Chapter Eight
Logan shone the flashlight at the boiler in the dark basement of the LeFabrays’ ski house, squinting as he examined it. This was the second time the pilot light had gone out in the last week. Something was definitely wrong; he just had to figure out what. It’d seemed like an easy fix when he was here on the twenty-eighth. The fact that it was out again by the second irritated him more than anything. It shouldn’t have happened again. He hadn’t missed anything, he was always thorough . . . He suspected it was time for a new boiler, and though his clients upstairs had more money than God, they’d grumble about that.
Half an hour later, after a slightly unpleasant conversation with Blaine and Missy LeFebray, he climbed into his truck, grateful for the whip of the cold morning air against his face. He needed a second cup of coffee, or a run on the treadmill. As he turned on the ignition and decided which to pursue first, his phone buzzed in his coat pocket. Three texts; they must have come in while he was in the basement. As it was, cell reception on Red Mountain could be spotty, but in the basement of a McMansion, he absolutely hadn’t gotten those messages.
The first was from his mom, saying good morning and asking if he’d come by for dinner. The second, from Ford, a simple hey, what’s up. The third was from Tess, asking if he’d give her a call when he was able to, she had a question. A little thrill rolled through him. He’d had her on his mind since he’d dropped her off at her house about thirty-six hours before. New Year’s Eve with her had been really nice . . . and then, more than nice. That kiss had him in lusty knots every time he recalled it, which was often. The way she felt, the way she smelled, the way her wide blue eyes sparkled with laughter or darkened with desire . . . dammit, she was in his head, and getting under his skin.
He’d decided space would probably be a good thing, no matter how much he found himself drawn to her. But one text, and here he was, answering her right away.
“Good morning, Logan. Thanks for getting back to me so soon.”
He liked her voice. Warm, friendly, yet the intelligence shone through. “Sure. What can I do for you? Everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Remember when I said I wanted to go skiing soon, and you said you could set that up for me if I wanted?”
“Yeah, sure.” He reached for his sunglasses and put them on. The glare off the snow was blinding. “Which mountain were you thinking?”
“We’ve always gone to Ajax,” Tess said. “I could easily set up a reservation myself, and I’m going to. But I was wondering if you would join me. Do you ski?”
He paused, his brain processing her request. “Uh, yeah. Of course.”
“Would you like to join me, then? I haven’t been skiing in two years, I’m likely rusty. And besides, it’s more fun to go with someone than hit the slopes alone.”
“That’s true.” If she skied on Ajax, she must be a decent skier; that mountain was for intermediate to expert levels. The thought of going skiing with her . . . She wanted him to go with her? He hated how he was grinning, alone in the truck like a loon. Jesus, he was like . . . smitten. Shit.
“It’d be my treat,” she continued. “You took me out the other night, paid for everything on our friendly non-date . . . Now it’s my turn.”
“You’re on. Plus, I can keep an eye on you. Wouldn’t want you falling all over yourself on your own, now would we?”
“Oh good.” She sounded amused. “My schedule is wide open, but you have work hours to consider. So tell me when would be good for you, and I’ll set it up.”
“Um . . .” He ran through his week’s schedule in his head. Lighter than usual, at the moment. And Mom didn’t have radiation again until the fourth . . . “I can do tomorrow afternoon. I’m free after twelve thirty. That’s enough time before it gets dark, right?”
“Absolutely! So I tell you what. I’ll set it all up, you just meet me there. Ajax at one o’clock, then?”
“Sounds good.”
When the call ended, Logan sat for another minute in his truck, thinking over the invite. This budding friendship, or whatever this was, budding between him and Tess, gave him more of a rush than he wanted to admit. She was like a breath of fresh air, yet tangled him up in knots at the same time. Spending time with a gorgeous, smart, nice woman wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to him lately, that was for sure. And just as friends, no pressure? He’d try to get out of his own way and enjoy it.
