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Rachel was standing by the bed, and Logan was talking to her. Emma sat up and saw a folded cloth on Logan’s forehead.

“My mother used to do that a long, long, time ago,” Logan said.

“And my mother did it for me when I was sick, too,” Rachel answered as she felt his cheeks and neck. “Each time you feel a little cooler.”

“Are you a mother?” Logan asked.

“Yes. I’ll be right back with fresh water.”

Emma watched Rachel hurry out of the room with Logan’s pitcher of water.

“What was that all about?” she asked.

“She was putting a cold cloth on my head when I woke up, and it brought back some ancient memories. Her light touch and soothing voice…it was very odd.”

Emma was tempted to tell Logan who she was. He wouldn’t be suffering from a gunshot wound had it not been for her, and it was a way for Emma to pay him back. Still, she had a feeling it would not only set his recovery back, but he might lash out at poor Rachel, and she felt loyalty to both of them.

She put her head on the pillow beside his and studied him. He seemed more handsome to her each time she saw him. He needed a shave; the scruff gave him a manly look. She had the urge to hug him, but only because of the guilt she felt. Poor Logan.

“Thank you for staying with me,” Logan said, his eyes still closed.

“It’s the least I can do.”

“Stop saying that!”

Emma sat up. He sounded angry. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that, too.”

Emma didn’t know what to say. He’d been so sweet and gentle and now, he was angry.

“Maybe I should let you rest,” she said.

“Yes. You don’t need to sit with me out of guilt. I’ll welcome your company, but only if it’s because you really and truly want to be with me.”

Emma was speechless. She scrambled to her feet and left the room.

Chapter Fifteen

Logan felt exhausted, and his shoulder hurt like the dickens, but that was no excuse for lashing out at Emma. He’d been desperate to find out how she felt, but he wished he had been gentler about it. He knew she was angry and hurt because she hadn’t been back to see him all day. He wondered if she’d sleep beside him that night.

His motive for what he’d said to her was to find out how she felt about him without him having to tell her he was in love with her. He missed her company, but he had himself to blame. Why hadn’t he let things alone? He should have put more effort into treating her well and hope she’d fall in love with him, too. Patience was never his best trait.

How could he fix things?

When he was young, he never asked his father about his mother. He didn’t remember why—maybe it was because his father refused to talk about it. When he was about twelve, he came right out and asked him where his mother was and why she’d left them. His answer was, "I don’t know where she is, and she left me because she fell in love with my best friend." He refused to talk more about it, but that sentence had said it all.

It made Logan think about Emma and Alan. Could history repeat itself?

Logan pushed the quilt back, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stood. He pulled on his pants and left the room. He felt dizzy at first but thankfully, it passed. The shoulder was still sore, but the fever seemed like it was gone. There was no longer a reason for him to stay in bed.

He walked out of the room and followed the voices to the kitchen. He stood in the doorway and watched Emma and Alan playing poker. He was teaching her poker! That was something he’d wanted to do. They were laughing and having a good time and that bothered him. He cleared his throat, and they both looked up at him.

“Oh,” Emma said, “you’re up. How do you feel?”

“Care to join us?” Alan said.

“I feel fine. I see you two are having a good time. I’d hate to interrupt.”

“Don’t be silly,” Emma said. “It will be fun. Have a seat.”

Rachel came into the room and felt Logan’s forehead. “Great,” she said. “You’re cool.”

“I’m in need of some fresh air,” Logan said.

“I’ll sit with you on the front porch, if you'd like,” Rachel said. She tucked her arm in his and led him to the porch.

He sat in the rocker, and she took the wicker chair. He took several deep breaths of air.

“I love this porch,” Rachel said.

“You’ve made it special with the flowers and bird feeders.”

“I have my coffee here every morning. I love sitting and listening to the birds.”

They sat in silence for several moments.

“What’s bothering you, Logan?” Rachel asked.

Logan thought her perceptive even as he’d tried to hide his problem. “How much time has Emma spent with my best friend?”

Rachel turned to face him. “Hardly any time at all. She was with you most of the time. This afternoon was the first she’s been with him.” She paused before saying, “Are you jealous of Alan?”

Logan reluctantly nodded. “She seems to prefer his company, and in a way, I don’t blame her. Alan is a fun person to be with. He can have a good time anywhere.”

“Logan, she asked Alan to teach her to play poker so she could surprise you. She wants to play it with you.” She reached over and patted his hand. “I don’t think you should worry about it.”

“My mother left my father for his best friend, and I wondered if it could happen to me.”

Rachel let out a small

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