Hard Ass in Love

by Sasha Burke

  His attention is wholly focused on Hannah, concern etched into his features.

  “Oh my gosh, Dad, why didn’t you tell me Nicole knew Mom?” Fortunately, she doesn’t actually wait for an answer, choosing instead to run over to sit on the seat beside me. “Did you go to high school with them, too?”

  I shake my head. “No, I met your mom in college. We were dorm mates.”

  “That’s so cool. So, you guys were close.” She rolls her eyes. “Well, duh, of course you were. You were a bridesmaid.” Jumping up excitedly, she claps her hands and runs over to a nearby display cabinet. “That means you were in the wedding photos.”

  Before she can make it all the way to the cabinet, however, Hannah stops suddenly to grip the kitchen counter, face pale as a ghost, eyes shut tight.

  “Hannah!” I rush forward with Carol and Logan right on my tail.

  “I’m okay.” She opens her eyes slowly, her coloring tinged with green. “I just got super dizzy.”

  Logan quickly scoops her up into his arms. “That’s because you’re supposed to be in bed, missy. You had a rough night.”

  “But, I’m hungry,” replies Hannah, frowning. “And a little bored.”

  Logan perches Hannah on one hip and reaches for the soup container I brought. “Nicole has some soup for you.” He places it on a tray with a spoon and a bottle of Gatorade. “You can eat the soup in bed and watch a movie on my iPad. But no more coming downstairs, you hear me, squirt? I don’t want you taking a tumble. Next time, you call me if you need anything. I’ll be your personal butler until you’re feeling better.”

  “Can my butler bring me ice cream instead?” she negotiates with big, beseeching eyes like the fabulous nine-year-old she is. “Folks on TV always eat ice cream when they’re sick.”

  “If you want to have another projectile vomiting fiesta, sure,” says Logan matter-of-factly.

  His mother and I stifle a chuckle when Hannah groans and slaps a hand over her mouth. “Never mind,” she squeaks. “Soup is good.”

  “You sure?” prods Logan never breaking form as he carries her up the stairs. “We could put sprinkles on the ice cream to make the vomit really extra colorful this time.”

  “Dad! Gross!”

  He continues this all the way until they’re out of earshot.

  I shake my head. “He’s so great with her.”

  “That he is,” agrees Carol.

  I turn to face her. “It’s nice to see you again, Carol. I know we only spoke a couple of times at the wedding and rehearsal dinner. I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

  “Oh, I never forget a face, dear.”

  Yeah, I really should’ve heeded Logan’s silent advice to escape when I had the chance.

  “So…you and my son?”

  “Are friends,” I fill in firmly.

  “And yet, this is the first I’m hearing about you since Hannah was born.”

  The reason why that is crashes over me like a wave of shame.

  I first met Janine during freshman orientation back at Stanford. We’d hit it off immediately and gotten pretty close that year. So much so that we decided to room together the following year.

  While I’d never had a best friend—my parents thought it silly and unnecessary to analyze or measure friendship on a scale in that way—Janine was definitely the closest thing I had to it.

  That said, when she and Logan got pregnant during our junior year and she told me she wouldn’t be coming back to finish her degree, I admit, I could’ve been a better friend to her. I should’ve told her that being a mom was of course more important than getting her business degree like she’d always wanted.

  But I didn’t.

  I believe my exact words were that it’d be a ‘waste’ for her not to complete her schooling.

  I don’t know that I’ll ever forgive myself for saying that.

  Not that it’s any excuse, but I can honestly say I didn’t know better back then. It’s what I was raised to understand was important. Both my parents were accomplished scientists with a ton of initials after their names. I never grew up seeing my finger paintings or gold star work on the fridge. It was always their accomplishments they made a fuss over, their life in academia they discussed. To show me what to aspire to, what was important.

  I wasn’t taught otherwise until the day Janine didn’t wake up after her emergency C-section. That was the day I learned what was really important.

