Storm didn’t like the cloth on her hair. She promptly rejected Sophie with a wail and a reach for big brother.

“All right,” Logan murmured as he gathered her up. He paced and rubbed her back. “This is what happens when you get into Dad’s rye. I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

“Something all the Fraser children learn the hard way, I presume,” Sophie said, setting the melting Popsicle on its wrapper.

“Oh, we never learn. We got into it a couple of weeks ago like a bunch of amateurs.” He touched his lips and dipped his chin to indicate Storm’s eyelids were drooping.

Sophie sat quietly, lulled by the sight of him soothing Storm to sleep.

The handful of times Sophie had played What-if with herself, wondering how Logan would have handled fatherhood, she had taken a dark comfort in believing he would have been terrible at it. He was as selfish as Nolan, but in different ways. He wouldn’t have left the payment of rent up to her, but he would have been single-minded about his own pursuits, not generous with himself or his time.

At least, that’s what she had always believed. Now, she wasn’t as sure. He was capable of holding a baby with tenderness and waiting patiently while she drifted off. He cupped Storm’s neck, set the backs of his fingers against her cheeks, and seemed satisfied that her temperature had come down.

He slipped upstairs and came back with a baby monitor.

“Where’s that Popsicle?” He looked around.

“I put it in the sink.”

“I would have finished it.”

“Do you want Storm’s plague?”

“Good point. You want one?” He went to the freezer for a fresh one.

“I’ll have an ice cream bar.” She’d seen the high-grade dark chocolate and almond-coated treats when she had retrieved the Popsicle.

He brought it to her and unwrapped a green Popsicle for himself.

“Thanks for coming. She had a fever after her shots, but it wasn’t serious, and Em handled it. I was ready to call a medivac.”

“I don’t think you’re there yet. If she gets worse or she’s still feverish in the morning, call across to the clinic in Bella Bella. See what they say.”

“What do you think it is? Flu?”

“She’s a baby. It could be anything. A virus or something she ate. She’s at an age where she’s putting everything she touches into her mouth. When Biyen was one, I caught him chewing a slug. He was mad as hell when I pried his teeth open and got it out.”

“That is the grossest story I have ever heard. And I’ve watched my brother eat bugs on his show.” He pointed his Popsicle at her.

“Toughen up. Parenting is not for the squeamish.”

“Exactly why I don’t want to be one.”

Well, that certainly slammed a door on this conversation.

She dropped her gaze and focused on finishing the ice cream she no longer wanted. She used the damp cloth to wipe her fingers when she was done.

“I’ll—”

“How did you do it?” he asked at the same time, voice pitched quiet enough she had to say, “What?”

“This.” He waved at the house. “Juggling a baby and work. How did you do it with your mom and everything?”

She couldn’t take that near awe in his gaze. She dropped her attention to a bruise on her knuckle she couldn’t remember getting. A pipe wrench in a small engine room, probably.

“I wasn’t working while she was sick. I should have found a job as soon as I realized I was pregnant. Then I would have been eligible for maternity benefits, but I stuck out my second semester at school. Mom didn’t have much left of the settlement from losing my dad, but it was enough for her to live on while she was in treatment. She left me what she could, and I lived off that until Biyen was a year old.”

“I guess Biyen’s father was there to take him when you needed to be with your mom.”

“Not really.” She felt the shakiness of emotion that entered her voice when she revisited that time. “Biyen didn’t take a bottle so I couldn’t leave him with anyone. Sometimes I wonder how he turned out so easygoing when he was drinking pure anxiety as an infant,” she joked faintly. “I’ll always be happy I was able to share him with her, though. We had so many laughs over my new mom adventures.” Her throat was growing raw. So was her chest.

“Janine was very funny. I always remember that about her. Whenever I was sent to the store for milk or whatever, she would make some crack about something, and I’d leave chuckling. I know Mom really misses her.”

“Me, too.” Seven years later, the grief could still rise up so intensely it threatened to swallow her whole. But wallowing in her private agony had been yet another luxury she hadn’t been able to afford. “Having Biyen forced me to get on with things after she was gone. It probably could have gone either way, but he kept me from sinking into depression. He’s so delighted by simple things. I miss him when he’s with Nolan, but he’ll come home in a week and tell me with great pride that he pooped in a hole he dug himself. It puts all of my agonies and aspirations into perspective.”

He snorted. “No kidding. Hashtag mental health hack.”

“Right?” She chuckled, embracing her love of her son to ward off all those other, difficult to bear emotions.

“Is his dad like that?” Logan asked curiously. “Is that why you fell for him?”

“Nolan keeps his life very simple, yes.” She cautioned herself not to be bitter with disappointment. “But I didn’t love him. He’s a guy I brought home from the bar because he seemed harmless, and things got complicated when I became pregnant.” She closed the wrapper from her ice cream bar over the sticky stick.

“Since when did you bring home men from the bar?” Logan’s brows crashed together.

“That smells a lot like judgment when I know for a fact that at nineteen, you spent your weekends in the bar, picking up girls. Trystan told me that’s what you told him you were doing when I asked him if you were enjoying university. Sauce for the goose.”

“Trying is the operative word that he missed when he relayed that information,” Logan said through his teeth.

Trystan had been trying to help her shake off her long and useless crush. She had not appreciated him for it.

“Either way, I’m guessing that behavior continued more or less nonstop until you got the call that Wilf was gone and had to leave your condoms on your yacht while you moved in with your brothers. So I’ll say a polite fuck-you and fuck your double standards.” She rose. “What did you want me to do, Logan? Sit here and pine for you some more?”

“No.” His jaw was locked, his mouth grim. “I’m saying it seems out of character to the woman I knew.”

The one who had saved herself for him. As if he had ever really known her or cared one way or another what she did.

“I was getting over you, Logan.” Screw him and his stirring up of all her old baggage. Now her tortured, angry emotions were leaking everywhere, especially out of her mouth. “I fucked around in empty hookups because I thought that’s how I deserved to be treated. Because that’s how you treated me.”

“Sophie.” He pressed back in his chair with shock.

“I hate you for the way you treated me,” she spat, letting the poison squeeze out at last. “But I hate myself more for allowing it. For spending so many years waiting for you. For not seeing that you never actually gave a shit about me.”

“That is not true.” He shot to his feet. “I gave a shit. I have always cared about you.”

“Oh fuck off.” She shook her head and flung out a hand, rejecting his bullshit. “You didn’t care about anyone but yourself, but I don’t care about that. I’m furious with myself because I treated myself badly. I punished myself for being stupid over you, and I wound up derailing my future. That’s not your fault. I did that to myself.” She tapped her breastbone where it was throbbing as though fractured all the way through. “But I won’t do it again, Logan. I won’t do this.” She motioned between them. “I won’t have cozy chats with you where I share my feelings and you convince me I matter. Never again. Understand?”

He stood very still, fists clenched as though he were withstanding something unbearable.