Page 20 of Consuming Logan

Unblinking she said, “I’m Marianne Hollister. You don’t remember, but I was there at your birth. I came back when your mother needed my help caring for you,” she smiled.

Why would Maribelle call a friend when his father had always been attentive to him and Darwin? None of this made sense.

“Just know your grandfather and my mother have known each other since Moses hitched a ride on the Nile.”

Logan wanted to laugh, but it hurt to blink. Maribelle limited contact with her estranged father. Maybe, when he got out of here, this woman could facilitate him reaching out to the relatives he’d never known. He liked Marianne Hollister. He thought her finished with the introduction, but she turned a bold stare at Maribelle and said, “Your mother and I are sisters.”

Maribelle shot to her feet. “Not by choice,” she hissed.

“As if fate or our father cares about your choices,” came Marianne’s quick reply. “Besides that, you called me.”

Maribelle scowled. “For advice,” she snapped. “Not for a ‘guess who’s coming to dinner’ visit.”

Marianne smiled, the resemblance between the two women strikingly obvious. “Get over it. I’m here, and we’re family.”

What! What? Logan collapsed, his back landing against the fluffed pillows in silence. So, his mother had a bi-racial sister she had neglected to mention for thirty-nine years? He had woken up in a daytime soap opera?

“Mom,” he said quietly, “why?”

She touted the importance of family, but she’d alienated her sister.

“Marianne has a family,” Maribelle rasped. “She couldn’t have mine.”

What was she saying? That she was jealous. For heaven’s sake, how could she justify cutting ties with a sister who obviously cared about her well-being?

“Dad, you knew about this?” Keeping secrets was so up Maribelle’s lane, but Robert Lee Masters was more transparent than cling wrap. One look at his father and Logan saw the guilt etched in the deep creases covering his face. Tyson shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable witnessing the interaction.

The muscles across Logan’s chest and back bunched with unspoken tension. Something akin to shame reddened Maribelle’s complexion. Logan knew his mom. As much as she badgered his father into supporting her causes, this was wrong. He knew it. And so did she. He hated secrets. The damage wrought on his life by Brooke and Dusty haunted him to this day. He recognized the same vacant look in Robert Lee’s gaze.

“Wasn’t my story to tell,” his father muttered behind a tight expression.

Darwin stared off in the distance and Tyson…Tyson O’Connor stood in the corner, arms crossed, and a scowl etched in his face. How would his benefactor process this new bit of information about his star researcher?

Marianne, still relaxed in the visitor’s chair, pointed a finger at his mom in warning. “I know our daddy taught you to respect family and truth, Belle.”

His mom stammered. “It wasn’t your place to tell my son anything.”

Marianne huffed. “Hah, we’re getting too old to hide from the realities of life. The boy is in danger, and he needs his family—all of us. There’s peace in accepting things as they are, as it’s given to us. Stop fighting so hard against the choices you can’t change. Maybe you’d be more pleasant to be around if you appreciated what you have, baby sister.”

Okay, no one spoke to his mom with that kind of authority. Before he could ask Aunt Marianne why she’d disappeared from their lives or why his grandfather stayed away, the door opened.

Logan looked up. “Ava.”

Her face was devoid of makeup and her damp curls flowed over her shoulder covering her scrub top. The shirt tucked at the waist with the drawstring on the faded green hospital pants looped in a double knot. Her exam had been completed. Good. She looked delicate, determined, and brave.

He questioned why she wasn’t sharing this suite with him. There was plenty of space. Darwin would’ve known he didn’t want her out of his sight. Even unconscious he needed her near.

“Yes, baby.” That was Ava’s voice, soft, in control, but weary. “I’m here.”

She closed the door, pausing to look him over. He must be in bad shape if Ava called him baby. His woman kept her affection for him private. While he craved her touch and words of affirmation, she showed her love with acts of service. Yep, guess some of that stuff from Blessed Life marriage counseling stuck. A clump of hair lay matted to the side of her face as if she had just gotten out of bed, the twisted non-skid yellow socks covering her feet applied in a hurry.

Their eyes met. Relief, raw and fierce, lit her brown gaze, but her lip was tucked between her teeth. Seeing her tears threatening to fall, Logan opened his arm, motioning her forward.

Logan didn’t miss the dismissive eye roll Maribelle shot in Ava’s direction. He’d check that behavior as soon as he saw to Ava.

Logan moved to sit up, wincing in pain, but not caring. Ava walked to him, her steps measured and slow. His jaw tightened. She was in pain.

She settled her forehead against his, “Thank God you’re okay,” she croaked on a broken sob.