Mending Hearts: Logan's Story

by Kimberly Krey

  Her touch.

  It had been so long since she’d put her hands on him; he’d almost forgotten how it felt. He might have been tempted to close his eyes from the pleasure of it, but her gaze held him captive. There was a question presented there: Did she dare to give in to what she was feeling? Was it safe?

  Her hesitation read like a warning. This was dangerous ground. Candice could run in a blink.

  A lump of fear moved up his throat as he watched her expression change.

  It started in her eyes, then drifted slowly down her face. The curve of her cheeks falling flat. The set of her mouth slowly drawing into a sad, lopsided bow. And just as her bottom lip began to quiver, she lowered her chin, shoulders curling over her chest, and nudged the top of her head against him.

  Need. She needs me. Logan wrapped his arms around her, began smoothing his hands down her back. Slowly. Gently. Swaying to the lull of the breeze. He lowered his head next, ran his nose along the soft sheet of her hair. That slight hint of coconut lingered there; he added it to the things he missed about her.

  Candice’s hands slipped around his sides until her warm palms flattened along his back. He tuned into the feel of it, her energy seeming to shift once more.

  At once she lifted her chin, bringing them face to face. Just as he began to wonder if she wanted his kiss, Candice tilted her head, moved in even closer, and ran her cheek along his, back and forth. The small sound of a whimper wafted to his ear.

  Her closeness, her touch, all of it ignited something within him. Had him wondering just what kind of comfort she was seeking. Perhaps she didn’t know either. Logan circled the silky curve of her ear with his parted lips. “Candice,” he pled, inwardly begging her to succumb. Her fingers tickled the back of his neck, causing his heart to pick up the clanking once again.

  “It’s over,” she said in no more than a whisper.

  Wait. What? Please no. Don’t let her shut down again. Logan’s eyes clenched shut as he froze in place. “No,” he promised, “it’s not.” With a painful exhale, he lowered his head onto her shoulder.

  “It is,” she said, emotion choking her words. “We’ll never have any children, Logan. Never.” Her hands were gripping the back of his neck now, desperately. It felt like a plea – one for assurance. She didn’t want an argument from him. Candice needed only the solace she so desperately craved.

  With his arms wrapped solidly around her, Logan offered that very thing. The weak sound of her cries echoed in the small gap between them. Her heartache seeming to spill out of her now, seeping deep into raw and tender places within him. He swayed with her there, back and forth, reflecting on something he’d learned in school years ago. While a great thunderstorm rumbled beyond the windows, his teacher had taught them about the purpose of a lightning rod. He’d been surprised to learn that – despite popular belief among the students – they weren’t meant to attract lightning strikes at all, but rather to prevent them from striking the area altogether. Anything close to the rod was safe.

  He lifted his eyes heavenward, knowing just why the thought had occurred to him. Logan was meant to be that rod for Candice – a protector from the deadly blows that came their way. This was marriage. This act of soaking in her pain. Relieving her of it.

  Instantly he was swamped with regret; he shouldn’t have given Candice the space she’d asked for when they’d moved back. As it was, he hadn’t comforted her enough during their marriage. Between Candice’s stubborn determination to stay strong, and Logan’s preoccupation with his practice, the two had found comfort in denial, distraction, and a wish that had never come true.

  It didn’t matter that their afternoon had gone from floating-on-air wonderful to this great, sinking feeling of grief; Candice had found it in her heart to turn to Logan at a time like this. That alone gave him reason to hope.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A sliver of light caught Candice’s attention in the otherwise dreary room. She’d been lying on her bed – in the same spot across the foot of it – since she got home from work that afternoon. One of the most confusing days of her life, thanks to Logan’s surprise visit.

  Through blurry tears, Candice had watched the natural light seep from the room in a slow crawl. She imagined the years of her married life as they did. With each shade of darkness, another difficulty they’d endured played out in her mind. Yet she’d survived, hadn’t she? The hard times hadn’t killed her, like the saying goes. But they hadn’t made her stronger either. All they had done was beat every ounce of hope right out of her, piece by bitter piece.

