“I don’t want sex.” He sounded insulted. “I wondered if you were going to remember something if I say it.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

He stopped and turned off his flashlight. Her own glowed in a circle around her feet as she stopped to look at his silhouette.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was low, but firm and sincere. Powerful enough to shake the ground beneath her feet.

“For?” She braced herself, not sure she wanted to know. Not sure she wanted to go all the way back to that. Not now. Not ever.

He drew a breath and slowly blew it out. His head turned so he looked out to where the wind was coming in off the water and the sound of waves washing against the shore was a steady rush.

“For hurting you. For taking advantage of the way you felt about me. It’s no excuse to say that I needed to reinvent myself away from here, but that’s what it was. That’s why I didn’t want you to come with me. My screwed-up relationship with my father—with my whole family—was never yours to fix so I shouldn’t have turned to you when I was looking for ways to avoid him back then. That was childish and selfish.”

“It was.” She folded her arms, trying to tamp down on the ache that was rising in her chest like a breaching orca.

“It was him,” he said in a rasp. “I knew that’s how he behaved. He never thought through to the fact that he was hurting someone, but I went ahead and did it myself. To you. I told myself our situation was different because…”

She stopped breathing, instinctually bracing against whatever he was about to say.

“I didn’t believe what you felt for me was love.”

That went into her heart like a hot, sharp blade.

“How could it be?” He continued softly. “You were young and too removed from the real world to know there were far better people out there. I didn’t feel lovable, Soph. Not good enough for any kind of love, especially not the kind you were offering.” He squeezed the back of his neck. “So I let myself believe your feelings were immature and superficial. That way, hurting you wasn’t such a cruel thing to do.”

She definitely didn’t want to hear this. Her lungs ached and her throat was so tight, she couldn’t speak. She clicked off her own phone so they were in the dark. Only the dim moonlight obscured by clouds provided a faint illumination.

“I only realized that what you felt was really love when it was gone.” His voice was thick with regret. “Even at Mom’s wedding, I thought you were just mad. Making a point. I didn’t want to believe that you could hate me, either. Isn’t that ironic? But the more I realized that you were never going to forgive me, the more I realized what I had killed. I am so sorry for that.”

A huge chasm stretched from the back of her throat down behind her breastbone, open and aching, leaving her exposed. She was right back to standing on that ferry slip all over again, feeling immature and insecure and wronged. Raw. The hot sting of betrayal and loss and self-contempt sat behind her eyes in scalding heat.

“If…” He swallowed. “If you wanted to hurt me by hurting yourself, you did. Don’t do that again. I’m not worth it.”

Her lips were so unsteady, she had to iron them straight by pressing them together before she could find words in the cavern of her chest and bring them up.

“You did me a favor,” she said, voice strained. “If I had gone with you, I wouldn’t have Biyen. I would have spent all that time with you instead of Mom because I would have been too afraid of losing you to make her my priority. You taught me that no man is worth gutting myself over. No man is going to come along and save me, either. I learned to look after myself and I do. So thank you for that.”

She wasn’t trying to sound bitter, but his breath sucked in as though she’d landed an unexpected knee to his gut.

“Thank you for the apology. I appreciate it. I do,” she said sincerely. “But I hope you understand that it doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Chapter Ten

“I know,” Logan said, feeling sick. What had he expected, though? Forgiveness?

She clicked on her flashlight and continued up the path.

Logan followed, stomach as weighted as his feet. He had been wanting to say all of that, but now he was cycling back through every word, trying to work out if there had been a better way to… What? Reach her? Inch her back toward friendship?

As they approached the porch, they had to pass Nolan’s domed tent where it was planted in the grass near the garden. Noises were coming from inside it. Very distinct groans and pants and movements.

“Wait,” a female voice said as the porch boards creaked under their feet. “I heard someone.”

“It’s my ex. She doesn’t care,” Nolan said.

Sophie snorted as they entered the kitchen and closed the door behind them.

“I really don’t,” she said. The light over the sink glowed, but otherwise the room was empty and dark.

“Water?” she offered, going to the sink.

“Sure, but should we be quiet?” He glanced to the chair where Art usually sat.

“Gramps wears earplugs.” She pointed to a closed door where snores were resounding.

“Thanks.” He took the glass she filled for him. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

“You’re determined to ruin the runner’s high I got off all that dancing, aren’t you?”

“It can wait.”

“No, go ahead.” She poured her own glass and turned her back to the sink, same as him, so they stood side by side, sipping their water.

“When you said you didn’t think it was likely you’d have more kids… I can’t help wondering if that’s my fault, too. That I made you too mistrustful of men.”

“Please don’t take this as me lashing out, but not everything is about you, Logan.” She gave him a look of exasperated patience, then nodded vaguely at the open space between kitchen and living room. “It took a lot for me to get this far, where I’m still busy as hell, but my son is flourishing and so is my bank account. It’s not a fortune, but it’s enough. All of that changes if I stop work to have another baby. The simple privilege of sleeping through the night is gone for years.”

“It’s such a simple concept,” he noted dryly. “Sleep and you’ll feel better. Why don’t babies get that?”

“They’re monsters,” she agreed. “And this might come as news, but pregnancy and childbirth suck. They say you don’t remember, but I remember. My back hurt all the time. Labor was horrendous.”

“You’re a good mom, though. You obviously love Biyen a lot. If you wanted another baby…” He pumped the brakes as her eyes widened.

She leaned away from him, wary.

“That’s not an offer,” he assured her, feeling a sting on his cheeks that he hoped she couldn’t see in the shadowy light. “I was only trying to say…” Hell, maybe he was more drunk than he realized because he didn’t know what he was trying to say. “I think it’s a shame that more kids don’t have a mom like you.” Yeah. That.

“You did. Glenda’s pretty great. After my own mom, she’s probably the person who influences me the most in how I parent Biyen.”

“I guess.” He was in a very introspective mood tonight. He didn’t know how to wear it. It felt like he’d put his clothes on backward.

“Do you ever think about being a father?” She took off her earrings and set them behind her on the counter.

“My answer to that has always been a hard no, but if Reid and Emma weren’t taking Storm…”