Trusting Tomorrow Page 5

  “Around here? Not a hell of a lot. In case you hadn’t noticed, Oakville is one of those places you’d miss if you blinked.” Logan set her coffee cup down and scratched the back of her neck. “Erie’s about forty minutes away, but if you’re looking for the kind of fun you can only have with like-minded women, we’re almost two hours from both Buffalo and Pittsburgh. There is a bar in Erie, but it’s mostly men and not many women go there.”

  “And which do you prefer? Buffalo or Pittsburgh?”

  “Buffalo. Up there you get more women who are vacationing since it’s pretty close to both Niagara Falls and Canada.”

  “Less of a chance you’d ever run into them again?” Brooke regretted the comment as soon as the words left her mouth. Logan’s body stiffened slightly and Brooke could almost hear the walls going up around her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “It’s not a big deal. I don’t need you or anyone else to approve of how I live my life.”

  Brooke watched in silence as Logan stood and dumped her coffee into the sink. She wished she knew what to say to get back to the easy repartee they’d been enjoying. She didn’t like the way Logan could so easily shift from being open to instantly shutting herself off completely from any amiable interaction.

  “I’m not judging you.”

  “It wouldn’t matter if you were.”

  “Would you take me to one of those bars sometime?” Brooke desperately wanted to stay and get to know Logan better, but she knew before Logan responded their evening was over.

  “I’ll think about it,” Logan said before walking out of the kitchen. “But I think you should go now. I have a funeral to direct first thing in the morning.”

  Brooke left her almost full cup of coffee on the kitchen table and followed Logan to the front door in silence. She wanted to say something—anything—to fix things. Instead, she left without a word, and listened to the door click shut behind her.

  Chapter Six

  Logan sat near the back of the room the next day while Jack delivered his eulogy. He’d let her read through it the night before, and she had to admit it was good. Their father would have been proud of the words Jack had written about him. Logan found herself wishing he was there to hear it. But then again, if he were there, Jack never would have written those words in the first place. The sadness of it all weighed heavy on her heart. Too many people took for granted their loved ones would be around forever. Too many people trusted you could wait until tomorrow to tell them the things you should have told them today. But in reality, nobody was ever guaranteed there would be a tomorrow.

  Now she was one of those people. She’d never get the opportunity to tell him how much he meant to her. She’d told him she loved him almost every day, but had it been enough? Logan always thought it was, but sitting there at his funeral she knew it hadn’t been anywhere near enough.

  “How are you holding up?”

  Logan looked up to see Ray standing in the aisle next to her seat watching her with concern in his eyes. She tried to smile but quickly gave up and moved over so he could sit next to her. Jack was in the midst of retelling the story about how when he was ten, their father took him fishing for the first time. What a disaster that had been, but the story always made her smile. Jack had hooked a huge walleye, and not really thinking the fish would fight, Jack fell off the boat in his attempts to reel it in. Their father was forced to jump in to save him because Jack had always been an unathletic, scrawny little kid who’d never bothered to learn how to swim. He hadn’t filled out, as their mother used to say, until he was fourteen. “I’ll be okay,” she said. She kept her voice down so she wouldn’t disturb anyone listening to Jack speak. “Thanks for asking though.”

  “Missy wanted to know if you and Jack would like to come over for Thanksgiving dinner.”

  Logan shook her head and glanced over at the Colliers. “Peggy already invited us to their house, but thank you anyway. You know Jack though. He might want to eat a second dinner.”

  Ray laughed and then coughed in a feeble attempt to cover it. He put an arm around Logan’s shoulder and squeezed briefly.

  “You’re both welcome anytime.”

  Logan watched him walk back to where Missy and Billy were sitting. Billy gave her an encouraging smile and she tilted her head in acknowledgement. She sat there for a few more minutes before getting up and leaving the room, forcing herself to walk at a normal pace until she was clear of any curious eyes, then she took the steps to her apartment above the funeral parlor two at a time.

  She went straight to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of tequila from the cupboard. After pouring a shot, she stood there with her hands on the edge of the counter for a moment simply staring at the drink. She was stronger than this. Drinking to dull the pain was never a good idea, and the rational part of her brain knew it. But it was so tempting.

  Her grandfather on her mother’s side had found death in a bottle before Logan was born. Her mother used to tell her and Jack about him all the time, and Logan could never get over the profound sadness she saw in her mother’s eyes every time she’d talk about her father. Logan really didn’t know if alcoholism was hereditary, but then again, she’d never wanted to find out. She picked the shot glass up and held it at eye level for just a second before dumping it into the sink. She then proceeded to pour the remaining contents of the bottle down the drain as well.

  It wasn’t like she had decided never to drink again, but having alcohol in the house when the pain was this intense could be a bad thing. She promised from there on out she’d keep nothing in the house but beer, and only a six-pack at most. They might not be with her, but she wouldn’t want to let her parents down.

  *

  “You disappeared before my eulogy was finished,” Jack said when he came up to the apartment a while later. “Is everything all right?”