  As if to challenge the truth of that thought, that same spot of light caught her eye once more. The word maybe taunting her like a dangling answer to a prayer. After all, Logan had – in the space of one measly hour – triggered nearly every emotion she owned. It wasn’t often that she broke down in front of him. Allowed him to hold and comfort her. She hadn’t told Logan about the trail of thoughts that led to that moment, but the truth was, she had been torn.

  Even then – hours later – the physical ache of it gripped at either side of her heart. At one end stood this fairly new, robotic side of her. The perpetual planner who followed the course and let nothing deter her along the way. It was the part that had taken over for the last year of her life. A set of strong persistent hands pulled her in this direction, assuring Candice that it was the easiest route. The safest route.

  Candice sat up, stared into the darkness as she considered the force that stood on the other end of her heart. The more natural side of her – a part that had come back and taken her by storm. A force that threatened to take control of her heart once again and never let go. Passion. Intimacy. Love. No, she assured herself. It was disruption. Disappointment. Grief. And she had to free herself of it.

  As she let her eyes drift closed, ready to give in to the inevitable pull of slumber, a knock sounded at the door. The loud, unexpected clatter made Candice jump. An image of Logan’s face shot to her mind as she stumbled through the dark apartment, her hands splayed out before. At last she reached the door, twisted the cool knob, and yanked it open.

  “Why didn’t you ask who I was?” Logan’s voice was hard and firm. A deep furrow creased his brow.

  Candice blinked. “What?”

  “You don’t have a light on in your entire place, you get a knock at the door, and you answer without a second thought.”

  Her defenses kicked into gear. “I knew it was you. Who else would it be?”

  Logan tilted his head to catch her gaze. “You did not know it was me. I’ve never even come here before.”

  Candice crinkled her nose, put off by the challenge she heard in his voice. “Why are you here?”

  His eyes trailed over her face, lingered along her hair before he met her gaze once more. “Were you asleep just now?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Jeez, Candice, it’s only seven o’clock. If you didn’t have your drapes clamped so tight you might know there’s still daylight out here. Sun won’t set for another hour yet.”

  “So?” He was right, she realized. It was lighter outside than it was in her place. She had no west-facing windows, but now as she glanced out, Candice could see a beautiful splash of sunlight coating the western horizon.

  “Have you even eaten yet?” When she hesitated, he spoke up again. “Let’s go. I’m taking you to get some dinner.”

  Candice smoothed a hand over her hair, knowing she looked a wreck. “I don’t want dinner. I want to go to bed.”

  “Hey, today was supposed to pull us out of the funk, not make it worse.”

  Us? Her lopsided heart thumped out of beat. Why hadn’t it occurred to her that Logan might be in a place as deep and dark as she was? She looked at him then. Really studied the face she’d come to know so well. Small lines formed around his brown eyes. Tired eyes. Loving eyes. Logan’s.

  “I can’t,” she said. “Look at me. I’m in no position to go anywhere.”

  “Then we’ll order in.” H
is face brightened.

  Candice fought back a smile. He was going to weasel his way into her evening if it killed him. And he looked so encouraged over it, his somber expression fading already.

  A sudden burst of light took over the room then, and Candice clenched her eyes shut. “Oh, you should have warned me,” she groaned, wanting to crawl back into her dark hole. She hadn’t noticed him reaching for the light.

  Logan gasped. “You don’t have furniture? Why didn’t you say anything? I thought you said this place was furnished.”

  Candice pried open her eyes to look at him. “It is. I have a bed. And a dresser. I don’t need anything else.”

  “Where the heck do you sit down?”

  “The barstool. Or my bed.”

  He looked horrified. “Guys can get away with … this,” he said, motioning to the empty space. “But women, they… no.” He sighed, folded his way-more-muscular-than-she-remembered arms, and put his head down for a minute.

  Great. His thoughtful pose. The position he took just before he came up with some big idea that would disrupt life as she knew it.

