“Okay?” Seth asked. Logan’s face was an alarming red, and his arms shook where he held a cabinet. Seth tugged it free and thunked it down onto the garage floor, his heart skipping. “Logan?”
Panting now, Logan pressed a palm to his chest as if he couldn’t breathe. Seth’s own breath caught as Logan dropped to his knees on the concrete, his shoulders heaving. Squatting, Seth checked to make sure Logan wasn’t wearing a medical alert bracelet or necklace he hadn’t noticed.
“Is it asthma? Do you have chest pain?” Seth asked. Logan shook his head, but his eyes were wild and he still couldn’t seem to breathe. “I’m calling 911. I’ll be right back!” Seth jumped up, but Logan caught his wrist in an iron grip.
Logan shook his head. He gasped out, “Will…pass.”
He still had hold of Seth’s wrist, his strong, callused hand freezing. Seth sank back down, letting Logan hold on, angling himself so he could tentatively reach out with his other hand and stroke Logan’s back. Not thumping—that didn’t work for choking, let alone whatever this was. A panic attack? Seth prayed it wasn’t actually a heart attack and that Logan wasn’t just being a stereotypical tough guy by insisting he was fine.
“What’s wrong with him?”
Seth looked over his shoulder to see Connor with one foot in the garage, his eyes wide as he stared at Logan. Logan released Seth’s wrist, sucking in a breath and wheezing out, “It’s nothing.” He pushed to his feet, still breathing hard, sweat glistening on his brow despite the frosty air, his exhalations clouding.
Seth added, “Everything’s okay. It was just a little…” He had no idea what, and grasped for a word, landing on the one his gram would have used. “Just a little turn.”
Connor stared at them, his gaze jumping back and forth between Logan and Seth. To Seth, he said, “He’s supposed to be better now.” He bit it out like an accusation, but Seth could sense the terror beneath it. The poor kid had lost his mother suddenly and been through so much upheaval. Seth managed a smile and approached him.
He hoped he wasn’t lying when he said, “He is.” He squeezed Connor’s shoulder, and he could feel little tremors despite Connor lifting his chin and putting on a careless tone.
“Fine. Whatever.”
Seth ignored that. “I’m glad you came back. We really do need your help.”
“I didn’t have my phone,” Connor replied flatly.
Heh. Should have known. “Right. Well, I’m still glad. How about you help me get these first few cabinets inside? I’ll push and you pull.” Seth motioned to the long dolly. He glanced at Logan, who nodded, gratitude clear in his brown eyes.
It gave Seth a satisfied little flush of warmth to help Logan. He grasped the cold metal handles, yelping. “Yikes! We need to get our gloves when we go in. Think we can tough it out?”
Connor nodded as Seth hoped he would, glancing at Logan as he took hold of the dolly’s handles at the other end and pulled. Wants to prove he’s tough, Seth thought. He bet Connor wanted Logan’s approval far more than either of them realized.
Nodding encouragingly, Seth pushed, and they made their way out of the garage and along the front walk over the temporary plywood path. It wasn’t too heavy, and they were able to get up the ramp without too much struggle on Seth’s end, his thighs flexing as he dug in and shoved.
Inside, he asked Connor, “You want to help Jun unload these and warm up for a minute? I’ll be back.” Seth grabbed his gloves and hurried out. He exhaled in relief when he saw Logan standing in the garage, his color back to normal and seemingly breathing okay.
“You all right?” Seth asked as he neared. He rubbed Logan’s arm, the leather of his jacket and Seth’s gloves creaking. Wait, was he being too familiar? He dropped his hand.
Logan nodded and rasped, “Thanks.”
“What happened?”
“It’s fine.” Logan shrugged. “No big deal. Let’s get back to work.”
Seth stayed put. “I thought you were having a heart attack. It was a pretty big deal.”
Logan rubbed a hand over his face, making that scratchy sound that sent a thrill down Seth’s spine. “I guess I pushed a little too hard. Docs have a fancy word for it: dyspnea. Just means shortness of breath. Because of the accident.”
