Matter of Time (8 page)

Pulling out one of the chairs at the tiny table next to the door, Logan took a seat, then held out his hand for her to join him. “Lucas said there’s plenty of food in the fridge in his office in case we get hungry and need sustenance.”

When she didn’t take the offered hand, but instead took the seat opposite him, disappointment flashed in his eyes, but he quickly recovered and continued the conversation. “Apparently, Kevin and Sam made a large care package of leftovers from the party and, according to Lucas, we won’t need to leave the building for a week. And since we’re in a sex club”—his grin broadened—“we don’t even have to get dressed to go get it.”

Pathetic relief at hearing Lucas was the one putting that light in his eyes swamped her as more questions arose. “Kevin and Lucas seem to be a recurring theme here. Do you mind telling me how all of this”—she waved her hand back and forth between them—“came to be?”

“After you ran into Lucas at Christmas and Kevin realized you two had a history, they started talking.” He pressed his lips together and seemed to carefully measure his words. “Once Lucas discovered you weren’t married, he asked Kevin and Sam to help devise a plan to get you to Myrtle Beach so we could reconnect.”

Lizbeth thought about the mischievous sparkle in Sam’s eyes at the open house and how concerned she’d been over Lucas’s late arrival to the party. Sam had been in on this from the beginning?

Sam’s words,
I owe you,
rang through Lizbeth’s mind.

Lizbeth went to Sam’s house that night to convince her to give Kevin a second chance because it was the right thing to do, not because she wanted anyone to owe her, and she’d never expected anything in return. But could Karma and her bitch-sister Fate finally be coming around to work in Lizbeth’s favor?

A loud banging on the door cut off Lizbeth’s thoughts and had Logan jumping from his chair.

“You knock the door off the hinges, you’re paying for it, not me,” he said, peeling the door open to reveal a disgruntled Lucas.

“I’m not your damned room service,” Lucas groused as he shoved an armful of plates and bowls into Logan’s arms. His displeasure was an act, though, and before he turned away, the scowl faded and a grin curled his lips as he clasped Logan’s shoulder. “I’m glad things are working out so far. I hope it continues.” Peering into the room at Lizbeth, he added, “God knows you two deserve to finally be happy.”

After kicking the door shut, Logan turned and set the array of dishes on the table. “I didn’t see a need for either of us to leave the room when he’s not doing anything but wandering around, making sure everyone plays nice.”

The easygoing familiarity of the interaction between the brothers helped loosen some of the tightness in her chest, and she laughed along with him. She was still struggling to grasp Kevin and Sam going out of their way to help with this reunion, but she completely understood Lucas’s motivation. She’d always been envious of their bond—literally two peas in a pod—and there wasn’t anything they wouldn’t do for each other.

Sitting helplessly on the sidelines, unable to do anything to
salvage his brother’s life,
had eaten Lucas alive, and he and Lizbeth had shared a lot of tequila in the first few months after Logan left. But now, seeing an opportunity to make things right for his brother, he’d taken full advantage of his connections and the opportunity.

Warmth similar to that brought on by the tomahawk filled her chest. A lot of effort had gone into reuniting her with Logan… It was time for her to step up and do her part. Pulling in a deep breath for strength, she smiled weakly and said, “Where do you want to start?”

L
izbeth still didn’t seem thrilled about reliving the past, and Logan couldn’t say he was particularly looking forward to unsealing the vault on their time capsule any more than her. But before they even thought about starting fresh, he needed to apologize for the past.

He figured the best place to start was at the beginning, so he pried the top off a container of fruit, cleared his throat, and dove in with a long-past-due apology. “Saying I’m sorry is as effective as pissing into a hurricane, but… I am so damn sorry for the way I ended things with you.”

Lizbeth’s fingers froze halfway to the container, then resettled onto the table as she flicked her gaze to the floor. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You did what was necessary, and I’ve never faulted you for that.”

That might be true, but how many times had he thought back to that night and wished he could kick his own ass for not handling it better? “Things were so good and easy between us it deluded me into thinking I was all grown up and had the world by the tail.” He snorted with disgust as he jabbed a toothpick into a piece of pineapple and popped it into his mouth. “In reality, I hadn’t known shit.”

He searched her face, trying to get a handle on her emotions, but she still refused to look at him. “I was scared and angry at being forced to give up the only thing that mattered to me, and if I didn’t make a quick clean cut, there wouldn’t have been any walking away from you… whether it was the right thing or not.”

He could still hear her begging him to let her help figure out another solution and reminding him people had kids together all the time but didn’t get married. He’d desperately wanted to latch onto every out she gave him, which was a problem because he and Lucas hadn’t been raised that way. He’d been taught to face responsibilities head on, and he had an obligation to do right by Bobbi Jo and Brianna.

But he hadn’t been strong enough to withstand Lizbeth’s tears or face her hurt, and it still felt like an anvil sitting in the middle of his chest. He closed his eyes at the memory of her crumpled forward on his couch, arms wrapped tightly around her waist to keep from falling to pieces.

“I was hurting too, but all I could focus on was your pain. And I couldn’t handle it.”

He might be older and wiser and certainly more jaded, but apparently, he wasn’t any better equipped to handle her pain now, because when she ran her cheek across her shoulder to wipe away a tear, bile rose into his throat.

