Logan's hand gently wrapped around hers. "It doesn't matter what he thinks right now."
His voice was calm, but unwavering. "He's grieving. And people in grief don't always know who they're throwing stones at. Even if you stayed and explained everything, he wouldn't hear it."
Jean looked down, her throat tightening. "But I feel like I failed Emma. I should've picked up the call. I should've known she was…"
"Stop," Logan said, his voice suddenly sharper, almost pained. "Don't do that. Don't carry guilt that doesn't belong to you."
He stepped in front of her, making her look up at him.
"You did everything you could. We both did. What happened to Emma isn't your fault. And whatever kind of man Morris Adams is… right now, he's just a father watching his daughter suffer. That rage wasn't truly meant for you. It was for himself. His regrets. His guilt. His cowardice."
Jean's eyes searched his. "So what do we do now?"
