Page 11 of Tattered (Lark Cove 1)

“Thea, we’ll see you at home.”

“Bye, Mommy.”

I nodded but didn’t glance away from Logan’s clenched jaw.

I waited until Hazel’s and Charlie’s footsteps disappeared and the back door clos

ed. I waited until the silence returned. I waited for Logan because I didn’t have the courage to speak first.

“How old is she?” In front of my nose, his broad chest was heaving.

I blinked and cleared my impossibly dry throat before meeting his dark glare. “She turns six in a month.”

It didn’t take long for Logan to do the math. He’d come into the hotel bar at the end of October, not quite six years and nine months ago.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, hoping to calm the angry waves rolling off his body. “I tried to—”

He didn’t let me finish. Spinning on the heel of his fancy shoes, he stormed out of my bar.

I didn’t follow.

Instead, I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders and walked over to the table where Logan’s friend sat stunned next to an equally shocked Willa.

Then, six years and many months too late, I asked for Logan’s last name and phone number.

“Is she asleep?” Hazel asked.

“Yeah. Chasing frogs all day wore her out.” I collapsed into a padded wicker loveseat across from where Hazel sat on the white railing of our back porch.

“That girl. She’s not happy unless there’s dirt under her fingernails.” Hazel smiled and took a long drag of her menthol cigarette. Her wrinkled hands shook a bit as she lifted it to her lips.

She wasn’t as steady as she used to be, though I guess that was to be expected after you reached sixty-five. But I kept my observations quiet. Reminding Hazel Rhodes that she was not as young as she pretended to be was just asking for an ass chewing.

“Is she still mad that you made her set the frog loose?”

I nodded. “She told me she’d just find another one tomorrow.”

Hazel laughed and shook her head. “Oh, Charlie.”

Her laugh was more of a cackle these days. Her voice held a permanent rasp from all those Virginia Slims. But as rough as it was, that sound had soothed my worries more times than I could count.

And tonight, I could use some soothing.

With thoughts of Logan running through my mind, I propped my head into my hand and stared blankly across the yard.

The house where Hazel, Charlie and I lived wasn’t much, just a cramped three-bedroom cottage that barely fit us all. But it was home, and the backyard was a sliver of heaven.

The lawn was wide with thick green grass that spread between two groves of evergreens. The trees stood as tall posts on both sides of our gravel shoreline. And in the center of our rocky beach, was a long, battered dock that stretched out twenty feet into the lake’s rippled water.

It was no wonder that Hazel’s little cottage with the sage-green siding and aqua door was worth millions.

Land prices in Lark Cove had skyrocketed in the last two decades. I’d asked Hazel to consider selling this place a year ago so she’d have some money for retirement, but she’d refused. I hadn’t been surprised.

Not only did this cottage hold sentimental value from her own childhood, but it was the only home Charlie had ever known. Which meant Hazel would live here for the rest of her life.

She’d grown up in this house before setting off for New York City after high school. She’d worked for years at various places in the city, mostly at animal shelters or children’s centers. One day, she came to work at the home where I was being raised. She arrived when I was eight and stayed until I turned eighteen. Not long after my birthday, her parents both passed in the span of two months and she returned home to Montana to run their bar.

Eventually, I followed.