Contents

Note

Playlist

Legacy Series Family Tree

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

About the Author

What’s Next in the First series?

Acknowledgments

His First Crush (First Series, Book Two)

Copyright © 2018 by MJ Fields.

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design and book formatting by Juliana Cabrera, Jersey Girl Design

Edited by C&D Editing

First Edition: February 2018

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

NOTE

To the reader,

First, if you haven’t read Her First Kiss, you’re going to want to do that. So STOP and go grab it, read it, and then come back to read the rest of London and Logan’s long awaited story of love.

Love you...more,

MJ

PLAYLIST

The Flame by Cheap Trick

Don’t Know What You Got (Till It’s Gone) by Cinderella

Too Much To Ask by Niall Horan

Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover by Halestorm

Him& I by G-Eazy ( Halsey)

Into You by Ariana Grande

Hall of Fame by The Script

Move Along by The All- American Rejects

Perfect by Ed Sheeran

To my readers old and new.

First loves are without doubt my favorite to write. That moment when someone realizes they have found someone who will forever change them and leave a lasting footprint on their heart.

When you find it, embrace it.

If you lose it, realize you are not alone.

When it happens again, know you are truly blessed.

Love is a beautiful thing.

CHAPTER ONE

Hope, Chance, and Happenstance

Logan

What the hell does a twenty-three-year-old “player” know about love? No more than the rest of the damn world, but at least I can admit it.

Love’s a fucking game. Its players are hope, chance, and happenstance.

Hope that it’s reciprocated and that those in the game have the common goal to win—I’ve seen the strongest teams lose to love.

Chance is pure coincidence that you’re at the right place at the right time, together—doesn’t happen often.

Happenstance is a fucking fluke, normally crushed by love.

I know I love my family, but if they weren’t my family, I wouldn’t know them, let alone love them. I would have been born to another, who I would have loved because they were my family.

I know I see love in the eyes of my sister Ava. For her children, she would do anything for them. Hell, she would die for them, so would I.

Right before Christmas, Dad and I went to Brooklyn, where she and Thomas, the man she was planning to marry who was killed in an accident, were building a life. She was holed up in their flat with the twins, Chance and Hope, doing something she considered living, but she clearly wasn’t truly living, not the way she should have been.

You see, her first love was Luke Lane. They fucked around on the sly for years until he broke her heart after she admitted sex wasn’t really all she wanted from him, that she had secretly loved him all her life.

It all started when they hooked up one summer night when he was home on leave and she had just graduated high school. For seven years, when he was home on leave, they continued to do so. When she graduated law school, passed her bars, and had her feet planted firmly, she admitted she wanted more, that she in fact loved him.

He ditched her.

Unbeknownst to them, however, he left a little bit of himself behind. Chance, their son.

The night after Luke broke her heart and left a little bit of himself behind, Thomas Hardy, drummer for The Burning Souls, was home for Christmas. He confessed his love for her. Ava and he slept together. He also left a little something brewing, as well. How fucked up is that?

Hope is Thomas’s.

Apparently, Thomas lied to her and told her the paternity test she had done while pregnant said he was the father of both the children.

Then, the same night Thomas died, Luke was in an explosion. The stress Thomas’s death caused had Ava going into labor. She delivered the babies soon thereafter.

When the facts surfaced about Chance and Hope not having the same father, she was so afraid of judgment and what it would do to them, to all of us—those who were very close with the Lane family—she hid it. In her grief, in her fear, in her overwhelming challenge of being a new mom, she pushed us all away.

When Luke healed and put two and two together, he finally stepped up, and yeah, he admitted he loved her. Ava being Ava, she pushed him away...until she couldn’t.

So, yeah, I know that love is real, but really fucked up. It’s not all happy ever afters, and it can crush a person. The only crushing I want to do is on the field.

I know I love my father. As annoyed as I am with him right now, as I run on the treadmill, trying not to fucking explode, I know that man loves hard, so hard. So fucking hard he’s running beside me in jeans and a fucking sweatshirt, which pisses me off and makes me eternally grateful at the same damn time.

I know I love my mother. Admittedly, as a kid, I was a momma’s boy. I loved the way she doted on me. The way she told me that one day I was going to grow into a man who was even better than my dad. The way she needed me. The way she praised me for every little thing I did. The way she looked at me was with pride and adoration.

She would lay in bed with me every night, reading to me. One book in particular is in the forefront of my mind, Love You Forever. I remember when it finally clicked that the book, was about a son growing up and moving away. That the woman snuck into his place and rocked him every night as an adult. And that when she was too sick and too old, he had to take care of her.

I never told her, but I loved her enough that I knew I would someday take care of her like that.

Little boys and their fucking moms. They either make you a good man or break you so that you just don’t know how to be.

She broke me. She wrecked me with the lies she told me, trying to villainize a man I look up to. She told me he and Tessa, his now wife, had been messing around for years. It made me question him. It made me question love and what the hell it was supposed to be between a man and a woman.

Every day of my life, I saw him treat my mother like gold, treat us all like we were everything to him. I felt duped, and any idea of growing up, falling in love with someone who I could one day get married to, have a family with, became a joke. At the same time, as all that happened, I dated a girl, who was not my first fuck, but she was into me, and when I was physically in her, I started to understand why Dad was good to Mom, even if it wasn’t her that he loved.

Sex.

Fucking.

Getting hot and sweaty.

Feeling that heat inside you, surrounding you, became a replacement to a boy who was confused by the emotional part of love, because Mom and Dad, they clearly hadn’t figured it the fuck out.

I needed her physically which, even though I didn’t love her, was enough to put up with a whole lot of fucking shit. Until she told me she was knocked up.

She wasn’t. I knew damn well she wasn’t. Dad had filled my nightstand, glovebox, and pockets with condoms since I started fucking. Hell, I didn’t have a clue how he knew I was, but he did. I never went in without one.

She told me one broke once when I was drunk. I knew better.

I took her to the clinic immediately, and she tested negative.

I broke up with her a week later.

No way was I ready to be a dad, and no way was I in love with her.

Then...well, then Mom started crying and my parents became distant. She went to Jersey more often to visit her family, and Dad wasn’t going nearly as much. I figured out pretty quickly that I was her little fucking scapegoat on trips to Jersey, not wanting her to go alone. This was where she was meeting her lover while I was dealing with the biggest asshole on the planet—my grandfather Landon and his fake bullshit.

I love her anyway.

You don’t have to like someone to love them. I figured that out over the few weeks I spent in the city, trying to get her to step up her mom game for Ava, for Chance, for Hope...and for fucking me.

Didn’t work. Fucking Senator Big Head, her new husband, kept interfering. Asked me to come work with him. I told him to fuck off. Mom didn’t like that all too much. I told her to fuck off, too.

I spent two days at Ava’s old place, surrounded by shit she left behind when she finally agreed to come home and face the music, wondering how the fuck a woman could walk away from her kids. Then I realized she couldn’t, not the woman who raised me. So, I kept fucking trying.

Still didn’t work. But, at least I knew the last time I was there, she wasn’t as cold. She looked affected, and she hasn’t been lately. By affected, I mean when I pushed him out of the way and burst into the penthouse, while he screamed at me that she was sleeping, she came out of her room and hugged me.

“I’m sorry, Logan,” she whispered as she hugged me. “I love you, and I’m sorry, but it has to be this way now.”

His fucking security guy came rushing in and almost put his hands on me.

Almost.

I would have killed the fucker, but when Mom told him that I would leave on my own, there wasn’t shit I could say or do.

Hurt as fuck, I left.

And no, I didn’t tell her I loved her, even after I heard her sob as I walked out.

I increase the speed and push myself harder, trying to outrun what happened over the past few weeks while I was in New York City, trying to outrun the fact that, just a few hours ago, I drove into a building that was full of people, innocent fucking people, being shot up because some motherfucker was too much of a pussy to end his miserable existence before killing twenty-seven people, and forever changing the lives of everyone there at that bar, having a good time. Changing the lives of everyone who watched the live feeds on Facebook as partygoers used their cameras to share the chaos. I won’t even try to wrap my head around why they would do that. We’re not all the same, but fuck, some of those clips on the news showed people getting mowed down.

I increase the treadmill to the max, because now I have to outrun her and her fucking lips on his within less than an hour after I admitted to fucking loving her, not knowing if I would have the chance to say it when I knew it was the right time—we might not have made it out.

I should have known not one good thing comes from that type of admittance, not one that fucking lasts anyway. She fucking kissed that bitch Fletcher.

I see Dad stop and hear him yell something, so I tune back into the here and now.

“No cameras!”

He gets off the machine and stalks toward the news crews who made their way into the gym. I’m sure some idiot let them slip in behind them.

“Logan Links, we just have a couple questions,” they say as Dad forces them back as if he’s the entire defensive line.

Pussies.

I shut off my machine, grab my hoodie, and throw it on. Then Dad and I push past them and walk outside to more cameras, lights, and news people yelling questions.

We keep walking. Anyone who gets in our way, they are quick to move. Neither one of us are stopping.

As we are almost to Dad’s vehicle, I hear her name.

“Logan, was London Fields inside the club, daughter of Brody Hines and—”

I turn quickly, ready to lay him out, when Dad grabs my fist mid-throw.

“In the SUV. They aren’t worth it.”

“She’s enrolled here at SU, under the name of Elle—”

I lunge forward, and Dad’s chest crashes into mine. He pushes me back.

I look over my shoulder when the door opens from inside. “Come on, Logan. You need some rest.”

Tessa.

In the car, Dad whizzes through the streets and gets on the ramp for 81 southbound. I don’t even have to ask where we are going.

Home.

Tessa is on the phone in the back seat, talking to whom I assume is Emma.

“We’re on our way,” she whispers. “I agree. Maddox and Harper’s have the best security and is far off the road.” She sighs. “We’ll see you in about an hour.”

Dad clamps his hand on my shoulder. “Get some sleep, Logan. It’s going to be a busy day tomorrow.”

I want to tell him to fucking sleep, which would be stupid since he’s driving, but I’m sure as hell not thinking straight.

When I close my eyes, the darkness behind them is filled with her.

In the dark, the lines between love and hate become blurred.

Love?

What a bunch of shit.

I want to know how the hell I let it happen, so I think back...

§

“Tell me I look pretty.”

When she asks me to tell her that, I think she’s being a smart ass. I think she’s being...London.

She leans in and pushes up on her toes, like she does when she dances in those shoes—it’s called dancing pointe. Yeah, I checked it out. Curious is all...Not true—that move is badass.

When she whispers it again, her cheek pressed against mine, it’s almost a plea.

“You know damn well you do.” My fucking voice is hoarse, rough...different.

She grabs my earlobe between her teeth and tugs.

Chicks get chills and butterflies, not guys. Well, at least not me...until really fucking recently, with her.

“Tell me.”

I try to pull it together. I also try to let her know with a look that it’s not okay for her to look that damn good when she’s around assholes like that bitch boy Fletcher, or the whole fucking SU campus, or my damn team.

“You look too good to be here with all those fuckers.”

She shocks me when she takes my hands that are all fisted up, because I know I need to control them, and puts them on her hips. She’s taking charge, and not just in words, like she tries to do when she thinks she’s being a badass, but in actions. Fucking plural.

“Logan, tell me.” She runs her tongue down my neck.

Game on.

I am toeing the line, waiting for the snap. If I don’t keep my shit together, hold steady, I am going to get a flag on the play.

Her eyes, though, they are begging in a way I have never seen. She isn’t London with the little buds and a sassy attitude. She’s like Taylor Hill on the runway at a Victoria’s Secret fashion show, and I am feeling like a fourteen-year-old boy who’s about ready to run from the living room to the bathroom to hide my chub and jerk off to that image.

But I can’t run. I should. Instead, I tell her the truth.

“You look sexy.”

“You, too.”

When she kisses down my neck, I know I am so fucked.

When she looks up at me, I feel like a bitch, so I look up and away from her.

She continues pressing kisses on my skin, hot, wet...fuck.

“What are you trying to do here, London?”

She hooks her finger in my mouth and pulls my damn head down so I have to face her. “I’m sick of trying to protect myself against you.”

And that nearly gets her laid. But...I need to be in charge.

I suck on her finger, and her eyes turn liquid. I have seen it a hundred times, but it’s never been so fucking hot.

She pushes herself against me, and I not only see, but feel what she is feeling.

She needs to know, though...I need her to know...Fuck, what do we need to know?

Oh, right. I’m the man. And I’m not into fucking her up any more than she has already fucked me up.

“I was so pissed at you the other night.”

She puts her fucking hand over my mouth. “You were pissed at yourself.”

I am ready to let her have it when she takes one of my hands and runs it up her tight little abdomen, stopping just below her tits, ones that need me to either take or tease so she knowns who is in charge of whatever the fuck this is.

“London...” I warn.

“I need to figure out a lot of things, Logan,” she interrupts, “and so do you. But it was really, really cold the other night, and I tried every blanket I had to warm me, comfort me, soothe me, and nothing worked. Then I thought, it’s cuddle season.”

Her voice is so fucking sexy, needy, and her hand is again controlling mine. She pushes it down to her lower back, stopping just north of her ass.

Tits and ass, right here, begging me to take.

Control, Links, I scold myself.

“Jesus L....Fuck.”

She pushes my shirt aside then untucks the tee-shirt under it before running her hands up my abs. “Then I thought about how warm you are.”

When she slowly moves her hands up, I have never been more grateful that she is so fucking innocent. Had she headed south, I would have come in my pants, or ripped her begging, little pussy apart.

“And I thought how you said things are quieter with me.”

And that does it. I let myself bitch out for one night. I will forever be haunted because of it.

At the snap...Control it, Links, I tell myself.

I redirect her play. “Well, right now, they’re harder.”

She’s a fucking formative opponent. She covers my mouth with one hand while moving the other up a little farther. It feels really damn good to be touched like that, by someone who knows me. I don’t know if I’m okay with her being anything like the others or not.

“I need you to be my friend, Logan, but I want to be able to do this, too. I don’t want the entire campus watching me or you, and I don’t want you to need anyone else but me.”

Why in the fuck am I letting her control this?

She presses her head against my chest, uncovers my mouth, and sighs. “I’ve come up with a plan...with conditions. If you can promise me that you won’t need anyone else while you’re here for the rest of this semester, I can promise you I won’t overthink it and that I won’t need a label or a commitment. I just need to put some limitations and—”

Fuck this.

“London.” I make her look at me now. “It goes against every natural, male instinct while fully and painfully erect to be one hundred percent honest, but I’m going to do my best.”

Her eyes soften, and she looks ready for me to do this. For me to tell her what’s up and give it to her straight.

“I have no fucking clue what I’m going to be doing when I’m done, and if I were you, I would not offer up something like that to me.”

Un-fucking-real that those words just came out of my mouth!

“What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“Love is unconditional,” she tells me.

Not the fucking L word! No, nope, not gonna be like that.

“I’ve come up with some conditions that makes this okay,” she continues.

Lock it down, Links! Fuck...

“I will promise that I won’t touch another, because I am going to explore every fucking inch of you to an almost indecent precision.”

She nods, agreeing with me.

Thank God!

Then she starts talking. Again with the talking!

“First condition, you gotta take it slow with me.”

And back to the physical. Thankfully, I can handle that.

“Oh, baby, it’s going to be so slow you’re going to throw one of those little fits because you’ll want my cock so bad.” I kiss her neck and inhale a scent that is her—sweet, cherry...mine.

Her breath hitches, and my need increases.

“Logan?”

And...she’s talking again.

I keep my lips on her neck, not backing down, and answer, “Yeah?”

“The next conditions are: we don’t fall in love, we are honest with each other, and this doesn’t end badly. I need you in my life.”

What she just said is everything I needed to hear, so why does my reply, “I promise,” taste a little bitter?

“Logan?”

She’s frustrating as hell, and I’m trying here, trying to give her what she needs, wants, asked for, but still...the damn talking.

“Yeah?”

She grabs my face between her hands and pulls me away from her neck. “Kiss me.”

Game changer.

Game. Change. Er.

I’m at the line, the quarterback is yelling the play, and I’m restraining myself, waiting for the snap.

Control. Know your opponent. Know your damn self.

“You’re sure?” I ask.

“It has to be you.”

She’s one hundred percent right.

I grab her face. “You’re damn right it does.”

She closes her eyes, looking so fucking ready. So ready and needy. So ready and wanting. And now shit’s going off in my head, because this has to be right. It has to for her, and for me, and for the five weeks of hell I have endured away from her. Five fucking weeks that can’t happen again. But I have some conditions of my own.

“London.”

She opens her eyes, blinking as if the light hurts them, but it’s not the light. It’s the stall.

I hold back. Needing, wanting, desiring to do the right fucking thing by her. This has to be perfect for her, which means I need to make sure I remove anything that will trigger me and make me become that dick. I just don’t want to be the one who oddly only she can make me.

I push my forehead against hers and tell her, “I need you to do something for me first, and this is a deal breaker.”

She nods.

“You need to ask yourself a question.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want your first kiss to end with murder and mayhem?”

§

A horn blows as Dad hits the brakes. I open my eyes as I grab the dash.

“You okay?” he asks.

I nod, happy to be pulled from the thought of her.

I hear a phone vibrate and reach into my pocket, only to realize I don’t have my phone. My phone was in my fucking truck. My truck’s in a goddamned building with a bunch of dead fucking bodies.

“Logan?” Dad begins.

I look over at Dad as I reach up and turn on the radio, not wanting to talk. “Bad At Love” by Halsey starts.

I force myself to lean back and let the fucking truth in the words fuck me a little harder than life did tonight.

I start to close my eyes then decide not to, looking out the window instead.

When we pull into town, he turns right instead of left.

I sit up and turn down the radio. “Just wanna go home.”

“Not tonight, Logan.”

“I’m not going there,” I snap.

“Logan,” Tessa says quietly.

“What?”

“Logan...” Dad begins, telling me I crossed a fucking line.

