“Yeah, he’s setting the table.” He offered me a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’re going to try and figure this out.”
That was surprising. I would’ve expected a shouting match. But I nodded and followed Logan downstairs. I trusted him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
We sat at the dining table, which I’d never used the whole time I’d been at Logan’s house, and it felt intimidatingly formal. Tim had set the table and was already sitting down. I sat opposite him, leaving the head of the table for Logan. A minute later, Logan arrived with three bowls of pasta — leftovers from the night before.
Tim took a bite, his brows jumping up. “This is good.”
“Willow cooked it,” Logan said.
Tim glanced at me, wearing a mix of emotions. Uncertainty. Distrust. Anger. Guilt. “It’s really tasty,” he told me quietly.
“Thank you.”
The meal was the most awkward dinner of my life. As much as I was proud of the pasta, I could barely taste it because I was so nervous.
Finally, we were all finished, but none of us stood up.
“So,” Tim said, pushing his bowl away, and folding his arm. “You broke up with me and decided to get with my dad instead?”
“Tim,” Logan began..
Tim didn’t even look at his dad, his eyes on mine, cold and steely, his jaw set. “Rebounding with my dad, that’s a helluva bitch thing to do.”
“You know what else is a bitch thing to do? Abandoning me to go to Mexico with your boys,” I retorted.
There was a flash of something like shame in Tim’s eyes. He shifted in his seat, like he was uncomfortable.
I took a deep breath to compose myself. “Listen. I didn’t mean to get involved with your dad. It’s not like I planned it as part of some big revenge scheme. It just…happened.” I looked at Logan. “I’m not using you as a rebound. I…” I shut my mouth, because I couldn’t say it.I like you. For real.
Logan’s eyes softened, and he reached out to take my hand. “I know,” he murmured, and his soft voice immediately put me at ease.
Tim was staring at our joined hands. His mouth tugged down, and he abruptly stood up. “I’m gonna do the washing up.” He picked up his bowl — only his bowl — and stalked off in the direction of the kitchen.
I glanced at Logan before standing up too, and gathering our bowls and cutlery, then followed Tim, where he stood in front of the dishwasher.
He didn’t look at me. I thought he might not acknowledge me, until he said, very quietly, “I’m sorry about ditching you. I know I fucked up, and…I guess I took you for granted. I didn’t think about how you’d feel.”
Part of me was still furious at him, but I nodded at the apology anyway. “I meant what I said. I’m not with your dad to get revenge or to rebound or anything. I…I actually really like him, Tim. And I know it’s messed up since he’s your dad. And I’m really sorry. But…”
He met my gaze now. It was strange how he looked so alike and so different from Logan. “But what?” he prompted.
I shrugged. “I know it’s only been a few days, but…I feel safe around him. There’s this connection between us that I’ve never felt before. And I don’t expect you to believe me —”
“I believe you,” he interrupted. He closed the dishwasher and shuffled his feet. “I don’t know if I should tell you this, but when we were arguing before…my dad said he really cared about you. And that really shocked me. He hasn’t dated in forever. I thinkhis last real relationship was with my mom. I used to worry about him, y’know. I thought he might die alone. All throughout high school, I told him he should date, and when I left for college, I said it again. I know that he might look a bit scary, but he’s actually really introverted.”
I thought of Logan’s blushes. His shy smiles. The way he looked sitting on his sofa, reading a book.
“But when he talked about you, I could see it in his face that you meant a lot to him. And even though I think it’s crazy, and even though part of me is still pissed off, I’m willing to overlook it if…” — he sucked in a deep breath, like saying the words was physically painful — “if you make him happy. He deserves to be happy.”
I stared at Tim. Ever since I met him at that college party a few months ago, I always thought he was the outgoing type, but with not a lot going on in his head. I never expected this level of maturity.
“But I have to warn you,” he continued, “if you hurt my dad, I will come for you.”
I smiled in spite of myself. It was a funny image, seeing a nineteen year old looking out for his huge forty-three year old father. But it was touching too.
“I don’t want to hurt him,” I replied quietly. “But…I’m leaving tomorrow.”