“Ah.” Maybe he was being nosy, but Seth’s curiosity got the better of him. “It was a derailment?”
“Yeah.” Logan’s jaw tightened, his gaze on the concrete. “I was driving the engine, just moving it to the other side of the yard. The conductor had released the other cars, thank fuck. It would have been much worse. They said I was going too fast, being a hotshot or something. I know I wasn’t. The brakes failed. I wasn’t speeding, and I braked in plenty of time, but it was just…” He shuddered. “Screeching metal like you’ve never heard before.”
“My goodness,” Seth whispered. He could only imagine the terror.
“Track curved, and we went over. Last thing I remember was my buddy Huey screaming, and this punch to my chest, like being stomped by an elephant.”
Logan swallowed hard, raising his head and looking off somewhere beyond Seth, unfocused. “One of the monitors had come loose, and it hit me square in the chest. Massive pulmonary contusion. My lungs were so bruised, I needed to be on a ventilator to breathe. Woke up like that—tube down my throat.”
Seth shuddered. “That must have been horrendous.”
“Yeah.” His gaze was still distant. “Dislocated my shoulder and broke my arm, and it had to be in traction. Cracked ribs. Everything was just…broken.” He inhaled and seemed to give himself a shake, meeting Seth’s eyes. “Anyway. Once in a while I get short of breath. I guess it’s in my head sometimes, but today I just pushed too fast. Connor must think I’m pathetic.” He looked away. “You too.”
“What? No, not at all. I’m just relieved there’s an explanation. I can’t imagine how much work you had to do to recover the way you have. I’d never know you’d been so badly injured.”
“The physio helped. Having a goal. And Veronica…” He shrugged. “She helped a lot.”
“Connor’s mother? I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“‘My loss,’” he muttered darkly. “I always feel like shit when people say that.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Seth tried to think of something better to say.
“No, it’s not your fault.” Logan lifted his hands out to his sides before dropping them. “It’s just that we were done. It was over between us. So I feel like an asshole acting like she was still…mine. You know what I mean?”
“Yes, I understand that. I didn’t realize.”
“Not that I’m not sad she’s dead. I did love her. She was a good woman, but we were a mess together. I wish I could change a lot about what happened.” He shrugged tightly. “I guess that’s life. She dropped dead at thirty-four, and I can’t fix it. Connor got the shit end of the stick, that’s for sure.”
“The poor boy. It’s heartbreaking.” Seth frowned, going back to what Logan had said before. “But you know, I don’t agree that Connor thinks you’re pathetic, or that he truly dislikes you. He was scared to see you like that.”
Logan scoffed. “He’d probably be thrilled if I dropped dead.”
“You can’t really believe that? As much as he may want his biological father to be in the picture, you’re the one who’s here. If you two could stop butting heads for five minutes…”
Logan was silent a few moments. “But he’s never liked me from the day we met. I try not to lose my temper, but he just—” He made a stabbing motion with his index finger.
“Pushes your buttons. I noticed.” Seth glanced out of the garage to make sure they were still alone. “I don’t think you should take what Connor says to heart. I realize that’s easy for me to say. But he’s lashing out and angry at the world. You’re a convenient target.”
“Yeah.” Logan gave Seth a rueful smile. “And since I’m not thirteen, I should try to be the adult, huh? Not fly off the handle.”
&
nbsp; “Right,” Seth agreed gently. “Praise him. Try to build up his confidence.”
“But he doesn’t care what I think.”
“I’d argue he cares very much what you think. Despite what he might say.”
Logan seemed to ponder that. “I guess so. Shit, Jenna and Jun are so good at this stuff. I’m useless.”
“Doesn’t Jenna…talk to you about this kind of thing?” He tried to phrase it delicately. “She’s usually eager to…help.”
Barking out what sounded like a genuine laugh, Logan scratched his head. “That’s a polite way to put it. She does help, but she’s always given me more credit than I deserve. And she’s got so much with the kids and Pop and working. When our mom died…”
“You were teenagers, right?”
