CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Hana slept late on Saturday, not stirring until after nine. She reached across the bed and her fingers contacted cold, empty space. Signs of a hasty breakfast included crumbs on the table and she wandered around the house looking for Logan.
As she reached the garage, Hana heard the gate alarm sound overhead. She hid on the stairs and watched the automatic door lift. The Honda swept down the slope and into the garage and she stood in her fluffy dressing gown and slippers feeling foolish.
“Hey, babe.” Logan leapt from the car, seizing her in a hug and kissing her forehead. He smelled of fresh air and exuded triumph.
“Where did you go?” Hana wrapped her arms around herself, ready for his rebuff. Instead, he walked to the rear door of the car.
He produced tins of pain
