Moonlight on Nightingale Way (On Dublin Street 6)

Suddenly Logan had lowered to his haunches in front of me, one hand on my knee, the other cupping my face as he stared at me with growing concern.

I shook my head, unable to stop the flow of tears or the feeling of being transported back to how I’d felt at twenty-one years old, when my whole world seemed to collapse around me. “I’m sorry.” I sobbed. “I just… I’m sorry.”

He pulled me toward him, and I buried my head in the crook of his neck, the pain that had been pressing on my chest pouring out of me as I cried. Logan’s hand tightened on my nape.

“You’re scaring me, babe,” he said hoarsely. “Tell me what’s going on. Please. Let me fix it.”

I shook my head and eased away from him, but he refused to let me go. “You can’t help.”

“Try me.” He cupped my face in both hands now, and his thumbs swiped gently at my wet cheeks.

Just like that I got lost in his eyes. “My parents were in the newspaper today. There hasn’t been a press release from them yet, but inside sources are saying that my mother has breast cancer. She’s fighting breast cancer.”

“Shit.” Logan eyes filled with sympathy. “They didn’t tell you.”

“They didn’t tell me,” I confirmed. “Clearly they don’t want me there. But do you want to know the truth?”

He nodded solemnly.

“I don’t even know if I want to be there for her. She made me feel worthless my whole life. Between my father’s indifference and her cruelty, I was a bit of a mess as a teenager. When I got to university Aidan suggested I talk to someone… a therapist. So I did. And it really helped. It really did. So I thought when I went home I’d be able to cope better. But I made the mistake of taking my boyfriend home with me after I graduated. We’d met in my last year at school. I’d thought myself very much in love with him.” I remembered it. The utter soul-destroying pain of it. “I was supposed to be out meeting up with an old school friend. He stayed behind at the house. But my friend canceled, so I came home early…”

“Oh fuck,” Logan whispered, and I heard the empathy, the pain he felt for me.

“It’s such a cliché.” I swiped at my tears, throwing him a bitter smile. “The mother sleeping with her daughter’s boyfriend. She told me afterward that she did me a favor. That he would never have stuck with me in the long run because I wasn’t good enough. She was saving me the heartbreak of getting in too deep with him. I was so enraged I told my father.”

Logan tensed.

“Yes. Vengeful little me. I wanted to ruin her. I wanted to take everything from her. But my dad didn’t care.” I shook my head, more tears welling up. “They’d been having affairs for years. Sebastian was the one who told me. He spilled that as he acerbically told me to get my head out of my arse and in the real world. I was too soft, he said. I needed to grow up and grow a pair.

“I hated them. All of them. I hated the way they made me feel, and I hated that I wanted to hurt them for hurting me. I didn’t want to become like them.”

“So you left?” Logan said.

I nodded. “Left it all behind. Them, the money, and my name. I came back to Edinburgh and moved in with Aidan and a few other friends. I thought my family didn’t have the power to hurt me anymore. Turns out they do.” I gave a huff of incredulous laughter. “How wrong is it that I’m not sure I want to go to my possibly dying mother, but I want her to want me to?”

“It’s not wrong.” Logan pulled me close again. “It’s not wrong at all.”

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held on for dear life as the old wounds were ripped open, bleeding more tears. “Why don’t they love me?” I whispered into his neck.

I felt Logan’s chest shudder against mine as his arms tightened around me. He gently tugged on my hair, pulling me back to look at me, and my heart stuttered at the sheen of emotion in his eyes. I found my tears slowing to halt at the blazing mix of anger, tenderness, and helplessness I saw in his gaze.

The whole world just disappeared.

Logan’s gaze dropped to my mouth and gently, slowly, he tugged my head to his and pressed his lips to mine. The kiss started soft, quiet, as though meant to comfort and soothe, but I was desperate to feel anything but the pain, and so I deepened the kiss, pushing for more.

Just like that we caught fire.

Our tongues stroked, our grips on each other grew desperate, bruising, and I was ready to tackle him to the floor.

And then my mother’s words penetrated.

Logan’s rejection after we had sex followed quickly on its heels.

Remembering it, I found myself hating him a little. I pulled out of his hold, abruptly standing up. He had to drop to a knee to stop himself from landing on his arse.

Staring down into his questioning eyes, I realized I didn’t hate him. I hated myself for allowing his sympathy to turn into more than he’d meant it to. “I never asked for that kind of pity.”

“Grace, it wasn’t pity. It was just a —”

“Mistake,” I finished for him. “You’re right. This was all a mistake.” I’d let another person into my heart and he couldn’t love me. He cared. I knew he cared. But it wasn’t love. It wasn’t what I needed.

My lip started to tremble, but I refused to give in to more tears. “Will you call me a cab?”

“I’ll take you home.”

I cut him a look that made the muscles in his jaw clench. “I don’t want to be around you right now.”