“Jenna was. Fourteen. I was twenty-one and in the Marines. Pop only had the stroke five years ago, but when Mom died, he needed taking care of. Hell, I don’t think he could even use the microwave. Jenna stepped up, like she always does. She barely had the chance to move out after college. Pop had the stroke, and he ended up moving in with her and Jun. He’ll be there until he has to go in an old-folks home or they take him out feet first.”
Logan took a deep breath and blew it out. “I was working long hours on the railway. On call, never knowing exactly when I’d have to go in, and for how long. Just depended on the shipments and where they had to go. I’d be away a couple days sometimes since we had to wait at least ten hours in the bunkhouse upstate before we could come back. Regulations and all. Pop needed stability.”
Seth tried to assure him. “Of course. It’s not your fault you couldn’t be the primary caregiver. And with Connor, you’re still learning. From what I gather, parenthood takes practice.”
Logan scowled. “That’s just it. It’s not like I’m a parent. I’m totally fucking unqualified for that.”
“But…you are. A parent, I mean. Whether you’re ready or not, Connor needs you.” Seth thought of his mother and father with a pang of longing, a bite of pain quick on its heels. “His mother’s gone, and his father’s MIA. He needs a dad he can depend on. Who will look out for him, no matter what. Being rejected by your parents, it’s… I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Let alone a confused kid.”
After a moment, Logan softly said, “Parenthood,” as if he was trying out the word, weighing it on his tongue and in his heart. “The lady at the school called me a ‘single father.’ It’s weird as hell to think of myself like this. Me actually being…a parent.”
Footsteps approached, and they turned as Connor pulled the long dolly back into the garage, wearing gloves now. For a moment, no one said anything. Then Connor frowned and glanced at the dolly. “Did I do it wrong?”
“No, not at all,” Seth quickly assured him.
Logan cleared his throat. “You did a great job. Thanks.”
It was silly for Seth to be proud and pleased that Logan had taken his advice, but he was nonetheless.
Connor watched Logan warily. “Okay.” Then he waved a hand toward him. “Are you…?”
“Oh yeah, I’m fine. It’s nothing to worry about.”
Connor glanced at Seth, as if looking for affirmation, so Seth nodded and smiled. “Let’s get back to work! Team Caper needs to finish this kitchen, right?” He held up his palms for high fives, which was probably a nerdy thing to do, but he’d never pretended to be cool.
After a moment, Logan and Connor dutifully slapped his palms, and Seth grinned as they got to work.
Along the main street in town late on Sunday afternoon, fluffy flakes of snow drifted down, the sun already setting by four-thirty, the trees glowing in white Christmas lights. Red-ribboned wreaths hung from the old-fashioned streetlight poles, and other shoppers popped in and out of the antique stores and gift shops.
“I think that’s the one,” Seth said. “I can’t imagine we’re going to find another dining table in store without waiting for a custom build or warehouse delivery.” Although it made him a bit nauseous to think of buying a major piece of furniture without looking in all the stores in the area. And online. And after making an exhaustive list of the pros and cons.
Logan said, “Looked good to me. A table’s a table, right?”
Seth laughed. “You just want to finish shopping, don’t you? Your eyes glazed over in the second store two hours ago.”
“Guilty as charged.” Logan gave him a sexy little smirk.
Stop thinking about how sexy he is.
The struggle was real. As much as Seth tried not to think about how hot Logan was, his sexiness was right there. And aside from the way he looked, it was very attractive that Logan had gone furniture shopping with him and not complained once, even though all the talk of wood grains and rustic vs. classic vs. modern had surely bored him to tears.
Seth might have pretended once or twice that Logan was his boyfriend, and when a few shopkeepers had made the assumption, he hadn’t corrected them. He’d told himself it was only for practice purposes, but he was full of it. If he only cared about faking it, he wouldn’t be imagining what it would be like to hold Logan’s hand as they walked down the street.
Or what it would be like to steal a kiss under one of the boughs of mistletoe that hung outside the bookstore. Their lips cold and noses red in the frosty air… How they’d warm each other up, Logan’s arms strong around him and pulling him close…
Seth cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s look in one more store down here and—” Breath punching out of him, he staggered to a halt, almost tripping over his own feet.
