Page 86 of Under the Mistletoe
“Boys.” His mother sighed, then stared at Logan. “I think what your brother is trying to say is that this may be a house, but a home has people in it.”
Logan shrugged and pulled a chair over from his table. “People live by themselves all the time.”
“True.” His dad laced his fingers over his stomach. “Nothing wrong with that. But they interact with people in the community. How far is your closest neighbor?”
“Ten miles.”
“And what’s their name?” When Logan couldn’t answer, Liam stretched his arm out along the top of the couch. Propped an ankle on his opposite knee. Smug. “Exactly. You are hiding, not living.”
“Is there a reason you all came, or are you just here to pick a fight?”
“We’re worried about you.” His mom leaned forward.
Liam shrugged, smug expression still in place. “They came because they were worried. I came to pick a fight. Pretty sure they would have left me behind, but I was the only one with four-wheel drive that could fit us all.”
“Awesome. Mind if I pour coffee before you tell me I’m messing up my life? And everyone else tells me that they feel sorry for me?”
“We don’t all feel sorry for you.” Libby spoke up for the first time. She wore a pink sweater and had her hair up in a messy bun. “I’m annoyed with you, just like Liam. Stay seated. I’ll get the coffee.”
She stood up and ran her hand over her pregnant belly before she walked to the kitchen a few feet away.
“Mom and Dad are concerned, Liam and Libby are annoyed. What camp do you fall in, Luke?” He took in his half brother’s stiff posture.
Luke tapped on the arm of the rocker. “I’m impatient with you.”
“Impatient?” That was not what he expected.
Luke shrugged. “I know you’ll figure this all out. You aren’t dumb enough to actually let Devin get away. At least, I don’t think you are. You’re running just like I ran. And it was you and Liam that convinced me to go back to that Fourth of July festival and fix things. So I’m impatient for you to stop being dumb and go fix things.”
Libby walked in carrying two mugs. Logan reached for one, but she handed one to Dad, then the other to Mom.
“I thought you were getting me coffee.”
“You can wait.” Libby walked back to the kitchen, then sent him a look very similar to the one she’d given him after finding him reading her diary as a kid. “Maybe I am more than a little annoyed. You hurt my friend.”
“Is no one on my side here?” Logan closed his eyes, letting his head fall back.
“We are all on your side.” She walked back and held out his coffee, the liquid nearly sloshing over the edge. “Why do you think we all drove two hours when we need to turn around and drive back in fifteen minutes? Why would Hannah rearrange her schedule so she could take care of all nine kids for the day so we could do this? Because we love you and want the best for you.”
“And sometimes the best thing for you is a smack upside the head.” Liam again.
“What is your problem?” Logan’s head jerked toward his brother.
“My problem is that Devin is the best thing that ever happened to you.” Liam was off the couch and stood in front of Logan. “You broke her heart. She’s my friend too. I don’t appreciate people treating my friends that way.”
“I doubt I broke her heart.” Logan stood, nearly chest to chest with his brother. “But even so, I bet Greyson will be there to pick up the pieces. Or are you hoping to be the one?”
Liam’s hands clenched into fists, as if he was physically holding himself back. “She doesn’t like me, and she sure as anything doesn’t like Greyson. She likes you. Although right now I’m not sure why.”
“Boys!” His mother’s voice echoed in the small space. “Sit down. This isn’t just about Devin. Although we do all agree that you messed that one up good. What about your career? What about the final chapters of the novella?”
“I finished them last night. If you’d take them to send to Christina for me, that’ll save me a trip to the local diner.”
“And book four?” His dad sipped from the steaming cup in his hand.
Logan ducked his head as the pain cut through him again. “I told them to send me options for a ghostwriter.”
“Is that what you want?” His mother’s words were like a sigh.
