Logan’s mother’s voice, frostier than usual, came out of his cell phone as Logan was pulling away from the drive-through at the local bakery. He’d woken up starving, and after deciding he wasn’t about to rummage around in Paige’s kitchen—at least not until she invited him—he’d hit on Delilah’s as a great place to pick up a casual, morning-after breakfast. He’d had a few moments of concern when faced with what kind of pastry to buy—it had been nine years, after all, and he didn’t have a clue if Paige’s tastes were the same. In the end, he’d ordered a whole bakery box worth of stuff, figuring Luke could start in on anything his mother didn’t like. “I was going to stop by later today and talk to you,” he answered. Which was true, though he had been putting it off. He knew his mother was going to have a million questions about Luke—and twice that many opinions—and he hadn’t been ready to deal with it. Not yet, when he didn’t have the answers to many of those questions himself.
