Abby glanced at her phone for the hundredth time. Logan still hadn’t returned from Verna’s.
Her gaze drifted to the dining table where breakfast waited. She’d really outdone herself. Generous slices of her famous pumpkin bread, scrambled eggs with fresh basil, heirloom tomatoes and feta cheese, crispy bacon, and fragrant skillet-fried potatoes with butter, garlic, and chives.
All of it cold.
Was it possible he’d forgotten?
A surge of disappointment rippled through her, although she tried to pass it off as hunger pangs.
Maybe she should go over to Verna’s to make sure everything was okay?
Abby rose, then paused when a motion outside the window caught her attention.
Verna Hoffstetter emerged from her home, a wrinkly dog waddling beside her.
The door closed behind them.
No sign of Logan.
Her chest squeezed as the pair strolled down the street toward town.
Logan must’ve already left Verna’s. And he hadn’t come home.
Embarrassed by the degree of her disappointment, Abby gathered the plates and carried them into the kitchen, telling herself she simply disliked the thought of wasted food.
She didn’t care whether or not they had breakfast together, but if she was going to go through all that effort, he could at least have the decency to cancel their plans properly.
What was it with some men and avoiding conflict? Donnie never wanted to talk things out. After a fight, he’d go to the gym for a few hours, come home, and pretend like nothing had ever happened.
The one time she’d called him on it, things hadn’t gone well.
Tears burned the backs of her eyes and she scrubbed the frying pan until her fingers hurt, fighting the memories that struggled to the surface.
Their biggest fight had destroyed her most deep-seated dream—to be a mother.
After trying to conceive for several months, they’d scheduled a doctor’s visit and received the painful news about Donnie’s infertility. When the initial sense of loss lessened, Abby realized they’d been given an opportunity—a gift—to bring a child into their home who desperately needed a family.
With a newfound sense of excitement, Abby dove into research, learning all she could about foster care and adoption. She’d been thrilled to tell Donnie that, in some cases, couples became parents in less than six months.
She thought he’d be happy.
Instead, he’d grown silent and distant, saying all sorts of things she couldn’t believe. Like how he didn’t think they were cut out to be parents after all.
Utterly devastated, she wasn’t sure which hurt more—the thought of never becoming a mother or that Donnie didn’t think she’d make a good one.
Logan lay on the daybed, staring at the ceiling as he waited for the pain to pass.
What he wouldn’t give for his TENS machine, or even some old-fashioned Bengay, but he couldn’t risk running into Abby.
Hard to imagine he had any pride left, considering the side effects of his injury made him a pretty pathetic case.
The debilitating spasms came and went as they pleased, like little masochists with a superiority complex, bending him to their will.
He hated being helpless.
And his condition wasn’t exactly a chick magnet, either.
He’d been hurt when Kelli dumped him, but he didn’t really blame her. They both knew she deserved better.
Marrying him would’ve been no better than tying a boulder to her ankle before jumping in the ocean. He’d only weigh her down.
Of course, it would’ve been nice if she’d given him back the engagement ring….
Searching for a distraction from his depressing thoughts, Logan scanned the interior of the bungalow.
The previous owner had used the space for an art studio and she-shed. A daybed and reading chair occupied one side and easels and craft tables cluttered the other. A modest bathroom and kitchenette were situated in the back.
Logan left the place largely untouched. He had enough on his hands maintaining the house and gardens that covered an entire acre of land.
Part of him always wondered when Donnie would come to reclaim it. He’d started researching rentals after Donnie passed, expecting Abby to reach out regarding the property.
His assumptions were partly spurred by guilt. And partly due to embarrassment over being a charity case. Not a day went by that he didn’t wrestle with the desire to do more with his life. But in the ring of defining choices, his self-loathing always won the match.
Expecting more would only result in more disappointment. And the only thing worse than his own remorse was letting down other people.
At the thought, a jolt of panic rocketed through him.
Breakfast!
He’d forgotten Abby’s breakfast.
He closed his eyes, his hands curling into fists by his side.
How could he let it slip his mind?
He envisioned her sitting at the table, waiting for him as the food grew cold, and his jaw clenched.
Good old unreliable Logan.
In the Air Force, men had trusted him with their lives.
Now, he couldn’t even be trusted with breakfast foods.
He wasn’t sure he could sink much lower than that.