thought you went back to bed,” she whispered.
“No.”
“You could have.” Based on the hushed voice, it was hard to tell whether or not her tone was defensive.
“I stayed—just in case.”
“Everything is under control. And I assume you have to get up before God to work in the morning.”
“Yeah.”
“Then I have to conclude that you don’t trust me.”
“Not you, Grace. It’s me I don’t trust.”
“I kind of figured that. In town. Cassie and the carnival ride clued me in.”
“Yeah.”
“You act like a bodyguard, and I mean that literally. In order to be sure she’s physically all right, you can’t let her out of your sight. But you don’t want to get down and play with her. Why are you putting that distance between you? Do you want to talk about it?”
Just minutes ago she’d told Cassie that sharing something you’re scared of can make it lose the power to be frightening. Maybe she was right. For reasons he didn’t understand, Logan was going to tell her.
“Yeah,” he said. “I do want to talk about it.”
Logan wanted to talk about this so Grace would stop looking at him as if he was winning the Worst Dad of the Century award in a landslide. If she understood how screwed up his childhood had been, she would get that he was doing this for Cassie.
“Grace, I—”
She put a finger to her lips to stop him and angled her head toward the open door to his daughter’s room. In a whisper she said, “Let’s go downstairs. I’m going to grab a robe.”
He felt a stab of disappointment at the prospect of her doing anything to cover up that sweet shape. Yet another shred of proof about his being messed up in general and not just his dad skills.
Then her gaze dropped to his bare chest for a moment and something flashed in her eyes. He might not know how to be a dad, but he knew female appreciation when he saw it. Too bad that made his ego feel better because other parts of him felt pretty damn lousy.
“I’ll put on a shirt,” he said.
Logan did that, then went downstairs. He’d barely flipped on the lights when he felt Grace behind him. She was tying the belt of her short satiny robe, and darned if that wasn’t sexy as hell.
“Do you want a drink?” he asked.
“Water.”
“I was thinking something stronger.” Even though he knew there wasn’t enough Scotch in the world to take the edge off the crap of how his childhood played out.
“You go ahead,” she said.
He shook his head. “Water it is.”
After getting two glasses and filling them with filtered water from the fridge, they sat down at the kitchen table facing each other.
Grace took a sip, then wrapped her hands around the glass. “So, talk. I’m listening.”
No point in sugarcoating this. “My father is a bastard.”
She blinked, but otherwise her expression didn’t change. “I’m going to take a wild guess. You mean that as an indictment of his character and not about his being born out of wedlock.”
“You would be correct. My paternal grandparents are good people. Salt of the earth. Their other son, Hastings—”
“Your uncle.”
“Yes.” He had cousins, too, here in Blackwater Lake. They’d reached out, but Logan wasn’t wired to jump in with both feet, because they were family. “Anyway, Hastings is the kind of son every parent would be proud of. A loving husband and father. Never gave his folks a bit of trouble. And then there was Foster.”
“Your dad.”
Dad? Logan never thought of him that way. The term was intimate and implied a level of commitment and caring to earn the name.
“My father is the complete opposite of his brother. Uninvolved with his family and unfaithful to his wife. Beats me why he proposed to my mother at all since he didn’t stop seeing other women even after they were engaged.”
“Well, that really stinks.”
The anger on her face was better than pity. “He had affairs and mistresses and kids with more than one of them.”
“You have half siblings?”
“They’re around.”
“That boggles the mind. I don’t understand—”
“Join the club.”
“No,” she said. “I meant why didn’t your parents just get a divorce?”
“The better question is why he ever got married in the first place.” He thought for a moment. “I don’t have confirmation, but I have a guess about that.”
“Shoot.”
“He was looking for the same kind of approval from his parents that Hastings already had. Foster got tired of hearing about his older brother’s beautiful wife and family and wanted his share of the parental approval pie.”
“So he proposed to your mom. I guess she had no idea he was a cheater.”
“Not then. And she got pregnant with me right away. When she found out he was sleeping around, it was a lot harder to walk away with a baby. And he didn’t want the sordid truth to trash his new image with the folks.” The disgust that tightened inside him was like an old friend. “To keep her from leaving he pulled out every cliché. No points for originality. He told her he loved her and was sorry. It would never happen again. So she stayed, and there was no need for anyone else to know.”
“Your mother believed him.” It wasn’t a question, and the hostile expression in her eyes was a clue that she’d had her own experience with a rat-bastard liar. “Your dad must be a smooth talker.”
“Yes. And the truth is that she didn’t want to leave. Not really. She actually loved him.”
“Hard to believe.” Grace’s lips pressed together.
“Yeah. But that wasn’t enough for him. The cheating didn’t stop. Neither did the clichés. His smooth talking worked after Tucker, Max and Jamie.”
“But she finally did leave. What made her pull the trigger on that?”
“He got one
