SEAL’s Redemption by Leslie North

14

On Tuesday, Logan went with Hope to meet that reporter about the case. The meetup just so happened to be at the bar where they’d broken up, which wasn’t good, but hey, life sucked sometimes. Logan knew that better than most.

They walked in and the place was just as dark and loud as he’d remembered. It catered to the sports crowd, so there were TVs blaring from every corner, covering every kind of sporting event under the sun. The walls were covered with memorabilia and photos of the owners with sports legends, and the air smelled of fried food and booze.

As they stood in the foyer, letting their eyes adjust, Hope leaned in and said, “Sorry about this.”

“About what?” Logan asked.

“I didn’t realize this was the same bar where we…” She gave a small wave with her hand. “The name’s different, and it looks like it’s under new management too, so I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine,” Logan said, peering across the room to where the reporter, a middle-aged guy named Burt, in slacks and a dress shirt with a tie, waved them over to a booth in the corner. At least over there, it might be a bit quieter. It was midafternoon, but the place was still doing a brisk business. “There he is.”

He and Hope slid into one side of the booth, across from Burt. Introductions were made and drinks were ordered, then they got down to business.

“I’ve got to tell you, Hope,” Burt said, “I’m glad you’re picking up on this thread. The case was only ever listed as a disappearance, but that always felt wrong to me. I thought—I still think—that something happened to that girl. Nothing I learned about her then gave me any reason to think she was the type to just run off and leave her friends and family with no answers.”

Hope’s eyes went wide. “Are you saying you think she was killed?”

“Are you saying you don’t?” Burt asked in return.

Hope sat back. “It didn’t feel right to me either,” she admitted, “the idea that Diana would just leave and stay gone like that. It’s why I got interested in her story in the first place. But murder…if she was killed, then it had to have been—”

“Desmond Jones?” Burt interrupted. “That was always my theory—even though my editor never let me even hint at it in my stories. Jones had too much power, too much influence. But I’m telling you, he acted odd the whole time the police were investigating him back then. And he never had a good reason for why he met Diana in the bar that day or paid for her hotel room beyond his ‘she explained to me at the bar that she needed help finding a place to stay for the week and I wanted to help.’” Burt shook his head and sipped his beer. “It smelled fishy to me from the start.”

“Did you know Desmond was secretly paying for Diana’s tuition?” Hope asked the reporter.

“Nope. Didn’t know that at all. Did he start that up midway through the semester—like he met her and wanted to charm her by paying off her bills?”

“No, he actually set up a scholarship for her before she even started. And it was done secretly. She didn’t find out who was behind it until shortly before she disappeared,” Hope said, sitting back against the gnarled wood booth. “I agree that there was more going on there than just a random meeting between strangers, but I’m not sure it was an affair. I think there’s a good possibility he had some kind of connection to Diana’s family. He and Diana’s mother grew up in the same neighborhood. Maybe they knew each other, maybe there was a debt or a favor owed, and Desmond was trying to pay it off.”

“But then why keep it a secret?” Logan asked, frowning. “That doesn’t make sense. Unless Diana was threatening to expose something Desmond wanted to be kept hidden?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Burt said. “Either way, I’ll tell you who I feel sorry for. Clarissa Jones.” Burt shook his head. “Young, beautiful, rich, and married to a man who was eccentric at best, and suspicious at worst.”

Burt kept talking, but then the sound system kicked on a song that was far too familiar—it was the song that had been playing when Hope had found him here. When she’d broken up with him. It was like hearing the soundtrack to Logan’s broken heart. He kept remembering how upset Hope had been. How he’d been more interested in drinking than being there for her. How she’d told him she’d never, ever give him a second chance.

While he was distracted, Hope had finished questioning Burt and when Logan tuned back in, they’d downshifted to small talk, with Burt asking how long they’d been together.

Hope quickly squashed that idea, though. “Oh no, we’re not together.”

Not anymore, Logan added in his head. He felt way more disappointed about that than he had a right to be. They weren’t together now. He knew that. They’d had that conversation just that morning, about how once the investigation was over and he moved out, the sex would end. But after their talk about the breakup, then discussing baby names and looking at baby stuff on Sunday, it felt different to Logan.

It felt like…something.

At least for the moment. Something more than a hasty denial.

As they drove home, Hope seemed to be trying to draw him out of his thoughts.

“Do you think Desmond did it?” she asked, after fifty other questions about things Burt had said.

Logan just couldn’t seem to pull himself out of his doldrums, though, and just gave a grunt in response.

Giving him some side-eye, Hope tried another tactic. “I’ve thought of the perfect baby name. Baker.”

“Baker?” he asked, slowing for a red light. “That’s a profession, not a name.”

“It’s both. And it’s unisex. Works for a boy or a girl. Sounds good yelled, too.”

“Uh, no.” He exhaled and stared out the windshield, one hand on the wheel. He knew she was trying to get him to play along. Hell, he’d pulled that trick often enough himself over the years. He was the king of using fun to distract himself from ugliness and tension. But since going to therapy and talking with Jeremy on the regular, he’d realized that pretending everything was fine didn’t make it so, and that shoving stuff under the rug helped no one in the long run. All it did was bottle up feelings until they exploded.

Hope was still chattering on about her ideas for absurd name choices when he interrupted her. “Hey, you don’t have to do this.”

Now, it was her turn to frown. “Do what?”

“Try to play off the hard stuff we need to deal with.” The light changed and he accelerated through the intersection. “I’m not the same person I was, Hope. I’m not the guy you broke up with in that bar.”

She reached over and squeezed his free hand. “I know.”

“Do you really?” he asked, flinching a little at how raw and vulnerable he sounded. He shouldn’t need her validation, shouldn’t need for her to believe in him in order for him to be able to believe him himself…and yet, there was no one he trusted more to tell it to him straight.

“Yes, I do,” she said, no hint of hesitation in her voice. “You’ve put in the work and turned your life around. Which is also why I know you’ll be a great dad too. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.”

He opened his mouth to tell her that it meant a lot—meant everything—but she wasn’t through talking. She took a deep breath, then sat back in her seat. “And you’ll make some other woman very happy someday.”

Yeah. That cut deep. Even knowing this was temporary. Even knowing she was just trying to be supportive, hearing her talk about him being with another woman so calmly, like it didn’t matter to her in the slightest, left him feeling flayed open inside. Especially since the thought of Hope with another man made him want to kill something with his bare hands, namely the other guy in question.

He wasn’t over her. Not by a longshot. But he was going to have to learn how to be.