Page 45 of Somewhere Without You
Logan went to work on the door,unscrewing the old hinges and setting them aside.
“He’s a good listener,” I offered, trying to break the heavy silence. “Winston, I mean. Not as good as a human, of course, but he does the job.”
Logan let out a quick laugh. “He seems to have impeccable couch-potato skills,” he said, nodding toward the couch with his drill.
I tilted my head and smiled. “Have you always been this mean? Or did that come with age?”
“I prefergrumpy,” he said wryly. “Sounds better.”
I rolled my eyes, suppressing a laugh as Logan straightened, lifting the new screen door into place.
“Want a cup of coffee?” I asked, already drifting toward the kitchen.
He shook his head. “Appreciate it, but no thanks. Never been much of a coffee guy.”
“Maybe that’s why you’re sogrumpy,” I teased, eyeing my own half empty mug before deciding three cups was probably enough.
Once he finished mounting the door, Logan opened and closed it a few times. “That should do it,” he assured, testing the alignment. “Everything feels solid.”
I hesitated. “What about the other door?”
“What about it?”
“Is it. . . sturdy?” I asked carefully.
He rapped his knuckles against it. “This is solid oak. Doesn’t get much sturdier than that.”
My eyes widened.
“What happened?” he asked, suddenly suspicious.
“The other night. . .” I began slowly, the unease still lingering, “I woke up and the door was open. It was probably nothing. I’m sure I just forgot to latch it all the way.”
Logan studied the lock. “It’s definitely old,” he said, running a thumb over its worn edges. “I’ll replace it with a new one—something a bit more durable.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but one look at his face told me not to bother. Instead, I offered a small, genuine smile. “Thank you, Logan. Really. It means a lot that you’re doing all this.”
“It’s no trouble,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. His hand gestured toward Gran’s urn. “So, when do you plan to. . . ?”
I rocked back on my heels and sighed. “Soon,” I said. It was the truth. Gran didn’t want to spend eternity in a jar and every day I put it off—the guiltier I felt.
“Do you know where?” he asked.
“Not exactly,” I admitted. “Maybe the garden, once I get it cleaned up. She loved that place. Spent most of her time there.” I left out the part about not having the heart to do it in the state it was in. The thought of it all felt like another layer of unfinished business weighing on me.
Logan must’ve seen the defeat on my face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“No, it’s okay,” I said quickly. “It’s just. . . I’ve had so much going on lately.”
“You know,” he said after a moment, “if you want help fixing up the garden—for Gran, I’d be happy to lend a hand.”
My pulse quickened. I hadn’t expected the offer. I hadn’t even realized how badly I needed it.
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I’d like that.”
I looked at him then, really looked at him—and for the first time I noticed the fine lines etched into the corners of his tawny eyes. The hint of silver dusted along his dark roots. At some point, the boy I once knew had become this man I didn’t know. We might as well have been strangers now.
“How’s your mom?” I asked, desperately clinging to a thread of our shared past.
