Burn (8 page)

“I’m sorry again I couldn’t stay longer after the wedding.”

Major Lawson pulls out a chair for me at his desk in this extremely old-world and yet exceedingly grandfatherly way, and I can’t help but smile as I take a seat. The Major is every bit the stiff-upper-lip soldier-type, but I can also see why my Father and him were such good friends.

“Oh, that’s fine. You didn’t miss much, really.”

Well, I suppose you missed out on the spectacular and nuclear level event of me realizing the man I slept with and can’t get out of my head is in fact the most off-limits man in my entire world, not to mention my new brother-in-law.

I
don’t
say that, and instead just clear my throat; “I know Reagan was really glad to have you there, and it meant a lot to Chelsea and I too to have you be the one to give her away.”

He nods quietly and solemnly as he takes his own seat across the desk from me; “Well, I was no substitute for your Father, you know, but it was an honor to stand there in his place for his little girl on her day.”

“It would be the highest honor in a lifetime of medals,”
he’d said when Reagan had asked him to be the one to walk her down the aisle and give her away in lieu of our Dad, and the memory of that makes me grin.

“He’d be extraordinary impressed by the woman you’ve become; you know that don’t you?”

I smile, thinking of my Dad’s look of surprise when his black-haired, gothy little poetry fanatic of an eldest daughter informed him that she wanted to go to medical school; as if I hadn’t shocked him enough with black eyeliner and heavy metal up to that very point. It’s a look I wish I could’ve sealed up in a little bottle and carried around me with forever.

“Well, I guess maybe part of it is making up for what the company
used
to do.”

The Major nods; “Sins of the past, and all that. William always hated that part of the business, you know.” He says, sitting forward in his chair and studying my face; “He’d certainly look at the new direction those boys of his are taking Archer Holdings in as the right move, I know that.”

“Do you sell guns, Dad?”

“Who told you that?”

“I’m seventeen, I’m not stupid,” I frown, crossing my arms; “Is it true?”

“Not everything is black and white, Quinn. Sometimes life is a bit more complicated than a yes or no.”

I’d never
liked
it, back then when we were younger and my Father’s constant absence from our lives to visit places like Kosovo, or Libya, or whatever other place in the world was busy killing each other. We all sort of
knew
that our Dad’s company sold arms, and while I was hardly
for
that, I also never really held onto that hate like Reagan had. But now, through Hudson and hearing more about the man we all wished we’d known better, there’s a cathartic sort of healing element to knowing that he’d actually been visiting those places to do the
opposite
of what we’d all just assumed he was doing.

“Your Father would be
very
pleased to hear about it” He smiles at me and shakes his head again; “But
my
, look at you, Quinn Archer. A doctor,
and
working for his company; he’d
love
it.” He leans forward and winks at me; “And again, I’m not William, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least
check in
with his daughters on his behalf.”
 

I grin and roll my eyes as I feel my cheeks burn a little; “Before you even ask it, no; no boyfriends.”

Major Lawson chuckles and shakes his head as he sits back in his chair; “I
had
to ask.”

I smile at him, “Let me guess; Dad left last will directions for you to have any ill-intend suitor sent to Guantanamo or something?”

He laughs deeply, the kind of laugh that sucks you right into it too, and he leans back again to wipe his eyes; “Something like that, yes.”

“Yeah, well, save your favor with the CIA; no boyfriends.”

“With
your
credentials and your mother’s looks?” The Major shakes his head; “What the hell is wrong with those idiots up there in New York?”

I snort; “I don’t even have
time
for dating! I mean first with the hospital work, and now the stuff with the outreach program, and then there’s
Logan-
”

The Major’s eyebrows twitch
just enough
for me to trip over my words, and I freeze.

“What about Logan?”

“Hmm?” I swallow, trying to make my face look as blank as possible; “Oh, nothing.”

Smooth, Quinn, so smooth.

“I just mean with him running the new healthcare program at Archer and everything; he keeps me pretty busy over there!”

The Major’s brow raises with jus the
slightest
hint of a smile on his face as he nods; “Logan’s a good man, you know.”

I laugh, maybe a bit too harshly and quickly than I mean to; “He’s, uh, he’s
something
alright.”

“He can be prickly”

I do hold back a snort this time, but Major Lawson chuckles; “You know, your father had a way of seeing things in people that others didn’t, including themselves.”

“Not everything is what it looks like on the outside, you know.”

So what is it that I see in Logan?
What can I possibly -
 

No.
I shake the thought from my head quickly. God, what am I
thinking
? I don’t see
anything
in Logan except a mistake I need to just put behind me and move on from. Except if that’s the case, why am I still dwelling on it? If Logan is such a cataclysmic and obvious bad decision, why am I having such a hard time getting him out of my damn head and just forgetting about the whole sordid thing?
 

I force myself to push the whole thing with Logan out of my head for the time being, and spend the next thirty minutes or so chatting with Major Lawson. But it’s right back there in my head the second I leave his office, it’s still floating around as I grab a coffee at a cafe down the street, and it’s still gnawing at me as I make my way over to the National Mall.
 

Ok, enough of this
, I finally think, setting my jaw and staring across the reflecting pool. One mistake
one
night is not going to mess with my head this much, and I decide right then and there that it’s time to just cut this whole thing loose and just
move on
.

Simple.

*****

“Been enjoying the view?”

I’m sitting on the steps near the top of the Lincoln Memorial when I turn to see Logan walking down towards me; “I
was
,” I say petulantly at him.