  “I don’t think Logan ever forgave me for what I said to Janine,” I tell Carol.

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” says Logan from the bottom of the staircase. “A lot of other folks told her the same thing.”

  I can hear in his voice that he’s being truthful. Which makes me thoroughly confused. All this time, I thought the reason why he’d kept his distance from me was because he hated me for what I’d said.

  “But—” I stare back at him, wanting to understand, but not wanting to dredge up old memories for him.

  “I wasn’t thrilled you’d said that to Janine. But I understood. Janine was honestly better in business school than I was,” he explains with a wistful smile, which quickly transforms into a deadly serious stare. “The only thing I won’t forgive is if I find out Hannah ever hears what you said. That’s the reason why I’ve kept our past swept under a rug all this time. To make certain she doesn’t.”

  Oh. Jesus, that makes sense.

  He drills me with a hard look. “I never want my little girl to think her birth was anything but a gift that everyone we knew was ecstatic and supportive of. Do you hear me? What I just told her upstairs is that you got busy with your last year of college and grad school so we simply lost touch after her mother died. I know you don’t like to lie, but none of that is untruthful. So that’s all she needs to ever know about this topic. Are we clear?”

  Crystal. “You have my word.”

  He points a stern finger at me. “And you can’t go all shrinky about this stuff. Okay?”

  I tilt my head sympathetically. “Logan, I think you and I both know I can’t possibly promise such a thing.”

  Carol bursts out laughing. “Oh, my. You’re a fun one.”

  The genuine approval in her tone is a welcome surprise. I’d only met Logan’s parents briefly, but I do remember how similar they’d been to Janine’s parents. Warm, nurturing, openly affectionate.

  All the things my parents weren’t.

  I still remember the night I’d stayed over at Janine’s parents’ home a couple days before the wedding along with Janine and the other bridesmaids. I’d never gone to a sleepover before that, and truth be told, it was a bit like staying up all night with a bunch of aliens…in the coziest little cottage imaginable.

  To me, that cottage had been fairytale perfect. The other bridesmaids had been gossiping about how Logan had offered to buy Janine’s parents a mansion as a reverse wedding gift, and how crazy it was that they’d turned down his generous offer.

  Meanwhile, I’d spent the night walking around, cataloging all the homey smells wafting from the kitchen, all the old crayon scribbles on the walls, and all the family photos proudly displayed on every available surface.

  That cottage had been a true home, not just a house like the one I grew up in.

  And it was clear Janine had been a well-loved child, not just an offspring like I’d been.

  The day Janine passed away, I remember screaming inside at the universe for being so paradoxically unfair. For not even letting her see her child. A child I knew without a doubt she’d already loved more than my parents had ever loved me.

  I’m fairly certain that moment was when the old Nicole died. Right there in the hospital alongside her friend.

  Given the trajectory of my own life before that moment, I’d been on track to end up like my parents, I’m sure, focused more on a lasting legacy than a strong family.

  A home, not just a house...

  Children, not just offspring...

  A family, not a legacy...


  Janine’s chance to have all that had been stolen from her; I didn’t want ignorance to keep me from mine.

  After that, my metamorphosis progressed pretty quickly.

  For one, I switched my major to psychology—much to my parents’ disdain. They never were a fan of the social sciences. Not surprisingly, they haven’t talked to me much since.

  I imagine they’d hate knowing I was spending most of my days in a climbing gym instead of in a lab or a lecture hall. But, I wouldn’t have my life any other way. Climbing helped transform my career and me in more ways than I can count.

  In that sense, stumbling upon Logan’s gym while I was doing my post-grad training had been pure kismet. I’d had no idea he’d started a climbing franchise, let alone the biggest, most successful one in the state. Like he said, we’d lost touch completely. In fact, it wasn’t until a few weeks after I’d gotten my membership and started seriously considering using it for therapy sessions when I first ran into him.

