Paige continued to huddle against the closed front door, not sure if she dared go near him.
“Paige, I…” His voice sounded broken.
She slid down the wall, wilting to the floor so she could sit too. No matter what had become of their relationship, he was still her father. She couldn’t ignore that.
“I know this is hard for you, Dad. I know you didn’t mean to hit me, and it was an accident. I know you’re sorry, and I know it’s impossible for you to say that out loud. But I forgive you anyway. And I love you, no matter what.”
For a heartbeat, he didn’t respond. He acted as if he hadn’t even heard her. Then his face screwed up into a tomato red and his lips pulled away from his teeth to show just how hard he was gritting them. Eyes squeezed closed, he began to sob.
To Paige, it sounded like his soul was tearing itself away from his body, desperate to escape such agony.
She watched him, dry eyed and perfectly still as he cried in great heaving moans.
“I think you need to change your lifestyle before you really do kill yourself,” she said when he’d quieted to silent, streaming tears. “I think you should sell this house and move away from Creighton County. I think you should get out and do things with other people. I think you should live again.”
He didn’t respond, but she knew her words had sunk in. Sensing he wouldn’t be able to accept any kind of physical comfort, Paige slowly pushed to her feet.
“Happy New Year,” she murmured before shuffling from the living room. When she lay in her bed that night, she didn’t fall asleep until well after midnight.
Nothing felt new or fresh about the new year though. And when she left three days later to return to Granton, nothing had changed between her and her father. But she knew the seed had been planted.
And fully watered with both their tears.
Chapter Twenty-Two
LOGAN PACED AS HE WAITED just outside the cancer clinic of the hospital where nearly a month ago Jamie, Paige, and he had had been assigned to meet for their initial visit to the children’s ward.
He hadn’t intended to be the first to arrive, but he’d been so anxious, and afraid, and eager to see Paige again, he’d been ready since about five minutes after his eyes had snapped open.
He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. Since their run-in at the tree farm, his little crush on her had bubbled over into huge, undeniable obsession. It had been agony not being able to see her cross Granton’s main courtyard every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. And once the spring semester started next week, he doubted he’d see her then either. New classes, different schedule. He’d be lucky if he caught a glimpse of her anywhere.
But they would still have the grief group together. And today.
Where was everyone, anyway? Had she forgotten? How could she forget when he’d been counting down the days, the very hour—okay, okay, the very minute—until he saw her again?
Glancing to the right, down the sidewalk and toward the visitors’ parking lot, he blew out a breath and peered through the vapor cloud he’d made. But he didn’t spot her.
When a prickle of awareness curled up his vertebrae, he tensed and turned slowly the other way to see her trotting up the sidewalk. She looked adorable bundled up in a black coat with a hot pink stocking cap on her head, knitted tails falling down over her ears, swaying to her harried rhythm. Her long, dark hair streamed over her shoulders, and her hands were stuffed into thick gloves.
“Sorry, I’m late.” She panted as she approached, her nose red from the cold. “I forgot to set my alarm and slept in.”
Logan began to smile. He’d actually woken up a good hour before his alarm had gone off, too eager to sleep. “Don’t worry. Jamie hasn’t gotten—”
The words strangled in his throat when he saw her bruise. A greenish violet shade, it had to be a few weeks old. Since she hadn’t had it on Christmas Eve, he had to guess she’d gotten it not long after he’d seen her that night.
“Oh my God.” Heart pitching into his knees, he gulped. “Are you okay? What happened? Were you in an accident?”
He reached out before he could stop himself. But Paige cringed away, and he immediately jerked his hand back before touching her.
“I’m fine,” she said and shook her head. “It’s fine.”
Logan opened his mouth to once again ask what had happened but the dark, warning glance she shot him said everything. This hadn’t been an accident. His sympathy tumbled into blank shock, then outrage. He snapped his mouth shut.
But he couldn’t stay silent. “How many times has he done this?”