Oh, merciful lord.
Or cruel and not merciful at all as the case may be, because there was Brandon. Seth blinked, willing the nightmare to end. But no, that was definitely, one hundred percent Brandon standing twenty feet away looking in a store window, snow catching in the bushy hipster beard he’d grown that year. Which Seth only knew about from stalking public Facebook posts.
He closed his eyes and opened them. Still Brandon.
Of course—because the horror had to be complete—Brandon was talking to Peter, who even at a distance in a parka was clearly still climbing ropes and lifting cars one-handed or whatever people did at CrossFit.
They were with Bethany and Jake—no, Joe—from the wine club, which shouldn’t have bothered Seth at all—he hadn’t even liked the pretentious wine club in the first place. Why should he care that Brandon had kept going with Peter? Why had he been Facebook stalking in the first place?
That Seth had been dumped and replaced, seemingly without missing a beat, hurt.
His feet felt locked in ice. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered. With Logan stopped beside him, clearly confused, Seth had never wanted to make a run for it so badly in his life.
Chapter Seven
Squinting down the sidewalk, Logan tried to see what was making Seth look like he might puke, his face going red the way it had when Logan had shown up unexpectedly and met Angela Barker.
Seth’s mouth was open as he stared at four people nearby peering in the window of a store that looked like it sold candles and oil and that kind of froufrou stuff Logan’s long-ago ex Jacinta had loved. If Logan never smelled lavender and that sandalwood shit again it would be too soon.
Grabbing Logan’s arm, his fingers digging in through the leather, Seth took a step back. Then he froze as one of the people glanced over and did a double-take. She was a blonde around thirty and had a nice rack under her tight jacket.
Her eyes went wide for a moment as she and Seth stared at each other, and then she slapped on a fake-looking smile and called, “Oh my God, is that you, Seth?”
Seth dropped Logan’s arm like it was burning and laughed shakily, calling back, “Hi, Bethany. Joe.” He paused as the other people looked over. “Brandon.”
Oh fuck. Logan wasn’t sure which of the three men was Brandon, but he assumed it was one of the guys who immediately linked hands and put on bullshit smiles. The two couples approached, Seth still frozen beside Logan, his
breath clouding the frosty air in shallow bursts.
He looked scared shitless, and Logan wondered if he’d looked like that himself in the garage when he couldn’t breathe. Fuck, he hated when he was like that—so helpless and…bare. Seth had been good to him, and seeing his fear now, Logan wanted to protect him.
Hell, they were supposed to be pretending to be engaged—that was the deal, wasn’t it? Might as well get in some practice.
He slung his arm around Seth’s shoulders, squeezing when he felt how Seth was trembling. This breakup had kicked Seth in the nuts, and Logan wasn’t going to let any shit-brick ex make him feel worse. In a world full of assholes, Seth was good.
Putting on his own bullshit smile, Logan said, “Hey there!” He stuck out his free right hand to the closest guy. “Logan Derwood. Seth’s boyfriend.”
The man’s eyebrows shot up so far they might never come back down. He looked between Logan and Seth, his smile faltering. “Oh! Wow! Uh, hi.” He had to let go of his boyfriend’s hand to shake Logan’s. “Brandon Templeton.”
Logan squeezed. Hard. “Great to meet you.” He let his eyes drop down over Brandon—short, teeth too big for his mouth, and one of those bushy beards that must be making up for a small dick.
Then he looked away dismissively, moving on to shake the hand of Brandon’s boyfriend, Peter—thick neck, probably took steroids but could kick Logan’s ass—and the male/female couple whose names Logan forgot as soon as he heard them.
Brandon gave Seth an uneasy smile. “Babe, I didn’t realize you were seeing anyone.”
What an asshole. He had no right to call Seth any names like that—and right in front of Logan! The fucking nerve. Sure, they were fake boyfriends, but Brandon didn’t know that. Seth was rigid against Logan’s side, and Logan willed him to unclench.
“Uh-huh,” Seth managed, his voice higher than Logan had heard it.
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