  Logan was sitting on the leather couch in her living room watching an episode of Dexter she’d already seen. She and her father watched every episode together, and it had been the last one he had seen. She nodded without looking away from the screen.

  “What are you drinking?” Jack asked. He walked over and picked the glass up to sniff the contents. He wrinkled his nose at it. “Water?”

  “What’s wrong with water?”

  “Nothing. I just thought maybe you’d want something a little stronger. I know I sure as hell do. What’ve you got?”

  “Water, soda, and coffee. If you want coffee you’ll have to make it yourself. If you want anything stronger, you’ll have to go somewhere else.” Logan finally shut the television off and turned to watch him in the kitchen. He was looking through the cupboards, apparently not believing she didn’t have anything alcoholic on hand.

  “There’s an empty tequila bottle here in the sink,” he called as he continued his search. “Did you drink it all or what?”

  “Or what,” she said, getting up to join him. She picked the bottle up and deposited it in the recycling bin. Jack stopped what he was doing and turned to face her. She shrugged. “There was half a bottle there. I saw myself sitting here and drinking it all, so rather than risk becoming a lush, I dumped it.”

  “Is there something you want to talk about?” he asked, his voice full of brotherly concern.

  “No, I just envisioned myself drinking too much. Rather than risk developing an addiction to how well it obliterates the pain, I decided to get rid of it. End of story.”

  He watched her for a few moments to see if she was being honest with him. He opened the fridge and grabbed himself a soda before they went back out to the living room.

  “It was a beautiful eulogy, Jack,” she said quietly.

  “Thanks. I thought so too.” Jack put his feet up on the coffee table and stared at the ceiling. “Brooke was looking for you after the service. I take it she doesn’t know about the apartment.”

  “Of course she doesn’t. I met her two days ago, Jack.”

  “You like her though, right? I m
ean, I thought you’d made picking up women an art form.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  “You don’t want a girlfriend, I get it. I just assumed since you don’t want anything long-term, then you probably went for the one-nighters. You can be pissed at me if you want, but am I right?”

  “Fuck you.” Logan refused to look at him, which apparently was the only confirmation he needed. He laughed. Logan tried hard not to throw something at him.

  “I was the same way, Logan. Believe me, I know where you’re at. So my question is this—if you’re attracted to her, and I’m quite certain you are, why haven’t you made a move on her?”

  “God, you’re a pig.” She was having a difficult time admitting to herself Brooke was different. The way she saw Brooke was different. Brooke had been hurt deeply by her last girlfriend, and therefore she deserved better than a one-night stand. Logan wasn’t the one to offer it to her, and the realization stung, because part of her actually wanted to offer it. Which was crazy, right? I met her two freaking days ago!

  “All right, fine, I’ll leave you alone about it—for now.” Jack laughed again and Logan closed her eyes. “Oh, wait, I get it now. You don’t bring women here, do you?”

  “Would you?” Logan asked before realizing she was feeding into his onslaught. She decided to just go with it. “I mean seriously, how hot is this? I live above a funeral home, for fuck’s sake. How many women do you think would bail before we ever made it through the front doors?”

  “But the ones who did make it would probably be really hot, don’t you think?”

  “Or else they’d have some sick fantasies I have no desire to know about.” Logan couldn’t help but laugh along with him. She loved that he could always make her laugh no matter what was going on in her life.

  “So you’ve really not brought anyone here before?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “I’m surprised, if you want to know the truth.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you get many women who want to keep seeing you even though you tell them upfront it’ll only be a one-time thing?” Jack wasn’t laughing anymore, and he turned a little too serious for Logan’s liking.

  “Yeah,” she answered, sobering herself. She’d rather be laughing again. “You too?”

  “Yup. I’m a stud. What can I say?”

  “No, you’re a pig. I thought we already established that.”

  “You know,” he said, blatantly ignoring her insult as he looked around the room. “Bringing them here might be a sure way to guarantee the woman would never call you again.”

  “You might be right.” Logan thought about Brooke. Would she be interested in someone who lived above a funeral home? And really, what did it matter anyway? It wasn’t like Logan was looking for someone.

  Chapter Seven

  “I swear to God, Jack, if one more person brings us a pot of chicken soup I might just take them out back and hang them from the old oak tree,” Logan said with blatant exasperation when she set the latest offering down on the granite countertop next to the refrigerator. She never understood people’s need to bring food to the grieving family. When her mother died, she and her father hadn’t had to cook anything for nearly six months.

  “Hey, sis,” Jack said, his voice almost a whisper as he cocked his head toward the doorway leading in from the dining room.

  Logan whirled around quickly and saw Brooke standing there, a rather large pot in her hands. She looked a little uncomfortable and Logan wondered, eyes darting back and forth between the pot and Brooke, whether Brooke had heard what she said, because Logan knew exactly what was in the aforementioned pot.

  “Do I get to pick out the rope you’re planning to hang me with?” Brooke asked, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Logan felt her face flush.

