time, he’d thought it was for the best. A chance for her to experience life somewhere else. Shake the depression she’d fallen under after the loss of their daughter. Learn and grow. Mature into a woman who knew the value of honesty and loyalty. Then, she’d choose to come back. Only, she hadn’t come back.
Logan sighed. He just needed to get Amy home. Back to her family. The sooner they returned to Raintree Ranch, the better.
“It’s not a big deal,” Traci continued. “Amy won’t mind if we wait for her at the apartment. She told me I could use it whenever Mama and I visited. Even if she wasn’t there.” Her eyebrows rose. “It’s better than sitting here—”
“I said, no.”
“You heard that man. It’s gonna sleet. The sign says they close at five and it’s five,” she stressed. “There’s no one here but us now. She’s not coming and if we’re not going to her apartment, we’re better off leaving without her. Before it sleets and we get stuck here. Let’s head back now.”
“I said no.” Logan shot her a firm look. “Now, that’s the end of it.”
Traci released her death grip on his forearm and flopped back in an indignant heap. “I swear, if I miss Mama’s turkey and dressing tomorrow, I’ll never forgive you, Logan.” Her lip curled. “Never.”
Logan tensed and cast his eyes up to trace the popcorn patterned ceiling. Teenagers. Any other day Traci wouldn’t utter two syllables strung together. Today, though, the endless chatter had begun the second the kid jumped into his truck insisting she take the trip with him. It had continued in a never-ending stream since.
Logan shot to his feet. “Wait here.” Taking swift steps to the reception desk, he tossed over his shoulder. “Quietly.”
A rough exhalation was her only response. Thank God.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” He placed his hands flat on the reception desk to still the tremors running through them.
The young receptionist looked up, smiled and eased closer to the counter.
“Your daughter sure is talkative,” she giggled. “I don’t think she’s drawn a breath in the last hour.”
“She’s not my daughter.” Logan’s throat tightened, a sharp pain ripping through his chest. “She’s my sisterin-law.”
“Oh.” Her smile slipped. “I’m sorry. I just assumed—”
“I don’t mean to be a pest but I was wondering if Amy Slade has come in yet?”
Her forehead scrunched, confusion clouding her features. “Amy Slade? You mean Ms. Johnson, right?”
Logan swallowed hard, the wad of papers in his pocket burning through his jeans.
He nodded, forcing out, “Johnson. Amy Johnson.”
“Well, she had a lot of claims to document today. She was trying to squeeze in as many as she could before she left for vacation.” She grimaced in apology. “I thought she’d be back by now but it looks like she may not make it in. I’m sorry. I know you’ve been waiting a long time.”
“Can you give me her cell number?” His face flamed. “I’d like to give her a call. Let her know I’m here.”
“Sure,” she stated quietly. She held a business card out between pink nails. “I could...”
Johnson. Logan’s hand halted in midair. There it was. Her maiden name. In bold, black ink stamped in the center. Plain print. Thick paper. Such a harmless item. But it cut to the bone.
“Sir?” Concern contorted the receptionist’s features. “I could give her your number, if it’s an emergency? Ask her to give you a call tonight? Or tomorrow?”
“No,” he choked, ripping his hand away from the card.
He’d let four years of tomorrows slip by. He should’ve been here yesterday. His shoulders slumped. Four years of yesterdays.
“No, thank you,” he repeated. “I’d like to wait a little longer.”
A push of cold air swept in from the hallway, fluttering the papers on the desk. The receptionist glanced over her shoulder at the muffled clunk that followed.
“Back entrance,” she said, rising from her seat. “That might be her. I’ll go check.”
Logan strode around the desk to the mouth of the hall.
“Please give me a moment, sir.”
He drew to a halt at her raised hand and pleading expression. She cast anxious glances behind her.
“Just let me tell her you’re here. Please?”
Logan managed a stiff nod. She dropped her hand and moved down the hall, disappearing into a room on the left.
His legs tensed and his torso pitched forward. Wait.
He glanced back at Traci still slouched in the lobby chair then found himself inching down the hall despite his polite promise. His ears strained to capture the receptionist’s hushed tones and low words.
“...been here for hours. Very insistent on seeing you.”
“Who is he? Is he filing a claim?”
Logan faltered, his breath catching. Amy. There was no mistaking her soft, questioning tone. His steps quickened, the tips of his fingers slipping inside his pocket and curling around the papers in a crushing hold.
“I don’t think so. I think he might be...” Hesitancy coated the receptionist’s words. “I think he’s your—”
“Husband.” Logan clamped his lips together and flexed his finger against his wedding ring.
He’d reached the threshold. The view of the room remained obscured by the receptionist. She swiveled to face him, hands twisting at her waist.
His earlier reminder to Traci returned. We’re in public.
He issued a tight smile. “I apologize for not waiting. I didn’t mean to rush you but it’s important that I see her.”
Floorboards creaked. That quiet voice returned. It drifted around the receptionist’s tense frame. “It’s okay, Kimberly.”
The receptionist blinked and glanced back over her shoulder. “Would you like me to stay, Ms. Johnson?”
“No. You go ahead and start your holiday. I’ll lock up.”
The receptionist hovered briefly then nodded and slipped past Logan, the click of her heels fading.
A thousand thoughts had clamored in Logan’s head on the ride up here. A million words had vibrated on the tip of his tongue as he drove. He’d sifted through each one, preserving or discarding them with precision until he’d carefully arranged a select few that were the most important. The ones that needed to be delivered first. Ones that would give him a fighting chance.
One
