His eyes stung. He didn’t move, just met her intense stare.
“Does Tess make you happy?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Don’t. Let. Her. Go.” She stared harder. “Don’t go through life like this. Yes, it’s scary to think that you can lose the people who are important to you. That’s why when someone great crosses your path, you’ve gotta hold on with everything you’ve got. It’s what makes life meaningful. Our connections with others. It’s a leap of faith, a risk . . . but it’s a risk so worth taking.”
Her hands slid down to his shoulders. “Logan . . . you can have happiness of your own. Fight for it. You have to try, or you’ll never forgive yourself. I don’t want that for you. You’ve wasted enough time beating yourself up, isolating yourself. Take a chance. She’s wonderful, and she loves you. I know she does, even if you won’t let yourself believe it.” Suddenly she weaved where she stood.
Logan’s hands shot out to grab her. “Whoa, I’ve got you. You okay?”
She felt wobbly to him. “Yeah. Just got a little light-headed. Looking up at you for too long made the blood rush back . . . Why do you have to be so damn tall?”
“Why do you have to exhaust yourself lecturing me?” he tried to joke back, even as he held her close to move her toward the living room couch.
“Because you’re a frustrating moron,” she grumbled, clinging to him as they walked slowly. “Good thing I love you more than life itself.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Logan moved through the next two days in something of a daze. His mother’s words echoed through his mind over and over. She’d given him a lot to think about.
She’d been right. About everything.
He had spent the past decade-plus punishing himself. He’d come to a place of acceptance about the people who’d died and suffered during Katrina, but he hadn’t fully forgiven himself. It was long past time to do that and let it go. It wasn’t serving him, and dammit, it wasn’t his fault the shelter had flooded. Every building in a four-block radius had been washed out; he wasn’t God, it wasn’t his fault, there wasn’t anything more he could have done. There truly wasn’t. Way past time to let that go.
As for Rachel . . . She hadn’t been capable of giving him what he needed when he needed it most. He knew that. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t worthy of love and devotion. It meant she wasn’t right for him, that was all. He had forgiven her for leaving, but . . . he’d never forgiven himself for choosing the wrong person. For being wrong about her, and feeling foolish for trusting and loving her. He had, and there was no shame in that. It didn’t mean he couldn’t, or shouldn’t, love someone that way again.
And the Universe was laughing at him, because guess what? He already did.
And Tess cared about him too. He knew that. They’d connected, in a deep, true way that defied labels or explanation. If he didn’t try to act on that, or at least tell her how he really felt, Annmarie was right. He’d regret it for the rest of his life.
But he’d hurt her deeply with his callous remarks in their last talk. He’d felt her anguish through the phone; it’d made him cringe. He had to fix it. He had to reach out . . .
First, however, was dinner with his mom. He got to her condo at five. Giving Richie some of his houses had been the right move, it freed up his schedule. He’d have plenty of time to work more hours after his mom was gone. For now, being able to see his mom every day was what he needed to do.
“Hi,” he called out as he let himself into her place.
“Hi,” she called back feebly. He could barely hear her.
He walked into the living room. She was on the couch, under three heavy quilts, her face pale. The TV blared the news; he grabbed the remote to mute it, then knelt beside her. She didn’t look good. “Hey there.” He put his hand against her cheek. She felt warm. “You okay?”
“I’m just cold,” she said. “Couldn’t get warm today.” She shivered hard.
He swore under his breath, then said to her, “I think you have a fever, Mom. Let me make you some tea. We’ll warm you up.”