6. Logan

Chapter 6

Logan

Peace of mind had escaped me for the past twenty-four hours.

And I knew exactly why.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Casey.

And not just in a professional way. Not because I was grateful for his services.

He had embedded himself in my brain. But I was a willing captive.

As I paced the hardwood floors of my oversized bedroom, I tried to rid my mind of all things Casey. My bedroom was the perfect space for pacing. Below was a library that no one ever used, and outside my door was a wide hallway that was typically vacant.

However, today I heard footsteps shuffling around outside my door, and immediately recognized the pitter patter of Martin’s feet. He had a very distinctive way of walking.

No doubt he’d been sent by my mother to spy.

Betsy frequently used Martin as a tool to keep tabs on everyone—and everything—at the house.

“Martin!” I called out, my voice reverberating off the walls. “Is that you out there?”

Through the closed door, I heard a muffled, quiet reply. “Just here to offer coffee, sir.”

Bullshit, I thought. You’re here to snoop.

“None for me, thanks!”

Obviously, Mother had sent him to listen outside my door. Maybe she thought she’d hear a snippet of a conversation, or a cry of angst.

She had probably seen the tension between me and Casey the night before. She was hawkeyed and always aware.

Finally, I heard Martin’s footsteps as he walked away.

I needed to get real. I needed to absolve myself of any notion that anything could ever happen between me and Casey.

First, he’s my nanny.

Second, he’s… a man.

Since Gloria passed two years ago, neither romance nor sex had entered my mind often. My singular focus had been performing my duties at the hospital and providing a happy home for Henry.

Unfortunately for me, that had meant two years of lonely nights.

As Henry grew older and obtained more independence, I wondered what would be left for me. He was already eyeing colleges and talking about his dreams of campus life. Two years from now I’d be alone with only my career to comfort me.

Before Gloria, there had only been a few women.

Never a man.

But there was something about Casey.

Something captivating. Enticing.

Stop, I thought, my pacing halting for a moment. You can’t think this way.

My phone dinged and I looked down to see a text from my mother requesting my presence in the drawing room.

First, I’d need to figure out exactly which room was the drawing room.

There were so many rooms branching out from labyrinth hallways, it was easy to get turned around.

So, I descended the stairs and began to search for the correct room. A few moments later, I found myself in the drawing room after following the voices of a few people—some jubilant, others monotonous.

Betsy and Casey turned and beamed, gesturing for me to join them for coffee.

Martin scowled in the background. He was obviously disappointed that I’d cast him away from the bedroom earlier.

Then I noticed Veronica. The monotonous voice.

For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why Mother kept inviting her around. And since Veronica was family, I didn’t have the heart to tell her how rotten of a person she was.

In most cases, people learn how awful they are through social consequences for their terrible actions. Certain members of the wealthy, like Veronica, were often shielded from normal consequences. The result was an overgrown toddler masquerading as an adult.

Then again, Veronica wasn’t quite wealthy yet. That would depend on my mother’s bequeathments.

“Coffee?” Martin asked.

Forced cordiality made him ignore the interaction we’d had mere minutes before.

I shook my head.

Veronica frowned as she noticed me.

She smiled an awful grin.

“It’s quite convenient,” she said with a smirk. “Don’t you think, Logan? This sudden attachment of Casey’s.”

I found myself wondering if she’d noticed the tension between me and Casey the night before.

Her nerve shocked me.

The tension between me and Casey had been palpable, and it wouldn’t surprise me if Veronica had observed it too.

I put on my most incredulous tone, hoping it would throw her off my scent. “Attachment?”

“That’s right,” she said smugly. “Some people might say Casey is just cozying up to the matriarch. After all, Betsy’s decisions about the inheritance are hardly set in stone, are they?”

She was simply dreadful. Forty-something years of entitlement mixed with a life of leisure and the result was Veronica Westbrook.

The last thing I wanted her to do was speculate on the nature of my relationship with Casey. Especially in front of my mother.

It was a good thing Henry had stayed at a friend’s house and wasn’t around to hear Veronica’s ramblings.

“Veronica,” I said, my voice low and almost growling, “that’s enough. Casey is here because I hired him to be here—for Henry, and for my peace of mind.”

“Well—” Veronica started, but I interrupted.

“Furthermore,” I added, “Casey has shown more integrity than most, and I don’t appreciate your insinuations.”

A mix of shock and anger flashed through Veronica’s eyes. It was clear that she hadn’t expected my defense, presumably because I was typically reserved.

I looked over at Casey and saw that his gratitude was visible. But he kept a polite silence.

Suddenly, Betsy snapped her fingers, grabbing Veronica’s attention.

“Veronica, darling,” she said with a smirk, “you do raise a good point. Maybe I should reassess the inheritance decisions. Just to make sure I’m making the wisest choices.”

