Chapter 23

As Logan wound his way through the club's patrons, he had plenty of time to second-guess his decision.

But he'd come this far; he had to go through with it.

A burly bouncer stopped him from slipping backstage so he gave his name and asked to see Stephen Holmes. The bouncer eyed him with suspicion before heading off, reappearing a few moments later and beckoning him to follow.

The air backstage smelled musty, making his lungs seize. Though that probably had more to do with the bouncer pointing to a red door at the end of the corridor and saying, "Steve's in there."

"Thanks," he said, earning a grunt from the bouncer as he headed back to the stage door.

Logan glared at the damn door, all too aware that what lay behind it was worse than anything he'd ever confronted before. He had no idea how long he stood in that dimly lit corridor, but eventually willed his feet to move and trudged the remaining steps towards the door.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled down his cheeks as his fingers curled into a fist, ready to knock. But his arm rose halfway as the door opened and his father smiled that smile. The one Logan had seen on stage. The one that made him feel five fucking years old, filled with hope and joy to have this man in his life.

His dad.

What a crock of shit.

Stephen Holmes didn't deserve the title and never did.

"Good to see you, Son." Stephen held the door wider, nothing but guileless expectation on his face. He'd aged gracefully, with creases fanning from the corners of his eyes, grooves bracketing his mouth, and greying at the temples the only signs of him being fifty-something.

He wore a stylish black open-necked shirt and black denim with cowboy boots, adding to his agelessness. But when Logan met his gaze, he glimpsed the same mix of emotions rioting through him—fear, regret, sorrow—and the knowledge of what his father must've recently gone through with the cancer scare had aged him.

"Wish I could say the same," Logan muttered, steeling his resolve as he pushed past his dad without a handshake.

He couldn't do this.

What had he been thinking?

The rage had returned, swamping him in a suffocating wave, desperate to eradicate the past and making him wish he could forget he had a father.

He dragged air into his lungs, willing the breathlessness compressing his chest to ease. For a horrifying second, he felt faint and clamped down on his anger by focussing on something good…an image of Hope, sexy and sated, sprang to mind. Fuck. The last thing he needed now was to think about her.

"I'm glad you've dropped in unexpectedly," Stephen said, and gestured to a seat. "We've got a lot to talk about—"

"Do we, really? Because from where I'm standing there's nothing you can say that will change a damn thing."

Logan shook his head, desperate to clear it. A roaring filled his ears, like he'd held shells up to them and could hear the ocean. "I came here for one reason only. To say what I should've said years ago but didn't, out of some warped respect for the man who gave me DNA and little else."

Stephen's expression crumpled a little but his eyes were defiant. Logan knew that look. He'd seen it in the mirror too many times to count when one of his dad's promised visits never eventuated.

"Son, I know I screwed up with you—"

"Screwed up? Is that what you call it?" Logan barked out a laugh devoid of amusement. "You ripped our family apart. You abandoned us for your own selfish reasons and didn't give a shit."

His voice had risen but he didn't care. He had to get this out. All of it. "You swanned in whenever you felt like it, lifting our hopes, before tearing us apart all over again. Mum…" Logan's throat clogged with emotion but he continued. "She lit up when you were around, then spiralled into moroseness when you weren't. She shut down with me too so I actually lost a mother as well as a father."

He thumped his chest. "I became the primary carer in our house. Me. I had to do everything and it pissed me off that you didn't bloody care!"

Tears filled Stephen's eyes but Logan wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot.

"You killed her, you know. That heart attack was precipitated by ongoing stress, considering she had no other risk factors. So how does it feel, to know you're responsible for that?"

Logan didn't care that he was yelling now. He wanted—needed—to get a reaction out of this man whose stoic acceptance of the accusations flung his way riled Logan even more.

"I'm sorry for a lot of things I've done, Son, but I can't change the past."

Of all the things his father could've said, Stephen's half-assed apology achieved nothing.

Logan slow-clapped. "Wow, great insight. Any other pearls of wisdom you care to share before I leave?"

"I love you, Son." A lone tear trickled down Stephen's cheek as he took a step forward. "I always have. That's why I kept returning to Rally-Doo to visit even though it would've been better for your mother if I made a clean break."

The roaring in Logan's ears intensified to the point he couldn't hear a thing. Spots danced before his eyes and he found himself being guided into a chair by his father.

When his vision cleared, he flung up his arms to dislodge his father's grip. "Get your fucking hands off me."

Sorrow darkened Stephen's eyes as he released him and backed away, taking a seat opposite. The dressing room was so cramped their knees almost touched. To his father's credit he remained silent, giving Logan time to process what he'd revealed.

Stephen's infrequent visits home had been because of him?

He had to ask, even if he didn't want to know the answer.

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't want to have to tell you any of this." Stephen scrubbed a hand over his face. When it lowered, it appeared like his dad had aged years.

"Your mum knew I had dreams to become a comedian when we met. It's all I ever talked about. But she was a born and bred country girl who hated leaving Rally-Doo even for a day trip. So after a month, I tried to break it off. She didn't take it well."

