And here he was, a widower in search of his elderly father, and somehow it felt like for as much as he’d changed and grown over the years, Mountain Springs tugged him back to the same old feelings and the same old problems. But he wasn’t the same rebel on a motorbike who’d spent his formative years in this town. He’d grown more cautious with age, more wary.
As he headed up the sidewalk, he spotted The Peaks—it was still there. The sign still showed the same silhouetted mountains you could see when you looked west. That cluster of three jagged peaks were called God’s Daughters, and they made it onto all the local postcards.
Inside, there was some welcome air-conditioning and the decor had been updated considerably. He spotted a menu on the wall—paninis, grilled focaccia sandwiches, wraps, pitas, gluten-free and paleo options... This place used to be strictly soup and sandwiches—the kind where you chose wheat or white, toasted or not.
He glanced around the tables, and he stopped short when he saw her. Melanie still came here? Somehow, he felt like it should have remained sacrosanct, but maybe their relationship hadn’t left the mark on her that it had on him...
Melanie sat with her back to him, her hair pulled up into a messy bun, similar to the one her stepdaughter had sported. Maybe the kid had picked the trick up from her. She hadn’t noticed him come in.
He approached the counter and placed his order—a BLT toasted on wheat and a black coffee—and when they handed him his food, he headed over to where Melanie sat.
“Hi,” he said, and she startled and looked up.
“Logan! What are you doing here?” she said. “Have a seat, if you like.”
“I got hungry,” he said, lifting his tray an inch as proof and he slid into the seat opposite her. “So you come here still?”
“I used to bring the kids here.” A hint of color touched her cheeks. “It’s changed management about four times since our days, so...”
“Yeah.” He smiled faintly. “It’s not the same.”
“No, not at all.”
They both fell silent for a moment, and Logan met Melanie’s gaze across the table. She was still so pretty... And while it wasn’t the same as years ago, sitting with her in this café still brought a strange sense of familiar warmth. She’d been his sweet spot here in Mountain Springs.
“I was just at the newspaper office.” He said, lifting his sandwich. Then he frowned slightly. “How come you aren’t at home with—” He searched for the name, taking a bite of the sandwich at the same time.
“Tilly,” she provided.
“Tilly,” he repeated past the food. “Did she leave?”
“No, I escaped.” She smiled wanly. “She seems to have moved herself right in. I was the one to text her father.”
“Did you hear back from him?” Logan asked.
“He’s in Japan on business. That’s all he texted. I think the assumption is that I’ll just take care of things, like I always did.”
“Japan?” he said with a frown. “Where was Tilly staying before this?”
“At the house, by herself. Her brother’s at Harvard, and his sister is in Denver—she has her own place now. Tilly’s the last one left at home.”
Right. It sounded like this kid had a little too much freedom. When Graham was that age, he had a curfew and had to ask to borrow the car. But now at twenty-one, Graham was traveling alone without adult supervision in Europe, so it all came down to the kid. But her ex’s assumption that she’d take care of things irked him just a bit. It wasn’t like he had any right to get jealous, but she was divorced. She wasn’t Adam’s wife anymore, and that detail mattered to Logan.
“So what are you going to do?” Logan asked, trying not to betray his deeper feelings.
“What can I do?” She shrugged. “I’ve got to be the responsible adult, whether I’m legally required to be or not.”
IN FACT, MELANIE wished she had anywhere at all she could send Tilly to just to escape dealing with this girl. Tilly had never been an easy kid to raise, especially as the stepmom. Adam was overly indulgent, and every time Tilly batted her lashes and called him “Daddy,” Adam would cave in. Tilly had learned pretty quickly who the “good guy” and who the “bad guy” were in the house, and by the time she was twelve, she’d stopped calling Melanie “Mom” and had started calling her by her first name.
“You aren’t my real mom,” Tilly had informed her with an icy glare. “You’re just the one my dad married.”
Where she’d gotten that little barb, Melanie had never found out. But someone had clued her in, and whenever Melanie told her no to something—a sleepover at a friend’s place, a new pair of expensive jeans—she’d just roll her eyes and say, “Never mind, Melanie. I’ll speak with my father.”
And now this bundle of sunshine was sitting in Melanie’s living room eating a bag of potato chips and texting.
Given the choice, Melanie was exactly where she wanted to be—as far from Tilly as possible. And she didn’t even feel guilty. She was no longer just the one Adam had married. She was now his ex-wife, and the whole painful mess of his family life was no longer her responsibility.
Logan took a bite of his sandwich, wiped his lips with a napkin and regarded Melanie with a quizzical look.
“What?” she asked. She picked up her mug of coffee and took a sip.
“How long did you raise this kid for?” he asked.
“Since she was two,” Melanie replied. “There was a time that she loved me so much that she followed me into the bathroom and I couldn’t even shower alone.”
Logan smiled at that. “Yeah, I remember that stage with Graham.”
“I don’t know what changed, exactly. I think it might have been things her siblings
