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Logan shifts, angling my legs a little on his lap. I smooth down my skirt and pull his jacket tighter around myself.
“Your dad on the other hand … I always knew he wasn’t my biggest fan. It’s not like he flat-out said anything, but I could tell.”
I didn’t ever notice, but I remember Logan mentioning this when I first talked to him about the gala. “As we’ve discussed, my dad can be kind of a jerk.”
“Which I expected,” Logan says, his voice sounding tight. “And so I wasn’t surprised right after graduation when I overheard him saying I was a bad influence on Brandon.”
I lean forward and take Logan’s hand. I squeeze, but he doesn’t squeeze back. “I’m really sorry, Logan. For what it’s worth, I disagree.”
He meets my gaze. “It’s worth a lot.” Then he sighs, glancing away again. “Whatdidsurprise me was hearing your mom and Brandon agree with him.”
I gasp, already shaking my head. “No. They didn’t. They wouldn’t!”
Would they?
But the sad smile Logan gives me assures me that they would and they did. I’m shocked at how fast my protectiveness swells. Followed quickly by anger.
I squeeze Logan’s hand again. “What did they say?”
“Your mom wasn’t cruel or anything. She just said they should look at it more like Brandon having an opportunity to be a good influence onme.”
Not terrible. But not great either. I can tell from the way Logan’s hesitating that my brother must have said something much worse. I wish I could take back my question. I should have asked Logan about his life in Charlotte or pretty much anything other than this.
But at the same time, now Ineedto know.
“And Brandon?” I ask quietly.
Logan goes back to the jaw-clenching from earlier. Even so, I still catch a glimpse of the boy he was, the boy who was hurt by people he trusted.
“Brandon said it wouldn’t matter much longer because the two of us didn’t have anything in common other than hockey. He said once I left, we’d probably never talk again. Your dad said something along the lines of ‘the sooner the better’ and I walked right out then. That was it.”
Without overthinking, I lean forward and pull Logan into a hug. It’s awkward with my legs in his lap, and I’m practically bent into a pretzel butI don’t care. All I want right now is to hug away the stupid things my family said. Not like I can.
But I hug Logan as if that’s possible, as if I could squeeze this bad memory right out of him.
I’d also like to stab Brandon with a fork. A plastic one because I’m notreallya violent person. But the heavy-duty plastic kind because I still do want it to hurt.
While my brother has always been able to stand up to Dad in a way I’m just learning how to do, Brandon also wanted to—wantsto—impress him. I seriously doubt he meant what he said back then. It was probably just one of those times where you agree with someone just to get them to back off or shut up. I bet it would kill him to know all these years he’s been mad at Logan, that Brandon’s own words were the impetus for Logan’s departure.
“I’m sorry, Logan,” I say into his neck, which smells so distractingly good it’s hard to focus on what I’m apologizing for.
Oh, right. My terrible family.
“You don’t need to be sorry,” Logan says. “You had nothing to do with it. I’m just sorry the way I reacted hurt you. I’d do it all differently if I could.”
“No more apologies to me,” I tell him. “You should really tell Brandon.”
“I’d rather not.”
“But he’d understand. I’m sure he’d feel terrible. You were good friends once. I have no doubt you could be at least peaceful acquaintances again. If not friends.”
“While I appreciate it, I don’t need you fixing this. Okay? Brandon and I will talk.”
“Promise?” I ask. Maybe it shouldn’t be so important that they work this out. But it is.
“Eventually. I had planned on it. Though I still might not explain the whole story. It’s old news.”
Logan’s jacket slips from my shoulders then. As the cool night air hits my skin, I’m instantly cold.
