“The physio helped. Having a goal. And Veronica…” He shrugged. “She helped a lot.”
“Connor’s mother? I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“‘My loss,’” he muttered darkly. “I always feel like shit when people say that.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Seth tried to think of something better to say.
“No, it’s not your fault.” Logan lifted his hands out to his sides before dropping them. “It’s just that we were done. It was over between us. So I feel like an asshole acting like she was still…mine. You know what I mean?”
“Yes, I understand that. I didn’t realize.”
“Not that I’m not sad she’s dead. I did love her. She was a good woman, but we were a mess together. I wish I could change a lot about what happened.” He shrugged tightly. “I guess that’s life. She dropped dead at thirty-four, and I can’t fix it. Connor got the shit end of the stick, that’s for sure.”
“The poor boy. It’s heartbreaking.” Seth frowned, going back to what Logan had said before. “But you know, I don’t agree that Connor thinks you’re pathetic, or that he truly dislikes you. He was scared to see you like that.”
Logan scoffed. “He’d probably be thrilled if I dropped dead.”
“You can’t really believe that? As much as he may want his biological father to be in the picture, you’re the one who’s here. If you two could stop butting heads for five minutes…”
Logan was silent a few moments. “But he’s never liked me from the day we met. I try not to lose my temper, but he just—” He made a stabbing motion with his index finger.
“Pushes your buttons. I noticed.” Seth glanced out of the garage to make sure they were still alone. “I don’t think you should take what Connor says to heart. I realize that’s easy for me to say. But he’s lashing out and angry at the world. You’re a convenient target.”
“Yeah.” Logan gave Seth a rueful smile. “And since I’m not thirteen, I should try to be the adult, huh? Not fly off the handle.”
“Right,” Seth agreed gently. “Praise him. Try to build up his confidence.”
“But he doesn’t care what I think.”
“I’d argue he cares very much what you think. Despite what he might say.”
Logan seemed to ponder that. “I guess so. Shit, Jenna and Jun are so good at this stuff. I’m useless.”
“Doesn’t Jenna…talk to you about this kind of thing?” He tried to phrase it delicately. “She’s usually eager to…help.”
Barking out what sounded like a genuine laugh, Logan scratched his head. “That’s a polite way to put it. She does help, but she’s always given me more credit than I deserve. And she’s got so much with the kids and Pop and working. When our mom died…”
“You were teenagers, right?”
“Jenna was. Fourteen. I was twenty-one and in the Marines. Pop only had the stroke five years ago, but when Mom died, he needed taking care of. Hell, I don’t think he could even use the microwave. Jenna stepped up, like she always does. She barely had the chance to move out after college. Pop had the stroke, and he ended up moving in with her and Jun. He’ll be there until he has to go in an old-folks home or they take him out feet first.”
Logan took a deep breath and blew it out. “I was working long hours on the railway. On call, never knowing exactly when I’d have to go in, and for how long. Just depended on the shipments and where they had to go. I’d be away a couple days sometimes since we had to wait at least ten hours in the bunkhouse upstate before we could come back. Regulations and all. Pop needed stability.”
Seth tried to assure him. “Of course. It’s not your fault you couldn’t be the primary caregiver. And with Connor, you’re still learning. From what I gather, parenthood takes practice.”
Logan scowled. “That’s just it. It’s not like I’m a parent. I’m totally fucking unqualified for that.”
“But…you are. A parent, I mean. Whether you’re ready or not, Connor needs you.” Seth thought of his mother and father with a pang of longing, a bite of pain quick on its heels. “His mother’s gone, and his father’s MIA. He needs a dad he can depend on. Who will look out for him, no matter what. Being rejected by your parents, it’s… I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Let alone a confused kid.”
After a moment, Logan softly said, “Parenthood,” as if he was trying out the word, weighing it on his tongue and in his heart. “The lady at the school called me a ‘single father.’ It’s weird as hell to think of myself like this. Me actually being…a parent.”
Footsteps approached, and they turned as Connor pulled the long dolly back into the garage, wearing gloves now. For a moment, no one said anything. Then Connor frowned and glanced at the dolly. “Did I do it wrong?”