* * *
Tess yawned as she lay back against the couch. Her eyes were tired from staring at her laptop for three hours straight, and she rubbed them gently to soothe them. The house was quiet, save for the Jack Johnson music playing off her sound system. After her call with Logan in the morning, she’d gone to her yoga class, then spent the rest of the day doing more research. By the late afternoon, she’d made the all-important call: She had an appointment with a doctor at the Garrity Fertility Center for the day after tomorrow. The Garrity, located on the outskirts of Aspen, was a highly touted fertility and reproductive medicine clinic, and the doctor she’d requested was on several Best Of lists. Time to get the party started. It could take months until she conceived . . . if she did at all. She didn’t think she’d have a problem, but she was almost thirty-eight already, so who knew?
No more waiting. She knew she wanted a baby. She longed for one, ached for a little boy or girl to share her life with and lavish her love upon. Maybe, if the first time went well, she’d even be able to do it a second time. She’d always wanted more than one child . . . she’d been so glad to have siblings growing up, and wanted the same for her own family.
She took a few deep breaths and kept her tired eyes closed. Peace and quiet settled over her, even as a spark of excitement hummed through her bones. This time next year, she could be pregnant. Or even, if she was extraordinarily lucky, she could be a mother already. Smiling to herself as that thought warmed her, she tried to decide what to have for dinner.
Her phone rang, shattering her serenity. Bubbles barked at the sound. Mildly annoyed by the intrusion, Tess leaned over to pick up her phone and glance at the screen. The annoyance increased tenfold. With a little huff, she answered the call. “Hello, Mother.”
“Happy New Year, darling!” Laura Dunham Harrison Evans Bainsley’s voice was full of overexaggerated affection.
“It’s January second,” Tess pointed out.
“Oh, don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud,” Laura said. “This is the first chance I’ve had to call you. I was in Saint-Tropez, on a yacht, on New Year’s Eve. It was fabulous. Wish you’d been there with me!”
“Sure you do,” Tess said. She rolled onto her side to gaze at the flames that burned in the fireplace. “Glad you had a nice time.”
“I did, I always do. So how are you? What did you do for New Year’s?”
“I’m at the house in Aspen.”
“Oh! That’s great. Spending a week there at the holidays is always nice.”
“Actually, I’m going to be staying here for a while. Couple of months, I think. I’m playing it by ear.” Tess had no desire to let her mother in on her plans . . . yet at the same time, a tiny bit of yearning snuck in, deep inside. She wished, as she planned to have a baby on her own, that she had a mother she could talk to, confide in, lean on for support.
But she and her brothers had never had that. Not since they were small kids. Tess had been ten years old when her father threw her mother out and banished her from seeing the children on a regular basis. Not that Laura tried very hard to fight him on that. She’d taken her hefty settlement and left to travel the world. She’d remarried and divorced two more times, left a trail of spurned lovers in her wake . . . and now, showed very little interest in her grown children or young grandchildren.
Charles and Dane still maintained basic contact, calling their mother on holidays and her birthday. Tess and Pierce had given up on her, the same way she’d given up on the four of them. The resentment and hurt Tess had swallowed because of her mother had made her sick in her teenage years . . . until she’d gotten to a point of no return. At nineteen, Tess had an emergency appendectomy; if she hadn’t gotten to the hospital when she did, she would have died, and as it was she stayed in the hospital for an extra few days to fight off an ensuing infection. Her mother never even called, much less came to see her. Realizing, at last, how little she meant to her mother . . . something in Tess broke away then, never to rebound. Only one person on the planet really mattered to Laura: Laura.
“Are you there?” Laura asked tersely. “Tess?”
“I’m here.” Tess had zoned out, lost in her thoughts. “Sorry, what’d you say? I switched ears and didn’t hear you,” she lied.
“I asked why you’re staying in Aspen for so long. Got a hot ski instructor hidden away there or something?”
“No.” Tess cringed. She’d never be a man-eater like her mother. The very thought made her vaguely sick. “Just wanted a change of scene for a while.”
“For that long?” Laura paused, her tone changing. “Why? Is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything’s fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Tess asserted. Going to start playing the concerned mother now? It’s a little late for that. “So are you still in Saint-Tropez?”