  Candice squirmed in the silent moment, unhappy about the interruption. She was trying to have a moment. To make a decision regarding her future with Logan and the last thing she needed was him clouding her judgment.

  “You know what?” he blurted. “Change of plans. I say we round up some blankets, throw them in the back of my truck, and go to the Burger Bar. We’ll get cozy, enjoy the fresh air, and watch the sun set.” He had that assertive look on his face. It didn’t say I won’t take no for an answer, rather I hope I don’t have to take no for an answer but if I do I’ll come up with another plan and then another until she agrees. Flexible persistence was Logan’s game, and for some ridiculous reason she couldn’t quite fathom, she was charmed by it in the moment.

  At last Candice gave in to the smile that pulled at her lips. Barely. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” He forced his raised brows back to their normal place. “Good. Let’s go.”

  “Wait, let me throw on some sweats first.” Candice tried to ignore the rapid beat of her heart as she darted down the short hallway. She hit the bathroom first, freshening her makeup in just three short steps. She started with mascara. Thank heavens she’d had the wisdom to not wear it earlier that day; she could afford to wear it now, though. A bit of blush came next. Followed by a trace of lip-gloss. She argued with the voice that said she shouldn’t be getting ready at all. Who cared what she looked like in front of Logan?

  But for whatever reason, she did care.

  Standing before her closet, Candice skipped over her frumpy favorites and reached for a fresher pair of sweats instead. After zipping up a matching hoodie, she stepped into a pair of Keds and headed back down the hall.

  Logan turned to look at her as she entered. “I love it when your hair’s back like that.”

  Warmth moved up the front of her neck and spread over her face. She pictured the messy ponytail at the top of her head. “No you don’t.”

  Logan let out one short laugh. And then his face turned serious. “Yes. I do.”

  A trail of warmth zinged up her back now too. A compliment she’d been holding back shot to the surface of her mind. Something about how much she loved his five o’clock shadow. “So, have you decided to stop shaving, or what?” she asked.

  He ran a hand over his jaw. “Not completely. Why, do you like it?”

  She shrugged. “It looks alright.” If alright meant sexy-as-hell. She scolded herself for not being more generous. “In fact,” she continued, leading him out of the apartment, “I don’t know why I ever told you to shave your face for the office. I’m pretty sure we would’ve had every woman in the city buying dogs so they could come get them checked on a regular basis. After requesting the good-looking vet, of course.” Candice suddenly wished she could take that last sentence back. But it was too late.

  Her words hovered between them while Logan cranked open the door to his truck and helped her in. “I’d only be the better looking one because Doctor Tanner’s a hundred years old. Even then it’s a tossup.”

  Candice laughed out loud, turning to him once he climbed into the driver’s side. His comment had put her at ease once more. So easy. He was so easy to talk to. “Yeah right. You know how attractive you are.”

  His dimple showed then, proving her point with the grin alone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted.

  Yes, he did, but she wouldn’t push. Instead Candice let herself enjoy the fresh air, warm daylight, and the easy friendship between her and Logan. It felt nice. And familiar in the best way. Candice needed it more than she wanted to admit.

  Once they were loaded up with warm bags of burgers, fries, and onion rings, Logan backed into a spot just off the side of a dirt road. It occurred to Candice, as she cozied into the soft blankets, that Logan had planned a similar date years ago. It was their third date, to be exact. And the night of their first kiss. A splash of heat pooled into her chest at the thought.

  “You comfortable?” Logan asked, sitting atop the blankets next to her.

  “Very.” She took a moment to appreciate the view. Neatly lined rows of growing greens basked in the orange glow. A line of tractors and tools stood black against the light, their silhouettes adding an unparalleled charm to the view. An old barn had a unique silhouette of its own, the broken beams in the rooftop allowing streaks of sun to peer through the structure.