“Right now, I would like to be alone.”

“I’m sure you do.” Tessa squeezes my shoulder. “But the police are going to be at Maddox and Harper’s in a few hours. It’ll be easier if you’re all together.”

“You also don’t want the media showing up at the house. Chance and Hope?”

Fuck, right, I think and then nod.

“If they sit in the driveway, lights blazing on the house, or bang on the door, it’ll wake them up,” he continues.

I nod my agreeance.

“Don’t wanna draw them there,” I say on a sigh, pulling my hat down.

“You wanna be alone after that, there’s always Doe Camp,” Tessa offers.

“Sorry, baby, but he doesn’t need to be alone,” Dad tells her.

“Yeah, I do,” I argue.

“Let’s get through the next few days, okay? Then you have your apartments back in Syracuse.”

Dad still has a few properties in the area, ones we have been working on for the past few years in summers and on breaks when we aren’t busy. It’s kind of a pet project.

I have taken an interest in green energy and, as usual, he figured out a way for me to explore something I am interested in. When I decided a few weeks ago to continue my education, Dad and I discussed me taking it over, living in it, managing it, renting out some of the units that are finished. I agreed. Now I’m not even sure I want to fucking be here. But right now, I’m not going to say shit, because I’m not a total dick. I know he just got Ava back here, and if I tell him I want to jet, it’s going to fuck with him. Last night, today—we have all been fucked with enough.

When Dad laughs uncomfortably, I look at him.

“What?”

“Well, you’re gonna have to get a new vehicle before you go back to ‘Cuse. Your truck is all sorts of fucked up.” Then he laughs out loud, causing Tessa to giggle before covering her mouth to stop it.

I look at her, and she shakes her head, mumbling, “Sorry.”

Takes me a minute to respond, but the truth is, I did fuck it up.

“No need to be sorry. It’s not everyday someone purposely runs into a building.”

Dad chuckles, but it’s forced.

I look at him, seeing his jaw is taut.

I know I am owed a lecture, so fuck it, I open that door. “What?”

“Dumb fucking move, Logan. You could have been killed. That fucker could have shot you. As your father, I want to tell you what an asshole, fucking stunt that was.”

I nod once. “I get it.”

“And as someone who loves London,” Tessa says, bringing my attention to her, ready to tell her I don’t love her, that love is as fucked up as my truck. But then she places a hand over her heart, and I realize she’s talking about herself. “From the bottom of my heart, Logan, thank you for helping her.”

I nod once then turn away from her. I see Dad give me a sideways glance.

“When shit calms down, I’d love to know how you knew where she was.”

“Maddox called,” I tell him, not wanting to revisit it later.

“How the hell did he know where she was?” he asks.

I keep my eyes focused forward, not answering him.

“Maddox and Brody have their ways, Lucas,” Tessa says quietly.

“That include my son?” he says with some bitterness.

“Dad,” I warn.

“Fine.” He sighs.

I don’t tell him it had nothing to do with Brody, that it was all Maddox and that bracelet she wears—the way he tracks her. The way I always knew where she was...from him.

When we pull down the drive, passing Dad and Tessa’s place, heading down the dirt road to Maddox and Harper’s, the sun is rising behind it. I glance at the dash and see that it’s almost five in the morning. I have been up for twenty-four fucking hours.

When I woke up yesterday morning, made reservations to fly home, cleaned up a little at Ava’s place, then later took a cab to JFK to catch a flight home, I had plans, big plans, that included the big fucking butterflies in my damn stomach. I planned on surprising her, then listening to her yell at me for not messaging or calling for the past few weeks, and then kissing her to shut her up. I planned on telling London that she and I would be extending cuddle season until we got sick of each other, hoping like hell we wouldn’t, yet fearing the bullshit first loves entail.

Instead, the day ended in murder and mayhem.

CHAPTER TWO

Rocker House

Logan

I don’t want to see her. I sure as hell shouldn’t want to anyway. But when we walk into the quiet house, where Maddox and Brody are at the large kitchen island, both their noses glued to their computers, no doubt looking at news footage and she’s not there, I wonder where she is.

In fact, I walk past them to use the bathroom, just so I can look into the family room to see if she is in there. She is. So is Ava, Harper, and Emma.

“Loggie,” Ava says, beckoning me.

London’s head is on Emma’s lap and her eyes are opened. The sadness in them fucking hurts my heart and makes it pump harder, faster.

“Excuse us,” comes from behind me.

I turn around and see Jamie and Christy walking toward the living room.

“Where’s Lisa?” I ask.

“With her parents. She’ll be here at one when the cops come,” Jamie tells me.

“Logan,” Ava says again.

I nod toward the hall. “Gonna use the bathroom.”

After pissing, I look in the mirror. I’m wrecked and in need of a shower after the gym.

When I walk out, I again try to skirt past the living room, when Ava calls my name.

I walk in and kiss her head. “I’m fine. Just take care of that one.” I nod to London who appears to be sleeping, I know she’s not. Walking out of the room I tell them, “I’m gonna run up to Dad’s and shower.”

“You can shower here,” Ava says, trying to sound sweet, but I know that tone. She’s demanding.

“I’ll grab something of Maddox’s for you to throw on.” Harper stands. “The guest rooms are set up for the girls. They’ve all decided to share one. You can have the other. The bathroom is—”

“I’m fine.” I try to sound appreciative.

“It’s no problem,” Harper says, quickly exiting the room.

Ava stands up and walks over to me. I still haven’t made it out of the room any farther and I don’t want to go back in. I’m afraid to get any closer to her. I’m not sure if the tightening in my chest is pain or anger.

Ava hugs me. “You scared me last night.”

“It’s payback,” I tell her, and she looks up in shock. “Don’t look at me like that. You know how fucked up we’ve been over you.”

Her bottom lip pouts out a bit. “It’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna be okay.” She pauses then whispers, “Right?”

I nod and hug her back. “Yeah, Ava, no matter what hell we Links walk through, we always come out looking ahead for the next...” I stop because I want to say shitshow, hurt, disappointment, blow, but I can’t, not to Ava.

“Next?” she asks as London and the girls walk past us. She doesn’t even look at me.

“Adventure, Ava. Life is full of adventures.” I try to sound like it’s a joke, but it’s not. “You should go home; get some sleep. My niece and nephew are gonna need their mom when they wake up.”

“I really want to stay with you,” she states.

I shake my head. “I’m good. Not even a scratch. I’ll stop over tomorrow if the media isn’t around town.”

“And if they are, we’ll come back here.” Ava hugs me tighter.

“Dad and Tessa’s,” I tell her.

She looks up at me with hell in her eyes. She wants to say something she knows will piss me off, push my buttons. She wants to call me out on the London and me thing.

“Ava, not now. But any other time you feel the need to be your old self—”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She tries to act shocked.

“You know damn well what that means. Bossy, pushy, nosey, Ava-ey,” I remind her.

She smiles and sighs as she hugs me tightly again. “I’m back, Logan, and if I wasn’t, I would have driven here from Brooklyn last night to make sure you’re okay.”

I nod, not too sure I believe it.

I walk back out to the kitchen where Dad, Brody, and Maddox are all talking quietly. I look at them all. Dad and Brody looked pissed. Maddox looks impassive.

“Anything new?” I ask.

“Get some sleep.” Maddox grips my shoulder. “Plenty of time to chat later.”

Sleep, I think as I walk down the hall toward the guest room, not knowing if it’s at all possible.

Harper walks out of the bathroom, saying, “Fresh towels are in the bathroom. Clothes are in the bedroom.”

“Wasn’t necessary, but appreciated,” I tell her and start to walk past her.

She shocks me by wrapping her arms around me and hugging me. “I’m so glad you’re okay. And Logan, I know it was Maddox who told you where she was, but”—she looks up at me with tears in her eyes—“I love you, and if something had happened to you...”

I give her a hug back. “It’s all good, Harper.”

“Get some sleep, okay, little brother?” She steps back and smiles sadly. “You two—”

I shake my head. I don’t want to hear about me and her.

She nods. “Thank you for making sure she got out alive.”

I nod. “You should get some sleep, too.”

Standing in the shower, I think of how messed up it is that my stepsister is also a second cousin to the girl I told I loved not too long ago. Not only is she that, but she’s married to London’s stepbrother.

London’s been really fucking wrong about a lot of things but keeping shit quiet from our families isn’t one of them. Now, though, Dad knows something’s up. Maddox and Ava know, too. So that means Tessa, Harper, and Luke probably do, as well.

At least they all know I haven’t fucked her, I think as I shut off the shower, grab a towel, and then step out.

Looking in the mirror as I towel off my hair, I think about the night she walked in after Thanksgiving, after all hell broke loose about Ava’s babies, my niece’s and nephew’s paternity. The night I decided there was no damn way I was going to keep playing grab-ass with her.

I had decided she would hate that I would stick up for Ava, regardless of what went down. Then she—London—would be stuck deciding on Team Thomas or Team Luke, inevitably choosing anyone but Ava. I couldn’t do that to Ava or London if things got any deeper between us.

She demanded I stick to the deal, even though I had every intention of sabotaging it by breaking every “condition” we had come up with by being with someone else.

I was so glad she pushed me—was—until she fucking kissed him.

Technically, she didn’t break any sort of agreement. The conditions were through the fall semester. But what she did break was a part of me. A very raw, very guarded part of me I never intended to reveal.

I wrap the towel around my waist and look at the two doors in the Jack and Jill bathroom, realizing I have no clue which room I’m supposed to take.

Of course I open the wrong fucking one. Luckily, I’m wrapped in a damn towel.

I quickly close it and head to the other.

When I walk in, I see something outside the French doors. Fucking media, no doubt, has found us here.

When we were kids, Mom and Dad used to keep us away from all the shit that came with Brody’s and Maddox’s stardom. I was glad. I mean, yeah, I’m well-known in this area, but not around the world, and that kind of attention is not something I want.

London, I think of all she has been through with the attention. Hell, she doesn’t even see how almost perfect she is. Then I get pissed when I hear a noise outside. Neither she nor the girls need this shit today.

I open the door and step out. “Who the fuck is out here?”

“Shhh...” I hear and look in the corner where London is sitting wrapped in a blanket.

Both rooms have doors leading to the deck. I guess I should have looked closer into the bedroom they were all sharing to make sure all four sets of eyes were in there.

I’m immediately pissed at her.

“It’s damn cold out here,” I snap.

“Then you should go inside,” she snaps back.

“What the hell are you doing out here? Get inside where you’re safe,” I demand.

“Inside where I’m safe?” She laughs irritably. “Never once had an issue when I was outside until now, so just leave me alone.”

I think about what she has been through in her past and even last night. She’s right. She almost died last night in a club, years ago in their house in Liverpool, England, and in a car accident with her dad. Still, she needs to be inside.

“It’s fucking January, London. Don’t be a child. Go back inside.”

“A child?” She’s trying to be argumentative. She is being, but her exhaustion evidently takes some of the fight out of her. She sounds so fucking tired. “You’re the one in a towel.”

I don’t wait for more nonsensical arguments from her. I shoot over and grab her to pull her up, but she pulls away, which pisses me off even more. I bend down and lift her up, carrying her ass inside while she silently fights to get away from me.

“Just put me down. God, Logan, just leave me alone,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “Maddox is here. Brody is here. You aren’t being paid to babysit me, or fake wanting to be around me, or—”

She stops yapping when I drop her on the bed.

“Go to fucking sleep.”

“Go away, okay? Just—”

She stops when I turn my back to her, drop the towel, and step into the pajama bottoms Harper left for me.

I turn around and look at the shocked expression on her face as it grows redder by the second. “Let your boyfriend know my ass is better than his.” I flop back on the bed and hit the light.

When she starts to get up, I instinctively grab her wrist and pull her back.

“Logan,” she cries softly. “Just don’t.”

“Shut up”—I pull her toward me and position her so her back is to my chest—“and go to sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep with you,” she argues verbally while melding into me, little spoon to big spoon.

“I know. You made that clear. You chose him last night.”

“I...” She pauses. “I...”

“Where was he when you were minutes from death, London?”

“Don’t even. If Dad and Maddox hadn’t paid you to watch me—”

“No money was ever exchanged, not one fucking cent. And your dad had no clue. So just shut up and go to sleep. Jesus, London, we need sleep.”

She’s quiet, too fucking quiet. It’s appreciated, but I know it’s the calm before the storm.

I inhale the scent I have missed, the scent that is her—sweet, clean, calming. Her body relaxes slightly, and I allow mine to do the same. I loosen the vice grip around her waist, and her hands that once gripped my wrist to pull mine away loosen, as well. Then she pulls it up as she lifts her head and turns my hand palm up before resting her head back down.

I replace it with the hand I’m resting my head on and bring it back around her waist. That’s how it was for those last weeks of college, and that’s how it should be now.

After a few more quiet moments, she finally yawns and asks, “Where have you been, Logan?”

“I’m right here now.” I can’t help pulling her closer. I can’t help thinking about what the world would be like without her. “We need sleep.”

“Logan?”

“No, London, just no talking. I’s so pissed off at you right now that I should put you back outside, so just stop talking because I—”

“I’m pissed at you, too.” she pushes my hand away and rolls to her back. Then, when she looks at me, I expect her words to show on her face, yet they don’t. Those blue eyes aren’t angry; they are sad, confused, and filling with tears. She looks like she wants to say something, but when her lips part, they quiver. She closes them quickly then swallows down the building tears.

I close my eyes, unable to comfort her the way I want, because I’m not hers. He is.

“Well, I don’t get why you wouldn’t just leave me alone. You aren’t obligated—”

“London, you should shut it down,” I warn, keeping my eyes closed, not wanting to engage in the bullshit she is turning this into, the escape from the cruel reality. “You wanna be pissed at someone, be pissed at the man who walked into a place where people went to have fun and opened fire on them.”

A strangled cry sounds from her throat, and my eyes open.

Seeing the fear and confusion in her eyes, on her face that is lit up by the rising sun, I think, Fuck, this is how she copes, not that it’s a bad thing. She’s gotten through a fuck of a lot by doing that. But because I’m not going to be the one she blames, I tell her like it is; what she’s avoiding.

“You aren’t pissed at me, London. You need someone to be angry at, and that’s not me. You know damn well it’s not, so shut it down and try to get some sleep, because when we wake up, we have to face it again.”

“Why? Why would someone do what he did?”

I give her the only reason that makes any sense. “Not gonna even try to figure it out. The reality is some people are just shit, London.”

“How sad must he have been to—”

“Do not give him the excuse of being sad. When you’re sad, you fucking cry, you drink, you go to the gym, you hang with friends, you fuck.”

“What happened to make him so angry then?” She starts to tremble.

“He’s responsible for his own actions, not someone who may have pissed him off.”

“How hurt must he have been to resort to—”

I take her chin in my hand, needing her to stop trying to figure out the actions of a mad man, wanting her to stop trying to make sense of the senseless. “Some people are just shit.”

She clamps her hands around mine and nods as tears spill out of her eyes. “I don’t want to live in a world where—”

“There’s more good than bad. There is, and you need to focus on that,” I interrupt whatever shit she’s about to say.

She nods again. “Logan?”

“Please no more.” I can’t fucking do this with her when all I see when I look at her is fear, anger, pain, and her fucking lips on him.

“Do we love—”

“Absolutely fucking not,” I snap and let go of her face.

“You said it because you thought we were going to die. You said it because you wanted to keep me calm. You said it because—”

“I said it because all those fucking reasons.”

“Well, then I’m glad I hurt you by kissing him. I’m glad because you hurt me by lying to me.” She attempts to pull away, but I hold her tighter. “I’m glad, Logan,” she sobs into her hands, “because now...now you hurt me worse than I hurt you.”

I pull her hands from her face.

“Let go of me.”

“We never did. We clearly have no clue what we want. Because when I fall in love with someone, they’ll never fucking do that to me. Never.”

“Well, same, Logan, same.”

“What the fuck does that even mean, same?”

“When I fall in love, real love, not some stupid crush, the boy will never leave me without further contact. He’ll never lie to me about why he’s around me, and he would know that if he ever pulled something so stupid as to drive into a building to find me and he died, I would never ever forgive myself. I would never love a boy who did that. Never. Not ever.” Her face contorts into what some call an ugly cry. It’s not ugly; it’s sad, so fucking sad. Then she struggles, trying to pull her arms free. “Let me go. I don’t want a boy like you to see me like this.”

“You look...” I stop myself from saying it, but then I just can’t. “You look pretty.”

She turns her head and closes her eyes, lips trembling. “Stop lying to me. Just—”

“Fine, no more fucking lies. I wouldn’t have said I’d watch out for you if I didn’t want to. No, I didn’t get paid. Yes, London, I fucking love you, but you—”

I stop when she turns her head back to me and leans up. “Then kiss me.”

“You have a fucking boy—”

She yanks her arms away and grabs my face. I lean back, not giving in to her, denying myself exactly what I want.

She doesn’t let go and sits up right along with me, hands now around my neck as I keep trying to get the fuck away.

“I don’t. I was...” She pauses and looks down, scowling, trying to figure out what she was. “Mad, scared, hurt, angry. I needed—”

“You needed him, yet here you are, straddling me? That’s not gonna fix shit, London.”

She pulls herself against me and whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“Well, I’m not. I’m not fucking sorry I was there. Not when your brother asked, and not when I landed at Hancock and saw the club shooting on the news. I’m not sorry that I listened to my gut. I fucking knew you were there, London, I did, and I’m not sorry I fucking came for you. You can’t love a boy like that. You can go back to Lawrinson and cuddle up to a guy like him—your boyfriend. Your first boyfriend. Jesus L. Christ, London, what have you done?”

She hugs me tighter. “I’m sorry.”

“You bet your ass you are.”

I mean to push her away, but I don’t. I lay back, her tangled around me, and me around her. She pushes up so she’s straddling me, takes in a deep breath, and then slowly runs her hands up my abs.

