I didn’t know what to say. The shadows in Logan’s eyes made it clear he didn’t enjoy taking a life, but he also made it clear that he had killed, more than once. And it wasn’t like he was an FBI agent who could go get his demons out with a government psychologist. Logan’s only outlet was his music. No wonder anger and pain ran through so many of his songs. I wanted to help ease his burden, but how? I gnawed my lower lip as I stared at the forest passing by my window. “I’m sorry about earlier. I had no right to ask you that.” “Don’t worry about it.” His voice was deep and cold. It was probably good that I couldn’t see his face. “I’m excited about the concert.” Not my smoothest change of subject, but it was too late now. “Me, too.” I glanced over at him. “Madison is going to come with me.”
