Sean

A brick wall inlaid with stone butterflies in all shapes and colors surrounded the tranquility garden in the courtyard at the hospital. Since nothing about Brackenridge rose to the level of tranquil, I had my doubts.

But then I passed under an arbor and into the shade of a cluster of maple trees, and the façade of the stark white building faded behind the dense leaves.

It was like a world within a world. The peace in the eye of the storm.

I slid into a wrought iron chair at a table in the corner facing the center of the garden. On the other side of the courtyard, a little girl staked out a spot on the grass. What little sun peeked through the trees shined on her bald head as she arranged her toys in a semi-circle around the hospital-issued water pitcher and plastic cups. Her mother watched from a nearby bench, a weary smile playing on her lips. 

“You want to tell me why you didn’t let me kick that douchebag’s ass?” Logan asked, dropping into the chair across from me. 

Shifting my gaze from the little girl’s makeshift tea party to my best friend, I stared at him blankly as he pulled a burger out of the greasy white bag. When he offered me one, I blanched, shaking my head. 

Logan sat back in his chair, unwrapping his sandwich. “Something you want to get off your chest, Hudson?”

Reading Logan was nearly impossible for most. But we’d known each other since the second grade. Not well, though. Logan was the kid everybody feared. The fighter. It wasn’t until I was ten that I got a glimpse behind the mask. 

Banished to the cafeteria when my mother had forgotten to sign a permission slip for a class field trip, I’d sulked at the end of one of the long tables. I wasn’t a crier, even then, but that day, my mother’s cancer conspired with my disappointment, and tears welled. 

Logan was stretched out flat on his back on a bench at an adjoining table, and he popped up when he heard me sniffle. “What are you crying for, Hudson?” 

Embarrassed, I’d swiped the lone tear dribbling down my cheek. “I’m not.”

He plopped down across from me. “Are too.” 

It wasn’t a condemnation, just a fact.

Noting the bruise on Logan’s cheek, I figured he’d gotten into a fight, and this was his punishment. “Why aren’t you on the field trip?” I shot back, hoping to shut him up.

He caught me staring at the purple welt, but instead of hiding, he lifted his chin. “Why aren’t you?” 

“My mom didn’t sign my slip.” I shrugged. “No big deal.”

“She kinda left you hanging, huh?” He snickered. “Sucks to be you.”

Taking on the class brawler wasn’t a smart move. But that didn’t stop me from rearing out of my seat and leaning across the table. “She didn’t leave me hanging,” I spat. “She’s got cancer.”

It was the first time those words had ever left my lips. Before that, whenever anyone would ask, I always said my mom was “sick” or “not feeling well,” but something about Logan’s smug grin made me want to wipe it off his face.

He cocked his head, a ripple of emotion crossing his arctic blue eyes. “My mom’s dead.” 

Sinking back onto the bench, a shot of fear ran down my spine. Because I knew someday that would be me, that Logan’s life and mine were destined to intersect in that place where grief and loss collided. He just had a head start. 

“What about your dad?” I asked weakly. 

“He’s a piece of shit.” Another ripple passed over his ice blue orbs. “Yours?”

“Dead.” 

Logan looked around, absently touching the bruise on his cheek. “Lucky.” 

I didn’t know what to make of that, so I ripped open the sack lunch my aunt Melissa had packed. And that’s when I found the permission slip she’d forged. 

Glancing out the window at the kids milling around by the buses, I spotted our teacher and rose automatically, the slip clutched in my hand.

Logan looked up at me. “Where are you going?”

My gaze darted to the window and then back to his face as yet another wave broke in his stormy blue eyes.

Plopping back onto the bench, I dumped out my lunch. “Nowhere.” I pushed half of my bologna sandwich across the table along with one of my Little Debbie snack cakes. “Want some?” 

After that we were inseparable. And when my mom died two years later, Logan was the only one who understood. Even when Christian and Cameron joined our little duo Logan and I were just a little closer. 

Stirring from my memories, I locked our gazes, blue on blue. “Why didn’t you tell me Anna came to the bar the night before we left?”

Logan stretched his legs, crossing them at the ankle. “You didn’t seem too concerned with your past life.” Lacing his fingers behind his head, I saw the ripple spread from the center of his blue eyes. “I made an executive decision.” 

“What makes you think—?”

“I didn’t have to think.” Logan snorted derisively. “My bunk was right across from yours. I knew. Everyone knew. You weren’t thinking about Anna when you were banging your way through every groupie that spread their legs for you.”

That’s where Logan was wrong. I never thought of anything but Anna. But I couldn’t admit it. Not then, and not now.

“You sure that’s all there was to it?” I asked, cocking a brow. “From what I heard, you were quite the hero.”

Logan laughed, dry and humorless. “I’m nobody’s hero. But if that’s how Anna wants to remember it, I won’t argue.”

My stomach twisted uncomfortably as my mind veered to a place it never went. To Anna and Logan. Together.

“What exactly happened between you two?” 

“Didn’t Anna tell you?”

Logan searched my face, but I had nothing to hide. All my secrets met the light of day long ago. All he was going to find was bleached bones.

“I want you to tell me.”

Sighing, Logan took another bite of his burger. “What do you want to know?”

Not a damned thing. But that was the pussy way out, so I braced myself and said, “Everything.”

Logan dropped his head to the back of the chair, and patches of sun peeked through the trees, casting his face in light and shadow. “I texted Anna when we got to the bar. Just to let her know you were safe.” Working his jaw, Logan closed his eyes. “I never thought she’d show up.”

Guilt isn’t something you wear. It wears you. You can’t escape it. And that’s what I saw when Logan swung his gaze to mine. Guilt.

“It wasn’t your fault.” 

