Crush(92)

LOGAN


The back door to Molly’s had served well as my escape route over the past four months, but today I needed it more than ever.

My lungs felt like they were filled with rocks and I couldn’t breathe. I pushed the door open with a force that made it bang against the brick wall.

Out in the cool night, air seeped into my lungs and I took two controlled breaths.

In.

Out.

I arranged my thoughts in my mind. A distant memory was nagging at me. One I’d been trying to place since Frank first mentioned Mickey O’Shea’s wife.



Darkness was everywhere.

The night was so still, the water looked like a sheet of glass, the sky like a blank slate, and the wind was dialed down to a mere warm breeze.

The perfect summer night for chillin’.

I kicked my feet up and stretched my arms behind my head, letting my body rest comfortably on the canvas cushion beneath me. Relaxed in this way, I was in prime position for the swaying motion of the boat to lull me to sleep.

I was wiped out. My grandfather and I had spent the day moving fast through the open water and finding the best spot to fish. Now, we were cruising on the sea of glass, doing nothing, and I could tell my grandfather wasn’t ready to head back in yet. I didn’t care; I had nothing better to do, and the truth was, I liked being out on the open water. It made me feel like my world wasn’t crashing in all around me. Whether it was hormones kicking in or the simple fact that my parents didn’t get along, and their constant arguing was making all of our lives miserable, I didn’t know, and really, I didn’t care. Life just sucked.

Sure, I loved hanging out with James, but being able to get away from the sailing lessons and polo matches of the Hamptons was like a breath of fresh air. I could breathe out here. I wasn’t suffocating in fine linen or choking down a glass of Perrier.

My paternal grandfather, Killian McPherson, had come to my mother’s family estate in Southampton to bring me back to Boston. Good thing, too, because even though I didn’t have my license yet, I knew how to drive, and I was contemplating taking my grandfather Ryan’s Bugatti out for a spin.

Killian McPherson and I had a tradition. September second marked the anniversary of his and my grandmother’s wedding. Ever since my grandmother’s death, my grandfather disconnected from the world on Labor Day weekend, and he just so happened to take me along with him every time.

The bitter argument my parents had over where I was going to start high school sent my mother fleeing from Boston in early July and she had taken me with her. But another one of my parents’ longstanding disagreements wasn’t going to keep my grandfather and me apart, even if Grandpa Ryan was around. The two older men hated each other. Then again, they were so completely different; there was no way they couldn’t.

Whatever.

Exuding a confidence that always left me in awe, he scouted the area. Fully satisfied that we were nowhere, which was where he wanted to be, he twisted around. “Have your parents agreed where you’ll start high school yet?”

I sat up straight, digging my sneakers into the floorboards for traction. “I told my mother I wanted to stay in Boston even if she chose to remain in New York, and like some sort of miracle she agreed to let me attend Boston’s Blackstone Academy. For now, anyway. My father told me later she only agreed because I’d been wait-listed at NYC Prep and Collegiate, so we’ll see what happens.”

“NYC Prep, isn’t that where James goes?”

I nodded. “If I have to leave Boston, I’ll hold out until I get in there.”

“Just stay on the straight and narrow, Logan. That boy seems to sniff out trouble.”

I laughed and said nothing. James and I were way more alike than my grandfather wanted to know.

He maneuvered the boat around one last time and then shut the engine off. The way he drove this boat with such ease left me in awe every time I watched him. He was just a powerhouse. A very tall, well-built man with a strength that was greater than that of anyone I knew. It wasn’t his size, though, that mattered. It was the power that oozed from him that allowed him to command the attention of anyone he came into contact with.

I’d never seen anything like it.

Turning all the way around, he ran a callused hand over the stubble of his white beard. “Well, since you’re staying in town for a while anyway, I want you to come work at the News Parlor a couple of days a week. It will keep you out of trouble and I could use the help.”

My brows popped. The News Parlor was my grandfather’s store. He sold mainly lottery tickets, newspapers, and magazines, but there was a roped-off section that I was dying to get into. I’d been asking to work for him for the past year and he shot me down every time. “Really? You mean it?”

“Do I ever say anything I don’t mean?”

I couldn’t hold back my smile. “Will I be working on Dorchester Avenue or at the track?” I asked. Suffolk Downs was an awesome place and I loved when he took me there.

“Where do you think?”

“Dorchester,” I responded with a sigh. It was worth a try.

He grinned. “I knew you were smart.”

“Did you ever hire that girl who lives next door to you?”

Those dark eyes narrowed on me. “She’s older than you and she’s seeing that boy Tommy Flannigan. I don’t want you getting involved with that shit. He’s nothing but trouble.”