Paige took a deep breath as if she needed to calm herself before answering. “Look, nothing happened. Yes, he had a bottle in his hand. Yes, he was drunk, and we were arguing. But he didn’t mean to hurt me. When he swung around to face me, I-I was standing too close, and the bottle cracked me in the jaw. That’s all.”
“So, it was an accident,” he bit out, not believing her at all. To have enough force behind a swing to break skin could not be an accident. “Just like the first time, huh?”
When he reached for her arm to remind her of the crescent-shaped scar on her shoulder, she yanked away and glowered at him. “I told you it’s fine.”
“Fine?” he repeated incredulously before growling out his frustration. “Do you hear yourself right now? Do you even understand what you sound like?”
“Yes,” she hissed and glanced away. “I sound like a battered daughter trying to make excuses for her abusive, alcoholic father and deny that there’s any kind of problem. But I’m not! Those were the only two times anything has ever happened. And I swear to you, they were both complete accidents. No, our relationship is not perfect, but my father does not beat me. Okay?”
He stared out at her a moment longer before he blew out a hard breath. “Okay,” he said. But his body still shook with the need to seek vengeance.
How could anyone hurt her? Accident or not, he wanted to find her father and beat him senseless. He wanted to—
Catching his breath, Logan ran a trembling hand over his hair. He hadn’t wanted to hit anyone for three years. The thought of physical violence against another member of her family nauseated him.
Stomach heaving, he turned his back to her and sucked in an icy cold breath through his teeth. “I don’t know where Jamie is,” he said, somehow stepping away from the situation and trying to ground himself in the reason they were actually here. “Should we go ahead and go inside?”
Paige nodded, looking relieved. “Yes. Probably.”
He stepped toward the glass door until it automatically slid open. When he stood aside, letting her precede him into the clinic, Paige murmured a surprised thank you and brushed past, her posture rigid and stride stiff.
He followed her, wanting to beg her forgiveness for his reaction to her bruise, though he wasn’t sorry in the least. He still wanted to hurt her father. But he couldn’t handle her being so formal and rigid with him. But Lordy, she smelled good. Cinnamon and vanilla and pure Paige. Keeping just enough distance so he couldn’t drive himself crazy inhaling any more of her heavenly scent, he paused when she did as they reached a nurse’s station.
An attendant in bright blue scrubs glanced up from checking a monitor and eyed them curiously. “Can I help you?”
Logan shoved his hands into his back pockets while Paige spoke up. “Yes. We’re with the Granton University grief group to meet with some patients in the children’s ward.”
“Oh.” A welcoming smile spread across the nurse’s face. “You’re just in time. They’re already in the playroom, waiting for you.”
As she moved out from behind the counter, Paige glanced hesitantly toward Logan. He cleared his throat and turned to the nurse. “Um, excuse me. But what exactly are we supposed to do?”
The nurse shrugged, her grin amused. “Just…entertain them. It doesn’t matter, really. They love any kind of company.” She moved off, hurrying down the hall before either Logan
or Paige could ask anything else.
Paige looked up at him, her eyebrows arched in question. “I guess we’re just supposed to entertain them, then.”
“Entertain them,” he repeated. “Right.”
Looming large and awkward beside Paige, Logan shifted his weight from one foot to the other in the middle of the children’s ward playroom. A roomful of small, expectant faces peered up at him, assembled in a half circle around them. About a dozen sat cross-legged on the floor while another half dozen watched him from wheelchairs, and two more from beds they’d been rolled in on.
None of them had hair.
He gulped, certain he was going to mess this up no matter what he did. “Uh…hi, everyone.” He made a big, slow wave, only imaging how lame he must appear. “I’m Logan.”
“And I’m Paige,” she chirped with a bright, cheery smile.
He sent her a brief, grateful look, glad someone else was there to bumble through this with him.