“Yes, for the rest of this week. Then I’m going to Saint Bart’s for the rest of January.”
“Tough life you lead,” Tess quipped. “Well, enjoy.”
“Why don’t you come join me for a few days?” Laura asked. “Three whole weeks in paradise, plenty of room in the villa. We could have a mother-daughter getaway!”
A part of Tess’s heart leapt. Laura hadn’t invited her along on her travels in years. The little girl in her who’d always longed for her mother’s attention experienced a quick flash of happiness. But she hadn’t been a little girl in a long time, and her mother hadn’t been a regular part of her life for a long time either. Tess did what she’d done over and over since she was nineteen: shut her mother out. “Thanks for the offer,” Tess said, “but I’ve got some things lined up here. I’m staying put.”
“Seriously? I can understand going to ski in Aspen for a short trip, it’s a gorgeous place. But why the hell would you want to spend more than a few days in the cold during wintertime?” Laura asked with a mixture of confusion and irritation.
“Just call me snow bunny,” Tess wisecracked.
“Ugh. That is so not for me,” Laura said in a haughty tone. “Well, enjoy your freezing temperatures and snow. I’ll be hopping from beach to beach until May.”
“I expect nothing less,” Tess said flatly. “Well, I have to go feed Bubbles.”
“Oh, all right. Can’t believe you still have that dog. She must be old by now.”
“She’s only six.”
“I don’t know anything about dog years. Is that old or not?”
“No,” Tess said, not wanting to bother with the conversation any longer. “Thanks for calling. Glad to hear you’re fine. Take care, Mother.”
“Oh, you too, darling. Happy New Year! And listen . . .”
Tess braced herself.
“Go find yourself a nice, strong ski instructor to keep you busy while you’re in Aspen. Or a wealthy older man. Plenty of those around, I’m sure.” Laura sighed. “You’re not getting any younger, sweetie. Gotta get your first husband out of the way!”
Laura gave a shrill, dry laugh at her own joke. It grated on Tess’s last nerve. “Goodbye, Mother.”
“Bye, darling! Be good, but not too good.”
Tess ended the call and tossed her phone onto the far end of the couch with a grunt of disgust. Her mother’s words didn’t bother her; she’d learned to ignore them long ago. It was the general worry that crept in once in a while, like now. What if Tess didn’t know how to be a good mother? She’d had the worst role model possible. Her plan was basically to do the opposite of anything Laura had done . . . She hoped she’d be good enough.
All she knew was her own child would never know the heartbreak, anxiety, or disappointment of being abandoned by its mother. Growing up that way herself, she wouldn’t wish those feelings on anyone, and she’d certainly never perpetuate them.
* * *
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Annmarie smiled up at her son as he helped lower her onto the couch. “Dinner was delicious. The chicken was perfect, nice and juicy. You really can cook.”
“Well, I learned from the best,” Logan said, shooting her a little smile. “Glad you liked it.” For someone who claimed to like her meal, she hadn’t eaten much. He studied her as she made herself more comfortable, shifting to stretch out and lie down. Her skin looked drawn. She didn’t look like she was in the final stages or anything, but she didn’t look good either. He frowned, then felt his brows furrowing and schooled his features into neutrality. She wouldn’t want to see him frowning over her.
“I need to talk to you about something,” she said. Her gaze was direct.
“Uh-oh,” he joked, but uneasiness gripped his insides as he sat beside her.
“I’ve been thinking all week about this,” she began. “Given this a lot of thought. And . . . I’ve made a decision. I don’t want to do the radiation anymore.”
Logan’s heart dropped to his stomach. “What?”
“It’s not working, honey,” she said quietly. “All it’s doing is prolonging the inevitable. I’m tired. I’m tired of being so tired.”
He shook his head vehemently, a hint of bile rising in his throat. “I’m not hearing this. No. No way.”
“Logan—”
“Hell no. You can’t stop, Mom. Just no.”
“Why not?” She sat up and stared at him, a hard look on her face. “Logan. Honey. Look at me.”
He did, even as his heart thudded in his chest and blood pulsed in his head.
