The Promise of Us (Sanctuary Sound #2)(26)

“Yes, Peyton dragged you over all the time.” Claire raised her hand to cover her eyes.

“She never had to drag me. I liked checking in on you.” He drew her hand away from her face. “You inspired me.”

“Did I?” She looked dumbfounded by the idea.

“Hell yeah. A person no bigger than a minute making such a big comeback, always with a determined expression. I wish I’d taken photographs of you then.”

“God, no! I’m at least two heads shorter and way less photogenic than your former subjects.” She waved both hands in front of her face while referring to his early days as a fashion photographer.

“You’re much prettier than any of them—they’re all false eyelashes, egos, and bored expressions. Your face is complex. Your eyes emote before you have a chance to filter your reactions. And the shape from your forehead to the tip of your chin forms a perfect heart.” His thumb itched to trace that line.

She blushed furiously. “Well, I’m glad there aren’t photos of those days. No need to remember that time in vivid detail.”

“I disagree. If I had pictures, you’d see how beautifully single-minded and optimistic you were. How brave.” Logan recalled with crystal clarity her stubborn, quick smile . . . even the way she’d mourned tennis had been dignified. She’d donated all her clothing and gear to kids training for the Special Olympics and often gone to the local tennis center to offer younger kids tips from the sidelines. “Frankly, having watched you come through that with such strength, and seeing you take a leap of faith with this new business venture, I’m shocked that you let the Todd thing drag at you. Of all the people on the planet, he’s the least worthy of your tears or regrets.”

The shooting had killed some of her confidence, and Todd’s rejection had killed more. Logan wanted to bring it all back to life now.

“I’m over Todd, Logan.” Ice encased that vehement tone. She cocked one brow. “Trust me, I’m not wasting tears on him.”

“Just Peyton, then.”

Claire crossed her arms. “You know I don’t want to talk about this.”

“I’m only trying to understand you, not defend Peyton.”

“It’s quite simple. I loved Peyton like a sister. Her betrayal hurt me much more than Todd did. Think about how you’d feel if she betrayed you, and then it should be easy to understand me.”

Logan rested his chin on his fist and tried to imagine Peyton screwing him over. “I honestly can’t imagine that. But if she ever hurt me, I know I’d find a way to forgive her. That’s what family does. That’s what love is, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” Claire shot him a perturbed look. “Then why can’t you get along with your dad? He’s been demanding and, at times, demeaning, but he’s never betrayed you. Still, you hold on to bitterness.”

“That’s different.” He closed his hands around the wineglass, the muscles in his forearms tightening.

“Only to you because you’re not ready to make peace. That’s how it is for me with Peyton.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds before he quickly finished his wine and what remained of hers. “You’re right. So maybe we both need to take a hard look in the mirror, then, and be willing to turn the page and start fresh.”

“I’d never trust her again.” Claire’s voice didn’t even sound angry. Just final. Emotion he could work with, but flatness? Finality? Maybe this battle would be harder than he’d thought.

“You could at least let her apologize. How hard can that be?” He knew he’d made another misstep with his abrupt tone.

Claire blew a long, slow breath through her nose and pushed the envelope in front of him. “As much as I’d love to do this project, this conversation is exactly why I originally declined.”

Shit. He grabbed her hand. “I’ll stop. I swear. I’m done. I want you to do this work. Please.”

He kept hold of her hand. Not because he wanted to help his sister, but because he wanted Claire’s imprint on his home.

“You already made and then broke that promise.” She withdrew her hand.

“Sorry. I mean it. I won’t ask again.”

The skeptical look in her eyes had him planning out another argument, but eventually she relented. “Okay. I’ll call you later this week to talk about my ideas.”

“Sounds like you’re kicking me out.” He pushed his chair back and stood.

She rose with him. “It’s been a long day. I want to dig into this while I’ve still got some energy left.”

“Fair enough.” He leaned forward to kiss her cheek goodbye, but she moved at the same time, and so their lips met. A quick buss, but it brought back an old memory.

“Well, we haven’t done that since you were fifteen, Claire. I think I did a better job back then, though,” he teased, his lips warming at the thought of it.

She turned so red her face almost matched the color of his shirt. She gripped Rosie and started toward the front door without meeting his gaze. “I can’t remember.”

Liar, liar. Now he had another goal, though. That first kiss had been to fulfill the wish of a sad friend. This one, an accident. Next time it would be on purpose. And it would be one she’d never forget.