Mother winked in Casey’s direction, leaving Veronica fuming.

Veronica stormed out of the room, mumbling something to herself that I couldn’t hear.

It was clear she was angling for a bigger piece of the pie. But at this point, I wasn’t sure if Veronica would receive any piece at all.

Betsy patted me on my shoulder. “Well done, Logan. It’s nice to see the Westbrook fire come out in you.”

She turned to Casey and said, “Casey, don’t worry about Veronica. She’s just jealous she hasn’t found someone with half your charm.”

Casey’s posture relaxed. I could sense that he was truly starting to feel welcome in the family.

“Pastries!” Betsy called out, nearly flying out of the room to retrieve something from the kitchen.

Martin followed her immediately.

And suddenly we were alone, just the two of us.

Me and Casey.

With the tension lingering from the previous night.

My heart raced. We hadn’t talked about it, but it wasn’t like we could pretend.

It was clear we’d both felt it.

The doors clicked shut behind us and the room suddenly felt cavernous in Betsy and Veronica’s absence.

The air felt charged, like the stillness before a thunderstorm.

Casey stood by the fireplace with his hand resting on the marble mantle.

Our gazes were locked—it was as if we were two opposing forces about to collide.

Casey’s shoulders were rigid, and his jaw was clenched.

I wished I could read his mind.

“Well,” Casey said with a smile, “that was… something.”

I rolled my eyes with a laugh. “It always is when Betsy and Veronica are in the same room.”

Casey squinted at me as the fire roared behind him. “Is it always this… overwhelming?”

I shook my head, moving slightly closer to him. “You get used to it. The chaos. The expectations. But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

Casey’s eyes showed something I hadn’t expected—something vulnerable and raw. He didn’t move as I stepped closer, closing the distance between us to just a few feet.

His voice was barely a whisper as he said, “You don’t seem like the type of man who lets things get to him.”

A faint smile crossed my lips, laced with tension. “You’d be surprised.”

I studied Casey’s face, my heart racing as I watched for even a flicker, a momentary crack in his walls that I could pierce through.

I decided to speak up. “Last night, at the carnival…”

Casey’s face lit up. “Right, the carnival. It was… memorable.”

Memorable.

The word lingered in the air between us with all the things we both knew were true but remained unspoken.

“In fact…,” Casey started, but his voice trailed off.

Go on, I thought, willing him to continue.

“In fact,” he said, “I’ve been thinking about it since last night.”

Before I could tell him I’d been thinking about him too, my phone rang.

The sound was awful, instantly filling me with dread.

Since I was on call, I had to answer it.

On the other end of the line, the hospital scheduler informed me that a woman had been brought in following a serious car accident. After suffering trauma injuries, my surgical skills were required to control the bleeding and stabilize her.

I hung up the phone and looked up at Casey who had probably figured out that I needed to leave.

“I have to go.”

He nodded with a forced smile. “I understand.”

There wasn’t a moment to spare.

As I rushed toward my car keys, I had a sinking feeling.

How much longer was I going to keep up this life?

Leaving important moments to rush to a hospital.

Having no work-life balance, not a single moment to call my own. The one day off a week I received was marred by anxiety about being on call.

Keys in hand, I rushed toward my vehicle, knowing I’d have to practically fly through the streets of Charleston to make it to Pinehurst in time.

As I drove, memories of Gloria’s passing came rushing back to me. She’d died in a car accident, and this wasn’t the first time since her passing that I’d been called into the hospital for something like this.

Memories—constant, agonizing memories—were brought to me regularly in my line of work.

Bridging the distance between myself and the hospital, I reflected on all the time I’d spent in hospital rooms, leaving my wife and son at home alone.

Mother had been after me for years to quit. But that was easy for a woman of Betsy’s wealth to say. Me, I had to continue working. It was necessary for me to provide for myself and my son. Henry was already eyeing Ivy League colleges where tuition wasn’t cheap.

The urgent tone in the hospital scheduler’s voice played in my mind. The details provided had been sparse but alarming: blunt force to the chest, unsteady vitals, internal bleeding.

Time was of the utmost importance.

The city of Charleston flew past me in a blur of lights mixed with dark shadows. The historic streets were normally calming and beautiful, but when speeding through, they almost seemed like an obstacle course.

The nearby harbor brought the scent of salt into my car through the open windows. I could hear the distant hum of laughter and music from nearby bars.

The sounds of a saxophone being played by someone on the street cut through some of the chaos in my mind.

My hands gripped the wheel so hard my knuckles turned white.

As I finally pulled into the hospital parking lot, I steeled myself.

I took a deep breath and tried to regain focus.

I headed inside, trying not to think about the weight of my thoughts.

Something in my life needed to change.