  Candice tilted her face toward the sun and let her eyes drift shut, the light brilliant even through her closed lids. She felt her soul lifting as she inhaled with the breeze, recognizing one blessed scent after the next: unmistakable hints of fresh-cut grass, the hickory aroma of their warm take-out, and the clean, masculine scent of Logan’s cologne.

  “So this is new,” Logan said, “you ordering chicken. Have you tried it before or will this be a first?” He slid the wrapped chicken sandwich into her hand.

  Candice reached for a napkin and rested it before her. “Oh, I tried it a week or so ago. I came here with Sam.”

  Logan had been hovered over the bag, sifting through it with one hand. But at her comment, he turned to look at her. “Sam Green?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. It was a teacher work day – you know where the kids stay home and the teachers make plans for the upcoming term.”

  “And he brought you here for food?”

  Candice nodded again. “Lunch.”

  “Did he pay?” Logan’s eyes hadn’t left hers.

  “Only because I left my purse back in the classroom.”

  He seemed to scrutinize her for a bit. “Is that the only time you’ve gone out to eat together?”

  She gave that some thought. “Alone, yes.”

  At last Logan’s shoulders dropped a notch. “Huh.” He pulled out the onion rings, set them on the flattened paper bag between them, and proceeded to remove the sauces. “Might have to go poison good ol’ Sam’s dog,” he murmured under his breath.

  “Logan!” She smacked his arm. “Since when do you joke about hurting animals? You haven’t done that a day in your life.”

  “Since when? Since my wife goes out to dinner with dorks like Sam Green.”

  “It was lunch,” she reminded with a laugh. “A work lunch.” Candice had never given Logan a reason to be jealous, but she had to admit, it felt kind of nice. And when he’d called her his wife, she had almost liked the sound of that too, though she couldn’t guess why. It was like she’d forgotten that Logan Emerson really was hers. Had been for nearly a decade. Was it possible she could keep it that way? Would Logan really be willing to settle down with her, knowing they’d never have a shot at children? The question had her speaking up before she could give it a second thought.

  “I’m sorry I had to let our spot on the list expire.”

  Logan nearly choked on his food.

  She continued as he reached for his drink. “I mean, I want to thank you for not fighting me on it. It’s alm
ost nice not having to worry about it anymore. I can’t help but think that – if we were meant to adopt – it would have happened by now. Guess you just can’t force a dream.” It was strange, but with the sun and the view, the company and fresh air, she didn’t feel nearly so devastated as she had before.

  Logan turned his gaze toward the sunset, and Candice took the chance to admire the suntanned look of his skin, enhanced by the rich glow of golden light. Outdoor life looked good on him. Really good.

  A slight breeze picked up, and Candice turned her face back toward the sun as well. She imagined it held some sort of healing power. That its generous warmth was sinking into the darkest parts of her soul, shedding light on all those hard-to-reach places.

  “Damn,” she heard Logan murmur under his breath. “You are so beautiful.”

  She kept her eyes closed as a warm blush spread over her face. “You talking to the sunset?”

  He laughed. “It’s nothing compared to you.”

  Candice had the urge to turn away from him, hide her face completely, but she resisted. Instead she cracked open one eye and threw him a slight grin. “Stop it,” she said playfully.

  He laughed. “Stop what? Stop complimenting you or stop looking at you?”

  She shrugged. “Both.”

  “What if I don’t want to stop?”

  What had gotten into him? Was he flirting with her? And was she actually enjoying it?

  As the evening carried on, Logan answered some of those questions with more playful banter, all-too-brief touches, and long gazes that held more heat than the sun. Each gesture unnerved and thrilled her all at once, making her wonder just what kind of roller coaster she’d climbed into. Here she’d endured a couple of the hardest days of her life, yet somehow Candice felt as if she’d stepped back in time. To the years where she and Logan had nothing more to worry about than getting home before curfew was up.

  The crisp sound of crinkling paper drew her eyes back to Logan. He was stuffing wrappers and napkins into one of the sacks. “Oh, we forgot about this,” he said reaching onto the ledge of the truck bed. He held up a tall Styrofoam cup.