  “Colliers are exempt from her threats because Peggy makes the best chicken noodle soup in the world,” Jack said, saving Logan from what she was sure would have been an embarrassing situation. She watched, unable to move as he went and took the pot from Brooke. “I swear when I went away to college I had withdrawals from this heavenly concoction. I can promise you this soup will not be wasted.”

  “I’ll be sure and let her know,” Brooke said with a quick squeeze to his forearm. She refocused her attention to Logan, which caused Logan’s face to burn more, if that was even possible.

  Their spat after her father’s viewing two nights earlier still weighed heavily on Logan’s mind. She wanted to talk to Brooke, but she didn’t have a clue how to act around her. She’d never tell Jack, but having something else to focus on during the funeral had made everything a little easier for Logan to deal with.

  Logan had no clue why she felt so flustered around Brooke, and she’d never had the problem before—ever. She was always sure of herself around women, but Brooke was different. Maybe it was because she hadn’t met her in a bar, and therefore her entire world was turned upside down. In a bar, Logan knew the dance, and exactly what was expected. This was a foreign concept to her though. She hadn’t been attracted to a woman outside of the bar scene since she’d been in college. And this one wasn’t just outside a bar, either. She was on Logan’s territory, dropped right into the center of her world.

  She finally opened her mouth to say something—precisely what it might be, she wasn’t sure—just as Brooke turned and headed back toward the front door. Jack gave her a look of disbelief and mouthed go as he pointed to the living room. Logan went, but only because her brother would never let her live it down. It certainly wasn’t because she didn’t want Brooke to leave. Yeah, right.

  “Brooke, wait,” she said right before she reached for the doorknob. Brooke turned to face her. Logan cleared her throat and looked down at her feet. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  She should’ve known Brooke wouldn’t make things easy for her. She scratched the back of her neck, a nervous habit she’d started when she was a kid. Logan’s eyes landed on everything in sight other than Brooke.

  “I was an ass the other night, and I apologize,” she said, finally daring to meet Brooke’s gaze. “There was no reason for me to react the way I did. I know I shouldn’t have avoided you yesterday and today, so I apologize for that also.”

  “You were an ass the first time I met you too,” Brooke said, but she smiled as she said it, clearly as a way to soften her words. “I don’t really need an apology, Logan. I’m hoping it’s simply a product of your current situation. However, if you continue to be an ass every time we see each other, then I’ll probably require some form of compensation.”

  “What kind of compensation did you have in mind?” Logan winced as she said the words, her mouth obviously working faster than her brain. Flirting definitely seemed out of place, and she made a mental note to not do it again. At Brooke’s look of utter amusement, she nodded and shrugged. “Yeah, I’m pretty much always an ass, so you might as well think about what compensation would be required when I run out of apologies.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind.” Brooke opened the door but hesitated and turned back to her. “If you ever need to talk about anything, you know where to find me.”

  “Brooke, wait,” Logan said before she had the chance to think about what she was doing. “Will you have dinner with me?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Forget it.” Logan turned to go back to the kitchen. “Never mind.”

  “So then you don’t want me to have dinner with you?”

  “Of course she does,” Jack said. Logan looked up and saw the smirk on his face.

  “I do,” Logan said, turning back to her. “I would very much like for you to have dinner with me. If you would like to.”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow night?”

  “Are you asking me, or are you telling me?”

  Logan felt her cheeks burning. How the hell did people do this on a daily basis? It was so much easier to walk into a bar and make eye contact
with someone. You knew what they wanted, and the dance was already choreographed. This, on the other hand, was nothing short of torture.

  “Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?” Logan asked after a moment.

  “I would love to,” Brooke said with a smile before walking out the door.

  Logan stood staring at the door for a moment before she heard Jack laughing behind her. She gave him her best shut the fuck up if you know what’s good for you look before pushing past him and going upstairs. She tried not to let his laughter bother her, but he sounded way too happy. She slammed the door to her childhood room before falling face-first on the bed.

  *

  “Are you sure you want to go with me to the doctor tomorrow?” Jack asked as they sat down to a dinner of Peggy’s homemade chicken noodle soup and Missy Best’s freshly sliced, made from scratch French bread later the same evening. “You don’t have to, you know. I’m pretty sure I can find my way to Pittsburgh.”

  “Of course I want to go with you.” Logan took her first spoonful of soup and closed her eyes. It really was the best soup she ever tasted. She looked at him with concern. “Unless you don’t want me to tag along,”

  “It’s not like I don’t want you there, I just know how hectic things can be for you sometimes, and I wouldn’t want you to feel bad for leaving all the work for Billy.”

  “Billy can handle it, and there’s not much going on at the moment anyway.” Logan set her spoon down and leaned forward, her elbows on the table. “I want to be there with you when you get the news you’ll have to be ready for training camp next July.”

  “We can always hope, right?” He concentrated on his soup then and wouldn’t meet Logan’s stare. “I don’t want to inconvenience you, Logan.”

  “You are anything but an inconvenience, little bro.” Logan caught his gaze when he finally looked up at her. “I want you to know you’re welcome here as long as you want, or need, to stay. I wouldn’t admit this to just anyone you know, but I kind of like having you around.”