“Don’t start what you aren’t gonna finish with me. Not now, London.” I put my hands over hers, stopping them.

“I want you to...” She pauses and closes her eyes. “I want you right now.”

For some reason, that fucking pisses me off.

I sit up and flip her onto her back. Her sweet breath bursts out as her back hits the bed. Then she reaches down, grabbing the hem of her shirt, and starts to pull it up.

“No.”

“No?” she asks in confusion.

“No. You have a fucking boyfriend, and I am not ever gonna be someone’s fucking side piece. And you, you’re not ever gonna fucking cheat, you hear me? That’s not you.”

Her lip pouts out again, and she slowly nods up and down.

“Now, roll over and resume the fucking position. And no more talking, London. It’s sleep time.”

She does.

I can’t sleep, but she does. She’s sleeping, she’s safe, she admitted what I should have known, what I did know, but that mental picture of her kissing him, that’s going to take a hell of a lot to forget. And if I see him again, he will be the one who pays for her fuck up.

She murmurs something in her sleep and turns onto her stomach. I wait until she relaxes then push her hair away from her face.

I watch as she becomes more restless, but she is still fucking perfect; looks like an angel. A tortured angel.

When she gasps and grips the sheets, her eyes fluttering open, she whispers, “Sorry.”

“Sleep,” I say, pushing more of her fallen black hair away from her face.

She moves closer, rolls to her side, and wraps her arms around me. I lie back and pull her head to my chest where, within seconds, she’s no longer restless. She actually looks peaceful.

§

“She’s okay.” I hear the attempt of a whisper and open my eyes.

Fuck.

I see Maddox attempting to push Lexington back out the door while whispering, “She’s fine, Lexi. Let her sleep.”

“Why’s Logan naked?” she asks, suppressing a grin, reminding me of London when I first met her.

“Great question,” Brody hisses.

I feel London move slightly against my chest, and then she whispers, “You’re in so much trouble.”

“I heard her!” Lexington yells then runs into the room, leaping onto the bed.

London sits up and catches her. “You can’t go back there ever, London. You can’t.”

“I know, Lexi, I know,” London says as she hugs her.

I sit up and meet the angriest eyes I have ever seen.

“Do you think you could put some clothes on?” Brody spats.

I slide off the bed and stand. “I have clothes on.”

“Not a shirt.” Lexington is apparently done crying and is now amused. “And you have big boobs.”

“Okay, Lexington,” London and Emma say at the same time.

Maddox throws a shirt at me, the one he just had on. “I’ll grab another.”

Lexington gasps.

“What, Lexi?” He flexes his chest, and she laughs.

“Just trying to stir up trouble.”

He grabs her and throws her over his shoulder. “Breakfast is ready. Then the kids are going to hang with the grandparents.”

“All of them?” Lexington asks as she giggles.

“A bunch of them,” he answers as Piper dodges his attempt to grab her up, too.

Piper stops in front of me and raises her arms.

“One second,” I tell her as I throw the shirt on to appease Brody. Then I grab her and start to swing her around my back. She puts both hands on the sides of my face and looks at me.

After a few minutes of her staring and saying nothing, she smiles. “You gonna haf a Weed.”

“A what?” I ask, knowing full well what she said since I speak Piper. Ls and Rs are an issue. She’s telling me I’m gonna have a baby, a Reed, her brother’s name.

She smiles and looks at London.

“Oh, for fu—”

“Brody,” Emma gasps, cutting him off.

“She’s eighteen years old, Em. Jesus, can she get through college first?”

“Brody, take a walk,” Emma demands.

“Your daughter is a virgin, Brody,” I defend her. “She’s—”

“Better stay that way until...” He stops and scratches his head. “Until she’s married.”

“Brody, walk,” Emma demands again.

During this time, Piper climbs down and is standing in front of London, scratching her head.

“Yow sista is gonna haf a Weed.”

“Lexi is gonna have a baby?” London actually laughs and looks at Brody. “See? I’m not the one you need to worry about.”

Piper laughs and skips away.

“She still hooked on the pipe?” I ask Harper who’s holding Reed, and she laughs. “Gotta love her imagination.”

She sighs. “Mom calls it intuition.”

“Well, I’m not into weed, or having kids, so I’m going with imagination,” I try to joke.

“You think Dad hates you right now”—London stops on her way out the door and looks back at me—“get my sister knocked up and see how that works out for you.” Then she walks out.

Harper looks at me with a knowing grin.

“It’s not like that. She’s a pain in the ass.” I look away from her.

“Yeah, but—”

“You want to remain my favorite stepsister, end of subject,” I tell her, throwing the blankets over the bed and straightening them out.

“Can I ask how she is? How you are?”

I shrug. “When I heard something outside after my shower, I went out thinking it was the media. It was her. So, had I not dragged”—carried—“her in here, she’d have been a popsicle. But I did. And she was pretty fucked up. She seems better now. Hopefully she’ll be even better tomorrow.”

“And you?”

I look up at her and shake my head. “Just another day, Harper, just another day.”

CHAPTER THREE

Questioning

Logan

I avoid Brody because, although I get that he’s protective over London, clearly so am I. I am not his fucking enemy.

I watch my dad seemingly place himself between us, protecting his little boy. I’m not a little boy, but again, I get what he’s doing. I would probably do the same.

I watch Maddox who seems, dare I say...happy?

He looks at me and nods. I nod back.

Then I see London looking over her cup of coffee at me, then him, then back at me. I give her what I hope is a questioning look, one that asks what? but doesn’t alert the others. She rolls her eyes then looks at Maddox and gives him the same damn look. He smirks over his cup of coffee. She sets hers down, rather loudly, and stomps out of the kitchen.

My first reaction is to follow her, but looking around, those British daggers are still on me, so I don’t.

Maddox looks at Harper, and she whispers, “Leave them alone.”

He whispers back, “I have no issue with that. The others, though...” He shrugs.

“The others what?” Brody asks.

“Yeah, the others what?” Dad says louder than Brody.

London walks back in with her roommates. They both look around the room like deer in headlights. Jamie is the first to speak.

“Hi, Lucas Links. Hi, Tessa Links.”

“Hi, Jamie.” Dad smiles then asks them all, “Are you coffee drinkers?”

When they nod, he goes to grab them a cup.

Tessa walks over and gives Jamie then Christy a hug. “How are you two doing?”

Christy looks around at everyone then back at Tessa. “Good?”

Tessa nods and smiles. “Well, that’s a good start.”

Emma walks over next to them. “Remember our ride here?”

They both nod.

“We talked about how incredibly boring and normal they are?”

They nod again.

She smiles. “Keep that in mind.”

“And annoying,” London says, looking at Brody and Maddox. “But they’re okay, I suppose.”

“We’re glad you think so, London,” Maddox pipes in. “You should also know I felt quite the same when I met him.” He thumbs to Brody. “I’ll also assure you that, when I found out he was my father, it made things even more awkward. I will assume he’s not yours, so the worst of it is over.”

London smiles at him. She adores him.

He puts his arm around her. “And this one, she’ll make it so you have no choice but to blend right in.”

I find it very interesting that Jamie seems to fixate on Dad, while Christy is bright red as she seems to try to avoid looking at Maddox and Brody. Football players and rock stars, as different as doctors and mechanics, as different as men and women, and as different as Jamie and Christy. We all have our thing, the thing we respect and look up to. It’s clear what theirs are.

Once all the kids, plus Lexi, who believes she’s grown and should stay, but is convinced she’s needed to help with Piper, Reed, Chance, and Hope, are gone, we all line up to fill our plates with the food laid out on the counter.

Brunch consists of everything you could imagine. From egg white omelets, to steaks, a variety of potato recipes, toasts, bagels, juices, milk, coffee, teas, and fruit.

“You have a cook?” Christy whispers to London.

“No, we have family,” London answers then laughs. “And by family, I mean Tessa, who cooks through every issue she or others she loves is having.”

Tessa laughs. “That’s not true.”

“It certainly is. One of the reasons I love you.” Dad winks at her. “Except for when you won’t let me eat the shit I want to ninety percent of the damn time.”

“And that’s because I would like you to stick around.” She smiles at him.

“One heart attack and—”

“You could’ve died, Daddy.”

I look behind me at Ava’s voice and see her walk in. Then I look back at Dad, whose chest visibly swells when he sees her.

“It would take a hell of a lot more to keep me away from my family,” he says, opening his arms as she walks up to him. He hugs her. “Logan.”

I know what he’s asking for. A “family hug. It’s annoying as fuck.

“Loggie.” Ava gives me the look, the one that makes me cave to her manipulative ways.

I give in.

When I think the hug is about finally ready to break, Ava pulls some shit.

“London.”

London walks over, and Ava pulls her into our family hug.

Then I hear Jamie say, “Y’all are too cute. How did we not know you two had a thing?”

“We don’t.” London laughs and looks up at me. “Do we?”

“You’re a pain in the ass; that’s our thing,” I step back and look around, avoiding Brody’s scrutinizing look. Needing an excuse to leave, I tell them, “I need to go home and grab some clothes.”

Ava grins. “I brought you a whole bag full.”

“Of course you did,” I sigh out.

Dammit.

§

After brunch, Lisa, and her parents arrive. They all look like Jamie and Christy did, but just like them, they catch on that there are no egos in the room when it comes to the rock stars.

When the detectives come to the house, Tessa and Emma offer them coffee, and then we all make our way to the family room.

Detective Boyens, an attractive, petite, dark-haired female in her late thirties, and Detective Garrison, a stout, bald man in his late forties ask that we take a seat. They sit in the leather wingback chairs while the girls all sit next to each other on one of the brown leather sofas. Brody and Emma stand behind the sofa.

London looks up over her shoulder. The way Brody looks at her is best described as protectively. He clamps a hand on her shoulder, the touch mimicking his concerned gaze, which changes when he looks away from her and toward the detectives, becoming both protective and intense. Not a look I am unfamiliar with over the past several hours.

“We would have preferred to separate the four of you and question you individually...” Garrison begins.

“But since they aren’t on trial or suspected of any wrongdoing, that’s completely absurd,” Ava cuts him off. “They’re victims, witnesses to a horrific crime committed by a man who won’t stand trial, so that would be totally and completely insane.”

“We’re well-aware of how you feel, Miss Links,” Garrison says with a bit of annoyance.

“Watch your tone with my daughter,” Dad interjects.

The female detective immediately interjects, “We agree that they aren’t on trial, Miss Links.” When Garrison starts to talk, Boyens continues over him. “We’re concerned about getting any information that will help us figure out any connections between those at Chaos last night and Damian Highmore.”

“There’s also concern about the number of underage individuals in the establishment,” Garrison adds.

“As I told you, they’re all eighteen years old. None were drinking, so let’s get this back on track,” Ava interjects.

“Miss Links, you’re not here as their attorney,” Garrison says, trying to remain calm.

Pisses me off.

“I’m pretty damn sure, if you weren’t questioning them as if they’d done something wrong, she wouldn’t feel the need to act like one.”

“You’re Logan Links,” he states, writing something down.

“We’ve established this already.” I also try to remain calm. “Let me guess, you’re going to give me a traffic ticket for veering right?”

“Or a parking ticket?” Ava adds.

“We could give you several.” Garrison gives me a stern look.

“But we aren’t here for that either,” Boyens adds. “The media has painted you a hero, Mr. Links. We don’t care to dispute that. What you did was heroic. What we would like to know is how it is you got there before the police.”

“This family has seen its share of tragedy. London has a bracelet that tells us where she is,” Maddox answers.

“You low-jacked your stepsister?” Garrison asks.

“My sister,” Maddox corrects him then continues rather calmly, “Yes, and I will continue to do whatever it is I have to in order to protect my family.”

I watch as Brody looks at Maddox and then at London. Clearly, this is the first he’s heard of this. I, however, did know.

When he looks at me, I don’t look away. I want him to know I’m not a fucking joke, I’m not trying to get laid, and that, yes, I do care about what happens to this family...to her.

“And so will I,” I add.

I look at London who has tears welling in her eyes. I push off the wall, walk over to the other couch, and then sit.

“So, Maddox called you?” Boyens asks.

I shake my head and reach up for my hat that’s not there. From out of the corner of my eye, I see London smile softly, sit back, and look at the detectives.

“When I got off the plane I decided to go.”

“Because you knew your friends would be there?” Garrison asks. “Did Maddox call you with her location?”

“My phone was on airplane mode; I’d been in New York for a few weeks. I didn’t know who was there, and they didn’t know I was coming home,” I answer.

“So, then why did you go to Chaos?” Boyens asks.

I look down and shake my head. “I saw Lisa post, girls night out at Chaos. Gut instinct that they were still there.”

The room is silent, and I feel the eyes of everyone in it on me.

After a few moments of that hell, Maddox chimes in.

“I called him several times, but it went to voicemail. When he finally answered, he was less than three minutes from the club. We were still thirty minutes away. He did what he thought he had to do. When we finally arrived there...” He pauses. “Well, the two of you know the rest.”

“That you crossed the line we told you not to,” Garrison states.

“Well, we seem to have little faith that authorities can take care of situations they should have a handle on,” Brody snaps at him.

“We also know,” Maddox raises his voice, “that although it’s your job to ensure the safety and wellbeing of the public, you aren’t Superman or woman. Which is why”—he turns to look at London—“I gave my sister the gift.”

“I’m not mad, Maddox,” London says, looking down at her bracelet. “Especially now.”

When Brody lets out an angry version of a sigh, London looks back at him. “For what it’s worth, I appreciate that you and Mom let me do this on my own. I learned my lesson.”

“What lesson is that?” I ask, needing to know if she will either become completely careless or go in the opposite direction and become someone who doesn’t leave their home ever.

She looks surprised when she looks at me, and then she takes a deep breath before answering, “Some people are just shit.”

My chest tightens with an odd sense of pride.

“But I don’t want to ever be in a situation where I don’t have—”

“Don’t do that,” I almost plead.

“Do what exactly, Logan?” Brody snaps.

“Give up. Don’t fucking give up.”

“She could have died last night,” he hisses.

“And she could have on her way home in an accident, or if some madman broke into her home, or if all the damn stars fell out of the heavens, but she didn’t.”

Brody grips the back of the couch, his jaw taut. He’s pissed, and I don’t fucking care. All she’s said since I began seeing her for who she is, is that she doesn’t want to be in anyone’s shadow.

I look at her. “You’re still here, London.”

“She helped us,” Jamie whispers then clears her throat. “You were a hero, too, you know.”

She shakes her head and looks down, running her fingers over the bracelet. “I just did what I had to do.”

“By helping your friends, and then all those people out of the club and to safety. You could have gotten out long before them, London, but you didn’t. You helped save so many.”

London covers her belly as tears fall down her face. “Excuse me,” she says as she stands and hurries out of the family room, toward the bathroom.

I stand to follow her, but Emma and Brody rush to her first.

“Let’s start over.” Boyens’ tone is quiet and sympathetic. “Lisa, Jamie, Christy, why don’t you tell us what happened?”

Jamie starts, “We were dancing. Just dancing and laughing. We were having fun.”

“Everyone was having fun,” Lisa whispers.

“People from school were dancing, just letting go,” Christy adds sadly.

Jamie looks at me. “Did you see Jones? Is he okay?”

“No, I didn’t see him.” I look at Maddox then the detectives. All have solemn expressions. “Un-fucking-real.” I ball my fists at my sides and look down.

“He said to say thank you.”

I look up as London walks back into the room.

“He signed with the Giants and said to say thank you.”

I reach up to pull down my fucking hat, to hide my emotions, my thoughts, and of course I don’t have one of the damn things on.

When I see a hat in front of me, I look up.

“Take it.” London smiles sadly.

She sits down next to me and clears her throat. “We went to the bathroom.” London’s voice quakes, and she clears her throat. “Like girls do, you know. Normal girls, friends.” She looks at them and then down. “Then we heard shots. Everyone started to panic.”

“Everyone except you.” Jamie stands up and walks over, sitting next to London. She takes her hand before looking at the detectives. “This one, she climbed up on a garbage can and tried to open the window. When it wouldn’t open, she broke it. Then, one by one, she got us up and out of there. We were yelling for her to come, but she didn’t.”

“The garbage can fell. I fell. Then we were getting rushed by terrified women trying to find a way out,” she whispers.

“When you say we, who was helping you?” Garrison asks.

There is no warning, no welling, no sniffles preceding her tears. They just fall, and she sobs. “I don’t know her name. I don’t know her. But when he burst into the bathroom, she tried to talk him down. He just started shooting. When he shot her, she fell against me, pushing me to the floor, and I”—she takes a deep breath—“I couldn’t move. I wanted to, I wanted to, but I couldn’t.”

I grab her other hand, wanting her to stop. “Breathe, London, just breathe.”

She sniffs as Emma hands her a tissue. “I...I...”

She can’t fucking do this, and I can’t take seeing her struggle with it, so I begin.

“When I walked into the bathroom, I didn’t see her, just bodies. When I spotted her arm, that bracelet, I started throwing people off her. Knowing I needed to get her out of there, I took a chance and left the room. We went into a storage room and waited for someone to come.”

“You barricaded the door and stopped me from—”

“You did good, London, you really did good,” I tell her, hoping she doesn’t go into one of those panic attacks like she did last night.

When she leans into me, I don’t give a damn what looks I will get from everyone around, I put my arm around her and hold her...together.

“Is that enough? Have you asked them enough questions, Garrison?” Brody snaps.

Before he can answer, Boyens does. “We’re good for now. If we do have more questions—”

“You can contact me,” Ava says.

“We’ll contact you,” Boyens agrees.

London buries her head in my chest and wraps her arms around me, and yeah, I wrap both of mine around her.

Fuck it.

“Mr. Links?”

I look up at Garrison as Dad and I both answer, “Yes.”

“Your truck and personal belongings are at the station’s impound.”

I nod.

“I would contact your insurance company and, as much as I know this is going to piss off the whole room, we do have to issue a ticket and fill out an accident report, for insurance purposes.”

