d be alone again, but at least Seth could enjoy having a family around him for the moment. Even if they weren’t his family, there was something profound and beautiful about three generations together, sharing food and jokes.
After lunch, Seth and Logan left the others relaxing in the great room for the time being, Jun reading Ian a story before he had his nap, Jenna nursing Noah with her feet up on the chaise and a blanket draped across her, Bill dozing on the other side of the couch.
Seth and Logan put on their boots and coats, and Seth impulsively asked Connor to come along. He shrugged but followed without complaint.
In the garage, which ideally would soon hold Seth’s SUV instead of the unfinished renovation materials, they had to take the cabinets out of their crates and load them onto a dolly. Logan said to Connor, “Hold the dolly still once we get the cabinets out.”
Connor rolled his eyes. “I can do more than that.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Logan snapped. “Can you just do as you’re told for once?”
“Screw you! I knew you didn’t really want me here.” With a dramatic huff, Connor spun on his heel and marched off down the driveway, snow crunching under his boots.
Seth stared after him in shock, boggled at how quickly that had gone south. Everything had been fine, and then bam. Logan and Connor couldn’t seem to communicate at all without anger and resentment exploding between them. Over nothing—although Seth knew it wasn’t really about the dolly.
He cleared his throat. “Should I go after him?”
Logan’s face was flushed, his nostrils flaring. “No. Just let him sulk.” He muttered something under his breath and got to work, taking a crowbar to the crates with gusto.
Seth tried to help but mostly stayed out of the way since Logan was apparently working off his frustration, prying open the crates, removing the cabinets, and loading them on the dolly. But when a grunt morphed into a gasp, Seth reached for him.
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