Deserving of Luke (9 page)

“Oh.” He shoveled another bite into his mouth. “I can believe that. This is really good.”

Silence reigned for a few seconds, as Logan struggled to find a new topic. “So, what grade are you going into in the fall?”

“Third grade. Which is totally cool, because I don't have to be on the baby side of the school anymore. Third, fourth and fifth graders get a whole separate wing.”

“That is cool. Where do you go to school?”

“I go to Seattle Prep. It's really great, except for the fact that we have to wear dorky uniforms. None of the other kids who live near me have to wear uniforms to school, which stinks. Especially since, even on free dress days, we never get to wear jeans.”

“Rose wears a uniform to school as well, Luke, and she lives right next door to us.”

“That's because she goes to my school, too, so that so doesn't count. Besides, she's a girl.” He said the last as if it was a cross between a particularly heinous breed of insect and mass murderer.

“Hey, I'm a girl, you know.” Paige infused her voice with mock outrage.

“But you're a mom.”

“Oh. Is there an exemption from total girl uncoolness if you're a mom?”

Luke flashed a grin, and for the first time Logan
realized he had his mother's dimple at the left corner of his mouth. “There is if you're my mom.”

“Lucky me.”

“Exactly.”

Logan was struck anew by the easiness between Paige and her son. From all appearances, she was an incredible mother—something that didn't jive with his preconceived notions about her. In fact, when he'd heard that she'd lost her kid in the supermarket, his first thought had been, of course. What could you expect from a woman who had come from the kind of house Paige had? A woman who spent a good portion of her life on her back?

Now, watching her with Luke made those thoughts feel disloyal—no matter how true they might be. Add in the fact that she was obviously doing well enough to afford to send their kid to private school, and he felt as though he was seeing a whole different side to Paige Matthews. A side that he couldn't help respecting, despite everything that had already passed between them.

The time seemed to fly, as Logan concentrated on learning as much as he could about his son and Paige. The more he learned, the more impressed he was with both of them. Yet, in direct juxtaposition, the more his resentment of Paige also grew.

She'd deprived him of his son for eight years, deprived him of getting to know Luke as he changed
from a baby to a toddler to the fun, amazing boy sitting in front of him now. He wanted those years back, wanted them with a vengeance, and it physically hurt that no matter how hard he wished, he would never, ever have them.

By the time he pulled his police cruiser in front of Penny's house, his insides were a seething mass of emotions that he wasn't sure how to sort out. Hell, he wasn't sure he
could
sort them out. The only thing he knew for certain was that he wanted to see Luke again—and soon.

“You know, there's a carnival coming to town next week. Do you want to go with me?” he asked his son as Luke crawled out of the car.

His face lit up. “Yeah! Will it have rides?”

“Of course.”

“And games? I love to shoot water into the clown's mouth and try to win a prize.”

“I can't guarantee that they'll have that game, but I know that there will, indeed, be games.”

“Cool. I want to try and throw a ball into the goldfish bowls. Mom won me a fish that way last year, but he died a few months ago. I still have all his stuff, though, so a new fish would be good.”

Logan laughed—he couldn't help himself. Not at his son, but at the happiness zinging its way through his system. “I'll do my best to win you a fish.” And if he couldn't, then he'd stop by the pet store in town.
Frank would set him up with a whole aquarium full of fish if that's what Luke wanted.

“Excellent. I'll see you later, Dad.”

Paige cleared her throat. “Aren't you forgetting something?” she asked her son.

“Oh, right. Thanks for the ice cream, Dad. It was great.” Then he did the most amazing thing. He reached in through Logan's open window and gave him a big hug before turning and running up the steps and into the house.

If his heart hadn't already been on the verge of exploding, that hug would have done him in. At least until he turned to Paige and realized she looked like she'd been sucking on a particularly sour lemon.

“I
WOULD APPRECIATE IT
if you asked me about taking Luke out before you invite him somewhere,” Paige said after they had both climbed out of the car, her tone as prim and proper as any schoolmarm's.

Still buzzing on the hug he'd gotten from his son—
his son
—it took Luke a few seconds to comprehend that Paige was angry at him. Again. Once it sunk in, he felt an answering flare of annoyance inside him, but beat it down. No use both of them being upset—he didn't need a replay of the other night, when they had parted only after hurling words such as
lawyer
and
custody suit
at each other.

“You're right. I had such a good time with him tonight that I didn't think. I'm sorry.”

Paige froze, as if his apology was the last thing she was expecting to hear. But it obviously mollified her as she relaxed, took a deep breath. “He had a really great time tonight, too.”

“You think so?” He hated that he sounded so anxious, as if he was in search of validation. But to be honest, he was.

“Are you kidding me? Luke's a talker, don't get me wrong. But he surpassed himself tonight. I'm shocked he let you get a word in edgewise.”

“I liked listening to him. He's a great kid.” He paused, then said what he'd been thinking since arriving at the ice cream parlor. “You've done a great job with him.”