“Do whatever. I don’t give a damn.”

While Dad talks with the police in the other room, I close my eyes and lean back. London holds on tight, and so do I.

When I open my eyes, she’s still wrapped around me, sleeping. Jamie is next to her and Christy is on the floor, wrapped in a blanket.

I look up and see Ava put her finger over her lips. “Shh...”

I nod then carefully move out from under London, replacing me with an oversized pillow that she wraps her arms around in her sleep. I wait and watch to make sure she doesn’t wake up before heading out of the room to find the others.

Lisa and her parents are at the island, talking to Dad, Brody, Emma, and Tessa.

I walk over to Lisa, and she looks up.

“Hey.”

“Are they still asleep?” she asks.

I nod.

“Good. They need sleep.” She yawns.

“Why don’t you go get some sleep, too?” I ask.

“My parents think I should take the semester off; go home and try to figure out how to...” She pauses.

“What good will that do?” I ask.

“London’s going to, as well.”

Brody’s words pull my attention from her.

“Why would she do that?” I ask.

“Because she needs her family,” he says rather calmly.

“But she has her friends. She has—”

“My little girl needs—”

“Logan, she mentioned it, and we think it’s a good idea,” Emma says woefully.

“Well, I think it’s a horrible idea,” I tell her. “I think that you know that, too. The shit she’s been through in the past, she didn’t let it change who she was—”

“It’s been decided,” Brody snaps.

When I turn to walk back into the family room to ask her if she’s actually going to give up, I hear Maddox say, “He’s in here.”

I look toward the back entry and see Mitch and Keeka.

Mitch looks like hell, and Keeka, who is normally as unemotional as they get, comes rushing toward me. When she gets to me, she’s still rushing, so I brace for the impact.

“You didn’t answer your phone. I saw your truck on the news, and you didn’t answer your phone.”

I start to explain, but she doesn’t stop talking.

“Is Elle—I mean, London okay? Is everyone—”

“We’re good, Keeks. We’re fine.”

“Thank God,” she says, finally stepping back.

I look at Mitch, who just shakes his head. I know he’s annoyed that I never told him about London.

“Wasn’t for me to divulge, man,” I answer his unspoken question.

“I get that. Just feel like an idiot that I never put two and two together.” He gives me a bro hug then steps back and laughs. “Totally blown away.”

I try to figure out what to say, but then I hear “Kashmir” by Led Zeppelin, my phone’s message ringtone sounding from somewhere.

When Keeka opens her bag, it gets louder. “I snatched this from Black Betty.” She hands me my phone.

“Thanks, Keeka.”

I have over a hundred texts and almost as many missed calls.

“Fuck,” I sigh.

Mitch’s phone rings, and he answers it. “Hey, Coach.”

I look away from my phone to him.

“I’m here with him now.” He pauses. “He looks good, but you know, he’s Logan.” He looks up at me. “I’ll give him the message.” He pauses again then chuckles. “It’s true. She’s London.”

“She’s to be left the fuck alone,” I tell him, not giving a damn what reason her name was brought into this.

Mitch scowls, turns his back to me, and starts walking away. “Sure was him.”

I look at Keeka, who’s staring at Brody. He looks up at the same time.

“I’m just a concerned father today.”

She nods then looks at me, eyes getting bigger.

“It’s all chill, Keeks, I promise.”

“It may not seem like it right now, but it is,” Lisa chimes in. She stands up and holds out her hand. “I’m Lisa.”

“Elle’s—I mean, London’s roommate, right?” Keeka asks, shaking her hand, clearly confused.

“Yeah.” Lisa nods and looks down. “For now.”

“What do you mean, for now?” Keeka asks.

“Lisa may be taking the rest of the semester off,” her mother, whose name I don’t know, tells Keeks.

“Why?” Keeka asks in surprise.

“To begin healing,” Lisa’s father answers.

“Did she get hurt?” Keeka asks.

“As a matter of fact, she did. She has seventeen stitches in her arm,” her mother answers.

“But it’s emotionally we’re concerned with,” her father adds.

“Celebrate that you’re alive, girl,” Keeka tells Lisa. “Twenty-seven others wish they could right now.”

“But we mourn their deaths,” Lisa’s mother tells Keeka.

“I bet they’d be celebrating that they were still alive if given the chance.” Her tone is blunt, honest, real, and raw.

“How can you be so sure?” Lisa’s dad scolds Keeka.

“I don’t know your name, sir, but she’s not being disrespectful, so I’m gonna ask you not to treat her disrespectfully,” I tell Lisa’s old man.

“Let’s all take a moment to realize we’re all on the same team here,” Maddox interjects.

“Let’s,” Keeka says matter-of-factly. “Let’s think about what Jones and Downs would be doing right this moment.”

“Are they” comes London’s voice, “dead?”

I look back at her as Keeka answers the question she and I both have. “Jones is. Downs is in critical condition at University.”

I grab the counter when I feel my knees start to buckle.

Seeing the bodies in the club, even having pulled them off London, I didn’t allow myself to think about them. Had I, I wouldn’t have gotten her to safety. But now, knowing that two of my teammates were also there, it hits a little bit harder.

Jones, I knew it was possible, but it was also possible that he wasn’t gone. Now it’s confirmed. Downs, he and I were tight, so it hits pretty fucking hard.

Keeka and London hug, and London begins to cry again.

“We mourn, we give them respect, then we live like they’d want us to, London. You live because you can. They would want that,” Keeka says quietly.

“Did you know them?” Brody asks.

Both London and Keeka reply, “Yes.”

Christy and Jamie walk out, both looking worse than they did before they fell asleep.

“Logan.”

Mitch’s voice draws me away from them. When I look at him, I realize he’s looking at Jamie. His face distorts as he works through several emotions, the last being anger. I don’t answer him, I let him take in that she’s okay.

He points at her. “You’re fucking lucky you’re okay.”

I look at her to gauge her reaction. She looks shocked. Even more so when he stalks toward her.

When he gets close enough, he grabs the back of her head with one hand, pulls it hard against his chest, and sighs, “Jesus Christ, Jamie.”

She lets out a long, slow breath. “I’m fine.”

“Wasn’t gonna believe it till I saw it.” He wraps his arms around her. “No more shit. None.”

Her, “Okay,” is but a whisper.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘Cuse Nation

Logan

It wasn’t fucking easy to leave Maddox and Harper’s place. It would have been harder to leave her, but she pushed me out the door with the words, “They need your strength, too.” That literally, and even under the circumstances we have faced, are facing, and will continue to face, brought life to a place that hadn’t felt alive since I landed in Syracuse. Her physical beauty, coupled with her physical strength, is absolutely a turn on.

Dad insisted we drive his SUV, since Mitch’s ride doesn’t have four-wheel drive. In the winter months in Upstate, New York, it’s pretty fucking important to have four-wheel drive.

When I open the driver’s side door, Mitch holds up the keys. “No disrespect, man, but I’m gonna drive.”

“Fuck you are.” I force a laugh. I really hate riding.

“I’m being one hundred percent real with you right now. I saw how you parked Black Betty, and I’m not chancing it, man.” He stands next to me, not caving in. Then, after a few moments of a stare down, he shakes his head. “And you look like shit. You need to sleep.”

“Fuck,” I sigh out and step back. “Fine, but I’m driving back.”

“We’ll see about that,” he says, sliding into the driver’s seat.

I get in the passenger seat, and he starts it up, throwing it into drive.

“So,” he starts, “London Fields.”

“Leave it alone.”

“Just saying, no wonder you were so over the top about her.” He chuckles.

“Known her half my life,” I tell him. “She’s been through some shit. Just wants normal. That’s why, Mitch.”

“A girl like that doesn’t get normal,” he says as if he actually gets it.

“Two days ago, I would have agreed. Now, no one seems to get normal. Or maybe this shit is the new norm.”

“Sad as fuck, man, sad as fuck.”

§

We spent two hours at the hospital. The entire team took turns going in and out of Downs’ room. His parents, Chuck and Wendy, were with him the entire time. They seemed appreciative that we were all there, but I could imagine they just wanted to be alone with him. My stomach turns as we drive toward my old place at thinking about the hell they are living in right now. The same hell Ava lived. We all lived.

I can’t even imagine what you are going through.

One sentence. Nine words that you say or hear repeatedly in times like this. Nine words used to acknowledge suffering and anguish in a person you want to console.

The reality is, yes, you can imagine. Anyone who has lost someone they love can damn sure imagine. Anyone who has sat and watched a person breathing through a tube can imagine. Anyone who has been there knows damn well what it feels like to feel hopeless, helpless, and weak. Anyone who has been there also knows that, when sitting there, feeling those crushing emotions, we certainly can’t imagine that anyone has ever survived that amount of pain.

I can’t even imagine what you are going through.

But you can if you actually allow yourself to.

“You good?” Mitch asks.

I shake my head no yet answer, “Yes.”

When we pull into the parking lot across the road, I see a packed house. Mitch gets out, while I just stare at the fucking place. I have no desire to be there. None.

The passenger door is opened. “You coming?”

I shrug. “Why don’t you go ahead? I’d like to grab the shit out of my truck.”

“All right.” He closes the door then walks around the front, opens the driver’s door, and gets in. “You know where it’s at?”

“No, but I can do this myself,” I tell him, kind of annoyed that he doesn’t get that I want to be alone.

“You may want to, but you don’t need to.”

“Mitch...” I grumble.

“Don’t, man, just fucking don’t.” He starts the vehicle, then reaches up and turns on the radio. “Google the address.”

When we pull up to the impound, Boyens is there waiting. We walk up to the gate, and she opens it, waving us in.

When I see my vehicle, I see it’s so much more fucked up than I imagined. And although it shouldn’t shock me, it does.

The glass is all busted out, and there are holes all over the front end, all made by the bullets from that fucker’s guns.

I open the driver’s side door.

“Logan, be careful,” Boyens warns.

I reach in and grab one of my hats off the console, shake the glass off, and hand it to Mitch. Then I open the console and grab my wallet. I keep pictures of Hope and Chance in it. I don’t give a fuck about the rest of it, but those I do. Fucking condoms fill up most of the glovebox and console anyway.

I grab the chain around the mirror; a St. Christopher’s medallion my mother gave me when I got my license, meant for protection during travel. It’s almost comical that my parents, who despise one another and who appear to be opposites since the divorce, have a similar vested interest in making sure I’m protected.

I grab a few more things, keeping my focus on those items and allowing my amused thoughts to keep me distracted from the fact that my truck looks like it’s been in a war.

“You don’t wanna grab Daddy Links’ bag-o-condoms?” Mitch jokes as he points back at the full bag, the one Jamie once pointed out in that first night we all went out.

“No need. Next woman I’m with is getting it raw,” I tell him.

He smirks. “London Fields.”

“You better make sure you have more than condoms, son,” Boyens says from behind me. Hell, I forgot she was even there. “A full suit of armor may be the smarter choice. The eldest Hines doesn’t seem too fond of you.”

I nod, then shrug. “I’m not too worried about him.”

She sighs. “Doesn’t surprise me. You weren’t too worried about a man with a gun shooting up a bar either.”

“Does that make him brave or stupid?” Mitch jokingly asks her.

She laughs. “There’s a fine line between the two.”

When we get in the car, I grab my phone from the charger. I ignore the exuberant number of messages from my family and scroll through to look for the saved messages from London.

I regret the time I spent needing to try to make things right with my mom. It was time wasted.

I begin to type a message that isn’t bullshit pleasantries like we have sent back and forth since that fucking kiss...since cuddle season began.

If you had died, I would have killed you.

After I send it, I stare at the screen, waiting for a reply. Not even those dots that jump around when she’s replying show up.

How messed up is it that, until her, I never even noticed those damn things?

I watch forever, and when nothing pops up, I’m irritated to say the very fucking least.

I toss the phone on the console and groan as I sit back.

“What’s on your mind?” Mitch asks.

“Lawrinson. We need to stop there before heading to the house. And we need to make it quick. I want to get home.”

“Sure thing, Miss Daisy.” He snickers.

I let my irritation spill out. “I can fucking drive.”

He doesn’t let my shit-tastic mood affect him. Fucking guy is tits in my book. “Yeah? So you keep saying.”

When Kashmir sounds off on the console, I grab my phone.

A message from Keeka.

There’s no damn Uber in this town?

There’s not even a stop light, Keeks. What’s up?

Her message is immediate

Just not feeling well.

We can head back. I haven’t stopped at the house yet. I’ll make it quick.

The dots are jumping.

No hurry. I’m just tired.

Take a nap. We’ll see you soon.

Wouldn’t that be rude?

I laugh and type my response.

No. And hey, is London around? I sent her a message and got no reply. She okay?

Her reply is immediate, like London’s should have been.

Her phone was in the club. Her sister-in-law got a new one for her. It’s charging.

Thank you, Harper, I think as I reply.

Let her know I messaged.

It takes a moment for her to message back.

Will do. BTW, you are totally transparent.

That’s a little annoying, I think as I type, needing clarification.

Meaning?

She’s typing, and I’m waiting, wishing I had never noticed those damn jumping dots.

You are in, like, puppy love with her. It’s “cute.”

Cute? Fuck no!

It’s not fucking “cute,” Keeks. It’s fucking dangerous.

I toss my phone on the dash as Mitch pulls up in front of Lawrinson.

“You wait here. This isn’t gonna take long,” I tell him as I open the door to get out.

“Man, don’t pull some stupid shit and get arrested,” he says behind me.

“Not planning on it.” I shut the door and hurry into Lawrinson Hall, immediately seeing him as soon as I walk in.

Well, I guess it’s my lucky fucking day.

I can’t help chuckling at the dork. He’s wearing a fucking bowtie.

“Reeves,” I call out as I close in on him.

“Links,” he replies, not masking his annoyance. “How is she?”

Fucker must be stupid. “That’s none of your damn business.”

“It is my business.”

I want to bust his face, but I told Mitch I wasn’t planning on getting arrested. This fucker would press charges.

“You’re gonna get a call or a text from London at some point, telling you the truth in what happened last night. She was under a lot of stress from the hell she went through. It wasn’t you she wanted her fucking lips on. It was me. You aren’t her boyfriend. She did it to piss me off.”

He starts to interrupt, but I don’t give him the chance.

“You’re going to accept it, because it’s the fucking truth. You’re going to tell her that you understand because, unless you’re a total fucking idiot, you see what’s between her and me. And you’re not gonna give her shit or make a move when she comes back. Because, right now, she doesn’t want to come back. She’s gonna kick and scream all the fucking way here. It’s gonna be hard, but she’ll do it. She has to. It’s her fucking dream, and she deserves a chance to follow it. So, you fuck it up, I’ll bust your face.”

He crosses his arms, a non-defensive move, but I see through his shit.

“Are you finished?”

Idiot say fucking what?

“Good. Contrary to what you believe, I’m not stupid. I know exactly what went down when she got off that elevator. If, for one second, I thought her freshman move was legitimate, she’d have spent the night in my arms.”

I’m going to fucking jail.

“I have no interest in a girl who has a childlike crush on a boy who also uses freshman moves and Neanderthal intellect to maneuver his way through love. I’m also going to try not to point out the utter stupidity in you playing grab-ass with a girl for the better part of a semester then blowing her off when, clearly, you are even deeper in lust, or love, or whatever this thing is with the two of you than she is. You need to get your shit together, Links, or you’re going to lose her.”

“Lose her? Who the fuck do you think you are?” I swear to God my voice just pulled some prepubescent shit on me.

His suppressed smirk tells me I’m right.

“I know exactly what I want in a woman. Which means, whoever I choose will want the exact same thing, or I’ll move on. You’d do well to play by the same rule.”

“You are truly asking for an ass kicking, Reeves,” I snarl.

“Do what you have to do, Links. I won’t back down. Instead, I’ll give you some more words of advice.” He leans in and whispers, “Try using your words, big guy.”

I’m two seconds away from pounding his face in.

“Logan!” I hear Mitch’s voice and look over my shoulder as he nods to the door and walks toward me. “Let’s roll.”

“Leave her the fuck alone.” I push my finger into Reeve’s chest. Then, unable to stop myself, I reach up and tug his stupid fucking bowtie. “Nice fucking tie.”

Mitch laughs. “Come on.”

As I turn to walk away, he has the balls to say, “Nice track pants.”

I turn to clock him, but Mitch grabs my elbow. “No jail, Links.”

He’s right. No time for that shit. I need to get home.

I start for the door when I hear Mitch say, “You even think about going after Jamie next, I’ll tie your nuts up with that thing.”

“Oddly, I’m not concerned. I’m not sure you’d know how to tie one. I’m even more sure that you’d never get close enough to my nuts,” Reeves replies.

“You fuck with mine, I’ll make both happen,” Mitch sneers at him.

Now I’m grabbing him.

“Mitch!” Reeves yells, and we both look back. “How many licks does it take to get to the center of—”

“Don’t!” I grab Mitch as he turns to go after him.

“Are you fucking kidding me, man?” Mitch yells. “You spying on them?”

“Would never be included in something that I’m not wanted to be included in.” Then the fucker holds his fingers up in a V. “Squad oath.”

“You mother—”

The dorm security guard walks out of the bathroom. “Is there a problem?”

“No problem at all.” Fletcher smiles as he hits the button on the elevator and steps in.

Reeves turns to face us, fixes his tie, and then looks at his watch. As the doors close, he gives us a little bitch wave.

I pull Mitch out the door and head to the driver’s side.

“I can fucking drive,” he snaps.

“Not gonna happen,” I tell him.

§

Sitting on the couch in my old place as the entire team sits around, talking about Jones and Downs, I’m restless. I need to do something. There is a small part of me that feels a bit of guilt for not knowing they were even there, but like Maddox pointed out to the detectives, it’s not possible to know where everyone is to keep them safe at all times. A bigger part of me knows that restlessness, anger, and sadness would not be the only emotion I would be feeling if I had lost her, or if she was lying in that ICU bed at University. I would be wrecked.