“That’s why I sent you away as soon as I finished telling you about Bobbi Jo and the baby. If I’d spent another five minutes with you, I would’ve broken down and not gone through with the breakup.”

God, this conversation was nearly as painful as the one back then, but in order to start fresh, he needed to get it all out there. He didn’t know how to get to the other side except to keep pushing through, so that’s what he did. “I fully expected Lucas to kick my ass when he came back from taking you home that evening.” He’d actually prayed Lucas would beat him to a bloody pulp, because it would’ve given him a different kind of pain to focus on. “But he didn’t. He didn’t say anything. He just set a brown paper bag on the counter, pulled out the bottle of Jack he picked up on his way home, and the two of us got polluted.”

What Lucas didn’t know was Logan did the exact same thing every night for the next week. God only knows how long he would’ve kept up the routine if Pops hadn’t stepped in one night, ripped the bottle from his hand, and told him to man up and stop feeling sorry for himself.

“I was so angry. At myself. At the world. Especially at Bobbi Jo, which wasn’t fair since I was equally responsible for the situation. I was pissed she hadn’t told me I was a father, although in hindsight, I think she tried.”

At that, Lizbeth fiddled with the tie on her robe and cleared her throat. “What do you mean?”

“A few weeks after you and I started dating, she called me a half-dozen times. I was in such a good place with you, I didn’t want any intrusions, so I ignored her calls. I never asked, but looking back, I assume she was calling to tell me she was pregnant.”

Lizbeth’s watery eyes rose to meet his. “Did you ever ask how she became pregnant since she was supposed to be on the pill?”

That’d been the first question Lizbeth asked the night he told her about the baby. Her second was, “How do you know the baby is yours?”

The second part was easy. Brianna looked just like him. The first part… he mentally shrugged. Everyone knew the pill wasn’t one hundred percent effective, which was why he had a vasectomy as soon as the twins were born. He hadn’t planned on the first child and only counted on one more but instead, ended up with two. It had definitely been time to shut down his baby-making factory. Although now, looking at Lizbeth, he wondered if she wanted kids, and if so, could it be reversed?

He shook his head to clear those thoughts before he got too far ahead of himself. “No, I never asked. The hows didn’t matter. At that point, it became all about the doing. Finding a place for us to live, getting my racing career going so I could support them.”

He laughed, but the sound rasping from his throat sounded hollow and lacked humor. “All that pent-up rage and frustration helped my career tremendously. I was borderline out of control, so I used that anger on the track to be more aggressive than I might’ve been otherwise. I went out there and threw myself into every jump and turn and…” He shrugged. “It helped me win a lot of races and championships, which paid the bills. And racing kept me busy and on the road, which gave us a chance to gradually adapt to being a couple and living together full time.”

The traveling also gave him the chance to grieve the loss of Lizbeth in relative privacy. Men weren’t supposed to cry, but every night for months, when he crawled into bed in his motor home, the tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, and he hadn’t the will or the strength to shut them off.

And if things didn’t work out between them this time, he wouldn’t have the strength or will to stop them now either.

*

Unable to sit still any longer, Lizbeth pushed out of her chair and paced around the room. She kept reminding herself all this talking was necessary, but knowing something logically didn’t make it easier, and she needed to walk off the ache settling into her bones.

Wandering over to the window, she pulled back the curtain and gazed down at the street in front of Pandora’s. She watched as the valet brought a car to the curb and a gentleman helped a woman into the passenger seat, then shut the door behind her. It seemed odd for the rest of the world to carry on as if nothing monumental were happening in one of the upstairs rooms, but that was the way it had been for the past fifteen years. The rest of the world—including Logan—moved on while she stayed stuck in a state of suspended animation.

“Whose idea was it to have more kids?” She hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but it was probably for the best. Otherwise, she might not have gotten the question past her lips.

“We decided together. Bobbi Jo hated being an only child. Of course, I have Lucas and don’t know what I’d do without him, so we agreed Brianna needed a sibling.” After a brief pause, he said, “How did you know we had more kids?”

Her laugh was harsh, definitely more biting than she’d intended, but some things couldn’t be covered. “You’re kidding, right? I couldn’t turn on the goddamned TV or pick up a newspaper without seeing your face or hearing all about your accomplishments.”

She took a deep breath to dilute the unintentional accusatory tone. It wasn’t his fault he’d been a hometown hero, and every time one of her roommates or their boyfriends turned on the local news, the sportscaster was signing Logan’s praises while the local paper documented his every move.

The worst came two years after he and Bobbi Jo married…
Logan Steele and wife, Bobbi Jo, welcomed twins this morning…

“The morning you had the twins was the day I finally accepted I was out of your life forever. It was stupid, but for the longest time, I convinced myself you were with Bobbi Jo for the sole purpose of being a parent to Brianna. That you married in name, but weren’t… you know… acting like a couple.” It was amazing the things a mind told itself in the name of survival. “But then you guys had more kids, and…”

Shit, how could it still hurt so badly after all this time?

“At that point, I realized you really had moved on and created a new life with Bobbi Jo and weren’t ever coming back to me.” The words broke with tears that were building up a head of steam, and she turned and held out her hand to him like frickin’ Vanna White. “Except here you are.”