“Despite losing him in the grocery store?” There was no defensiveness in her tone, only an underlying amusement that had him returning the smile.

“Despite that. After meeting Luke, I guess I could see how it might be hard to keep track of all that energy.”

She laughed. “That's an understatement. But usually I do a better job of it.”

Silence descended and he cleared his throat. “I should go.”

“Probably.”

Neither of them moved. He didn't know why he didn't climb in the car and drive away—it would be the smart thing to do. The right thing to do. But with the moonlight casting Paige's face in shadows and the light wind bringing the scent of lilacs—her scent—straight to him, they might still have been teenagers in her parents' driveway. For a minute, he wanted to return to that time when he could have pulled her into his arms and kissed her the way he was suddenly aching to do. Wanted to go back to when they
were both too young and too stupid to realize that the future wasn't necessarily theirs for the taking.

Of course, if he could go back, he would probably shake the hell out of himself, warn himself that nothing and no one was really what it seemed—especially not the girl he had loved above all else. But that eighteen-year-old kid would never have believed him, not when he had been so completely starstruck.

How many times had he ignored the warnings his parents, his friends, her own father had delivered to him?

How many times had he told himself that he was different—that what they had together was different?

Too many.

And she'd made a fool of him in front of his friends and teammates and he hadn't been able to see past it.

Or maybe it was more like he hadn't
wanted
to see past it. Though he'd told her, and himself, that her past hadn't mattered to him, he'd known that that wasn't strictly true. He hadn't liked that she'd had sex with so many people, certainly more than he had at the time. Most days he'd avoided thinking about it, but at strange moments the numbers had come back to him—along with the fear that one of those others had been better than him. A better listener, a better boyfriend, a better lover.

There was a part of him that had almost been relieved when his friends had told him what she was doing. It had given him the excuse he'd needed to get away from Paige, and the feelings of inadequacy he didn't know what to do with. He'd spent most of his life at the top—of the football team, the class rankings, the boyfriend scale. Playing second fiddle hadn't come easily to him.

His thoughts made him shift uncomfortably, had him blurting out his intentions instead of working up to them. “I want to see Luke again.”

“I kind of figured that when you invited him to go to the carnival with you.”

“The carnival doesn't come to town until next week—I want to see him before that.”

Her smile faded, her face growing wary. “All right. When do you want to see him?”

“Every day. I have a lot of catching up to do and I don't want to wait any longer than I already have to get started.”

 

“Y
OU DON'T WANT TO WAIT
? Funny how this all keeps coming back around to what you want, Logan.”

“Don't start, Paige. We agreed I'd have a chance to get to know Luke.”

“Getting to know him is one thing, spending every moment of your free time with him is another. I mean, sure, it's great to be you. You waltz in here
after eight years and take him for ice cream and to the carnival and I'm sure you'll think of a lot of other great places to go in the next few weeks—”

“What's wrong with that? I want him to enjoy himself, to be happy.”

“Well, good for you that you want to make Luke happy. But children's happiness doesn't always come from eating buckets of sugar and throwing up on rides. It comes from structure, from a schedule. From knowing he can count on you to be there to make sure breakfast is on the table or that his teeth get brushed or to read him a book at bedtime.”

“I want to do all that, too.”

“Do you, really? Because it's not fun, Logan. Being a parent isn't all fun and games. It can't be. And I think you've got a lot of nerve offering up nonstop good times at him without even talking to me about what
I
want for him.”

Logan's eyes narrowed, but she was too caught up in her diatribe to care. “Yes, he's your biological son. Big deal. I'm the one who's raised him, who's walked the floors with him when he was teething and slept next to his bed when he was sick. I'm the one who's sat through hours of homework and projects and really bad piano recitals. And I'm the one who is going to have to be there in two months, when we leave Prospect and Luke suddenly realizes that his
dad isn't interested in being anything more than a present on his birthday and at Christmas.”

She flung the last accusation at him and it hung between them for long seconds. Paige could tell from the stiffness in Logan's shoulders that she'd gone too far, but she couldn't bring herself to care. All the resentment she'd carried around was pouring out of her. All the times she'd sat up with her son, alone, worried that she was doing something wrong. Worried that she wasn't doing enough. Worried that…just worried. Worried, worried, worried. Sometimes she'd felt it was a full-time job on its own.

“You want to tell me where you got the idea that I'm not in this for the long haul?” Logan asked through gritted teeth. “I want to be a part of Luke's life.”

“Well, goody for you. But I think it'd be better if we took things slowly.”

“I don't want to take anything slowly! I've already missed too damn much of his life, Paige. I want to be a father to him.”

“I can see that. But, like I said, being a father is about more than taking the kid for ice cream or on a few rides.”

“That's what I'm talking about—why I want to see him every day. So that I can get to know him, learn everything there is to know about him.”

“And break his heart when he's learned to depend
on you?” The words came out of nowhere, but once they were spoken, Paige wouldn't have retracted them even if she could. Not when they so accurately summed up how she felt about him and what he'd done to her.

