Macie was infamous for her extraordinarily awful singing voice, a fact she drove home when she took it upon herself to sing “The National Anthem” at the annual Fourth of July picnic by the lake a few years earlier. Patriotism hit a new low as everyone in attendance burst out in hoots and hollers, laughing until their sides hurt at the painful performance. Which, of course, only encouraged an unoffended Macie to sign louder and to draw out the high notes longer.
“You’re tone deaf,” Logan added.
“I’ve been practicing in the shower. I really think I’m getting it. Tell them, Coop. You were here last week when I sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to Paige. Nailed it, didn’t I?”
Coop looked at her, frowning. “You were singing? I thought you’d burned yourself on one of the candles.”
Macie chucked a peanut at Coop’s head, which he deftly dodged. “To hell with all of you.” Then she launched right back into whatever story she’d been telling Coop before interrupting them. She was impossible to keep up with, but funny as hell.
Logan had avoided the restaurant for two weeks, trying to hide from Lacy. Now, he realized he’d missed it.
“Maybe we can find another banjo player, and I can do most of the lead vocals,” Tyson offered. “We all took turns at the mic anyway.”
“Tyson, I know you’ll probably find this hard to believe, but we weren’t that good.” It was a boldfaced lie. They were awesome. More than once, it had been suggested that they all quit their day jobs and pursue the music career full-time. None of them had been tempted. It was a passion that they all shared—on a hobby level.
Tyson chuckled. “Bullshit.”
“Why the big need to start it all up again? Aren’t you pretty busy these days?”
Dr. Tyson Sparks was the one who’d suggested they take a hiatus after Harley left. He was one of only two general practitioners who lived in Maris, while the nearest hospital resided nearly forty minutes away in the neighboring town of Douglas. As such, he was in constant demand, treating everything from cut fingers to the more serious medical concerns.
“I thought you might like the distraction,” Tyson explained.
“Distraction?” The only thing Logan needed to be distracted from was Lacy, but God help him if Tyson knew that. He was as overprotective of his cousins and sister, Paige, as Evan was.
“It was just a thought.”
It occurred to Logan that perhaps it was Tyson who needed the distraction. Logan had been walking around with his head up his ass for so many months, he’d failed to see Tyson was facing his own struggles as well.
“You miss Harley?”
“Is that really a question?”
“I’m sorry, man. Didn’t realize how rough it was on you. I miss her too.” He really did. Though her departure had been easier for him. He’d always hung out more with Evan than Caleb, Harley, and Tyson—who had been inseparable for most of their lives.
“It’s alright. Let’s face it. You took a double hit. I mean, Jane took off just a few weeks after Harley.”
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
Tyson placed a friendly, comforting hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Believe me, there are plenty of other women out there who would be lucky to have you. Jane didn’t deserve you.”
“Uh. Am I interrupting?”
Logan glanced over his shoulder to find Lacy standing next to him with her purse over her arm.
Great. From the look on her face, it was clear she’d heard Tyson’s comments and now she thought he’d been sitting here crying in his beer over Jane.
“No. You’re not,” Logan said, standing. He needed to get her out of here. Set things straight. “You ready?”
“You two going somewhere?” Tyson asked curiously.
“He fixed my chaise. We’re taking it back to my place,” Lacy replied. The happiness she’d shown when he had first arrived at the restaurant was gone, replaced by uncertainty.
“Need any help?” Tyson started to stand.
“No,” Logan said quickly. “It’s light. We can manage.”
He placed his hand at the base of Lacy’s spine and guided her to the door before Tyson could insist.