Page 13 of Break the Barrier

I was terrified the charges wouldn’t stick, but the relief I felt when I realized that my husband, who had essentially gaslit me and made me think all our problems were because of me, was no longer going to be a part of my life, had been nearly crippling.

He was verbally abusive, he was rude and hurtful, and when that spread to my sisters, it had pushed Tori to leave.

That had been the final straw.

I’d known for some time before that that he was not what I’dthought, that somehow, he’d tricked me into thinking that he was this knight in shining armor when instead he was the definition of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

I shake my head and decide it’s time for a change of subject. “Anyway, how is Luella’s line rehearsal going? Did she get the role she wants?”

Logan smiles. “I have heardA Midsummer Night’s Dream’sscript about ten dozen times, and she gets better and better each time.”

I grin. “Really? I’ve heard she’s got talent from her theater teacher.”

“Mrs. Jenkins comes into Bottle Grounds?”

Laughing, I reply, “Every Friday. She and a group of other ladies come in for one hour, they dance, and each have one drink, and then they leave.”

“Wow.” Logan looks shocked at the news. “You know, Mrs. Jenkins was my theater teacher when I was in middle school. It’s surprising to hear she has a life outside the school.”

“You were in theater?”

He raises a brow at my tone. “Where do you think my daughter gets the talent? I was the best Peter Pan that school had ever seen.”

Giving him a dubious look, I ask, “Are you serious? I can’t picture you in green tights.”

“Tights were easier to pull off when I was thirteen, but yes, I am serious. You don’t really get a choice when you live in a small town, and somehow”—he lifts his hands—“I was the best option for Peter Pan.”

“Huh.” I try to picture Logan jumping around a stage at that age, playing the mischievous Pan. I can’t hide the smile that grows on my face, or the laughter that starts to escape.

“Are you laughing at me?” He stares at me in dismay, which somehow makes the laughter come harder. “Okay, fine. Laugh at me, let me have it.”

The waiter comes over, and Logan orders. I, however, cannot get it together and can’t talk to the waiter at all.

When I finally can stop my laughter, my head feels light, and my chest feels empty of that heavy feeling that’s been crushing it since everything that happened, and Logan is smiling at me like…well, he’s just smiling at me.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my mouth still curved into a grin as I dab at my eyes. I don’t normally wear a bunch of makeup, considering it tends to melt off my face when I’m working. But today I made a better effort. Only for it to be laughed off, judging by the black smudges that came away with the napkin.

“No, no, laugh at my expense. That’s just fine.” He leans his elbows against the table.

“I think I needed that,” I say, patting my stomach and taking my glass of water, swallowing some down to clear my throat.

“I’m glad to have helped.”

“You did.” I glance at him, and the sight of him makes me have to clear my throat yet again. Something about how he so casually leans against the table, how his clean-shaven face somehow always has the perfect little shadow to it, how his slightly longer hair curls a little at the ends, it’s all too much to handle.

“So, how was your day going before this?”

The question is so innocent and somehow takes me off guard. “Um, it was good. I got some emails answered at the bar, got some shipments organized, and some inventory done. Annmarie is there now, going through some stuff.”

I don’t think anyone has asked me how my day was in a long time. Not since my mom died.

After that, I was a parent to my sisters, and Eric certainly never cared enough to ask that kind of thing. It’s mundane and such a common thing to ask, but if I was asked that, it was more of a common courtesy thing than someone actually caring.

Logan cares. I can tell by the way he watches me as I answer that he actually cares about what I have to say.

“Where does Annmarie think you are now? Did you tell her?”

I rub my lip. “No. I didn’t tell her the truth.”