“So, umm, I guess we’re supposed to entertain you guys.” Lowering his voice, he stepped closer to them and cupped his mouth with one hand to speak confidentially quiet. “So, even if we totally suck, please at least act entertained. ’Kay?”
They laughed, and somewhere inside him, he glowed with pleasure. There was just something about making a group of sick children laugh. It almost shocked him how good it felt.
Beside him, a sharp elbow dug into his ribs. “Excuse me?” Paige set her hands on her hips and sent him a scowl. “I don’t know about you, but I personally don’t plan on sucking at all.” She put on such an overdone look of outrage, the children giggled again.
He blinked, stunned to realize she was playacting. And after what they’d just gone through outside too.
“Oh, I beg your pardon, my lady.” He swept a low bow, jumping into his own role, and was relieved when more giggles arose. “I forgot you were incapable of suckage.”
After a brief, forgiving nod, she sniffed and lifted her chin, assuming the station of princess—or queen, or whatever she wanted to be—and waved out one regal hand with a flourish. “Think nothing of it, peasant. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
Unable to stop a wide grin, he turned to his audience. “I guess we have an hour to not-suck then? What do you guys want to do?”
When no one immediately raised a hand or suggested anything, Paige jumped up and down, clapping her hands. “Oh, I know, I know! Let’s ride unicorns across a magical meadow full of pretty, colorful flowers that smell like fresh roses.”
Logan arched an eyebrow. The kids laughed and cheered her idea on. At least the girls did. Most of the boys booed. When they settled, Logan made a face. “Why don’t we read a book or something instead?”
“But we always read books with visitors,” one boy grumbled.
“Yeah. I want to ride a unicorn,” another girl piped up.
Suddenly, the room was full of impossible suggestions. Climbing mountains, magic carpet rides, fighting zombies, swimming in the ocean, going to Disney World.
After a see-what-you-started scowl for Paige, Logan sighed and set his hands on his hips. “Well, I’m sorry, but my unicorn is in the shop right now, and I don’t think they’ll let us out of this joint for the rest of that stuff.”
A bunch of grumbles answered him, and Paige led the rebellion as she hooked her thumb over her shoulder and motioned to him. “Boy, does he know how to shoot down some perfectly awesome suggestions.”
Not sure how he’d become the fuddy-duddy of the group, Logan glanced around the sterile playroom, determined to redeem himself. Trying to come up with something—anything—the kids could safely play, he paused briefly when he spotted an old leather trunk sitting against the far wall.
“Hey, what’s in that trunk over there?”
No one knew.
“How long has it been there?” he asked next.
“It’s always been there,” one shaved-head, bruised-eye little girl answered.
Logan lifted his eyebrows. “Well, isn’t anyone curious what’s inside?”
“We’re not allowed to touch it,” someone else spoke up. But since he had mentioned it, the children eyed the trunk, all of them looking decidedly interested.
“I’m going to check it out,” he announced and started boldly for the trunk.
“Wait!” Paige grabbed his arm in a light but cautious grip.
He gaped at her fingers before looking up at her face. He had no idea if he’d ever get used to her voluntarily touching him, but he did know he liked it. A lot. A sudden desire to pull her into a fierce hug and press a soft kiss to her bruised, cut cheek overwhelmed him. When was the last time someone had coddled her and kissed away her boo-boos?
Logan restrained himself from doing just that, mainly because he knew she’d push him away if he even attempted it, but also because it’d break up playtime and wipe that refreshing look of vivacity off her face.
Her eyes glittered with amusement even as she showed her teeth as if they were chattering with fear. “I don’t know. What if it’s full of…of flesh-eating dragons?” she asked, her voice going hushed with worry.
Inspired by her act, he patted her hand lightly in reassurance and kept his voice quiet. “Do you really think I’d let a flesh-eating dragon past me…not when I have my handy…” He paused to dig a hand into his pocket. When his fingers latched around something, he pulled it out to show all the children. “…gum with me.”
The kids roared with laughter.