Begrudgingly, I offered the small piece of solace. 

Logan shook his head. “I ain’t asking for your forgiveness. I just never thought . . .” He smiled a smile I’d never seen. “You surprised me, that’s all. I thought you went out for a smoke. I didn’t notice that Darcy was gone too.” His gaze returned to the trees, and he continued, “I didn’t realize what happened until I heard Anna screaming her guts out in the parking lot. She had Darcy by the hair, and she was wailing on her pretty good. I would’ve let her go.” A shudder rolled off his shoulders, slight but noticeable. “But she was barefoot, and that fucking parking lot was a disaster. She didn’t even feel the glass crunching under her feet.” He pinned me with his gaze. “That skank wasn’t worth the blood Anna was spillin’, so I broke it up.” 

Schooling my features, I swallowed the bile crawling up my throat. “Is that all?” 

Logan grunted. “Isn’t that enough?” When I remained silent, he rolled his eyes. “Fine. I took her home and cleaned her up and then I tucked her into bed. And after she fell asleep I took a shower. When I got out, she was gone.”

A dull pain spread through my limbs. “You didn’t say goodbye?”

Logan smiled that smile again. “Nope, and neither did you. So I guess that makes us both pricks.” Hauling to his feet, he shoved the chair against the table with enough force to shake me in my spot. “If you’re done wallowing in the past, we need to talk about our trip to LA next week.” 

Numb, I picked at a crack in the black paint on the side of the table. “What trip?”

“Benny’s PR department wants us to make a guest appearance at some party he’s throwing.” Logan fished his keys from his pocket. “You think you can get your personal shit straightened out by then?”

I looked past him to the bricks hidden behind the trees. “Yeah, I got it covered.” 

Logan leaned forward and looked me in the eyes. “This is everything we’ve ever wanted. Don’t get yourself all twisted.” He raised his closed fist for a bump, which I reluctantly returned. “Eyes on the prize, bro.”

My eyes were on another prize at the moment, but there was nothing that said I couldn’t have both.

The woman on the bench watched with mild curiosity as Logan sauntered out of the tranquility garden. Then she turned to me, recognition glinting in her eyes. I thought she might ask for an autograph or maybe a picture. But instead, she sank onto the grass next to her daughter and joined the imaginary tea party. 

I sat back, casually thumbing through my messages. Over the top of my screen, the little girl caught my eye. 

As I watched her crawl into her mother’s lap, I scrolled through the unanswered texts from my Aunt Melissa dating back a week. 

Call me, sugar.

Call when you get a chance.

I haven’t heard from you. Are you in town?

Sorry to bother. I need to talk to you.

Bother? 

Guilt nipped at my shoulders. Melissa had raised me. It was our sad little family tradition, dating back to when my mom took custody of Melissa when my grandmother died before I was born.

Melissa was there for all the important firsts in my life. First steps. First day of school. My mom’s first treatment, and every one after that.

I blew out a breath as I waited for her to answer my long overdue call.

“Hey sugar,” Melissa said in her lazy southern drawl. “Where you been?”

“Sorry. I’ve got a lot going on.” 

“I looked for you after the concert. But you boys were already gone.”

Shit.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Yeah . . .”

A sigh forced its way from my lungs like a gale wind, and I heard Melissa’s sharp intake of breath.

“What is it?” she demanded, her tone rising in alarm. “Sean Jacob, you tell me this instant.” 

That’s all it took. The story came out in a rush. Anna. Willow. The hospital. All of it. When I paused to take a breath, a soft chuckle drifted over the line. 

“You think this is funny?”

“Life is funny, sugar.” 

A nurse’s aide entered the courtyard, and the young mother reluctantly pushed to her feet. Abandoning the pitcher and plastic cups, she picked up her sleepy daughter and then headed for the sliding glass door. 

“Yeah, it’s fucking hilarious,” I muttered, dropping my gaze to the slate patio. 

“Help me out,” Melissa said. “Should I be happy or sad about this?”

I couldn’t even begin to answer that question. There were too many caveats. I’d convinced Anna to stay at my house for a couple of days. Beyond that, I wasn’t sure.

“It’s . . .” I cleared my throat. “I’ve got some work to do. With Anna, I mean.” 

Another soft laugh. “I bet you do. Why don’t you start by bringing her and that baby ’round. I need to talk to you anyway.” 

“What about?” 

In my whole life, I only remembered a couple of times when Melissa didn’t have a quick response. The day I asked if my mom was going to die. And the day the funeral director asked what color casket we wanted. 

“What is it, Melissa?” 

“Not now, sugar. Get Anna settled, and I’ll have y’all over for supper.”

The cheer returned to her tone, so I didn’t push. 

“Okay.” I rubbed my tired eyes. “How’s Chelsea?”

That drew a belly laugh from Melissa, which I was glad to hear. “She’s seventeen. How do you think she is?”

“Please tell me she’s not pregnant.” I relaxed against the metal chair. “I’ve got enough on my plate. I don’t need to take time out of my day to kick some little fucker’s ass for knocking her up.” 

“That would be a little hypocritical don’t you think?” Melissa chortled. “Speaking of, has Brian paid you a visit yet?”

Alecia was right about one thing. I’d known Willow all of one day, and I’d kill for her. Brian had twenty-six years to plot the perfect murder. My murder, as it turned out.

I smiled at the orderly gathering the child’s toys from the grass as I strolled out of the garden. “I haven’t seen him yet.”

“Didn’t think so. You sound like you still got all your teeth.”

“Very funny. Can you be serious for a second? I need your help.” 

“Okay.” Melissa sighed. “Shoot.” 

 I pulled Anna’s hand-written list from my pocket. 

“What do you know about car seats?”