I look at my phone again to see if she’s replied. She hasn’t.

I look through the messages. Stupid fucking messages, almost meaningless.

Almost.

They meant something. They meant we were both thinking about each other.

When I left for New York City, it was hard as hell. It hurt. The pain reminded me of a sliver under my fingernail that I couldn’t pull out, knowing it would hurt too damn much. I knew if I didn’t mess with it, it really wasn’t that unbearable. But I learned that, when it was left there too long, an infection would begin, and that gnawing pain would be far worse than Dad going at it with a pin and tweezers. Then, well, then it would heal and you forgot about it until the next time it happened.

The way London and I ended cuddle season was perfect, but that gnawing pain was there with each text, each time I saw her, each time we hid in a closet and dry-fucked until I was going to, or did, come in my fucking pants.

I didn’t want to be her sliver, her pain, her infection, so the texts stopped.

Sounds sweet, kind, like a loving gesture. It was somewhat. But I also knew the next time she felt feelings for someone else, like a sliver under her nail, she would be reminded of me, her first kiss. And while we can all lie to ourselves about shit ending “nicely,” we know the reality is we will always remember. We will remember the good and the bad, and then we will think twice about ever putting ourselves in that fucking position again.

While in New York, I tried really hard to get Mom to “Mom up.” When I realized I had let too much time and distance come between us, I vowed not to make that mistake again.

Fuck Fletcher. He’s not about to become shit to her.

Fuck Brody. She’s not a little girl.

Fuck love and all the shit that can fail, keeping us guarded from the beauty of it.

Fuck madmen who take the life out of those left living.

Fuck her for not texting me back.

And fuck me for not manning up and believing what I feel, what she feels, can work.

Oh, and fuck those who made me doubt.

I’m a fucking player, and a game is a game.

To win the game, you have to know the other players and how to overtake them.

What I do know about London is she is a helper and seems to gain a whole lot of self-pride from helping others.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and send her another text.

I need your help.

And you need mine.

Immediate bubbles.

Game on, pretty.

Is everything okay?

It will be, I think as I type.

The team, the community, they’re gonna need something big to help them get past this.

Jumping bubbles.

Okay, Logan, focus.

The bubbles stop. No message. Fuck.

Well, at least I know the wheels are turning.

I look at my team and realize they need to be pulled out of this shit, too. None of them have family to fall back on right now like I do, like London does. Hell, even Coach only stayed for about ten minutes before he left. He was barely hanging on.

“I’m gonna run to the store, grab some candles and poster boards. Jones and Downs deserve that Dome to shine tonight in honor of them.”

None of them stand. I don’t care. It’s not bullshit. It’s the truth.

While I put my shoes on, Mitch walks over and puts his on, too. The others end up following one by one.

Team.

An hour later, there is a makeshift memorial at Gate A of the Dome. It’s now that I allow all the fucking emotions of the past nineteen hours seize me.

Twenty-seven candles for twenty-seven lives.

“Take a knee,” I tell my remaining team.

They all look at me in confusion.

“Take a fucking knee!”

Arms linked, we all kneel in silence, in solace, in unity, and in respect for all those killed last night and for all those fighting for their fucking lives tomorrow.

I turn away from the illumination, from the names of all those killed, because I’m not sure what the hell is going to happen next. I just nearly lost my shit when they didn’t immediately kneel. What the fuck was that?

When I turn, I see dozens and dozens of people coming up the hill. My chest tightens and emotions boil.

What started as a need to get London to step up and step out blew up in my face. Everything I want her to feel, because I know damn well she can handle it, is coming at me. I didn’t expect this to happen.

“Did one of you post on social media?”

All of them shake their heads.

I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. It’s a message from London.

Hey, we’re at University Hospital with Keeka. Logan, she’s having the baby.

CHAPTER FIVE

Why?

London

When Logan left with Mitch, things seemed weirder than when I was watching him and Dad dance around each other. Rather, watching Logan pretend to dance around Dad, and Dad being very annoyed that his intimidation tactics did not seem to work.

I excuse myself for the first time all day, needing a break. Actually, I need a breakdown. I need to shower. I need to be...alone to wrap my head around everything, the horror and the beauty that should never be blended together like it was. I feel disgusted with myself that I am fixating on the good, on Logan, but how could I not?

In the shower, I allow myself to press rewind on today.

It may have been wrong to offer no explanation to Dad and Mom this morning when they walked in on me in bed with Logan, but if I told them the truth—that I wouldn’t have been able to sleep without him—that would have made things worse. Then I would have to explain that, for the last month and a half of my first semester, I slept with him all the time. That would have them questioning if I was sexually active, and my honest answer of “I’m still a virgin” would have been questioned, as well. And that, that would have made me angry. Always has.

I mean, in high school I didn’t judge those who, by “male standards,” were considered “promiscuous.” How could I? The man I call Dad was by the world’s standards a “male whore.” Also by the world’s standards, that made him incredibly hot. Whereas, a female doing the same would be a slut. My standards are different. That’s what makes them mine.

I find it rather amusing that my choice to hold on to my virginity is questioned. Is it a matter of faith? A little bit, yes. Is it a matter of fear? Again, a small amount of fear plays into my decision. I don’t want to be judged because of my physical choices, and I don’t want to give myself to someone who I’m not first connected to on a much deeper level, deeper than skin, maybe even a spiritual level.

Trust, trust is so important. Can you imagine the scandal that it would bring to my family if I ever ended up in a Kardashian situation? Emma Hines is no Kris Kardashian. She would die from embarrassment before she would ever turn it into a profit.

I scrub my body and rinse the conditioner out of my hair. When I step out I stand at the sink, I watch the steam on the mirror evaporate, revealing...me.

I look like hell. Bags are under my eyes and makeup not properly removed streaks down my face. I want to retreat back into the shower where I can think about the trivial things like parents and boy issues, or judgment.

But I can’t.

I stand and look at myself, accepting the ugliness.

Guilt is ugly.

The guilt I carry because I kissed Fletcher is visible on my lips.

I grab a washcloth from the pile that Harper, Tessa, or Emma left for us and scrub them. I mean, really? I nearly pounced on him, and it was just to hurt Logan, because he had hurt me. How awful is it to need to hurt someone when you are hurting so what...you’ll feel better or more in control of a situation that you have none in? I did that...to him...to Logan.

I realize now, last night’s hurt and anger had nothing to do with him. Nor did it have a thing to do with Fletcher.

Fletcher.

I need to fix the situation I caused. I need to tell him the truth in a way that will hopefully not hurt him.

I wrap myself in a towel and walk into the room Logan and I slept in, knowing Ava brought him clothes, because she knew he would use every excuse he could to leave. He didn’t need to be alone. He needed a focus. That’s why I literally pushed him out the door.

I don’t want him and Dad to be enemies. I know they won’t be, but with emotions heightened, people do stupid things, like me...kissing Fletcher.

I open his bag and pull out a SU football sweatshirt. Holding it up to my nose, I smell it. It smells like his detergent, but without his scent mixed in. Good enough, I think as I pull it over my head. Then I search through the bag to find pants, but there are only jeans, and I know they won’t fit me. Still, needing to be closer to him, craving the forgiveness I seek—no, need from him—for actions I am responsible for, regardless of the situation, I grab a pair of his black boxers and put them on.

I walk into the bathroom and grab my bag, pulling out a bra, navy leggings, and a pair of knee-high socks and putting them on.

I sit on the bed, new phone in hand, and power it up. I don’t find it at all intrusive that my contacts are in the new phone already. It’s actually comforting to know Maddox clearly knew my password and transferred the information. It’s reassuring. However, I will obviously tell him he overstepped, not that he will give a damn, but it’s something I need to do.

When Fletcher answers immediately with deep concern for all of us, that makes it harder to possibly hurt him by admitting I was wrong. Nevertheless, it’s something that I must do, because I do love Logan Links, and he was right. I’m not a cheater.

When I tell him I’m sorry about the kiss, I don’t even have to go on.

“I know what was happening last night, Elle.” He laughs. “I mean, London. I know how you feel about Links. I now know it’s not just a freshmen crush. I wish you luck, my friend.”

“We’ll still be friends, right?” I ask.

“Of course. Don’t you let him bully that away either, got it?”

“Got it,” I answer. “Thank you, Fletcher.”

“Aside from that, how are you?”

“Good,” I lie.

“So, when will you be back here? Tonight?”

“No, probably not,” I tell him, but I don’t tell him I probably won’t be back at all. I don’t ever want to leave here again.

Home...family...safety.

I hang up and lie down on the bed, putting my head on the pillow. Now, now I can smell him. There is also comfort in that.

Who would have thought the boy I crushed on forever would eventually end up being my first kiss? Not me.

Who would have thought all those dancing butterflies he caused, still caused, would not be a preconceived weakness in me, in love? Not me.

Who could take all those beautiful butterflies and make them dance in precision to form a shield guarding me in my time of need? Logan.

Regardless of what comes of this, this thing we think is love, this thing with conditions, this thing I may possibly have already ruined by acting so very immature in one of my weakest hours, Logan Links was my armor when I needed strength the most. Logan Links was my protector. I will never, ever forget him, and yes, I will always love him.

Everyone needs a Logan.

But not everyone has one. If they did, last night would have been so much different. Last night, if the man I now know as Damian Highmore had his equivalent to Logan, he would have never done what he did.

Tears well in my eyes because it is assumed to be a flaw that I need to know why. Why Damian Highmore did what he did. I feel shame in it, too. I feel shame in knowing his name and not the names of all his victims. They had no choice, and because of him, they are faceless, nameless lives, but his will forever be remembered.

The reality in my thoughts, the reality that last night wasn’t just a nightmare, is in fact the reality of the world we live in. My heart breaks for all of those who, like me, will try to put themselves back together again after this. I don’t know if it’s even possible.

The tragedies I have dealt with in the past, albeit horrific, I knew our immediate and extended family would get through them together. We would love and support each other, ensure that whatever anyone needed, they had. This...This is different. These are strangers...God, I hate that word...These are human beings with feelings, emotions, pains, pressures, pasts, and loved ones who may not be as strong as my family is.

How do you give something of yourself—a hug, a kind word, a shoulder, the support they need in times like this when they are that word—to strangers? How?

I sob into my hands for those whose names I do not know. I do it in private, because some would find it odd that it makes this horrific situation more difficult for me. But I can’t help it. I need a world where questions are answered; where there is a beginning, a middle, and an end. Senseless and random acts of violence don’t give answers; they leave questions.

“Princess?” Dad walks into the room and sits on the bed.

“Why?” I cry. “Why would someone do this?”

He sighs and lies down next to me, hands over his heart, looking up at the ceiling. He doesn’t answer immediately. When he does, I know why he didn’t.

“Some people are just shit, London.”

I laugh through tears then sob then laugh some more as he reaches over and hugs me.

“That’s what he said, Dad.” I sniff back my tears.

“I think the term is ‘That’s what she said,’ London.”

“No, that’s what Logan said,” I tell him.

Silence from him. More tears from me.

“London, do you remember after your accident, when you were in the hospital, and you told me you hated me?” he whispers.

I nod. “I was—”

“I know what you were. You were sad, hurt, in pain, and you lashed out at me because you knew damn well I wasn’t going anywhere. You knew I loved you...more. More than those words, more than your pain, more than anything in my entire world, aside from your mom. In a way, you knew I would shoulder your hurt so you could wrap your brain around the facts. When you did, you apologized and, of course, I accepted.”

“I’m still regretful and sorry and—”

He places his finger over my lips. “I know you are, princess, I know that. And you should know I am oddly honored that you trusted me enough to know you could let go of whatever you needed to and I’d still be there.” He takes a deep breath, and I hug him tighter.

“I am not ungrateful to Logan because he was the key in keeping you alive last night. Everyone is. But I also know...” He pauses and swallows back him emotions. “I know you are stronger than any other human being I have ever encountered in my entire life, and you would have lived.”

“I’m really not,” I admit.

“You are. But in your unmeasurable strength, there is a weakness that scares the fuck out of me.” I look up at him, and he sighs. “Your heart, London. Your heart has a mind of its own. As much as I’d like to strangle that fucking Links kid, he’s right. Some people are just shit.”

“Dad, I love him.”

“No, not yet you don’t.”

“Dad—”

“No, you listen to me and listen to me well. You need to guard that thing because you just aren’t ready to give your heart fully to someone you aren’t sure can handle all it’s attached to. Your strength is immeasurable because you’ve only given that beautiful heart to those who are worthy. Do not let the thought of love,” he pauses then grumbles through clenched teeth, “or sex, or those physical feelings you’ve experienced lead you astray.” He looks down at me sternly, and I suck my lips in so I don’t laugh. “I’m fucking serious, London. It gives an illusion of love. Chemicals are produced when you have an org—”

“Dad,” I cut him off.

“No, you listen to me. I have always dreamed you would one day marry a man worthy, and yes, have a great sex life—”

“Dad...” I groan.

“It’s not wrong to want you to have what your mother and I have.”

“Dad!” I say louder because...ew.

“Brody.” Mom enters the room. “What are you doing?”

“Well, Em, I’m having the talk with her. The one you avoided because you were sure she was smarter and more grounded than—”

“You did not,” she snaps at him.

He sits up and announces proudly, “I most certainly did, love.”

“You better not have.”

“Em, clearly someone needed to. It’s important to know that those feelings—”

“So help me God in Heaven, Brody Hines, you’re sleeping on the couch. I can’t believe you’d tell her that.” Mom walks over and sits next to me. “London, I’m sorry that this ass of a man would even compare the feelings of—”

“Em,” he interrupts her.

“No, no Em. Sex toys are not better than boys, Brody,” she snaps. “They’re not.”

“What?” I almost laugh.

Mom looks back at me. “They aren’t. No matter what this—”

“Em.” Brody’s tone has changes from warning to slightly amused.

She looks back at him, and he quirks his eyebrow up, which has her covering her mouth.

“Oh, Emma,” he says as if she’s a petulant child.

“Oh God,” she sighs.

He shrugs. “I promised you years ago I wouldn’t bring that up, but now”—he walks over and kisses the top of her head—“I’ll leave you to it.” He looks at me and winks. “Don’t hold back, London. Ask her anything your heart desires.” Then he walks out, shutting the door behind him.

When Mom finally looks at me, her face is a deeper shade of red than I have ever seen.

“Can I ask a question?”

She palms her face and nods.

“Did he really want to tell me to use sex toys and avoid boys?”

She nods again. “He wrote a song about it.”

I can’t not giggle at that, which has her looking back at me.

“You do realize he pushes your buttons on purpose, right?” I ask.

Again, she nods.

“Can you sing it to me?” I joke.

She smiles and shakes her head.

I then push, because yes, I, too, like pushing her buttons—she’s my mom. “It would make me feel so much better.”

She sighs and begins wiping the tear stains off my face. “It was a few years ago, London. I don’t remember anything but how offensive it was.”

“You remembered sex toys are better than boys,” I push a little.

“Like I said, it was totally ridiculous, and I just want you to know that, well, plastic is not fantastic.” The seriousness in her voice, coupled with the “forgotten lyrics,” makes me laugh.

She shakes her head and sighs, smiling slightly. “The talk, London, was supposed to be me and you and—”

“We can still have it, Mom. I’m still a virgin.” Right now, she needs a mom win, and I can give her one, so I do.

She studies my face then smiles genuinely. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I do, but I’m not sure.

“You can tell me anything, London, anything. And believe me when I say I won’t tell Brody, because I won’t. I mean, look how he’s acting today. It’s insane.”

This is the door I needed opened so I can venture in.

“Is it insane because it’s Logan?”

“Of course,” she answers as I suspected she would.

“Because you know he and I have a—”

“Connection?” she asks and nods. “Yes.”

“So, you’re okay with Logan and me?”

“I’m okay with you, London. I trust you. I trust your judgement. I like Logan, and I like him even more after last night.” She clears her throat, and I hug her. Not because she needs a mom win, but because I need a mom hug. “Oh, London, I was so afraid.” She hugs me tighter.

“Me, too, Mom,” I admit. “Me, too.”

After several minutes, she leans back and wipes away my tears. I wipe away hers.

“The talk, London. Never feel pressured. If you don’t want to, don’t ever do it because you know he wants to. It should be...” She pauses and sighs. “You’ll know when the time is right. It’s not in the aftermath of tragedy.”

I immediately look down, feeling shameful again because I asked him to have sex with me.

She lifts my chin. “It’s not.”

I nod.

“Did he try...?” She stops and looks down.

“No,” I whisper. “But I offered.”

“And he denied you?”

I nod and look at her. She looks confused.

“Because of Fletcher,” I admit.

“Don’t force it. Wait for the right time.” She pulls me into another hug. “I trust you, London.”

The door opens and Harper peeks in. “London, your friend Keeka—”

“Oh, dammit, how rude of me.” I give Mom a quick hug then stand up.

“She’s not feeling well.” Harper opens the door wider and Keeka walks in. “I think she should rest.”

“I’m sorry,” Keeka groans.

“Hey, Keeka?” I look up as Tessa walks into the room behind them. “How far along are you?”

She shrugs.

“You don’t know?”

“No, not really.”

Mom and Tessa look at one another.

“Okay.” Tessa smiles.

I know she feels awkward right now, and I don’t want that. “Come on and lie down. I should have asked you to nap with me.”

“I’m good, really. I just—”

“I’m exhausted. Chill with me?”

“Yeah, okay.” She sits on the bed and looks up, then past me at Mom, Tessa, and Harper. “I take the vitamins, I go to the doctors when I can, I feel this thing move. I know I’m fine.”

Tessa smiles and nods.

“Look, I know everyone is big on standardized healthcare, but I wasn’t raised like that. Mom and I ate healthy, exercised, and took care of ourselves. I know this is gonna blow your minds, but I never had immunizations, or well, child checkups or any of that crap, until they forced it before I went to school.”

