Harper reached out and took his hand in hers, squeezing gently. “It sounds like it hit him hard.”
“Yeah.”
Harper settled back down against his chest, and they sat that way in comfortable silence for a little longer, Logan playing with her hair and watching her while she looked out across the water.
“He died a year later of a heart attack.”
“Oh, Logan.”
“When Dan had died, I spent the summer at home, helping dad at work. It helped enough that he was able to get back on his feet, and I went back to college. Everyone was just starting to deal with Dan’s death and then…” he trailed off. “Mason made it home for the funeral, but he only had 48 hours leave. Rhett was running his own business by then and didn’t have time to take over. Cassie was still in high school, and Rowan was mid-way through his art scholarship in Italy. So I took over running the business. I knew dad wouldn’t want to leave people in the lurch, he had a heap of jobs on the go that had to get finished.”
Harper turned to look at him. “He wouldn’t have wanted you to play football?”
Logan snorted. “He loved that I played football.”
Harper frowned, showing her confusion.
“He loved that I played football, which is why I played. I used it to get through college on a scholarship. Being good enough to get drafted was a bonus, but just because you’re good at something doesn’t mean you have to do it.”
Yes, he had been good at football. He enjoyed playing, the sense of family with his teammates, the feeling when a play went the way they’d planned, and he’d had a part in that. He’d loved it.
But he loved his family more.
“When dad died, I had a choice. I could sign the contract I’d been offered and spend most of the season on the bench as a rookie, maybe getting a few games in. Or I could come home and take on dad’s business and finish something he’d started.”
Harper nodded. “I bet not many people understood your decision.”
Logan snorted. “That’s putting it mildly.”
He pulled her toward him. The feel of her pressed against him was like finding the missing puzzle piece he hadn’t known was missing. He’d hidden from the world for so long that he’d forgotten that sometimes you needed to take risks.
He dropped his head and touched his lips to hers, gently. She melted in his arms, opening her mouth and kissing him back enthusiastically.
She pulled away just enough to meet his eyes with her own. “I need to finish what I started. Nothing else matters. I said I’d do this for my sister, and I’m going to.”
She smiled, and Logan didn’t have the heart to tell her he thought she was making a huge mistake.
ChapterTwenty-Two
Logan
Cutting off the power to the table saw, Logan pulled the safety goggles from his face and rested them on top of his head. The half of the garage he’d appropriated as a workshop had been filled with wood a week ago, now there was hardly anything left.
He looked around, grunting in satisfaction at how empty it was. Most of the work he’d needed to do on the house had been done, now there were just some finishing touches to take care of. He’d opted to work down here instead of in the house to keep the noise down for Harper.
In truth, he found it hard to watch her struggle with her work. She’d been so adamant that she needed to write these songs for Isla, but Logan could see it was tearing her up inside. She’d spent so long in the shadow of her sister—forced there by their father, he’d bet—that she thought doing anything else would be disloyal.
He snorted, shaking his head. He just wanted her to be happy, but trying to recreate the past was not the way to get there.
Logan would know.
He hadn’t told her any of that though. He wasn’t stupid. There were some things you needed to figure out for yourself.
Logan dropped the goggles onto the bench and hefted the piece of timber onto his shoulder, carrying it out of the garage and across the expanse of lawn that had grown long over the past week. He really needed to cut it and soon.
It was one of the many tasks that added up for a homeowner. Not that he’d change that for anything. There was something so wonderfully freeing about having his own place. After being crammed in with six other kids—and with five boys in one bedroom—peace wasn’t something he took for granted.
As Logan climbed the back stairs onto the deck, he heard banging from inside the house. He set the timber down and carefully opened the door, making sure not to hit anything with the length of wood. Carrying it inside, he propped it up against the wall and stopped in his tracks.
