Page 90 of Wilde Secrets

Isla said something about giving the bear some honey, and left.

Harper’s footsteps were soft as she approached. Logan didn’t turn.

“How’d it go?” He asked.

The plastic of the water bottle made a crunching noise under his fingers. He forced himself to breathe as he stamped down on the spark of hope that she might stay. That she might choose him over the promise of the bright lights of LA.

“Good,” Harper said. “And not good.”

Logan took a sip of the water, turning his head slightly to look at her out the corner of his eye. She was looking to one side, eyes unfocused and a frown on her face.

“Isla somehow got me added as songwriter for all her albums. Every one of them.” She shook her head as if not believing it was true. “And she wants me to come and record the next one with her. Both of us. Can you believe that?”

Logan could believe it. He’d heard Harper sing. She was just as talented as her sister, maybe more so in his opinion. She deserved this chance. She deserved to be recognized for her hard work. For her talent.

“That’s great news, princess.”

She beamed. “It is, isn’t it?”

Logan turned his attention back to the water bottle, taking another swallow.

Harper drew in a sharp breath. “You know what Isla told me?” She continued, not waiting for him to answer. “She said that dad always said I was the one with the talent. That she’d never get anywhere without me.”

Logan ground his teeth together in an effort not to curse the man. How could someone who was meant to love and protect his children say such awful things to them? His opinion of her father, already low, dropped to rock bottom.

“All while telling me that I could never perform my own work. He actually told me once that I was too fat to be taken seriously.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Logan couldn’t hold it in. “Fuck that. Anyone with half a brain can see you’re amazing. What an asshole.”

Harper choked on a startled laugh, her hand covering her mouth. “I did everything I could to make him happy. I thought I was helping my sister. I wouldn’t have written a word had I known what he’d been saying to her.” She scuffed the toe of her sneaker on the floor. “He’s been playing us off against each other for years, it seems. I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner.”

Logan frowned, managing to bring his raging anger under control. “It’s not your fault you trusted him.” He shook his head and took a swig of water, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You should be able to trust your parents. He’s the asshole here.”

“How could he do it?” Her voice was small and shaky, like she was trying not to cry.

When he glanced at her, her eyes were filled with tears and her bottom lip wobbled. Logan cursed and a moment later had her in his arms, the water bottle tossed to the floor.

“Princess, don’t cry.” He tucked her head against his shoulder and pressed his lips to her hair.

He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of her. He wanted to find her father and do horrible things to him. What kind of lowlife exploited their kids like that?

He growled and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to focus on the woman in his arms. She needed him right now, and being angry at something he couldn’t do anything about wasn’t going to help her.

Harper was soft and warm in his arms, and she clung to him like he was a life raft in a raging storm, her arms wrapped around his waist. In some ways he supposed he was. If she needed him to be strong for her right now, then that’s what he’d do.

He realized, with a start, that he’d do whatever she needed. Always. Even if it was exactly the opposite of what he wanted.

Was this the last time he’d hold her like this? The last time he’d get to touch her as if he had every right to?

What did it matter? She was leaving, but more importantly, she was upset. He hated seeing her upset.

His chest hurt.

“I don’t want to go,” she said, her voice breathy and gasping.

Logan rubbed small circles on her back and made soothing noises. She was getting what she had always wanted. He had to keep reminding himself of that. He remembered what it was like when he’d been accepted into college on a football scholarship. He’d not wanted to leave, but Mason had convinced him to go. He’d told him it was better to have had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and have made the most of it than to let it slip through his fingers.

“You won’t know if you can do it unless you try,” he said, repeating the words his brother had told him all those years ago.

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