“Well, believe it or not, I agree with your mom.” Tessa comes over and sits on the opposite side of the bed. “Nutrition is key to good health.”

Keeka holds her belly and winces.

“How about we call her and let her know you’re a little tired?” Tessa asks.

Keeka lies back and sighs. “She’s dead.”

“I’m so sorry,” Tessa says sincerely. “How about your father?”

“Never knew him, and from what I do know, he’s dead, too,” she answers.

Silence...my enemy.

“Mine, too,” I tell her again.

“Mine, three.” Harper comes over and sits next to Tessa.

Keeka looks around. She seems agitated. Then she jerks her hands to her belly.

“Dammit, kid,” she whispers.

“Three minutes,” Harper says softly to Tessa.

“Is there anyone we can call?” Tessa asks. “The father maybe?”

“I called Logan,” she says, closing her eyes.

Tessa looks at me, shocked. When I shake my head, she visibly relaxes.

“Girl party and no one invited me?” Ava asks, walking in and hopping onto the bed.

“Son of a bitch,” Keeka grumbles.

“Daughter, actually.” Ava laughs. “Ashley fits the bill.”

Keeka sighs. “Carmen was known to be one, as well.”

“You look like hell,” Ava says, placing the back of her hand over her forehead.

“I don’t even know you, but you seriously shouldn’t say shit like that to a pregnant woman,” Keeka grumbles then clenches her teeth.

“Not pregnant for long.” Ava smiles. “Anyone timing these contractions?”

Keeka clamps her knees together, looking horrified. “I’m not—”

“Like hell you aren’t, sister.” Ava nods. “Life and death.” She reaches up and rubs her belly. Keeka looks at her like she has two heads. “Your mom’s gonna make it all okay, little one.”

Keeka looks at me.

“This is Ava, Logan’s sister.”

“Two totally different people.” Keeka winces.

“How so?” Ava asks.

“He’s...” She pauses and looks at her. “He’s not as in your face.”

Ava laughs. “I was always the wild one.”

“You don’t say?” Keeka sighs.

“How do you know my baby brother?” Ava asks, helping her sit up. Okay, help isn’t actually what Keeka thinks she’s doing, but I know that’s what Ava is trying to do.

Keeka locks eyes with her and squeezes her hands when what I assume is another contraction hits. “Bar.”

“She works at a bar on Marshall street,” I explain.

“Cool. Always thought that would be fun. First child?” Ava asks. “We’re gonna get you in the shower, cleaned up, and then to the hospital.”

Ava looks back at me. “Grab her some clothes? Big ones.” Then she looks at Tessa. “I overstep. You’re the nurse; I know this.”

Tessa smiles and nods. “You’re doing great.”

“So, your mom’s a bitch, too?” Ava asks, walking Keeka into the bathroom.

“Not to me she wasn’t,” Keeka answers.

“She wasn’t? Meaning?”

“She’s dead,” Keeka says quieter now.

I walk around them and start the shower. “It’s been a couple years, right, Keeka?”

She nods.

“I’m sorry. Can we call your dad? The daddy?” Ava asks.

“No!” Keeka yells, but Ava doesn’t even flinch.

“Her dad’s dead,” I whisper.

“He wasn’t my dad. He fucked my mom, end of,” she snaps.

“Gotcha. So, the baby’s father—”

“I have no fucking clue who he is, okay, Logan’s sister? I’m not like you all, okay?” she yells now.

Ava looks at her sternly. “Stop being a bitch and get your ass in the shower.”

“Ava, I can help her,” I step in.

She leans in and whispers something in Keeka’s ear then steps back. Keeka appears shocked. Then Ava says, “Don’t judge, babe. We good?”

Keeka nods, saying nothing.

Ava must have just dropped the two babies, two daddies bomb.

“Perfect.” Ava is all smiles again. “Now, let’s do this shit.”

Within ten minutes, we’re in Mom and Brody’s vehicle. Lucas is driving, Tessa is in the passenger seat, and Ava is waving as we pull out of the driveway.

I message Mom immediately.

I love you...more.

When it comes back as undelivered, I check the settings and enable messaging.

As soon as I do, my screen lights up with message after message after message. When the song “Into You” by Ariana Grande blasts, I hit the message button immediately to silence it.

I want to jump out of the vehicle when I look up to see Lucas’s eyes are on the rearview mirror, looking at me.

When I hear it again, I hit the button repeatedly, but it just keeps going.

“So, baby, come light me up, and maybe I’ll let you on it. A little bit dangerous, but baby, that’s how I want it. A little less conversation, and a little more touch my body…”

It starts again. I do the same thing.

As soon as I think it’s over, it starts again.

At this point, I try to roll down the window. I am literally going to throw it out.

“Logan?” Keeka asks loudly in the middle of a hand-crushing contraction.

Busted.

I simply nod as I glance up and see Lucas’s eyes now crinkle in amusement.

I see Tessa look back, somewhat shocked.

“He told me to tell you to call him,” Keeka hisses now.

The sound goes off again, and now Lucas actually laughs.

I expect to see Tessa elbow him, smack him—do something—but she doesn’t. She laughs as she turns back around. He takes her hand and kisses it, then winks at her.

I resend Mom’s message

I love you...more.

The song “Landslide” begins when her immediate response is received.

Love you more, London. Please stay close to Lucas and Tessa.

I reply by sharing my location with her on my iPhone, something I stopped doing while asserting my independence.

The song plays again when she responds.

Thank you, London, thank you.

Next, I send Logan a message as we pull into the hospital parking lot.

Hey, we’re at University Hospital with Keeka. Logan, she’s having the baby.

CHAPTER SIX

It’s Time

Logan

As soon as I get the text, I take off running.

“Where the hell are you going?” Mitch’s voice slows me.

I turn around, but keep running backward, grabbing the keys from my pocket and tossing them to him. “Keep this going. I’m heading to the hospital.”

“He’s gone, man?” Mitch yells at me, making me realize I should have mentioned why first.

“No, I’m sorry.” I stop. “Keeka’s having the baby.”

“What?” he gasps. “Now?”

I nod. “Keep this going. I’ll shoot you a text later.”

When he squats and grabs his head, I realize I’m not the only one fucked up over all this. Mitch… Mitch is a fucking mess.

I jog back to him and pull him up. Then I shake him a bit and tell him, “Suck it up. Get them through this. You get through this. Tonight’s just the beginning. We’re stronger than him. He left a mess. We’re gonna do what we can to help everyone heal.”

He nods, smacking away a tear.

“You good?”

He nods. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good, now go.”

§

I walk into the emergency room. Having seen Brody and Emma’s SUV pulled up next to the entrance, I assume that’s where they are. I brace myself for Brody’s glare as I pull my hat down while walking in.

“Is this necessary? I said we’ll cover the cost,” Dad, not Brody, spats at the woman at admissions.

“Mr. Links, we have paperwork that needs to be done,” she snaps back at him.

I want to tell her to fucking back off my old man, but Tessa takes over.

“We understand that. What he’s offering is to pay for anything not covered,” she says calmly.

“And I understand that,” the bitch behind the desk smarts off at her.

Tessa leans in and whispers, “You work in healthcare; try to act like a professional—”

“Excuse me?” the woman gasps.

“I have. I’ve excused your blatant disrespect to a patient in labor. I’ve excused your disrespect to my husband, but what I will not excuse”—she hits her fist on the counter—“is utter disrespect for my profession. Healthcare. You work in healthcare, now act accordingly.”

“Damn, baby.” Dad’s face lights up. “You fucking tell her.”

“Lucas...” Tessa scowls at him.

“Do you work in this hospital?” the woman asks with a little less sass behind her this time.

“I don’t work here,” Tessa begins, and I see the woman’s sass returning, “but I do work as an advocate for patient’s rights. And I will not tolerate your bullshit.”

The woman steps back, visibly collecting herself.

“Now get her to Labor and Delivery, and we’ll work on the paperwork. If there is an issue with insurance, we’ve already said we’ll handle it.”

When the woman walks away, Dad looks Tessa up and down. “That was sexy as fuck.” He grabs her hips. “Now tell me, Mrs. Links, when did you become an advocate for patient’s rights?”

“Tomorrow,” she answers sternly.

He laughs. “That’s right; you do.”

I clear my throat after he kisses her for plenty long enough.

“Hey.” Dad smiles when he looks toward me.

“Hey.” I nod, looking around. “Where are they?”

He smirks. “Why don’t you text London and find out?”

“Lucas, back off.” Tessa nudges him.

“What, baby?”

I send her a text, then hear a song playing and look behind me.

London looks up as she’s fucking with her phone, and Dad laughs.

“You’re an asshole.” She points to Dad.

“You really are,” Tessa agrees.

“Nah,” he says as he laughs then walks toward Keeka who is gripping both sides of the bathroom door that she and London just came out of. “Come on, Keeka. Tessa is gonna make this all better.”

“Drugs,” she snarls. “Drugs will make this all better.”

I look at my phone, and then at London, who looks like hell—exhausted, just how I feel.

I type out a stupid, nonsensical text, one like we used to send.

Clear skies over the Dome tonight.

I push send. Then I hear a song.

Her eyes nearly pop out, and she turns bright red as she hits the phone to quiet it.

“What was that?” I ask.

“Ha, ha,” she huffs. “I told your dad he was an ass for that; do you think I’ll hold back on you?”

Oh shit, I laugh to myself. “Answer the question.”

“It’s called a ringtone.” She puts her perfect little nose in the air and looks away.

Is it set just for me?

I hit send.

She jumps when she hears it, and I laugh.

She doesn’t even look at me, or the message. She walks past me, nose still in the air, and drops her damn phone in the garbage.

Dad is now laughing his ass off, and I can’t help continuing to laugh, too.

Feels damn good to laugh. Feels good to see her acting a little normal. Just feels good, ya know, to have life...still happening.

Thankfully, the garbage is empty, so I reach in and grab her phone, listening to my ringtone.

“So, baby, come light me up, and maybe I’ll let you on it. A little bit dangerous, but baby, that’s how I want it. A little less conversation, and a little more touch my body...”

Well, damn.

I chuckle as I walk toward her, music still playing.

I sit next to her. “You dropped something.”

“Screw you,” she whispers.

I reach over, take her hand, put the phone in it, and whisper, “I like it.”

She looks out the corner of her eye and hides her smirk while turning off the ringer.

When Keeka’s name is called, I look up.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Tessa says.

The nurse looks at all of us when we stand. “Who’s her coach?”

I look at London, and she looks at me.

“They are,” Dad says, smiling his fool head off.

I’m reminded of the video they forced us to watch at school, the one that nearly made me throw up, the birthing one. Dad had to come pick me up from the nurse’s office. He didn’t make a big deal about it. He actually said nothing until we pulled into the driveway when we got home, and then it was a chuckle as he got out of the vehicle and, “Great birth control,” before he shut the door.

I nod at Dad then look at Keeka. “You good with that?”

She nods and then growls, “I don’t care who’s in there, just get it out.”

When she’s been examined, the midwife comes out to tell us that she’s seven centimeters. Tessa explains that’s good, but it also means she can’t get an epidural, the pain med that would make this easier on her.

“Fuck,” I sigh right before hearing Keeka yell at the nurse...in a rainbow of Spanish verbiage.

“The Spanish version of Jade when she had Luke,” Dad jokes, and Tessa laughs.

Then Tessa stands and holds up the clipboard. “I’d like you to get her some pain meds to take the edge off, and I’m going to help get this paperwork filled out.” She doesn’t wait for a yes or no; she just walks in, stops at the door, and looks back. “Come on, she’s not in full-blown labor yet.”

“I have to be!” Keeka cries. “This is hell!”

After she’s given something to dull the pain, Tessa and London are on each side of her bed. London is holding a cloth on her forehead and feeding her ice chips, while Tessa begins moving through the questionnaire.

I feel Dad’s eyes on me and look at him. Concern shows in his eyes for me, like they did for Ava. I suppose it has always been there, but I haven’t noticed it until now.

“Mother’s name?” Tessa asks as Dad and I stare at each other.

“Carmen Garcia Lopez,” Keeka answers.

Dad’s eyes dart from mine to Tessa’s.

I look to Tessa to see she’s looking at Dad with the same stunned look. Then she clears her throat and continues.

“Her profession?”

“Which one?” Keeka, now half-stoned, asks then answers, “In the city, she danced on stages—whatever paid the bills. From Broadway to New York Dolls Gentlemen’s Club. When we lived in Syracuse for a short time, she worked at the same bar as I do. But I guess dancer and fitness instructor. She taught Zumba in Florida when she was younger. She said that’s when it all started. Her love of dance.”

“Carmen Garcia Lopez?” Tessa asks quietly.

Keeka looks at her and nods.

“Where in Florida?”

“Ft. Lauderdale, I think.” Keeka sighs. “It’s probably in one of those journals.”

Tessa looks back at Lucas.

“Do you know her?” London asks.

Tessa and Dad still stare at each other for far too damn long, and then they look back at London.

“Probably just a coincidence, but I met a Zumba dancer with the same name while on vacation years ago.”

“Where?” London asks.

“Ft. Lauderdale,” Tessa answers, looking down at the clipboard.

“That would be pretty cool, huh, Keeka, if Tessa and your mom met a long time ago, and now, here she is when you’re in labor?”

“Probably just a coincidence,” Keeka groans.

“Do you have a picture?” London asks.

Keeka winces in pain. “In my phone.”

London goes to grab her phone as Tessa asks, “Your father’s name?”

Dad walks over next to Tessa and puts his hand on her back.

“I don’t know. I think I met him, on a beach in New jersey. But he was introduced to me as an uncle. Had lots of those,” she jokes, but she shows emotion...sadness. “I only remember him because he looked different than the others. He was blond. Met that guy a couple times. That time is even more memorable because there was a fight at a party between him, Mom, and another uncle.”

“A fight, huh?” Dad tries to make light of the situation. “I bet he and I would have gotten along great. I was a fighter back then, too.”

“Back then?” Keeka asks.

I notice Tessa nudge him.

“When I was younger,” he back tracks.

“Yeah, well, after that, there were less uncles and more aunts, if you know what I’m saying.” She sighs.

London laughs, handing her the phone. “I don’t.”

As Keeka scrolls through her phone, she elaborates for London. “She started dating women.” She hands London back the phone. “That’s me and Mom.”

“Wow, she’s beautiful.” London smiles as she looks at the picture, then shows it to Tessa. “Isn’t she?”

It takes Tessa a bit too long to respond, and Dad’s rested hand grips the back of her shirt. “Yeah, she certainly is.”

“Do you know her?” London asks.

I watch London and think back on the day she asked Keeka about her father’s accident. In her eyes, there is a bit of that same longing for a deeper connection with Keeka.

“Oh, fuck!” Keeka grabs her belly and sits straight up.

Tessa shoves the clipboard at Dad and holds her back. “Try not to push.”

“I have to!” Keeka yells.

“Lucas, go get a doctor to check on her.”

Dad stays unmoving.

“Lucas, now, or I will.”

“Of course, of course, baby,” he says, rushing to the door.

I step out into the hall and wait for him to get a nurse. When he walks back toward me, I tell him, “Spill it.”

“Probably not a good time to do that, Logan.” He starts walking past me.

I hold up my hand, stopping him. “Dad.”

He looks at me then runs his hand through his black hair. I see a few grays peppered around his hairline that didn’t used to be there.

“We know her mother,” he admits.

“From when?” I ask firmly.

“From a long fucking time ago,” he answers.

“Dad...”

“Before your mom, Logan,” he assures me. “Tessa and I dated, lived together, grew up together. We also vacationed together. We went to Ft. Lauderdale and, yeah, we met Carmen.” He sighs.

I knew they dated, but I hadn’t realized the exact amount of time, or that it was serious enough that they vacationed and lived together.

“Ask whatever question you have so we can get back in there,” he says.

“Was Mom your first love or second?”

He looks shocked by that. “I knew your mom first, but Tessa Ross was my first love. I was hers, too. Shit timing, but looking back, I’d have gone through every ounce of that hell again. Because, if not, I wouldn’t have you or your sister. She wouldn’t have—”

“Yeah, I get it, but you and Mom, you were before Tessa?”

“Jesus L., Logan,” he sighs out.

“I’m not pissed, Dad. I just needed to know if she was your first or your second.”

“First, Logan. Tessa was my first love.”

I nod, feeling a little wave of calmness come over me.

“Anything else?” he asks.

“Yeah, was London’s dad involved in that Ft. Lauderdale trip? Because there’s a fucked-up connection between Keeka and London, and I never really noticed it until just now, but they have the same nose.”

Dad looks over my shoulder, and I look back to see Tessa standing behind me.

“Just want to brace myself for what’s to come,” I tell them both.

“We were visiting Troy in Ft. Lauderdale,” Tessa whispers.

“And they were together?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Not then, but eventually, they ended up being together.”

“Well, that’s...fucked up.”

We all look at each other when the nurse comes out. “She’s eight and a half centimeters dilated. Not long now.”

Tessa smiles at her and nods. “Thank you.”

When she walks away, I tell her and Dad, “I want to be the one who talks to Brody.”

“We don’t know anything yet,” Dad tells me.

I roll my eyes. “No one can figure it out faster than him or Maddox.”

Tessa nods. “This is true.”

“But we already know the truth, don’t we?” I ask her.

“Meaning?”

“Piper said I was gonna have a Weed, and London’s sister was, too,” I tell her.

Tessa’s hand goes to her chest as she takes in what I just told her.

“Is it yours?” Dad asks, trying to remain calm.

“No, Dad, but if the father doesn’t step up, I’m gonna have a Reed,” I tell him.

I expect him to be annoyed, talk me out of taking on extra responsibility, but he smiles and nods. “I had a Luke when I was younger than you.”

I nod, thankful he gets it.

“It’s a good thing you have an entire apartment building. Guess it’s time to get serious about that project.”

I nod and smile a little. “Guess so.”