“We’ve fought hard,” she said quietly. “But I’m tired.” She reached out and put her hand on his knee. “Sweetheart . . .”
“I can’t have this conversation,” he said, dropping his head into his hands.
“We have to.”
“No, we don’t.” He looked at her again. “You keep fighting. You can’t give up. That’s it.” He shot to his feet.
“You’re not hearing me.” She sighed.
“I’m picking you up at noon on Friday to take you to radiation, and that’s all there is to it.” He scrubbed his hands over his beard and added, “We’ll talk to Dr. Cranston, discuss where we go from here, okay? See what he thinks. But giving up just isn’t an option.”
She looked up at him sadly. “I’ve never been a quitter and you know it. But sometimes . . . you need to know when to call it.”
“Really?” Suddenly angry, he started to pace the small living room. His lungs felt tight, and his blood raced through his body. “When I tanked my life—drank myself into a fucking stupor, lost my job, and my wife left me—what did you do? You flew down to New Orleans. Told me to get my ass in rehab. Paid for it, if I remember correctly.”
“Logan—”
“You told me to keep fighting. I’d made a wreck of everything, and you told me Carters are fighters.”
“This is different,” she said.
“Not much,” he said. “I was fighting for my life, and I didn’t even know it. You’re fighting for your life now.” He stood before her, stared down, and tried not to let his panic show through, only his determination. “You didn’t let me give up. I’m not letting you give up. End of story.”
She met his gaze, unblinking. “You didn’t realize you were killing yourself,” she said with quiet steel. “I know I’m dying, Logan. You know it too. Maybe I want to do it on my own terms, whatever of those I have left.”
That made him stop cold. Waves of emotions crashed through him, a mixture of fear, rage, hopelessness . . . “Fuck that,” he spat. “We’re not calling anything yet. You hear me?”
She sighed heavily. “We’ll let this go for tonight. I’m sorry you’re this upset.”
“What’d you think I’d be?” he cried. “How could I be anything else?”
“I haven’t seen you this emotional in a long time,” she admitted. “You do such a good job of swallowing things most of the time, being all stoic and sure. I forgot how fired up you can get.”
He raked his hands through his hair and looked around, a bit wild. His ears were ringing, like they used to when anxiety would sweep in and take over. He steeled himself against it. “I’m picking you up for your appointment on Friday, and you better be dressed and ready to go. Got that?”
“Yes sir, bossy.” She sighed and lay back down. “You want to watch some TV?”
“I want to shake you is what I wanna do,” he growled.
“Go for it.”
He huffed out a breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. His stomach churned and his blood still pulsed in his head, the start of a stress headache. But at least he didn’t want a drink. That was a relief. He rubbed his face and rolled his head around on his neck.
“Sit down, Thor,” she said. “You never did tell me about New Year’s Eve with that Tess. How’d it go?”
“I didn’t tell you because I don’t report my activities to you.” His grumble was good-natured as he sat down again in the armchair. He willfully ignored the traces of adrenaline still shooting through him, reached for the remote, and turned on the television.
“Throw me a bone here,” Annmarie needled with a grin. “Did you kiss her at midnight, at least?”
The memory of their steamy kisses flashed through Logan’s mind, sending a new rush through his veins. “Maybe.”
“Damn, I hope so. You’re cranky as hell lately. Need a good woman in your life.”
“Says you.”
“That’s right. Now gimme.” She held out her hand and he forked over the remote. “Are you going to go out with her again?”
He sighed. She was relentless. “Actually, we’re going skiing tomorrow. Up on Ajax.”
“Wellllll!” His mother’s smile was both pleased and a bit smug. “Must’ve been some kiss at midnight, then!”
“She’s just a friend, Mom,” he cautioned. “Don’t get all nutty.”
“I’ve always been nutty,” she said. “That ship sailed long ago, my sweet boy.”
He laughed and sat back as she searched through the channels for the show she liked. Glancing at her, he took deep breaths . . . flexing his fingers, open and shut . . . The crisis had been avoided, but only temporarily, and he knew it. His stomach churned for the rest of the night.