The waitress brought our coffee. Logan wrapped both hands around his cup.
“Chelsea thinks you have money you never told us about,” he said.
I didn’t say anything.
“She says those notices could only happen if you had some kind of big account.”
“I have savings.”
“How much?”
“That’s not the question.”
“It is to me.”
“No,” I said. “The question is why you believed I was obligated to keep paying for your life after you made it clear I wasn’t welcome in it.”
His mouth opened. Then closed.
The noise of the coffee shop filled the space between us.
“I didn’t know you felt that way,” he finally said.
“You knew enough to look away, Logan.”
He sat with that.
When we stood up to leave, he offered to drive me home.
“I’ll take a cab.”
“Dad. Let me do one thing for you.”
“You can do something for me.”
“What?”
“Go home and decide what kind of man you want to be when this is over.”
He looked at me, startled.
“I’m not asking you to choose between Chelsea and me,” I said. “I’m asking you to stop choosing silence.”
His eyes went glassy. He blinked it away.
“I don’t want to lose you, Dad.”
“You already lost the version of me who stayed quiet to keep the peace.”
He nodded slowly.
“I understand.”
“I hope you do.”
What happened next, I only found out later. Logan told me himself, months afterward.
He drove home. Chelsea was sitting at the kitchen island surrounded by unopened mail. The three envelopes were lined up in a neat row on the granite. Like putting them in order might make what was inside less frightening.
“What did he say?” she asked.
“He said the agreements are legal. He won’t talk about how much money he has.”
“So he admitted there’s an account.”
“Of course there’s an account. He’s an accountant. He had investments.”
“Not like this,” Chelsea said. “The bank officer called me this afternoon. He said your father’s collateral file is being reviewed.”
“Did he say how much?”
“No.”
“Then stop guessing.”
She turned away. But not before Logan saw the fear on her face.
“He made us look cruel,” she said.
“You told him to stay in his room, Chelsea.”
“I was trying to avoid an argument in front of everybody.”
“You said it in front of everybody.”
“I know what I said.”
“And I just sat there.”
Chelsea folded her arms. “You didn’t defend him either.”
“I know.”
That took the fight right out of her.
Sophia Rivers is an experienced News Content Editor with a sharp eye for detail and a passion for delivering accurate and engaging news stories. At TheArchivists, she specializes in curating, editing, and presenting news content that informs and resonates with a global audience.
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