owed it to him. And they both owed it to their daughter’s memory. Otherwise, their baby girl would be nothing more than a mistake. An almost that never drew breath. A wrong that was never righted.
He closed his eyes and hung his head, muscles flinching on a jagged streak of anger. At himself. At Amy. God forgive him for feeling it but it was there all the same.
Logan made his way outside, boots scraping across the floor and drawing to a halt behind Amy. He set the unopened beer on the porch rail and drew in a lungful of icy air.
“Here.” He shrugged off his denim jacket, draping it over her bent form.
Amy wanted to refuse it. The urge to decline was written in her drawn brows and scrunched nose. But she accepted it.
“Thanks.” She hunched into the coat and turned back to the dark emptiness before them.
Despite his ill mood, a smile tugged at his lips. Amy had always been stubborn. Head thick as a brick but sharp as a tack, she’d fought him at every turn. It’d started the day they’d met. At eight years old, she’d given him a run for his money. She’d sized up his twelve-year-old frame, curled her lip and dared him to race her. And damned if she hadn’t won.
Logan eased his hip against the rail and crossed his arms, a low laugh escaping him.
“You still know how to make an entrance.” He nudged her and eyed the tight line of her mouth. “Family dinners always were a lot more interesting with you around.”
Her shoulders stiffened and she leaned down, propping her elbows on the porch rail and twisting her hands together.
“You plan on spending the night out here?” he asked.
“Maybe.”
“Doubt you’d last long, cold as it is.”
She glanced up then, emerald eyes fixing firmly on his face. “I’d last long enough.”
Logan grunted. He scooped up the beer bottle, snagged the cap on the porch rail and snapped it off. He tipped the bottle up and tugged deeply, swallowing several mouthfuls of the smooth brew and sighing with pleasure.
Amy’s gaze clung to him, following the movements of his throat and darting to his hand. He took another swig. Her eyebrows lowered into a glower.
Logan’s belly warmed, sending a sweet thrill up his spine. She’d had the exact same expression the night of her nineteenth birthday. He’d given in to her badgering and had taken her up to the local pool hall to celebrate.
She hadn’t been satisfied with flashing her ID at the door. Nope. She’d done her best to sweet talk him into going to the bar and getting her a beer. He’d brought her fried cheese sticks and a milk instead. She’d been beyond ticked.
The warmth spread to his face and pulled at the corners of his mouth. He tipped the bottle up again, grinning as her frown darkened. It was good to see a little life in her.
She jerked her chin. “Your daddy ever tell you it’s impolite not to share?”
A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. The kind he hadn’t had in years. He let it loose, relishing the feel and sound of it.
Her gaze wandered over his face to linger on his smile. Her lush mouth parted, the edges tipping up and her face lighting with pleasure. That was all it took.
Before he knew it, he was leaning over, savoring the curves of her lips under his. The sweet flavor of her mingled with the crisp coolness of the beer on his tongue.
She tasted the same. Warm and comforting. Like his own personal sun in the middle of winter. She tasted like home.
It didn’t last. She pulled away, squaring her shoulders and stepping back.
“This can’t happen, Logan,” she whispered.
“Why not?” He straightened, setting the beer back on the porch rail. “You’re still my wife.”
“I haven’t been that for a long time. And I wouldn’t have been in the first place if you’d had a choice.”
“That’s not true—”
“It’s not?” She leaned forward. “You mean if I hadn’t lied to you and gotten pregnant, you would’ve chosen to marry me?”
He hesitated, scrambling for the right words. The ones he’d chosen so carefully on the drive to bring her home.
“You’ve never lied to me, Logan. Please don’t start now,” she stated softly. “Would you have married me back then if you’d had a choice?”
Not then. Not at such a young age. And not before they’d had a chance to experience life beyond the ranch.
His jaw clamped shut. He couldn’t say that out loud. Not now. Not when she looked so vulnerable. So hopeful.
“Would you have given in to me to begin with if I hadn’t trailed you so hard? If I hadn’t pushed so much?” she pressed, her voice catching.
No. He wouldn’t have.
She sighed and looked away. “We grew up together. We were friends. I should’ve left it at that.”
That cool mask returned. It settled over her features like a glaze of ice, freezing out all emotion in her expression.
“You were right,” she said, knuckles turning white from her grip on the porch rail. “I was naïve and foolish. It was nothing but misguided hero worship.”
Logan flinched, an unexpected pain spearing his chest. He’d spent so much time in the past trying to reason the idea with her. Trying to get her to understand what she felt for him was nothing more than a crush. That, at four years her senior, he was easy to look up to and become infatuated with.
But, as she’d grown, he’d had to work harder at talking himself into believing it, too. And on that ride home from the pool hall the night of her nineteenth birthday, she’d turned to him, put her hands on him and touched that beautiful mouth of hers to his.
And, heaven help him, he’d given in. Over and over again during the next two months. Helpless to put a stop to it. Not even wanting to.
She’d sent his self-control up in flames more times than he cared to remember. Had continued to push for more until he was so desperate not to lose her altogether that he gave in whenever she wanted.
Logan squeezed his eyes shut. He should’ve been more responsible back then. Wiser. Shouldn’t have blindly accepted her word that she’d been protected. That she’d taken care of things.
He learned later she deliberately hadn’t. And, as a result, they’d made a daughter then lost her. He’d almost lost Amy, too. All because of her selfish obsession.
“But you didn’t leave it at that,” he gritted, facing her. “You had to have your way.”
“I never meant to hurt you.” Her face flushed. “Not then and not now. As hard as it is to believe, that’s God’s honest truth.”
“We