Logan had betrayed her nine years ago, had chosen his friends over her. How was she supposed to believe he wouldn't do the same thing with their son?

Everything had started out great with them, too. When Logan had been with her, really with her, she'd felt as though she was the center of his universe. And when he'd cut her out of his life, he'd done it as absolutely. It was as if he had forgotten all about her, and any argument she had tried to make had fallen on deaf ears. After a few weeks, she'd figured out that she had, quite simply, ceased to exist for him.

The pain had taught her well. She couldn't count on anyone else to take care of her or make her happy. And she damn sure couldn't count on anyone to take care of her son for her. Luke was her responsibility and she would do what she thought was best for him.

“Why are you so convinced I'm going to do the wrong thing by him?”

“Why wouldn't I be? What have you done to make me think otherwise? You were late for your first meeting with him, proving to both Luke and
me that your job is more important to you than he'll ever be.”

“I'm a small-town sheriff.” His voice was quiet, cold. “Sometimes emergencies come up. I can't do anything about that.”

“No one's asking you to, Logan. But Luke's a kid. He doesn't understand all that. He's a little boy who wants a father.”

“I know that. That's why I'm trying to be one for him.”

“Yeah, for now. But what happens when you get bored or busy or don't want to see him anymore? What happens when he does or says something that doesn't fit your order of the universe and you cut him out? He won't understand—”

“That isn't going to happen.”

“How do I know that? You got rid of me when you thought I didn't fit your perfect image. And you've lost interest in nearly everything you've ever done in your life. Me, your football scholarship, being a homicide detective in Seattle, your marriage. Name one thing you've stuck to when things got tough and maybe I'll reexamine my opinion of you.”

His eyes narrowed. “None of that happened the way you're making it sound.”

“Oh, really? So you didn't walk away from me the second the gossip got too hot for you to handle? You didn't quit the Huskies football team the second you
got injured, though everyone said you would be able to play again?”

“He's my son. I'm not going to quit on him.”

“You already did, before he was even born. Why will this time be any different?”

“You're being irrational, Paige, borrowing trouble where there isn't any. But what should I expect from a woman who can rewrite history any way she likes it?”

“I'm not the one rewriting history, Logan. You're the one who only sees what he wants.”

“How did I get to be the
only
bad guy in this situation? We were both immature, we both made mistakes. If you hadn't lied to me, we wouldn't be here now.”

“I never lied to you!”

“Bullshit. Now you're not remembering clearly. You used to lie to everyone, all the time, about everything. About where you were and who you were with and what you were doing.”

“But I never lied to you—”

“Why? Because I was so special? Give me a break. At the time, I put it down as your defense mechanism, your way of not letting people see how easily you could get hurt. But you have to admit, a history of not telling the truth made it a little difficult for me to believe you when push came to shove. After all, you are the one who cheated on me. And you're the
one who got pregnant, despite the fact that we used birth control. So how was I supposed to believe you when you told me that you were carrying my kid?”

“Because I
wasn't
cheating on you. Because I didn't get pregnant on my own. Because I loved you and you said you loved me and I thought that meant something. Because you owed me—and our child—the benefit of the doubt before you simply cut us out of your life. If you really thought I was lying to you, then you owed me the chance to prove you wrong.”

The bewilderment and hurt reared up again, and not for the first time Paige cursed her decision to come here. She and Luke had a good life in L.A., one she'd worked very hard for and one that she enjoyed very much. When she was there, she didn't think about the past. Or at least, didn't dwell on might-have-beens. Things were good and that was enough.

But here, where everything had started, things were a million times more complicated. Not only because Logan was here, demanding to be a part of Luke's life, but because he resurrected feelings in her that she'd thought were long dead. Feelings of inadequacy and hurt and betrayal and, yes, even longing. Maybe not for him, but for what had once been. For what the seventeen-year-old Paige had wanted to be.

It was an awkward place for her to be in, especially when she had a child she needed to protect.

The seconds ticked by and she watched Logan, who seemed lost in a world of his own as he paced their little stretch of driveway. Though his face was shadowed, his body language said he was as disturbed as she was. She was sorry for that—sorry that she had been the one to blast his good mood out of the water. At the same time, she couldn't regret asking the questions she needed answered.

“Look,” Logan finally said. “It's obvious we have very different interpretations of what happened back then. You're furious because I cut you out. I'm livid because you kept my son away from me.”

“I didn't—”

“You did. You could have gotten in touch with me after he was born, could have demanded a paternity test to prove that he was my child.”

“Why should I have to do that? I told you he was yours, begged you to believe me. And after he was born—when I was still in the hospital—I had Penny call you and tell you about him. You hung up on her.”

“I didn't think—”

“Do you think I care what you thought? Do you think I really give a damn about that? I did what I could to let you know about your son. I have absolutely no guilt on that front. And I am not going to
stand here and listen to you try to weasel your way out of your own culpability. You were wrong. And if you can't accept that, I don't think you need to be a part of Luke's life.”