Her heart racing, Abby eased out of the driveway, checking over her shoulder so many times, she nearly got a neck cramp.
Why didn’t Logan drive? And if he didn’t drive, why would he have such a beautiful car? And in mint condition, no less. He clearly spent a great deal of time taking care of it.
She stole a sideways glance at his profile in the passenger seat.
He stared straight ahead, his fingers tapping his knee in an agitated rhythm.
The man was an enigma, and although his expression and posture screamed I don’t want to talk about it, Abby couldn’t help herself.
She decided to tiptoe her way into the conversation. “This is a gorgeous car. Did you remodel it yourself?”
He nodded.
“The only thing missing is the gearshift knob.” When she first climbed into the driver's seat, she noticed he’d used a tennis ball instead. He’d also been surprised she could drive a stick shift. She’d smiled to herself, grateful Donnie had insisted on teaching her.
“I haven’t been able to find the right one. Needs to be vintage wood, not the basic black.”
All right… they were finally getting somewhere.
Keeping her gaze on the road, she asked as nonchalantly as possible, “So, how come you don’t drive it?”
No response.
She shifted her grip on the steering wheel, willing herself not to sneak a peek in his direction.
Was he annoyed? Upset? Irritated? She didn’t want to know.
Feigning innocence, she tried a different approach. “I suppose there isn’t much reason to drive when you live in a town like Blessings Bay, where almost everything is within walking distance.”
Crickets.
Wait. Did he say something? Or was it more of a grunt?
She braved a glance.
His fingers had stopped strumming and were clenched around his knee, his knuckles white.
Abby gulped. Maybe she should stop prying? If he wanted to tell her, he would.
Switching her focus back to the road, she fought against an unexpected disappointment that went deeper than sheer curiosity. She actually cared about this man. But then, he was a friend of Donnie’s. Of course she cared.
Granting Logan his privacy, she reached for the radio dial to fill the silence.
“I made the decision to give up driving a few years ago,” he said quietly, stilling her hand.
She returned her grasp to the wheel as subtly as possible.
When he spoke again, his voice was low and impassive, but she sensed a heavy sadness hidden beneath his words.
“I suffered a spinal cord injury in the Air Force, which resulted in a medical discharge. For months, I could barely walk. Physical therapy helped a lot, but one of my symptoms never went away.”
A knot formed in the pit of Abby’s stomach, and she resisted the urge to reach for his hand.
“I still get these periodic muscle spasms. They show up without warning and the intensity of the pain varies. Sometimes, it affects my extremities, shutting them down. That’s why I don’t drive. The last thing I want is to lose control behind the wheel of a car and injure someone else. Or worse.”
Abby’s throat closed, and the air inside the car was suddenly stifling. “I’m so sorry, Logan.”
“I can’t complain. A lot of men and women who served were dealt far worse.”
The implication of his words passed over them like a suffocating shadow.
Some men and women didn’t come home at all….
By the time they arrived at their destination, the mood had grown painfully somber. Logan regretted divulging the depressing details of his life to Abby, especially since it inadvertently conjured painful memories of Donnie.
He wasn’t even sure why he’d shared, except an inexplicable urge to be raw and transparent had taken over him like a schmaltzy body snatcher.
Something about Abby set his entire world off-kilter. And the only thing that made any sense was her connection to Donnie, to his old life before he became the shell of a man that he embodied today.
Abby—with all her warmth, strength, and kindness—made him hope for something better, if only for a moment.
But in the end, it didn’t matter.
In a few weeks, she’d disappear, back home where she belonged.
And his life—such as it was—would return to normal.
He tried to push the thought out of his mind as they pulled into the parking lot of the Christmas tree farm.
Well, it wasn’t technically a Christmas tree farm. Hilltop Haven was more of a nursery and sustainability research center that happened to sell Christmas trees.
Zander Barns, the owner, was a botanist with a fascination for the local flora and fauna, particularly the massive redwoods and plethora of ferns.
Selling plants and Christmas trees to locals funded his research.
“Hey, Zander.” Logan held out his hand as he approached. He didn’t know the man well, but he’d come by a few times over the last few years when he’d had trouble with the garden. He’d promised to look after it, but his black thumb thwarted his efforts. Zander gave him useful tips to keep the poor, innocent plants alive.
“Don’t tell me.” Zander placed a hand over his heart, smudging the magnifying glass protruding from the pocket of his khaki vest. “You finally killed the rhododendron ferrugineum?”
“Not yet.” Logan grinned. “But believe it or not, I don’t need a gardening intervention today. We’re actually here for a Christmas tree.” He gestured toward Abby. “Zander, this is Abigail Preston. Abby, Zander Barns, the owner.”
“Nice to meet you.” Abby smiled.
Zander tipped his head in acknowledgment, the tips of his ears tinged pink. The thirtysomething botanist could work magic with a shrub or seedling. But a grown woman? Not so much.
“What kind?” Zander directed his question to Logan.
“What do you recommend?”
“That depends on what you want. Size, shape, needle density, fragrance, longevity, water consumption? Do you care about the historical accuracy of the tradition? Or price point?” As Zander ticked off the various considerations, Logan realized his mistake. The man never skimped on details.
“How about whichever one is your most popular?” Logan amended.
“Ah. In that case, you want a Fraser fir.” Zander plucked a hacksaw off the rack behind him. “Up that hill. Choose whichever one you want, then bring it down for baling. Prices are on the red tags.”
“Thanks.” Logan gestured for Abby to lead the way, since she’d orchestrated the expedition.
As they meandered through each row, Logan watched a range of emotion flicker across Abby’s features, delight and sorrow appearing in equal measure. Almost as if she struggled to not enjoy herself.
He couldn’t blame her. The crisp air carried the invigorating scent of fir and pine as it rustled through the branches, scattering rays of sunlight that surrounded them in a warm, hazy glow. Festive music followed them up the hill from Zander’s baling barn and would have been pleasant under normal circumstances.
But Abby wanted to block out Christmas this year.
And Logan was starting to wonder if she wanted to for her own well-being or if she simply believed she should for Donnie’s sake, as if enjoying it without him would be some kind of betrayal.
“Did you and Donnie cut down your own Christmas trees?” he asked gently.
“No,” she said wistfully. “But we always talked about it. The nearest you-cut farm was a few hours from our house, but we would’ve gone… eventually.” Her voice fell away, and Logan suddenly experienced a strong urge to comfort her, somehow.
Instead, he cleared his throat, nodding toward a particularly full and fragrant tree. “What do you think of this one?”
She cocked her head to the side, her features softening. “It’s perfect.”
“Great.” He crouched beside the trunk, angling the hacksaw.
“Wait.” Abby stepped forward, her tone tense.
“What’s wrong?” Logan glanced over his shoulder, surprised by her strained expression. “Do you want a different one?”
“It’s not that…” She fidgeted with the chain peeking behind the collar of her sweater.
He leaned back on his heels, waiting for her to explain. What had made her so uncomfortable?
She wouldn’t look him in the eye when she asked, “Can I do it?”
His gaze fell to the hacksaw in his hand, then darted back to her face.
She still wouldn’t look at him.
A heavy weight settled in his stomach. Now that Abby knew about his spasms, she saw him differently.
Weak. Incapable. Unreliable.
Now, she pitied him.
The same way Kelli had as soon as she found out.
Right before she walked out of his life.