Before she could lecture him, a knock on the door interrupted, and she got up to answer it.
“She’s going to kick your ass, you know,” I chuckled weakly.
“Logan’s here,” Mom called as she walked back in with him behind her.
Dad only just managed to grab Doyle by the collar, before he could even think about going toward him. I watched all of it out the corner of my eye, but my mind was on the way Mom made it sound like it happened every day instead of it being what it was—weird.
Seeing that I was up and about, a small smile grew on Logan’s mouth until Doyle growled at him, and he shot a glare down at the huge Irish Wolfhound. It was a good look on him, broody and fierce, but that wasn’t what made my heart start beating like a drum band. Oh no, that was the fact he was wearing his Police uniform, and the sleeves were short so I could see the tattoos on his arms.
I wasn’t sure if that was allowed, but who was I to question it when—even to me—it looked so good? I mean, I was the last person who should find the man attractive, but the look was working for me.
Grief—it warps the heart and mind of all who experience it.
“Good to see you in the land of the living,” he greeted, his eyes on me before shifting them to my dad. “How are you holding up, Kenton?”
Not getting up, Dad shook his hand. “My baby girl got up today, so I’m starting the road to healing. But now I’m thinking my dad’s dog has bad blood with you over something, and I’m amused for the first time in over a week. Thanks for that.”
Hearing that just made me feel like the biggest piece of shit in the world. Pops was his dad, but instead of being able to mourn and heal, he’d been looking after and worrying about me. I needed to get my shit together and stop being a wussy.
Feeling tingles on the side of my face, I looked up and saw Logan watching me like he knew what I was thinking. That started a new riot of emotions off inside me.
On one hand, having someone know and understand what I was thinking and why was a nice feeling. It meant I didn’t feel like the head case other people would probably assume I was.
On the other hand, the hurt he’d caused me went so deep that I didn’t know if I found him being inside my head all that comforting. Add onto that th
e guilt I was feeling for my dad and the heartache for Pops…
See, grief totally warped your mind. Who could keep up with a hundred emotions and conflicting thoughts at once?
Turning away from him, I tuned in to what Dad was saying.
“…I didn’t want to do it so soon, but he insisted it be read as quickly as possible after he passed away.”
They were talking about the will.
“Why?” I mean, if I died, I’d want people to go about getting used to life without me and let them get their heads around it.
Death made people greedy, so why would you want them eagerly waiting for what they were getting?
Sighing, Dad said quietly, “Because of you.”
“Me?”
Nodding, he picked up his cup and mumbled into it, “You’ll understand when the lawyer reads it out to us later.”
Feeling slightly nauseous again, I got up and walked back upstairs to my room, intending to have a shower and look like a normal person for it.
All the while, I was stuck in a repetitive cycle of questions.
Why me?
Why so quickly?
And why was Logan here?
What was I going to do?
Three hours later…