When I hear someone clear their throat, I look around Tessa.

London.

She looks at me, then Tessa, then Dad, and back at Tessa.

“She’s my sister?” she whispers.

“Honey, we don’t know that for sure.” Tessa puts her arm around her.

“I hope she is. That way, I know we can help her.” London reaches up and pulls her hair.

“What the hell are you doing?” I gasp.

“Get two baggies. Put this in one and call Maddox. I want to know the truth now. I’ll go get hers.”

I grab her arm before she walks in. “Hey, London?” She looks back at me. “Keeka will kick that pretty little ass of yours if you go yanking her hair.”

She tries not to smile as she looks down. “Can someone get me a brush?”

“I’ll go find one,” Tessa offers then begins to walk away.

“Tessa?” She looks back at me. “I think it should be you and London in there with her.”

Tessa nods. “Thanks, Logan.”

I look at Dad who smirks. Fucker.

I laugh to myself, knowing he thinks I’m still that big of a pussy after that video.

As he walks away to join Tessa, I look back at London.

“Hey,” I say, pulling her a little closer.

“Hey,” she whispers back, looking up.

I smile. “You look pretty.”

“Liar,” she scoffs. “I look like shit.”

“Gotta ask you a question,” I begin.

She pushes up on her tiptoes and grabs the back of my neck. “Yes, I told him.”

Oh hell, I think as I press my lips against hers.

Keeka’s pain-filled yell breaks us apart.

“Go,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head. She nods. “And London?”

“Yeah?” she asks, smiling now.

“You look really good in my sweatshirt.” I wink.

She shrugs. “You should see me in your boxers.”

I have no fucking clue why I feel like the wind was just knocked out of me, but I do. Hell, I can’t say shit.

She turns to walk back into the room then stops. With her back to me, she lifts the sweatshirt and pulls her leggings down just enough to show me that she actually is wearing my fucking boxers.

“What the hell is that?” Dad laughs.

London turns quickly and groans, “Lucas, go away!”

I look at Dad, ready to tell him to back the fuck off her, but Tessa is next to him, smiling.

“Both of you may find this cute, but there’s a British man, who has actually killed a man with his bare hands, who doesn’t find this at all amusing,” I tell them.

“How the hell do you know about that?” Tessa gasps.

“Matthew, your son. Been warning me away from her for years,” I tell her.

“How did he know about that?” Tessa acts shocked.

“How the hell don’t I know about that?” Dad asks. Then he immediately says, “He touches you, I’ll kill a British man with my bare American fucking hands.”

“Relax, Links.” Tessa laughs. “We have something stronger than you both.”

“You think so?” Dad huffs.

Tessa nods. “Emma.”

“Now, how the hell would a woman be able to...?” He stops when Tessa grabs his hair and yanks him down to whisper something in his ear. He laughs as she steps back. “True.”

When Tessa walks into the room, he looks back at me.

“What did she say?” I ask.

Dad laughs. “She said the truth.”

“And what’s that?”

He smirks. “Pussy.”

I roll my eyes at his bullshit.

“Roll those eyes all you want, but the truth is, you drove through a bar’s window and faced death to save the one you’re playing with.”

“Dad, I haven’t fucked London,” I tell him.

“You can tell that to the Brit. I’m your dad; don’t try—”

“I’m telling you the truth.”

He looks at me for a few seconds then starts to laugh.

“I’m damn serious.”

He pats my back. “I know that.”

“Then, why are you laughing?”

He smiles. “Because that means you’re even more fucked than most men.”

“Meaning...?”

“You’re in love with that girl,” he says, still smiling.

“So?”

“You’re gonna start a new Revolutionary War. This time, it won’t be about tax; it’ll be about ass. Don’t worry, son; the Americans always win those. I got your back.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

The British...

Logan

Sitting in the waiting room alone, with two baggies of dark hair, I take a deep breath then send a text to—not Maddox as instructed—Brody, asking him to answer my FaceTime request, alone, in five minutes.

I sip a cup of coffee while I prop my phone up and wait for the right time to call.

He doesn’t respond, I don’t care.

Five minutes later, I hit him up on FaceTime.

When he answers, he looks pissed. Again, I don’t care.

“Need to tell you something that’s not gonna be easy for you to hear, but—”

“I will break you,” he sneers, leaning forward.

I lean in, too. “This has nothing to do with London or me. I told you earlier, she’s still a virgin.”

“She better remain that way, too,” he continues to sneer, sitting back.

I want to tell him that’s highly unlikely, but I know what he’s about to face, so I don’t buy into the bullshit.

I hold up the two bags, and he leans in again.

“This is hair from London and Keeka.”

“What the hell kind of shit are you doing?” he snaps.

“Keeka’s mother was with Troy years ago. The two—”

“Wait. What?” He looks utterly confused.

“We think London and Keeka are both Troy’s. We think they’re sisters.” I set the bags down and let him absorb that information.

“The girl who was here, the one around the same age as London?”

“They’re the same age,” I tell him.

“You suspect Troy fathered both girls?” He looks at me like I’m being ridiculous.

“They clicked right away. Keeka doesn’t click with anyone.”

“So that assumption warrants—”

“Keeka doesn’t even know her father. Possibly met him at a party on a beach in New Jersey years back.”

When I tell him that, his face drops.

“What?” I ask for clarification on his non-response.

He stammers for a few moments then looks back up at me. “She’s mine to take care of. My daughter is mine to protect.”

I sigh. “I should have fucking called Maddox.”

“What the fuck does that mean!”

“It means, he at least fucking appreciates that I give a fuck about your daughter. It means that you and I are on the same fucking team,” I snap.

He points at the camera. “You’re not on my team.”

“Good to know I’m more grown up than you,” I huff.

“You arrogant, little, fucking—”

“I don’t need a thank you for last night. Like it or not, I’m gonna be around. I’m gonna go into fucked-up situations, not caring about shit except her. I’m gonna make damn sure she’s okay. I love her. So do you. Suck it up.” I lean back, trying to calm the fuck down.

At his unresponsiveness, I look up again and continue with, “I fucking called you, not Maddox, so that you, Brody, can talk to Emma. So you can focus on whatever effect this may have on Emma, your wife, your first fucking priority. So again, I don’t need a fucking thank you for protecting London, and yeah, keeping my dick out of her because, like it or not, I’m tuned in to what she needs and what she deserves.

“I’d say nice fucking chat, but it wasn’t. I’ll give Maddox a call, because you clearly can’t keep your damn emotions in check. I’m not some arrogant fuck. I’m a man. More importantly, I’m the man your daughter is in love with, so you may want to check your shit at the door before coming at me again.”

“What? Are you going to try to make her hate me?” he snaps...again.

I shake my head. “I’m just gonna be the one sitting back, waiting to catch her when she crumbles because of you. You are gonna force a wedge so deep between you and her that it disturbs me. She fucking needs you, too. She loves you, Brody. But I’m telling you, you’re digging your own fucking grave with her.”

He says nothing, not one damn thing, and then...“Do you know I will literally snap your neck if you hurt her?”

I nod once. “Noted.”

Silence. A stare off. He cracks.

“You’ll receive a text in a few minutes. I’ll have someone pick up the samples.”

“Okay.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s London,” I tell him.

He nods, knowing damn well what I mean.

I don’t say a word when I hit the end call button.

“Fucking asshole,” I grumble.

“Hey.” Her voice is soft, hushed, soothing.

I look up as London uncrosses her arms and pushes off the door where I suspect she overheard most, if not all, of that conversation.

Less than twenty-four hours ago, I would have been preparing to defend myself. Now, it’s not necessary. Therefore, I just sit back and watch her walk over to me. She sits across the table from me and sighs.

“Tired?” I ask.

“Exhausted, I think.”

I nod. “How’s Keeka?”

A smile forms on her pretty, plump lips. “You can ask her for yourself in about twenty minutes.”

“Yeah?”

Her smile broadens. “She has a baby girl.”

“A girl?”

She nods.

“Healthy?”

Her eyebrows knit together slightly, deep concern showing, and she nods.

I lean forward and reach across the table. She looks at my hand.

“Give it to me,” I instruct.

She doesn’t look up, but she does as I ask.

When I rub my thumb across her knuckles, she finally looks at me.

“She’s small, really small,” she whispers.

“Hope and Chance were, as well,” I remind her, hoping that reminder eases her concern.

She nods then adds, “Keeka didn’t want to hold her.”

“Why?”

“She said she was tired. She said she wanted to be alone.”

“Well, she’s not used to being around a bunch of people—”

“She works at a bar, Logan.” Her words come out clipped. I know she’s tired, confused, stressed, fucking emotional.

“That’s her stage.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That she doesn’t have people like you and I do. She’s probably overwhelmed,” I explain.

“I need her.” She scowls when she looks up at me. “She needs to hold that tiny little baby.”

Not letting go of her hand, I stand up, walk behind her, and pull her out of her chair. “She will, London.” I walk over to the waiting room couch and sit. “Now, come chill because I need you to rest.”

She doesn’t argue, and when she sits, I let go of her hand, wrap my arm around her, and encourage her to lie down. “Try to get some sleep.”

She yawns as she lies down. It takes her a minute to rest her head on my lap, but when she does, she looks up at me in confusion. “How will that baby survive this cruel world?”

I’m shocked by the question, but I need to give her an answer, one that’s truthful. “She’ll have us.”

She cocks her head slightly.

“I’m gonna make sure she takes care of her right. You’ll do the same.”

She sighs and gives a slight nod. “Are you going to tell Trucker?”

“If I call him right now, I’d fucking break him,” I answer honestly, but I don’t tell her why, and I don’t tell her how.

When she studies my face, I reach up to pull my hat down.

She stops me. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pull your hat down,” she says, taking my hand.

“It’s—”

“A defense mechanism,” she says.

“Defense against what?” I nearly laugh.

“To hide your eyes, to hide your feelings and expressions, to hide Logan. Don’t do that, not from me.”

“I’m not.”

She looks at me sternly. I don’t like her scrutinizing me.

I feel her grip on my hand tighten and realize I was going to do it again—pull the hat down.

“You don’t have to with me. I don’t want you to.”

If I expect her and I to work, I’m going to have to accept that maybe...maybe sometimes London knows me better than I thought. In this case, she apparently knows me better than I know myself.

I sigh. “Not easy to do, but I’ll give it a try.”

Her eyes smile at me, making me less anxious.

She holds her hand up and spreads her fingers. “Link it.”

“Link it, huh?” I ask, doing the same with mine, and she nods then holds her hand against mine. It’s crazy how small it is in comparison. “You have tiny little hands.”

“Actually, I have big hands for a girl,” she says, looking at them together.

“I doubt that.” I move my hand so her fingers slide between mine. Then I fold my hand down around hers.

“Long fingers, better for tickling the ivory,” she tells me.

“Long fingers are good,” I respond, still not believing that her hands are considered big.

She giggles, and I look away from our hands to her.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Her grin broadens as she closes her eyes.

“If I can’t fuck with my hat, you can’t say shit like that and not explain.”

As she blushes a bit, I think about what we said.

“Jesus, London.”

“I’m sorry. I just...” she huffs. “Well, it’s...you know?”

I sit and wait for her to “London” this up—make an awkward situation even more awkward.

“Logan?”

“London?”

“How many people were you with when you were gone?” She immediately looks away from me.

“Are you kidding me?”

“I know we weren’t together, but I want to know.”

“Why the hell would you ask me that?”

“Because you know I certainly wasn’t.” She sits up, turns, and looks at me. “You just need to be honest with me, okay, Logan? I need that. I need you to be—”

Unable to take it anymore, I turn my hat backward, grab the back of her neck, and pull her close to me. A burst of her sweet breath escapes against my lips before I kiss her, forcing myself to be gentle. I push my forehead against hers and look into her baby blues. “No one, London.”

“Okay.” She pushes her lips toward mine, but I deny her because she needs to know.

“The night you busted into my place and wouldn’t leave, that fucking night I was trying to fuck things up...”

She nods.

“You had every fucking right to do that. We had conditions.” I reach up and rub her plump lower lip, wanting so fucking badly to kiss her, but not yet. “When I left for the city, I tried to put distance between us, because that’s the only thing to keep me away from you. I also wanted to make damn sure you always remembered me, thought of me when you moved on to someone else. I didn’t want you to be my first love. I didn’t want to be yours. I thought about all the people who fuck those up—your parents, my parents, half the fucking world. I can’t even imagine kissing someone else—”

“I’m so sorry,” she interrupts. “I’m so sorry I did that to you.”

“You better be.” I grip the back of her neck a little harder. “But straight-up, I probably needed that. Because that’s when I decided, fuck four years, fuck four minutes, and fuck you if you stuck with him.”

Nearly panting, she says, “I never would have—”

“I didn’t want you to be my first love because I wanted to fuck up with someone else. I wanted you to fuck up with someone else. But after seeing that...that fucking...” I can’t even say kiss, so I fucking don’t. “After that, I made the damn decision that I’m gonna be your first fucking everything. Neither one of us are gonna fuck up. Never again, London, never.”

She nods furiously, looking at my lips as if she needs them to fucking survive. I’m going to make damn sure she knows she does, while keeping her sweet, little ass focused on becoming her, too.

“Kiss me, dammit,” she begs.

“Before that happens, we need to discuss some fucking conditions.”

She closes her eyes and sighs.

“One, you never put those pretty lips on any other man, you got me?”

She nods.

“Two, hometown knows.”

She opens her eyes and looks at me.

“Hometown’s known longer than we have, and although I’ll be respectful and not fuck your hot, little mouth with my tongue like I want to every time I’m around you, I’m not promising shit, I’m not hiding shit, and I’m not putting up with shit.”

She nods again. “I got that when I overheard your conversation.”

“Sorry, London, but I’m not sorry,” I give it to her straight.

“Me either,” she tells me, serious as fuck.

“Fuck, I’m so into you,” comes out my mouth, and I have no clue how the fuck that happened. She must be rubbing off on me.

“I’ve got a crush on you, too, Logan.” She smirks.

“Yeah?” I smile at her.

“Big one.” Her smirk widens into a smile.

“Good fucking thing.”

“Kiss me.”

“Shit, conditions.” I pause, trying to remember what the fuck else I should say. Then she pushes her little paw up my shirt, and now I have no clue what I was thinking two seconds ago.

“Kiss. Me.”

As I grab her face, intending to do just that, someone walks into the room.

I look up at a man in a lab coat. “Mr. Hines said you have something for us.”

I reach into my pocket, pull out the two baggies, and hand them to him.

“How long will it take?” London asks.

He doesn’t answer.

“Do you know who the fuck she is?” I ask the asshole disrespecting her by not answering her fucking questions. “She’s London Fields.”

“A few hours,” he answers. “Mr. Hines will get the results.”

“Thank you.” She nods then looks back at me and demands, “Now kiss me.”

“A little pushy, are we?” I ask, pushing her chin up with my thumb.

“Do you know who I am?” she jokes.

“Yeah, I do. You’re mine.”

“Then kiss...yours,” she whispers, her mouth centimeters from mine.

So, I do, with my hand on the back of her neck, my thumb under her chin as my lips press against hers.

Mind blowing shit, this kissing thing. I mean, don’t get me wrong; fucking her is going to be...unimaginable. Unimaginable because, if fucking her mouth with my tongue, tasting her pretty lips, feeling her tongue stroking mine slowly, yet yielding to my need to take lead feels this fucking good, I am going to be worshipping every damn part of her body. And as messed up as that is, fucking her is further from my mind than exploring the rest of her before I take what has been mine forever. She knew it, and you’re damn right I knew it.

She is mine.

Mine.

Trust, she gives it to me so freely. I can’t even think about her with someone else because she may be cherry, but there is an obvious sexual and sensuality to her.

I’m not sorry in the least that I defended her on the down-low for all those years. None of those ass-sniffing little fuckers deserved her. They couldn’t handle her needs.

Five pump chumps.

She whimpers as I lick deeper then presses her tits against me, opening her mouth to suck in a breath. I suck her lower lip into my mouth and suck on it.

First fucking kiss and her bra was off in two seconds. She sure as fuck was right a few years ago when she told me she was “all woman.” Certainly is...now.

Perfect tits, nipples that responded to a kiss that she knew needed pressure against it in order to ease the burning in them, the aching to be sucked and nipped at.

The restraint I used not to eat those tits...That alone tested me more than any training regimen I have ever endured. But I did it.

As she rubs those titties all over me now, I lick her lips outside and in, thinking about what I’m going to do to her pussy with my tongue.

Cuddle seasons turned heated every time. I saw the flickering flames in her eyes as she rocked against me. Hell, I came in my fucking pants from the friction. More than once, too. No fucks given. But she never got off, and I made damn sure she didn’t. The first time she does, it will have fuck not to do with me, except I’m going to be the one who makes it happen and watch her pretty face as she comes...for me.

Hard as hell, I grip her biceps and push her back slightly. “Want you so fucking bad, but we gotta chill the fuck out.”

She nods, panting, and looking uncomfortable as fuck.

I pull her head to my neck and use my other hand to press her body tighter to mine. She moans at the connection she needed, the pressure.

“Better, pretty?” I ask.

“Mmm...hmmm,” she pants, pressing harder against me.

When her alarm goes off, she huffs. “It’s time to go see Keeka.”

I rub her back. “You need to settle down a bit first.”

“So do you,” she tells me.

“It’ll find a leg.”

She laughs and sits back.

§

When London and I walk into Keeka’s room Dad is sitting in a chair, head down, but he looks up when he hears us. He’s angry.

Keeka is unaware we’re here and snaps, “Just leave me alone, okay? Both of you leave. I don’t need anyone.”

Tessa clears her throat. “I understand—”

“No, bitch, you don’t.” She throws the blanket off her face. “Just fucking leave. I don’t want that baby, okay? I don’t and—”

She stops when Dad stands and hovers over her. “Young lady—”

“Lucas.” Tessa shakes her head.