He smirks and nods his chin towards my chest; “Yeah, me too.”

I frown at his glance and look down to realize the top button of my shirt is open a bit more than it should be. I frown and try to shove the burning blush from my cheeks as I hastily button back up; “Do you
always
have to be the man-child?” I shake my head at him.

Logan shrugs, grinning at me; “Keep your shirt on and maybe I won’t stare so much.”

I roll my eyes; “Like it’s
my
fault my button came undone.”

“Like it’s
my
fault you’ve got great looking tits!”

The childish tete-a-tete comes to a screeching halt as we both glare at each other before turning away in silence.

Oh yeah, moving on is going swimmingly.

“So when’s our flight?” I say, hoping to change the subject; “I was wondering if I have time to get dinner here in D.C. before we head back.”

Logan shrugs; “I mean, it’s
my
plane.”

“Oh, is it?” I say with overly-dramatic mock surprise.

He grins; “I meant we can go whenever you want to.” He shrugs; “You know, we
could
also just stay the night; grab some dinner, a
hotel room-
”

“In your
dreams
, Logan.” I say, shaking my head, but also trying not to grin at just how damn shameless he is.

He laughs; “Hey, don’t flatter yourself, darlin; you get your own room.” He strokes his chin like he’s really pondering something; “Hmm, actually I wonder what Peyton is up to tonight.”

Just the
thought
of him doing something like that with
her
- heck, with
anyone
- has me seeing red, even though I
know
he’s just trying to get a rise out of me. I open and close my mouth a few times, before I just give up and shake my head at him. It’s
infuriating
how likable he is, even when he’s trying to get under my skin like this.

And deep down, I know that’s the problem here. On the surface, I’m basically spitting in his face every chance I get as if our little
run-in
from that night is entirely his fault. But I knew exactly what I was doing when I leaned into him that night, and I knew
damn well
where kissing a man that made me feel like that in the dead of night
in his bed
would lead. The wall I keep throwing up is more to save my own face than it is to keep him out, which is a moot point since all he has to do is grin at me before the whole thing comes crashing down anyways.
 

Logan laughs, and drapes his arm around my shoulders, and for the first time, I actually just let myself enjoy his company without worrying about trying to keep this tenuous wall up between us.
 

“You
really
are infuriating, you know that Logan?”

“Darlin, you have
no
idea.” He starts to lead us down the stairs; “Comon, let’s get some dinner somewhere and then
my plane
will
chauffeur
us home.”

I’m laughing, and actually enjoying a moment with Logan Dempsey, and then his phone rings. He frowns as he pulls it out of his pocket, and then his face goes dark and he swears under his breath as he looks at it.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

He shoves the phone back into his pocket and his arm drops quickly from my shoulder. Well, whatever it is has his mood changing like the flip of a coin.

“
What
?”

He turns and looks at me quickly; “It’s nothing, Quinn. Look, change of plans; we need to head back to New York, now actually.”

“Um, OK?”
 

His limo is already waiting by the curb as we leave the Mall, and he opens the door and quickly ushers me in.

“OK, what’s with the sudden flip-flop here?” I finally demand as we speed off back towards the airport.

“It’s nothing, Quinn; just leave it.” He mutters, staring out the window with a scowl as he taps his fingers agains the arm-rest in staccato beat.

“Well it
really does
seem like
something
, Logan.” I mutter out loud; “Look, stop with the stupid secret spy shit and just tell me why-”

“Just drop it,
OK
?!” He whirls and growls sharply at me, making me jolt upright. His mouth opens as if to say something, before he just shakes his head and turns to look out the window.

Well, hell; just when I’m ready to start figuring you out, Logan Dempsey
, I grumble to myself as D.C. flies past the windows of the car.

*****

He’s silent later, back on the plane as he just stares out the window at the evening clouds beneath us as we cruise back to New York. And there’s a bizarre sort of irony to the fact that I busted
him
staring at
me
on the trip here, and yet here I am doing the same thing back.

There’s a metaphor for this whole messed up relationship between us in there somewhere, but I’m too tired to even think about it. And really, “relationship” is
definitely
the wrong word for whatever is going on between Logan and I. We’re just two people - two
separate people
- who happened to cross paths in an unusual way. Maybe those paths got mixed up more than they should have, and maybe it’s a bit more complicated than either of us anticipated. But that doesn’t mean we can’t just get on our own paths again and just
move on
, right?

Logan closes his eyes and leans his forehead against the window next to him, and I catch myself wondering for the tenth time what’s gotten him this quiet and brooding and sullen, as opposed to the loud and obnoxious exuberance that usually defines him. But as I watch him, watch his brow crease as he frowns against the glass and against whatever demons are clawing through his head in that moment. I find myself wondering so much more about him. His sleeves are rolled up, showing the ink of his tattoos, and while some like the boxing gloves and the “semper fi” are obvious, there are other swirling images and effigies that have me curious about their meaning. What stories follow in Logan’s shadows that I don’t even have a clue about? What haunts him when he’s alone? And what else goes through his head?

Me?

I quickly roll my eyes at my own stupid thought and shake my head. No, that’s not a path I can let my mind wander down. Like I said, we’re just two people who found themselves on intersecting lines.

And now it’s time to move on.

I turn to stare out my own window, watching the vapor trails and cloud tails streak across the wing of the plane as we slide through the night back home; back to the confusion and unfinished conversations that will still be there when we get back.