Tilly didn’t wave, but she did meet Melanie’s gaze just once before Simon backed his car up.
Tilly...the girl who’d needed a mother so desperately, and who’d rejected Melanie’s attempts to be that mom. Well, she was starting down the path to motherhood herself, and right now all Melanie could think was that if Simon hurt her, Melanie would hurt him back.
Legally, maybe. Or physically. Whichever seemed most effective.
She sighed, rubbing her hands over her face, and shut the door. Then she pulled out her phone and typed out a text to Adam.
Tilly just left with Simon. I tried to get her to stay. I’m sorry.
Had Melanie messed this up?
CHAPTER TWELVE
LOGAN HAD A shower and went down to breakfast. His mind was still on Melanie—had he made a mistake in kissing her? It had been an honest kiss, if nothing else. No, he wasn’t looking for a relationship, and he had no intention of inflicting himself on another woman, especially one who was so vulnerable right now. But he’d meant that kiss.
And that might make him a jerk.
He’d loved Caroline with everything he had, and he’d still been a jerk in their marriage. He wasn’t going to do that again—hand his battered heart over to a woman and expect her to fix it, because a real man didn’t play with these things. He had more issues than he’d ever realized, but keeping those lines clear was difficult when it came to Melanie. He had feelings welling up for her, and he wasn’t sure how to stop them.
Junior walked past the dining room doorway just as Logan dropped a few bills onto the table to pay for his breakfast. He got up and intercepted his brother in the foyer.
Junior looked older since he’d last seen him—his face paler and more haggard. The gray in his blond hair seemed more pronounced this morning, and he looked more like Harry. In his hands was the wooden box that Elise had left to Harry.
“Hi, Logan,” Junior said, coming over in his direction. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay,” Logan said. “How about you?”
“I’ve been better.” Junior nodded a couple of times, then held out the box. “I thought you might want this back.”
“Yeah, thanks.” Logan accepted it, the box cool to his touch. He was glad to get it back.
“Oh, and this.” Junior fished in his pocket and pulled out the sealed envelope containing the key. So his father had never opened it... That thought was a bitter one. Had he resented Elise so much that he couldn’t look into the box she’d left him upon her death? But then, his mother had avoided Harry just as bitterly, and this was his family legacy—pain, resentment and emotional walls. Junior’s current profession was ironic, considering their family.
Maybe there was some wisdom in not opening it. At least Harry knew where he stood with Elise. Would Logan have been better off if he’d left his wife’s diaries shut? Sometimes ignorance to someone’s true feelings was preferable.
“Why don’t we go talk in the sitting room,” Logan said.
The space was awash in morning sunlight, the fireplace empty, some chairs pulled up to the full-length windows that overlooked the lake. They headed toward an empty cluster of chairs. Logan put the box down at his feet as he sat. He looked at it for a moment, then up at his brother.
“How are your kids taking Harry’s passing?” Logan asked.
“Taylor, my son, is probably taking it the hardest,” Junior said. “He’s eleven this year, and he and my dad were pretty close.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Before he went to the old folks’ home, he and Taylor did a lot together. They just...bonded, I guess. And when he had the strokes and needed more care, I took my family to see Dad every week,” Junior said. “Taylor would ask me to bring him to see Papa midweek. Taylor just missed him. And Dad missed Taylor. They liked to watch these kid shows together—you know, the middle school shows that drove me nuts but my dad would put up with just to hang out with Taylor more. I think Dad actually liked them, truth be told.”
“Papa...”
“What the kids called him.”
Graham hadn’t called Harry anything—he hadn’t known him. But Harry had been capable of bonding with Taylor, it seemed. Logan felt a wave of jealousy at that. Graham was a good kid, and he’d deserved that. But then, so had Logan—eleven-year-old Taylor had had a better relationship with Harry than Logan had ever experienced with his dad.
“Was he like that with you, too?” Logan asked.
“Like what?” Junior leaned back in the chair, his gaze fixed on the water.
“Loving, open, available,” Logan said.
“Yeah, of course. He was a great father—” Junior stopped. “If you’d given him a chance—”
“I tried!” Logan closed his eyes and then lowered his voice. “I tried. Constantly.”
“From what I heard, you asked for money,” Junior said.
“Once.” Logan heaved a sigh. “Only once. For school. But so what?” He turned to his brother. “I was his son. What if I’d wanted a few of the things that you enjoyed?”
Junior was silent, and Logan leaned back, too, his gaze skimming across the blue water toward the other side of the lake where a few houses were scattered along the edge. He knew which one was Melanie’s, and he could see the wharf sticking out into the water.
“I think he wanted to be a better father,” Junior said after a few beats of silence. “I’m not saying he did right by you, Logan.”
That was a first. Logan looked over at his brother in surprise. “I didn’t expect you to say that.”
“I’m a dad, too,” Junior said. “And a therapist. I know what our kids need from us, what you needed from him. I don’t know why you were always held off like that—”
“Your mom’s jealousy?” If they were going to get honest, they might as well get it all on the table.
“Maybe,” Junior said.
“You didn’t like me much, either,” Logan added.
“I was a