Paige glanced at the gigglers and promptly turned back to him, arching her eyebrows. “Gum? Is that all you got?”
He gave a serious nod. “Didn’t you know dragons were afraid of gum? Especially spearmint flavor. It takes the fire right out of their breath.”
She promptly held out her hand, palm up. “In that case, I’ll take two pieces please.”
After that, everyone in the room needed a piece of gum to ward off all possible flesh-eating dragons. Logan had to tear the sticks in half so he’d have enough to go around. By the time he had the kids munching contentedly, he and Paige approached the trunk.
“Let’s drag it closer so everyone can see inside,” she suggested.
He took one end, she took the other, and they worked together, heaving the heavy old thing to the center of the half circle.
“Oh, I’m so scared,” Paige told the kids as Logan undid the latch. When she hid behind him and clutched at his shirt, ducking her face against his back, awareness prickled his scalp. He knew it was all an act, but God, he loved having her close to him. Touching him.
Holding back his hand as if to shield her, he paused dramatically and eyed the patients. “Are you ready?”
They cheered out their enthusiasm. Logan slung open the lid, only to yank out…a dress from the top of the pile.
“Clothes?” a crew of disappointed little voices chorused.
He wrinkled his nose. Old and tacky, and gagging him with its overpowering musty perfume, the dress seemed to be made of hot pink gossamer tulle, a little silk, and not much else.
“And I think it’s just your size,” he told Paige with a taunting grin, though it was obviously way too big for her.
She shook her head. “Umm. No. Pink’s not really my color.” Her dark brown eyes sparkled with mischief as she added, “But I think it’d look simply fabulous on you, Logan. With your sky blue eyes, you’d be sooo beautiful in it.”
His smile dropped flat, all joking aside. “I’m not wearing a dress.”
But all the kids rebelled, urging him to put it on. Paige pooched out her bottom lip and gave a fake pout, setting her hands on her hips and everything.
“Fun hater,” she charged.
He closed his eyes briefly and prayed no one had a camera phone on them.
Chapter Twenty-Three
AN HOUR LATER, still decked out in a frilly pink dress over his clothes, Logan accepted a hearty hug from the last kid in line to wish him a farewell and thank him for coming. As an attendant r
olled the little boy from the room, Paige straightened from dumping a pile of shoes into the trunk and called goodbye.
They’d gotten a small lecture from the nurse who’d caught them playing in the chest, something about letting unknown molds and mildew into the air for even unlatching the lid. So their time with the kids had gotten cut short. But Logan still considered it worth it. Every child had left the room grinning. To see those sick, sunken faces so alive with joy, he’d gladly break the rule again.
Feeling very full inside with a positive, glowing kind of energy swirling through him, he turned to grin at Paige.
She beamed back. “So, did that totally suck or what?”
He chuckled. “Yeah. Totally.”
Spinning away, she made a sound of absolute delight. “Oh my God. I had no idea playing with a group of sick children could be so…so fulfilling. Wow.” She whirled back to him, her gorgeous, dark eyes sparkling with her elation. “I haven’t had so much fun in…I don’t know. A long time.”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to wear the dress,” Logan reminded her.
Rolling her eyes, she playfully nudged his arm. “Oh, whatever. You know you liked it.”
Stuck in the playful disposition from their hour of silliness, Logan primped for her, cocking out his hip and cradling the back of his head as if poofing an imaginary mound of hair. “I am totally rocking this dress, aren’t I? Pink really is my color.”
Paige threw her head back and laughed.
The sound wavered through him. Captivated, he stared at her, enthralled by every facet of her being: the wash of healthy, laughing color on her cheeks, the liquid flow of her hair as she tossed it over her shoulder, the way her lashes swept low over her dark eyes and barely rested against the tops of her creamy cheekbones.
“I was so right,” she admitted with a smug sniff and a lift of her eyebrows. “It does match your eyes brilliantly.”
And her visual beauty only mirrored what lay deep inside her.