“Of course.”
Robert stood.
“I should go.”
I stared at him.
“Wait.”
He stopped.
“Do you know where Logan is?”
That was the question beneath every other question.
Robert’s expression changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
“You do,” I said.
He didn’t answer quickly enough.
I felt my stomach tighten.
“You know where he is.”
“I know where he was three months ago.”
I stared at him.
“Three months?”
Robert lowered himself into the chair again.
“Joanna, I need to be careful here.”
“No. You need to tell me the truth.”
He nodded.
“Logan came to see me about four months after he left you.”
My breath stopped.
He had gone to Robert.
While I was working breakfast shifts with swollen ankles.
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While I counted coins at the laundromat.
While I slept alone in a rented room and convinced myself I didn’t need anyone.
Logan had gone to his father.