  He didn’t speak to me that first day, and I didn’t blame him for not wanting to. It took a while, but eventually, he did talk to me. Sort of. He gave me pointers on my climbing at least, nothing more. We didn’t bring up the past; we didn’t chitchat. I could tell he thought I was strange. But, over time, things went from awkward to civil. And then from cordial to what it is now.

  And in that time, I’ve watched him be an incredible dad to Hannah. Janine would’ve been so proud. If she were still alive today, I have no doubt in my mind that the pair would be one of those perfect power parenting couples all of us mere mortals aspire to become.

  I gaze sadly at the memorial of Janine over the mantle next to the dining room, lovingly adorned with artwork Hannah had made for her over the years.

  “Janine would’ve been such a wonderful mother to Hannah,” I whisper then, voicing the thoughts I’ve long held.

  Feeling Carol’s eyes on me, I turn back to her and smile. “The kind of mother you were to Logan, I’m sure…the kind of strong female role model every kid deserves.”

  “Mom,” says Logan, breaking the silence that follows. “Did Nicole tell you that she works with students in her therapy practice?”

  I feel like he’s defending me. And I don’t feel worthy of it. At least the old Nicole doesn’t.

  His jaw is locked, his expression firm, brooking no argument. “Nicole is amazing with them. I’ve admired her for years. What she’s able to accomplish with those kids, I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

  I blink, startled.

  “That’s why she’s the only person outside of family I’d ever entrust Hannah’s safety to.”

  10

  * * *

  | NICOLE |

  “Well, that’s quite the character reference,” says Carol, pulling me out of the trance that Logan’s words had put me in. “You must be quite the psychologist.”

  “I’m a therapist, actually, specializing in experiential therapy, which basically focuses more on doing rather than talking.”

  “How fascinating. And you work with young children?”

  “More teens and pre-teens. After my master’s, I applied for a part-time resource position with the public school system here. They assigned me to travel to middle schools and high schools all across the district three days a week to counsel students having difficulties. And I’ve been re-upping that temp contract ever since.”

  How could I not? I get to help students learn how to build themselves up when they felt low, make themselves feel whole again even if they’ve never known the feeling. Next to climbing, it’s the best feeling ever.

  I smile, reminiscing about how I got started. “I actually first decided to start a tiny private practice partly so I could keep my part-time job, funnily enough. Mostly college and homeschool kids on the days I wasn’t doing school visits. But then, most of my other students started coming in afterschool and on the weekends to try my climbing-based sessions outdoors and at Logan’s gym. After that, my practice just took off.”

  As I talk, Logan stands off to the side, observing me intently the entire time. It’s unnerving. The man has always had this presence about him that takes him from merely handsome to devastatingly striking.

  Oy, what an entirely inappropriate observation to be making at the moment.

  I quickly return to the topic at hand. “I actually have Logan to thank for a lot of my success,” I inform Carol. “He actually waives the membership fees for the students who do therapy sessions with me.”

  Carol nods approvingly at her son. “Good boy.” She goes over and pats him on the head. “Your mother raised you right.”

  Logan rolls his eyes.

  I chuckle.

  It’s no wonder he’s such a great dad.

  I fully prescribe to the notion of nurture over nature. And since it’s more than evident that his mere existence is one of the highlights of his parents’ lives, the fact that he raises Hannah in the same fashion is no surprise.

  I can honestly say I’ve never met a parent who actually misses their kid quite so much when they’re at their grandparents, not the way Logan does. Though it’s only one weekend night a week, I’ve seen the man get seriously bummed out when she’s not around.

  It’s almost unbearably swoonworthy to witness.

  Carol grabs the chair next to me. “So, I take it you’re helping Hannah with her bullying problem?”

  “Not directly, no. And not officially, either. I simply volunteered to work with her a bit.”

  “Twisted my arm is more accurate,” chimes in Logan from the kitchen.

