Page 14 of Gentleman's Anger
“So, I did.”
“No take backs, baby.” Then his lips are on mine. Vaguely, I hear my phone ringing in my back pocket, but I make no attempt to reach for it. Then his rings. “Shit,” he says after pulling away from me.
“What’s wrong?”
“My brother is calling me.”
“You have a brother?”
“I have six brothers. He usually only calls on Friday night when they are all together for dinner. Hang on.”
“Of course.” I pull my own phone out and see that Twitter has blown the fuck up with news of my engagement. Shite.
“Jensen. What’s wrong? Is Jessica okay? The baby?” He waits while I assume Jensen says something. “I am. How the fuck did you hear about that?” His eyes meet mine and I turn my phone to face him. “Shit. Of course we’ll be inviting you. It’s very new. I don’t have any details yet. Yes. That Patience Winters. Of course. Thank you. Bye.” He ends the call.
“So, my sister-in-law is huge fan of yours. She can’t wait to meet you.”
“Oh, me either.”
“So six brothers? What about your parents?” I ask, knowing I’m going to have to explain mine.
“We have a lot to talk about, Patience. Let’s go grab a cup of coffee.”
“Sure.” I take his outstretched hand. We walk down to the Bean and Leaf coffee shop. We place our order and take a seat.
“I find myself wanting to tell you things I’ve never told anyone else,” he begins after taking a drink of his hot black coffee. I reach for his free hand that is resting on the table. Our fingers link and somehow, I feel his sorrow.
“I’ll never tell anyone what you tell me, Logan. I swear.”
“I know. Despite having met you yesterday, I know you better than anyone else on the godforsaken planet.”
“I feel like that too,” I assure him.
“When I was seven years old, I witnessed my parent’s murder. I never told anyone what I saw. I couldn’t. I was a coward and hated that I didn’t do more to help them.”
“I’m sorry, did say you were seven?”
“Yes. I could have called 911 but I didn’t. I prayed it was a nightmare. It wasn’t. For a hundred-dollar television a couple of meth heads murdered my parents. They were gone and my brother, Jensen, raised us all.”
“Were you the youngest?”
“No. That’s Kyle. He was two when it happened. I was the second oldest. Eleven years younger than Jensen.”
“That’s awful.”
“That’s not the worst of it.”
“It’s not?”
“I overheard my mom talking to her friend on the phone, earlier that day. She was pregnant again and I remember thinking God, not another one. And then they were all gone.”
“Logan, tell me you know that’s not your fault. You were a child.”
“I knew how to dial 911.”
“You were a scared child, Logan. You couldn’t have done anything to prevent this tragedy.” His eyes meet mine; they are shining with unshed tears. “Don’t cry, my love.” In this moment, I went from falling in love with him to being completely in love with him. It doesn’t matter that I don’t know what his favorite food is or his favorite color. My soul recognizes its mate. Nothing else matters.
“Love?”