Stephen bit down on his bottom lip. "She called constantly, left messages, turned up at my parents' house at all hours of the night. I thought by confronting her one last time she'd get the message, and she seemed more reasonable and very sweet so we ended up…" his father blushed. "Anyway, two months later she was on my doorstep, announcing she was pregnant. In a town the size of Rally-Doo, unwed mothers are destined for a hard life, so I married her."

He halted, as if struggling to find the right words, before continuing. "I didn't love her and I doubt she loved me, but I had hopes we could make a go of it. Then you arrived…"

His dad's voice broke and Logan waited, unsure whether to be appalled by this confession or thankful he was finally learning the truth behind his dad's flakiness.

"You were the best thing to ever happen to me," Stephen said, his tone fierce as he pinned him with a glare. "I would've done anything for you, so I did."

Confused, Logan shook his head. "By leaving me?"

"I wanted to take you with me so badly." Stephen's fingers dug into his thighs where his hands rested in his lap. "But it would've killed your mother. She had obsessive tendencies that started with me and morphed into things like magazines and soaps and…well, anything."

Stunned by the revelation, Logan racked his memory. He'd once tried to move his mum's staggering stacks of magazines tucked into every corner of the living room and she'd gone berserk. He hadn't thought much of it at the time because those magazines brought her comfort when his dad wasn't around. She'd sit for hours with them spread across her lap, flicking through pages at random. He'd found it quirky but not testament to a deeper-seated problem

As for the countless cakes of soaps in the bathroom cabinet, the many tubes of untouched lipsticks, and the teetering pile of cookbooks in the kitchen, he'd put it down to his mum being a hoarder clinging to memories of the past.

"She wouldn't acknowledge her problem let alone see a doctor, so to stop from fighting a losing battle I distanced myself. Physically. I thought by removing myself from our sham marriage she'd be happier and in turn your life would be easier."

Sombreness downturned Stephen's mouth. "No kid should grow up in a tension-filled household. I thought I'd done the right thing when I visited and saw how happy she was and how rapt you were to see me." He tapped his temple. "I had it all figured out up here. Visit when I could, keep everyone happy."

Stunned, Logan stared at his father in disbelief. "Is that what you really believed?"

"It's what I saw. Even though I didn't love your mum, I saw she loved you as much as I did, so when we played happy families for however long my visits lasted, I thought it was the right thing to do."

He clasped his hands together so tight his knuckles stood out. "If I had my way, you would've lived with me. But a nomadic life is no good for a kid and I'd seen evidence of how obsessive your mum could be when I wanted to break up with her, I didn't want to risk setting her off again. If I'd taken you, she would've become obsessed with getting you back and who knows what that kind of instability could result in or what she would've done to have you. I didn't want you seeing that side of your mum so I stepped back."

Logan needed time to process the revelations that kept on coming, overwhelming and stifling. "So why did you stop visiting as I grew older? Why did you stay away if you loved me so much?"

Stephen sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. His spine bowed, a man defeated, before he slowly straightened his shoulders. "Because you were a smart kid and you started eyeing me with suspicion and anger rather than excitement and anticipation."

"You mean you couldn't buy me off anymore with toys and books?"

"What I mean is, you were starting to ask me the hard questions and I couldn't disparage your mother, not when she was doing a good job of raising you." His jaw clenched and he looked away. "So I made you hate me by staying away deliberately."

"What the—"

"It almost killed me. In here." Stephen thumped his chest over his heart. "I loved you, Son, but I made a choice. I wanted you to have a stable home life, not being dragged from one town to the next, living in seedy motels and eating greasy fast food. I wanted you to be happy, your mum too. But there wasn't a single day I didn't wish I had you with me."

Sadness filled Logan, expanding until he felt like he'd explode with it. His eyes burned and his throat tightened, but he managed to ask the one question that had plagued him his entire life.

"Then why didn't you stay?"

"Because I didn't want you growing up resenting me, hating me, and that's what would've happened if I'd stuck around, trapped in a marriage I never wanted, dying on the inside while trying to fake happiness on the outside. You were that observant you would've seen straight through me and I wanted you to be happy with your mum, even if it meant you and I could never have a real relationship…" Stephen ended on a sob and to Logan's horror, he felt like bawling too.

He didn't have it in his heart to tell his father that he'd ended up hating him regardless. Because he didn't. Not really. He understood his father's warped motivation, even if he didn't like it.

"Why didn't you tell me this years ago?"

Stephen dashed a hand across his damp eyes. "I tried to reach out many times, Son, but you didn't want a bar of me. I hoped that would change in time. Then the cancer hit and I knew I had to do something to repair the gap between us."

A jumble of emotions whirled through Logan and he couldn't process it all. He needed time. So he settled for, "I'm not sure if I can forgive you. But I'm glad you told me everything."

Stephen nodded, stood, and held out his hand. "All I'm asking for is a chance, Son."

Logan stared at his father's outstretched hand for a long time, before finally standing and taking it.

His father's grip was strong, firm, his hand as icy as his. Logan was glad his dad didn't try to embrace him.

For now, the handshake was a start.