  Carol pats me on the hand. “Well, I’m glad you did. Hannah just hasn’t been the same since the incident. She was always painfully shy in public to begin with, but after that horrifying prank those awful older kids did to her, she definitely became more withdrawn.”

  Shaking her head with disgust, she adds angrily, “Personally, I think the students getting expelled wasn’t nearly a harsh enough punishment. They didn’t even know her. They only targeted Hannah because her father’s a billionaire; what a ridiculous reason to torment a child.”

  I do a double take. Logan failed to mention that very important detail. Now I understand why it was so hard for him to talk to me about it.

  “Hang on.” Carol peers over at Logan in astonishment. “Are you actually going to let Hannah climb as part of her therapy with Nicole?”

  “It isn’t therapy,” Logan and I say in unison.

  “And yes,” he answers. “I am going to let her climb. If she wants to.”

  “How exciting. Can Phil and I come by to watch? When will it be? After school?”

  “The weekend would be better,” says Logan.

  “Then that narrows it down to a Saturday,” I tell Carol. “I have a strict no-work policy on Sundays.”

  “Oh, do you go to church, dear?”

  “If you consider the NFL a religion, sure.” I grin.

  Logan lets out a surprised chuckle. “You’re preaching to the right choir with this family. Hannah’s been watching football with me since she was born.”

  “Lucky girl. I only started in college, but I’ve been a diehard San Fran fanatic ever since.”

  “So, you’re a 49ers fan,” says Logan. “Hmm.”

  I’m not liking the sound of that. “Aren’t you?” I ask, in a tone that clearly states any response other than ‘hell yes’ is totally unacceptable.

  “Sorry, I’ve been a Broncos fan since birth.”

  I think my ears may be bleeding. “But you grew up in the Bay Area just like I did.”

  “We only moved out here to California when I was in grade school. My dad’s originally from Colorado, making me a second-generation Broncos fan.” He grins. “And Hannah a third.”

  “You mean you’re brainwashing your child to support an inferior team?” The poor girl.

  “You do realize the Broncos have been to more Super Bowls than the 49ers,” he argues, looking thoroughly entertained over how huffy I’m gett
ing.

  “But San Fran has won more Super Bowls,” I throw back at him. “Which only proves your team is better at losing.”

  “At least we won our last time at the Super Bowl. How did the last one work out for you guys again?”

  I glare at him. “You’re pissing me off. And I don’t need that kind of negative energy going into a climb. So, no more talking for the next…” I mentally check my gym schedule. “Twenty-two hours.”

  “Interesting. Can’t go a whole twenty-four without talking to me, huh?”

  I stay true to my radio silence, refusing to let him goad me. All the while, my heart is starting to thump a little faster in my chest. I’m not used to this teasing side of him. It’s dangerous, unchartered. And so freaking fun.

  As he continues to stare at me in amusement, I determinedly bat away the butterflies taking flight in my belly and thank Carol for the lovely visit, pointedly giving Logan my back the entire time. Much to his visible enjoyment.

  As I drive over from Logan’s home to the climb site where I’m meeting my group, I ponder his question. Now that I’ve been talking to the man regularly, truthfully, I don’t believe I’d enjoy not being able to talk to him for an entire day.

  Not that there’s any way I’m going to admit such a thing to a Broncos fan.

  11

  * * *

  | LOGAN |

  I should’ve rescheduled this site visit.

  With the construction for my newest U.S. climbing gym in Vegas in its final phase, I know it’s important that I be here since I’m a stickler for details. But, frankly, both my focus and my mood has been shit the entire time.

  It’s no big secret that I’m not a fan of traveling. It’s always been a hard rule of mine not to go out of town more than a few days at a time and never two weeks in a row. Dad first, billionaire second. Always.

  The folks I do business with complain at times that I’m difficult to work with as a result, but I don’t give a damn. What’s the point in being successful if I can’t prioritize my life as a dad?