UNBROKEN PROMISE

~27~ Pain And Guilt

Logan's POV

The barn was still and quiet after Oma left, but I stayed seated in the old chair, my elbows resting on my knees as I stared at the broken feed scoop on the ground. My hand still tingled faintly from the spanking, and the sound of her sobs echoed in my mind like a weight I couldn’t shake. I sat there, letting the silence stretch around me, trying to collect my thoughts.

I hated every part of it—seeing her cry, hearing her voice crack as she apologized, feeling her tremble over my lap. I hated that I had to be the one to discipline her. But I also hated the lie. Trust wasn’t something I gave easily, and lies, no matter how small, threatened the fragile foundation we were trying to build. If I let it slide, what kind of message would that send?

But knowing it was necessary didn’t make it any easier.

I let out a long breath and stood, my boots crunching against the dirt floor as I walked out of the barn. The cool evening air hit my face, but it did little to calm the storm of guilt and frustration swirling inside me. I knew Oma wasn’t used to this life yet—being out here, living under my rules, adjusting to everything she’d lost. And yet, I still expected her to follow the boundaries I’d set. Maybe it wasn’t fair to her, but I didn’t know any other way to do things.

When I reached the house, I stepped through the kitchen door, expecting her to still be upstairs resting, but there she was. She stood near the dining table, a cup of water clutched tightly in her hands. Her head was down, her dark cornrows hanging forward and shielding her face, but I saw the way her shoulders stiffened the moment she noticed me. She glanced up for the briefest moment, her green eyes wide with nervousness, before quickly lowering her gaze again. Her hands tightened around the glass, her fingers trembling slightly.

I leaned against the counter, crossing my arms as I looked at her. She looked so small, so fragile—like she might break under the weight of everything she carried. It made my chest ache in a way I wasn’t used to, but I didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t know how to reach her.

"You can relax a bit," I said finally, my voice gruff but not unkind. "Take some time before you head back out to help Mama Becca with dinner."

She nodded quickly, still not looking at me. Her silence weighed heavier than her tears had, and for a moment, I thought about saying more, about trying to reassure her. But the words got stuck in my throat, and instead, I turned and walked out the door, heading toward the porch.

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The breeze was cool as I stepped outside, the stars beginning to scatter across the darkening sky. I leaned against the porch railing, staring out at the distant hills as I tried to sort through the mess of emotions inside me. Guilt gnawed at the edges of my thoughts, whispering that I’d been too hard on her. That she was already dealing with enough without me adding to her burdens.

But another part of me—the part shaped by years of ranch work and hard lessons—knew I couldn’t let emotions dictate my actions. Oma needed structure. She needed to know she could trust me, and that trust had to go both ways. Lying, even about something as small as a feed scoop, couldn’t be allowed to take root.

Still, the memory of her tear-streaked face, her trembling voice as she said she was scared of me being mad—it sat in my chest like a stone. I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I didn’t want her scared of me. Respect, yes. But fear? That wasn’t what I wanted.

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Oma's POV

When Logan left the kitchen, I stood there for a moment, clutching the empty glass as his words echoed in my head. Take some time. As if time would erase the sting in my heart, or the burning shame that came with knowing I’d disappointed him.