Jenna kept her tone low and even as she said, “Logan, I know you’re just concerned about Connor’s future. Right?” She glanced at Connor, who scowled, his hands jammed in the front pockets of his jeans.
“Right,” Logan said. “Of course.”
She smiled, her voice soothing. “You both want the same thing—for Connor to ace his exams and go back to Rencliffe in January. Connor and I talked about how important it is for him to do his best.” She glanced at her father, her voice still low. “We also talked about how important the family retreat is next weekend. He understands, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Connor muttered. “I won’t screw it up.”
“Thank you,” Seth said. “I really appreciate your help.” He looked to Logan, who was watching the exchange warily, as if ready for Connor to act out. When Logan didn’t say anything, Seth added, “We both appreciate it very much.”
“Yeah.” Logan nodded.
“Am I getting lunch soon?” Bill asked loudly.
“Yes!” Seth was happy for an excuse to do something to break the awkward moment. They’d moved the fridge over into the sitting room, and he hurried to take out the sandwich fixings.
They had lunch in the great room, Jenna managing to keep the conversation flowing and noncombative. They all laughed as she told a story about an explosive diaper incident with Noah. It might not have been the best topic while they ate, but if there was one thing that could unite most people, it was embarrassing poop stories.
As they howled with laughter, Jenna standing now to animate her story, Seth realized it had been so long since he’d heard true laughter in the house. Not just the odd chuckle when he was watching The Good Place, but full-throated, belly-busting laughter. It echoed off the high ceiling, filling him with cozy warmth.
He knew that come January, once their caper was done and Logan moved on, that he’d be alone again, but at least Seth could enjoy having a family around him for the moment. Even if they weren’t his family, there was something profound and beautiful about three generations together, sharing food and jokes.
After lunch, Seth and Logan left the others relaxing in the great room for the time being, Jun reading Ian a story before he had his nap, Jenna nursing Noah with her feet up on the chaise and a blanket draped across her, Bill dozing on the other side of the couch.
Seth and Logan put on their boots and coats, and Seth impulsively asked Connor to come along. He shrugged but followed without complaint.
In the garage, which ideally would soon hold Seth’s SUV instead of the unfinished renovation materials, they had to take the cabinets out of their crates and load them onto a dolly. Logan said to Connor, “Hold the dolly still once we get the cabinets out.”
Connor rolled his eyes. “I can do more than that.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Logan snapped. “Can you just do as you’re told for once?”
“Screw you! I knew you didn’t really want me here.” With a dramatic huff, Connor spun on his heel and marched off down the driveway, snow crunching under his boots.
Seth stared after him in shock, boggled at how quickly that had gone south. Everything had been fine, and then bam. Logan and Connor couldn’t seem to communicate at all without anger and resentment exploding between them. Over nothing—although Seth knew it wasn’t really about the dolly.
He cleared his throat. “Should I go after him?”
Logan’s face was flushed, his nostrils flaring. “No. Just let him sulk.” He muttered something under his breath and got to work, taking a crowbar to the crates with gusto.
Seth tried to help but mostly stayed out of the way since Logan was apparently working off his frustration, prying open the crates, removing the cabinets, and loading them on the dolly. But when a grunt morphed into a gasp, Seth reached for him.
“Okay?” Seth asked. Logan’s face was an alarming red, and his arms shook where he held a cabinet. Seth tugged it free and thunked it down onto the garage floor, his heart skipping. “Logan?”
Panting now, Logan pressed a palm to his chest as if he couldn’t breathe. Seth’s own breath caught as Logan dropped to his knees on the concrete, his shoulders heaving. Squatting, Seth checked to make sure Logan wasn’t wearing a medical alert bracelet or necklace he hadn’t noticed.
“Is it asthma? Do you have chest pain?” Seth asked. Logan shook his head, but his eyes were wild and he still couldn’t seem to breathe. “I’m calling 911. I’ll be right back!” Seth jumped up, but Logan caught his wrist in an iron grip.
Logan shook his head. He gasped out, “Will…pass.”
He still had hold of Seth’s wrist, his strong, callused hand freezing. Seth sank back down, letting Logan hold on, angling himself so he could tentatively reach out with his other hand and stroke Logan’s back. Not thumping—that didn’t work for choking, let alone whatever this was. A panic attack? Seth prayed it wasn’t actually a heart attack and that Logan wasn’t just being a stereotypical tough guy by insisting he was fine.