Gene's POV
7:35 a.m. — South Carolina, Gene's Home
I stared at my phone.
Four calls. Not a single answer.
“Come on, Logan. Pick up.”
I shifted in my recliner, wincing when the movement pulled at my incision.
Almost three weeks since surgery,
And I was still spending more time in this damn chair than I cared to admit.
What bothered me most was knowing something was happening with Ava, and nobody had told me.
I tried Logan again.
Straight to voicemail.
“Damn it.”
I called my eldest son.
Dean answered on the third ring.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Dean. You heard from Logan?”
“Not recently. Why?”
“Because I've been trying to reach him for an hour.”
“Dad, he's probably busy.”
“Dean.”
A pause.
“What happened?”
“That's what I'm asking you.”
He sighed.
“Dad, don't get worked up. You're
