“I wasn’t choosing anybody.”
“I know that now too.”
There were pieces missing.
I could feel them.
“Why did you leave so suddenly?”
Logan looked out the window.
“You really don’t know?”
“No.”
He turned back.
“Then we’ve been angry about different things all this time.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Logan took a slow breath.
“Do you remember Mom’s savings account?”
“Of course.”
Our mother had left a modest amount of money divided between us.
Mine had helped pay the final costs of police academy training and my first apartment.
Logan had planned to use his share toward buying into a small construction partnership.
“What about it?”
“The partnership failed before it started.”
“I know.”
“No. You know what Dad told you.”
A strange uneasiness moved through me.
“What happened?”
“My partner backed out. I had already put most of my money into equipment.”
“Logan—”
“I panicked. I asked Dad for a loan.”
That surprised me.
Dad had never told me.
“He said no?”
“He said he couldn’t.”
I nodded.
Dad’s finances had been tighter then.
“I wasn’t angry about that,” Logan continued. “But a week later, I found out Dad helped you with the down payment on your condo.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“He gave you twelve thousand dollars.”
“No, he didn’t.”
Logan frowned.
“Colin.”
“He loaned me three thousand for closing costs. I paid him back in six months.”
Now Logan was the one staring.
“Three?”
“Three.”
“I saw a bank transfer.”
“What bank transfer?”
“Mom’s old account. Twelve thousand moved two days before your closing.”
My pulse changed.
“That wasn’t mine.”
“Then where did it go?”
“I don’t know.”
Logan leaned back slowly.
Neither of us spoke.
We were no longer discussing hurt feelings.
We were looking at a fact neither of us understood.
“Why did you think it went to me?”
“Because Dad told me he was helping you buy the condo.”
“He helped me with three thousand.”
“The transfer was twelve.”
“Did you ask him?”
“Not directly.”
“Why not?”
Logan gave me a humorless smile.
“Because apparently direct questions aren’t a Carter family strength.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
He continued.
“I thought Dad had chosen to help you because you were the responsible son and I was the one who had made a bad investment.”
“I never knew.”
“I know.”
“Did you leave because of money?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because two nights later, you and I had that argument.”
I remembered it.
Not every word.
Enough.
Logan accusing me of always siding with Dad.
Me telling him he blamed everyone else whenever his plans failed.
Logan saying he was leaving.
Me telling him to go.
It had lasted perhaps fifteen minutes.
It had cost us seven years.
“I thought you knew about the money,” Logan said.
“I didn’t.”
“I thought when you said I needed to grow up and accept my choices, you were talking about Dad helping you.”
“I was talking about the business.”
“I realize that now.”
The waitress refilled our coffee.
We both sat in silence until she left.
“Where did the twelve thousand go?” I asked.
Logan shook his head.
“I never found out.”
“Did you ask Dad later?”
“Once.”
“And?”
“He said Mom had arranged something before she died and that it wasn’t his story to explain.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why wouldn’t you tell me this?”
“Because by the time I started wondering whether I’d misunderstood everything, we weren’t speaking.”
I rubbed my forehead.
There it was again.
Silence making every mystery larger.
“Rachel knows?”
“Most of it.”
“That’s why she brought Eli?”
Logan looked confused.
“Brought him where?”
“To Dad’s yesterday.”
“Rachel was at Dad’s?”
I studied his face.
He genuinely didn’t know.
“She told me you were moving.”
His expression tightened.
“We’re considering it.”
“She thinks you’re accepting.”
“I haven’t decided.”
“Why not?”
Logan looked at me.
This time there was no defensiveness.
Only exhaustion.
“Because Eli finally has grandparents nearby. Because Rachel likes Millhaven. Because I’ve spent years telling myself leaving places is the same thing as starting over, and I’m beginning to suspect it isn’t.”
I thought of the letter.
Of Mom’s drawing.
Two lines separating and returning.
“There’s something else,” I said.
I told him about the note under the tattoo design.
He smiled faintly.
“I saw it.”
“Dad said you did.”
“Mom always had inconvenient timing.”
“She’s been gone nine years.”
“Still inconvenient.”
For a moment we both smiled.
Then I asked, “Do you want to find out about the money?”
Logan looked at me.
“I wanted to seven years ago.”
“I’m asking about now.”
He considered the question.
“Yes.”
“So do I.”
We finished our coffee.
Outside, the morning had brightened.
Logan stopped beside the library.
“Colin.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m not asking you to pretend none of it happened.”
“Good.”
“I don’t know how to do this.”
“Neither do I.”
He nodded.
Then, almost awkwardly, he extended his hand.
I looked at it.
“Seriously?”
