Redemption Hills: The Complete Collection

5. Aster

FIVE

ASTER

It was funny when you crossed a line in the sand and there was no turning back. When every excuse, rationalization, and justification of why you couldn’t twined together to form a knot of why you should .

Of why you had to.

Why you had to take a chance because you could no longer exist in the nothingness.

It didn’t mean it wasn’t the most dangerous thing I’d ever done.

It didn’t mean it probably wasn’t also the most selfish.

But I had a plan.

Kind of.

One that had started as a tiny seed and had grown so quickly I felt its sprouts touching every part inside me as I slinked down the sidewalk. I kept myself close to the exterior walls of the shops and restaurants that lined Main Street, like if I stayed twenty steps back, this recklessness could be concealed.

My heart galloped like the frenetic sprint of a spooked horse as I tried to wind my way through the crowds that flocked along the walkway, ducking my head without losing sight of the man who strode ahead of me as if he didn’t have a care in the world except for that moment.

Logan Lawson wasn’t hard to find. I’d searched him, and a slew of results had populated, and I’d had the driver drop me two doors down from his office where I found he practiced as a financial planner and investor.

I wasn’t shocked.

He loved to gamble other people’s money.

Apparently, their hearts, too, because mine was way out ahead of me as I trailed him.

I tried to gather it up and keep it from getting squashed as I watched him hold a child’s hand.

A little boy skipped alongside him, and the child would turn to beam up at Logan’s face every couple feet, then Logan would crack up at whatever he said.

Light and carefree.

As if he didn’t sense the way my world had imploded.

The child was all caramel hair and adorable smiles and deep, expressive dimples.

Questions spun. Churning devastation.

Was this his child?

His son?

Was the reason he didn’t take me back to his place last night because he had a family waiting for him there?

Sorrow surged, and I did my best to gather it up and tuck it down because I couldn’t allow myself to go there. To the what-ifs and should have beens and the grief over all that had been wasted.

But reliving the pain would not get me anywhere, so I slipped along behind them at a safe distance.

Safe.

The thought was hysterical. I didn’t think I’d ever been in more danger than right then. Hadn’t brought more peril upon anyone than I had with this rash decision to take a chance.

And if I was going to take a chance, then I was all in.

Logan and the little boy dipped into a café on the right. I peered through the frosted glass at the two of them where they got into line.

I was an idiot. A fool. Because I stole through the door, hovered at the edge of the bustling room, and prayed I didn’t stick out like a blot of red in the winter snow.

They moved forward a couple feet as the line moved, close enough that I could hear them over the dull drone of chatter that filled the café.

“I can get hot chocolate and a doughnut because I’m so good and I got all the As and because I’m your favorite , right, Uncle Logan, right?” The little boy emphasized favorite . A sweet shot of manipulation.

Was it wrong I swayed with relief at the child calling him uncle? That my hand came out to the wall to steady myself as I was slammed with an inundating wave of reprieve?

That in itself was a thousand shades of wrong.

That the idea of Logan being married made me feel like I would vomit.

Like I said, selfish, but I didn’t know how to stop it.

Logan ruffled his fingers through the child’s hair.

Affection poured from the man.

A tenderness I’d been convinced had gone missing.

“Oh dear, young Gage, do you forget you’re with the coolest uncle of all time? Come on, man, you shouldn’t even have to ask. I am the raddest of the rad, after all. Are you trippin’?” he teased.

A giggle slipped from the boy. “No tripping here, I got really super steady feet because I do the ballet classes with Mommy. See?” He did a little jig in his checkered Vans. “And I already know you’re pretty rad. Just don’t tell Uncle Jud I said so because I’m not picking no favorites. Never, no way. That’s not even nice, and I don’t want to make Uncle Jud sad.”

Awareness spun.

Gage had to be Trent’s son.

Trent who was Logan’s oldest brother. The brother who was going to take the entire family away from Los Angeles where they would build a better life. I’d wondered too often where they had gone.

Logan tsked, his demeanor easy playfulness, the hard, rigid lines from our last two interactions nowhere in sight.

“Uncle Jud is just jealous he’s not as awesome as me.”

“You’d better watch it if Uncle Jud even hears it. He’s gonna give you a one, two, three kapow.” Gage threw a punch at the air.

“Pssh…Uncle Jud is the one who’d better watch it. He might be big, but he knows I’ll take him down.”

“Because we’re speedy quick and sly as a dog, right, Uncle, right?”

“That’s right, little man, that’s right.”

Then the boy sobered into seriousness. “But we love everyone the same. Because we’re family and we got to stick together no matter what.”

Logan chuckled, a soft swell of love rippling from his mouth.

I didn’t know how I remained standing.

The way my spirit clutched, and affection tried to become the reigning emotion.

“That’s right, Gage. Because we’re family, and we stick together. No matter what.” He touched Gage’s chin.

I swore the barista swooned as the customer in front of them took his coffee and walked away.

Oh, wait.

It was me.

Get it together, Aster . Otherwise, this was going to be a suicide mission. My mangled heart no longer fit to beat.

Logan tossed the barista one of those cocky smiles that could melt a glacier. “Good morning, beautiful. It seems we need a hot chocolate and a doughnut. Large black coffee for me.”

Her smile was edged in interest as she punched in the order, her eyes raking him with a wash of familiarity. “Sure thing, Logan. Anything else I can get for you?”

“My uncle is pretty cool. You want to marry him? He doesn’t got a wife and my daddy says it’s a sad, sorry state of affairs, way he’s out tappin’ about everything that walks.”

Logan choked and moved to clamp his hand over Gage’s mouth. “Um, you’ll have to excuse my nephew. He’s a pathological liar.”

Gage squirmed out of his hold. “Liar? Lies are bad, Uncle Logan. Don’t you know nothin’?”

The barista laughed while she eyed Logan over the counter. “It does sound like a sad, sorry state of affairs.”

I might have wanted to stab her in the eye if it weren’t for the fact that I was still getting pummeled by swells of relief brought on by the details this conversation had brought to light.

Logan wasn’t married.

Wasn’t tied.

And I was the stupid, stupid girl who wondered if he’d never moved on.