“In a box in the attic,” he said. “It’s not like he took it with him to the family home. But maybe he’ll care that she left him something, after all. I don’t think he even knows she’s dead.”
“What’s in the box she left him?” Melanie asked.
“I don’t know. It’s locked.”
And that had felt a little like a betrayal, too. Who was Harry that he deserved this special treatment? There had been no locked box of wonders for Logan, even if his mother had left him everything else.
Melanie looked up and met his gaze. “You can take this box with you.”
“Yeah, thanks.” He tucked the box under his arm. He looked at Melanie for a moment. “Was it weird for you that Adam bought you my dad’s place?”
Her cheeks pinked. “He isn’t from here. He had no idea.”
“I know. But for you—” Logan paused. “We walked past here that one time, remember? When we walked like five miles, and it was so hot?”
He’d been purposely bringing her here—sharing a memory with the girl he loved... But that was a long time ago.
“It felt a little weird. Yeah,” she said. “But I wasn’t part of choosing the place. Adam bought it as a surprise, so...”
“Did you tell him?” he asked.
“I did. I told him everything. If I held things back, I felt guilty, like I was being unfaithful somehow.” She looked away. “Ironically.”
“Huh.” So whatever Logan had been to Melanie had been no threat to Adam. What, was he hoping he had been? Adam was some rich guy who bought lake houses as gifts. He’d had a loyal and honest wife. He’d had it all, and the likes of Logan probably hadn’t even entered the guy’s mind. Plus, he’d been married to Caroline by then.
He pushed back the memories. That was all long in the past.
“Let’s go down,” he said.
MELANIE LED THE way to the kitchen and turned back to look at Logan as he deposited the box on the counter. He’d clammed up, his face like granite.
Logan was good-looking in a different way now that he was older, and she found herself admiring that bit of gray around his temples, the strength in his shoulders—not quite the same as youthful muscle. It was honed from years of hard work, and there was a different kind of confidence in the way he held himself.
But she didn’t want to be noticing these things exactly.
“I saw your dad when we took possession of the lake house,” Melanie said. “He came to hand over an extra set of keys.”
“Yeah?” Logan eyed her for a moment.
“I asked about you,” she said, and the warmth came back to her cheeks. “He said you’d started up a company and were married with a son. He seemed really proud of you, for what that’s worth.”
“I don’t know where he was getting his updates. I haven’t spoken to him since Graham’s birth.”
“Why?” she asked with a frown.
“I called him to tell him I had a son, but Caroline and I hadn’t actually gotten married yet. That was a stickler for him, which I find really ironic, considering he and my mom weren’t married. He said I was messing up like he had—and that just really got to me. I was a mistake. I was some foul-up in his eyes. But Graham was no mistake or accident. Sure, he was a surprise, but he was the center of my world.”
“That’s awful,” she murmured.
“Caroline and I did get married when Graham was about a year old, but I didn’t invite my dad. I wasn’t doing it for him. It was for us. Although, there was a small part of me that figured I was putting him in his place by marrying her. I don’t know...”
“And you never did talk after that?” she asked.
“I know it sounds petty—one nasty thing said—but it was one nasty thing that explained all the rest of my confusing relationship with him. And I’d had enough. I had my own family and I was tired of dancing for his approval. So I was done.”
Logan had always been like this. He had an easily wounded heart under a gruff, reticent shell. It had always been hard to get through.
“You’re a different kind of dad, yourself, though,” she said.
“Yeah, you bet. I made a point of doing better than he did.” His expression softened. “But then, my dad was great with his other kids. It was just me who got the shaft. So I guess you could say that he improved, too...”
“You’re still his son,” Melanie said.
Logan didn’t answer, but he met her gaze with a resigned look. These were old wounds for him. She remembered him talking about it when they were teens. He’d been more like his father than he liked to admit—that shell of his was a whole lot like Harry’s. She’d experienced it when he cut her off a few months after he left for college. He’d told her it was over, and then just shut down. There was no discussion. No closure, no reason. A whole lot like Logan had probably felt when his dad did the same thing to him. Except for a little boy, it was more damaging. She’d gotten over it. He never had.
“So how are we going to track him down?” Melanie asked.
“The address my mom left was this one—the lake house. I did go to the house in town he used to live in yesterday, but a different family lives there. I tried looking him up in the White Pages from Denver, but his number isn’t listed.”
“Is he...” she hesitated “...still alive?”
Logan shrugged. “Far as I know. Mom updated her will only a couple of years before she died, but if she gave this address to locate him, maybe she wasn’t up-to-date on him, either.”
“Where should we start?” she asked.
“I’m thinking we can check the newspaper office and look through some obituaries, just to be sure. And I could see if I can find my half brother.
