Page 12 of The Rookie
“What are you proposing? Total honesty?” He scoffs, although his gaze doesn’t leave mine. As if he’s considering my proposal.
I nod. “Total honesty. Both ways. You be totally honest with me, and I’ll be totally honest with you.”
He turns toward a bin and inspects the wood situation. Without a word, he walks past me and disappears outside.
I suck in a deep breath, silently cursing myself. Have I pushed him too far, too soon?
I’m about to follow him outside, when he reappears carrying a stack of firewood. After dropping the wood into the bin, he turns toward me.
“If honesty’s what you want, I can try. But I can’t promise anything. I’m not ashare your feelingskinda guy, and I doubt I ever will be.”
He’s still watching me. Having Logan’s full attention is almost dizzying. He’s intense and electrifying, all rolled into one. He’s also huge and muscular and gorgeous…
“I’ll, uh, go first,” I stammer, trying to be a professional instead of a woman who’s noticing how very attractive this man is.
Get it together, Summer.
I need to show Logan that he can trust me, and one way of showing him that is by sharing my deepest thoughts and secrets. But then I hesitate, because I’m suddenly a little self-conscious about the truth-bomb I’m about to drop on him. It’s been a constant thought I’ve had since I got here. Maybe part of me is desperate to admit this out loud to another human being.
After swallowing hard, I begin. “I’m alone a lot, and it scares me how much I’ve gotten used to that. Seeing your family here and being around them, seeing how much they all rely on one another and generally need one another ... I’m scared I’ll never have that. And it petrifies me that I’m going to be alone forever with no one or no family to call my own.”
When Logan doesn’t say anything for several heartbeats, I grow self-conscious and focus on the floor. “Too muchtotal honestyfor you?”
He shakes his head. “No. Not at all. You ... live alone?”
“Yes. I have a studio apartment. Four hundred fifty square feet, all to myself.”
He curses under his breath, looking surprised. “I’ve stayed in bigger hotel rooms.”
Sighing, I nod. “So have I.”
I don’t need to tell him it’s all I can afford. I’m sure he’s aware that his salary and mine are miles apart, and that Boston is an extremely expensive city to live in.
Chewing on my lip, I hesitate briefly before asking, “What about you?”
“You want total honesty?” His voice carries a touch of uncertainty.
I nod, wondering if I’m eager for his answer because I’m a therapist, or because I’m a human looking for connection with a stranger.
Like me, he hesitates, and I wonder if he’s going to tell me something at all. Or maybe he’ll decide against the whole honesty thing. If he refuses, I’m not sure what comes next.
“I’m glad I wasn’t here,” he says softly, like he’s letting me in on a secret. “When my father died. I’m glad I wasn’t here.”
I glance over at him, disbelief surely written across my features.
“I know that sounds fucking awful, because if I’d been here, I could have spent time with him. Could have had one last visit with him before he was gone. But on the other hand, if I’d been here, I don’t think I would have handled it very well. Watching my mother and brothers fall apart ... watching him be whisked away in an ambulance without being able to do anything to help him. Is it crazy if I say I’m happy that those aren’t my last memories of my dad?”
I find my voice. “It’s not crazy. And part of me understands that completely.”
He gives me a quick glance to check my reaction. Surely, he can see that I’m sincere. I don’t judge him at all for this admission.
“Your turn.”
“Total honesty?” I ask.
I guess this is our new thing—this little catchphrase before we say something we wouldn’t otherwise admit to a total stranger. Why does this feel so much harder than I thought it would? My heart is beating fast, and my hands feel shaky.
Logan nods to encourage me, giving me a reassuring look, but I’m still uncertain if I should really share what’s lingering on the tip of my tongue. He’s probably going to think I’m a monster.