“Dad, why don’t you, Tessa, and London go grab some coffee?”

Keeka looks toward the door, sees me, and points. “You should join them.”

I point back at her. “Not till you and I have a chat.”

“Logan...” Dad begins.

“No, Dad, appreciated, but not necessary. I got this,” I tell him.

He and Tessa walk toward me. He clamps my shoulder and whispers, “She’s already asked the nurse to get someone so she can sign her rights away.”

I acknowledge what he has said with a nod then wait for them to leave.

I look at London. “Just give me a few—”

“Pft,” she huffs, walks to the door closing it without leaving, and then turns to Keeka.

“I don’t need your Sally sunshine shit,” Keeka spews.

“Good, ’cause you won’t get it,” London says, walking toward her.

“London...” I warn. I have seen Keeka in action, and London is a bit sheltered, and yeah, I’d like to keep her that way.

“She’s beautiful, and you’re her mom.”

“Mom?” Keeka huffs. “Like I have a clue how to be one.”

“No first-time mom truly does,” London says, sitting on the bed next to her, which makes me really fucking nervous when Keeka is angrier than I have ever seen her.

“Okay.” Keeka laughs angrily and sits up. “You know what? I don’t really like you, so you can leave now.”

Shit.

“Well, tough shit,” London snaps back. “You and I, we’re—”

“Yeah, exactly. You think I’m your dead dad’s and his whore’s kid. True or not, you and I will never be—”

“Like hell we won’t!” London interrupts her again.

I make my way to the other side of the bed hoping like hell I don’t have to play defense and restrain Keeka, though I will if need be.

“I chose you as a friend. Right now, it may not seem all that damn friendly—”

“Your choice, not mine,” Keeka snaps back.

“Right, and that’s why you came to the house.” London rolls her eyes at her. “That’s why you hugged me, you cried, you cared about me.” She pauses. “Now, if you’re my sister you’re screwed. Ask Maddox, I don’t give up.”

“Logan!” Keeka snaps at me and looks as if I should take care of the London situation.

I choose my response wisely. “You can ask him. I’ll give you his number.”

She reaches out to smack me, and I catch her fist.

“Better me than her.” I sit down on the bed, still holding her hand, and pull her into a hug. A fucking hug. I don’t hug. This is the London affect. Son of a bitch.

“What are you doing?” Keeka snaps at me.

“Fuck if I know. Comforting? Restraining?”

“Just let it happen,” London says sweetly, hugging her from the back.

“You two need to get the fuck out of here! What is wrong with you?” Keeka snaps.

“I don’t know,” London replies. “Maybe we like you? Maybe twenty-seven people died yesterday. Maybe—”

Keeka’s struggling becomes even more intense, and I hold on tighter, protecting both her and London.

When Ava came home at Christmas, Luke took both the kids for what he called “visitation.” Ava lost her shit. She was worse than I had ever seen, and I knew damn well Luke was pushing her, but he was doing it for her own sake. I spent the better part of a night and day holding her together. When it was all said and done, she thanked me. God willing, Keeka will feel the same way.

“Birth,” she cries and begins to sob. “Death!” she cries louder, shaking as she sobs.

When she’s calmed down a bit, I tell her, “Those are the guarantees, Keeks. What happens between those two events is life.”

“Well, life sucks,” she sobs out. “Life. Sucks.”

“It’s not so bad, Keeks, once you figure out what makes you happy.” I look over at London who’s looking at me and smiling as a tear falls down her pale white skin.

“Well, I don’t know what that is! How am I supposed to do that for...that...that...kid?”

“Well, sister from the same, or maybe a different, mister,” London says, “that’s what friends are for.”

She looks back at London. “It’s not going to work out well for us, you know that. Your mom—”

“My mom will love you regardless.” London reaches out and wipes Keeka’s nose with her sleeve. “And I’m gonna love you more.”

Keeka shakes her head, while London does the opposite. Of course she does.

Ten minutes later, I’m walking out of the bathroom, finding the two of them are sound asleep, hugging, as a nurse comes in, pushing a plastic bin with a tiny life wrapped in a pink blanket.

“Don’t wake her,” I damn near demand.

She starts to turn, pushing the baby back out of the room, taking her away from her family.

“You can leave her here.”

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea.” She glances at Keeka.

“It’s gonna be fine. Just leave her here.” Now I do demand.

“She’ll need to eat in four hours or so. The formula is in the drawer, with diapers.” The way she says diapers is like she’s trying to scare me.

Laughable.

“Great. Thanks.”

I walk over and look down at her. Then I read the pink index card on the baby bin.

Name: Baby Garcia Lopez

Weight: Seven pounds, two ounces.

Length: Twenty-two inches

Mother: Keeka Garcia Lopez

Father: Unknown

Immediately, my blood boils. Trucker.

I reach in and pick her up, supporting her head as I pull her swaddled little body against my chest and sit in the chair.

“Hey there, angel baby,” I whisper then kiss the pink knit hat on her head. “Happy birthday.”

She makes a little wet squeaky sound and nuzzles into my neck.

I reach into my pocket, grab my phone, take a selfie, and yes, I message it to that fucker.

Immediately, I get a text.

Ava’s kid?

Fucking joke. Ava’s kids are eight fucking months old.

No

Been busy. I saw some shit on the news. You good?

Fuck you, I think, then I type it out and send it. He deserves it.

Fuck you

What the hell’s that supposed to mean, man? Lol.

L. O. Fucking L?

Means you’re a little bitch. That’s what it fucking means.

I hit send then look up as Dad and Tessa walk in.

“You okay?” Dad asks.

“Yeah.” I stand. “Take Angel for me? I need to deal with something.”

Dad hesitates.

“What?”

“She named her?” he asks.

“Nah, just looks like a little Angel,” I say, nodding to the chair. “Sit so I can go take a piss?”

I’d piss on Trucker if he was here, I think.

Dad smirks. “I’ve held a baby before, boy; hand Angel over.”

“Shit, of course,” I say, putting her in his hands.

My phone vibrates in my hand. I know who it is.

“I’ll be back.”

I don’t look at the fucking screen, I just head for the stairs; the elevator would take too damn long. When I get to the bottom, I find the nearest exit and hit him up on FaceTime. He answers immediately.

“Hey, bro,” he says on a laugh.

“Hey nothing, Trucker. Twenty-seven people from a community you grew up near and went to school at died, and not even a call, man? Not one fucking message?” I yell at him. No, I fucking scream at him.

His nostrils flare a bit. He’s pissed.

“You’re a fucking waste of my goddamned time, Trucker.”

“You’re jealous of what I got, man. Jealous that I made it here first,” he hisses.

“No, motherfucker, I turned it down. That’s why you got it.” I let him suck on that a little bit. “Turned it down twice actually. The Giants drafted Jones because I told them no. Guess where he is now? He’s fucking dead.”

“You didn’t turn shit down,” he huffs. “I’m a fucking quarterback. Offense, Links.”

“So was I in high school, bitch. Gave that up for you, too, because you were too little, a bitch, and sucked at D!”

“Oh, here we go.” He growls a laugh. “Been waiting for this my entire life. The day Logan Links comes a-calling, telling me I wouldn’t have been shit if not for him and his old man.”

I’m about ready to blow the fuck up.

“You wanna send pictures of a baby to me like you’re some fucking saint? That kid could be mine or anyone’s on the team for that matter. Your new bro, Mitch, he fucked her, too. So did Downs. So take your picture and shove it up your ass!”

“So full of shit.” I laugh at him. “But don’t worry; I’ll take care of it.” I try to be the better man, but when I’m pissed, that doesn’t always happen. “Just like my old man took care of you when your mom booked and your dad was never home.”

“Fuck you, Links,” he snaps.

“Fuck me? Fuck me! Who the fuck are you now?”

“Not your bitch anymore,” he answers. “I’m living the life we dreamed of.”

“You may have dreamed of becoming a fucking shitbag, but I sure as fuck didn’t. Don’t worry; I’ll take care of your kid, fucker.”

“Not mine, man.” He laughs at me. “Like I said, Downs and Mitch had her in their fucking beds, too.”

“I don’t believe a fucking thing coming out of your mouth right now, brother,” I hiss.

“I don’t give a damn what you believe.” He continues to laugh at me. Fucking laughs! “Get Springer to bring her on. Have those fuckers tested.”

“Those fuckers?” I yell. “Downs was your fucking friend! He’s in ICU right now, fighting for his fucking life!”

“Tell him I’ll add him to my prayer list, Links,” he huffs. “And leave my name the fuck out of it. I don’t need the damn drama that little bitch is drumming up.”

“Never fucking speak to me again, you hear me? You’re nothing to me,” I tell him. “Nothing!”

“One last thing, Links. I don’t owe you shit,” he snarls.

“Bitch, I don’t even know who the fuck you are.” I hang up the phone and pull my arm back to throw it against the fucking wall. I look back when my elbow is caught.

“Logan.”

I turn to see Mitch standing there.

“Trucker...Fucking Trucker,” I stammer, trying to get my thoughts together.

“You and I need to chat, man.” The way he says it puts worry in my head.

“About what?”

He shakes his head. “It’s fucked up, man. Fucked up.”

When he starts talking, I want to fucking kick his ass, but he’s too upset, so I listen to his shit. I listen to him tell me about a night that they were all fucked up. I wasn’t there. I was in the city with Ava.

He remembers bits and pieces about Keeka and Trucker fighting because he was hooking up with someone else. Trucker was nasty to her, verbally, but he stepped back. Apparently, Mitch woke up to Trucker screaming and Keeka in his bed.

“You fucked her? You fucked her and didn’t tell me that her baby could be yours!”

“I was fucked up, Logan. Been fucked up since fall semester started and I saw her. I asked her. I fucking asked her if it was mine.” He sits on the bench, holding his head, fucking tears falling. “She told me we didn’t fuck. I believe her.”

“You wanna believe her,” I correct him.

“Fuck yes, I wanna believe her. Jesus, man,” he snaps.

“You may have gotten her knocked up, and you’ve been fucking around with Jamie? What the fuck, man? That’s not fair to her!”

“She fucking knows! She knows all the shit. Why do you think she keeps fucking walking away? I’m falling in love with a girl who thinks I may have gotten Keeka pregnant. I tried to back the fuck off, I did, but I just can’t leave her alone, man. I may be a horrible bastard, but I can’t. And you know what, Links? She can’t either.”

“If you’re the dad—”

“If I’m the kid’s—”

“The little girl,” I tell him.

He absorbs the information and nods, looking down again. “I need to know. I need to fucking know so I can fix shit with Jamie. So we have answers.”

I grab the collar of his coat. “You need to know because, if you’re the dad, you owe that little girl and Keeka, not you, not Jamie. Do you fucking hear me!”

“Yeah, man, yeah, of course.” He nods, but he doesn’t fucking look at me.

“Mitch!”

He looks up. “I fucking hear you, man. I told her that. Told her on the way to London’s. Keeka swears we didn’t, man. Jamie—”

“Jamie means fuck not right now,” I snap.

“Fuck she doesn’t.” He stands up. “The fuck she doesn’t.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Her Heart

Brody

Sitting in the office at Maddox and Harper’s place, I can hear my wife talking to London’s roommates.

She’s been through so damn much, yet she’s sometimes stronger than I am. This morning for example. She can clearly deal with London in a way I admittedly lack the skill to do. I still see her as the seven-year-old little princess who stole my heart simultaneously with her mother. Em was less receptive to the idea, and I know had it not been for London’s heart and persistence, her mother, the love of my life, Emma, my Em, wouldn’t be mine today.

London’s heart has been displayed on her sleeve from the moment I met her. Regardless of what she has endured because of the fame, and yes, misfortune, she has shone brighter than any star I have ever had the privilege of seeing, in the sky or otherwise. As I told her, that’s what makes her vulnerable. It scares the hell out of me.

What scares me even more is this fucking Links kid. Collin Abraham became my best friend, and even though he was cool with Lucas Links, I never was.

Guy is an arrogant fuck. You know what they say about apples not falling far from trees? Not just what they say, but what happens more often than not.

My princess is in love with his kid.

I run my hands through my hair and rest my elbows on the desk.

Fucking kid. He’s no kid. Fucker has no fear.

“He should goddamn fear me,” I grumble, continuing to rub my head, trying to relieve some of the tension headache I’ve had all damn day.

I feel hands on my shoulders, kneading softly. I don’t have to look up to know whose they are. “Em.”

“Still hurting?”

“Dissipating now.” I sit up and lean back, looking up at my wife. “Em, your touch is magic.”

“I still think you were over the top this morning, music man. Don’t look at me with those eyes,” she scolds.

I grab her hands, turn the chair, and have her on my lap in seconds.

She sighs and looks at me, then links her hands behind my neck. “You want him to respect you, not fear you.”

“He said he loves her. Do you know what kind of hell she’s in for?” Before she can answer, I tell her, “He’s going to hurt her, Em. Then I’m going to murder him, and then I’m going to jail. Then, do you know what you’re in for?”

“He said he loves her?” She smiles. Fucking smiles like it’s cute.

“It’s not cute, Em. It’s not,” I scold her now.

“If they love each other, they will be fine,” she scolds me right back.

I want to argue my point with her, but I also need to tell my beautiful wife something that I’m sure will hurt her. I have two hearts in need of protection—London’s and Emma’s. That little prick was right; Emma needs me to get her through this. However, in seeing her hurt, I will have to use every ounce of strength I have not to allow myself to be jealous of a dead man’s ability to still hurt her. It’s selfish, but I’m human. However, love, my love for her, supersedes.

Having allowed my anger for Links to take precedence over trying to figure out a way to tell her that her ex may have fathered a child, gotten another woman pregnant, before she was pregnant for London, I hold her close, and then I tell her, “We’ll get through this.”

“That’s right.” She smiles earnestly.

“We can get through anything,” I add, building a nice cushion of strength for the bombshell I’m about to drop.

“Of course we can.” She rubs her fingertips against my temples slowly with precise pressure to relieve the ache in my head.

“We’ve come through cancer.” I rub my knuckle across where I know the scar on her breast from the lumpectomy lays beneath her clothes. She smiles. “Custody battles,” I remind her. Again, she smiles softly. “Death and near-death experiences.”

I stop talking when her eyes widen, and she looks at me with questions in them.

“We’ve gone through—”

“This isn’t about London, is it?” she whispers her worry.

I sigh, slowly shaking my head.

“What is it? What are we up against? Are you planning to go to England again?” Her voice changes, and she swallows hard. “Brody—”

“Listen to me and do not hide your emotions or questions.” I take her face in my hands. “Some information has come out that leads London and Logan to believe there is a possibility that the girl, Keeka, who was here...” I close my eyes briefly, taking a damn mental image of my wife, whose heart is safely in my hands, guarded and protected, who is about to receive a blow that will no doubt hurt her.

I open my eyes when she whispers, “Brody?”

“Em, they think Keeka may be Troy’s daughter.”

It takes her a split-second to ask, “London’s sister then?”

I nod.

She says nothing. Not one thing.

Then, with hurt evident in her voice, she asks, “How’s London?”

“I’m assuming fine. It was Logan who told me.”

She nods again. “I need to call her.”

I hold her still. “How are you feeling, Em?”

“I’m feeling like I need to call my daughter to see if she’s okay, Brody,” she answers, her face turning a bit red.

I let go of her with one hand and tap London’s name on my list of contacts. It rings but she doesn’t answer. An automatic reply comes back in text form.

I’m busy at the moment. I’ll call you back soon.

Em lets out a frustrated sigh and sits back. I wrap my arms around her.

“Try to relax and wait,” I tell her.

Relax, not a word Emma responds to well.

I curse myself for saying it as she tenses and sits up. Then she grabs my phone and scrolls through it.

Tessa Abraham.

“It’s Links now, Brody. Whether or not you like it, Collin is dead, and Tessa and Lucas are together, and you don’t get to keep living in the past.” She hits her contact information, changes it, and shoves the phone into my chest.

I grumble, “The man and his son are—”

“He’s dead!” she yells at me. “He’d want you to be happy for Tessa!”

I set the phone down and take her face again. “Go on.”

“It’s not fair that you do that! Maddox, Harper, Piper, Reed...” She pauses and looks down. “London may have a sister that...” She shakes her head.

I try to explain to her what it is she’s feeling in a way that opens her up to feeling safe to do so. Like in the bedroom...but not. “You’re angry at him. Feel betrayed—”

“All feelings I got over, Brody. He’s dead.” She looks up at me. “I need answers. I need to know that he took care of her! I need to know that his daughter, London’s sister—” She covers her mouth and gasps. “How could I not have noticed?”

“Don’t do that to yourself. We aren’t even sure she is, Em. Until the DNA test comes back—”

“You’ve already done a DNA test without even talking to me first?” She pushes off my chest to sit up again. I hold her firmly in place.

“I didn’t. London did. Logan,” I pause, “contacted me.”

“What? How?”

“Hair samples,” I tell her, still keeping her in place.

She looks at me. “Am I the last to know?”

I understand her frustration and give her an honest answer, “I’m not sure.”

“Do Tessa and Lucas know?” She now seems angrier.

“I will not assume yes, or neither one of us will remain in control.”

“I will be so pissed at her, Brody. So hurt if she knew and didn’t call me.”

I know she’s talking about Tessa.

“I understand completely, Em. Yet, as you said earlier, we need to consider Maddox, Harper, Piper, Reed...” I pause and sigh. “London and possibly Keeka, too.”

“What a mess.” She now buries her head in my neck and holds me tighter.

“Mom?”

I look up to see Lexington walking toward us.

“She’s just tired, sweetheart,” I say, motioning her to come to us.

She climbs up on Emma’s lap as I whisper to my wife, “And Lexington.”

Emma looks up, kisses Lexington’s face, hugs her, and then looks at me and nods.

When the phone rings and I see London’s name, I grab the phone before Lexington insists on talking to her first.

“Sweet girl,” I say to her as I hand Emma the phone, “would you mind giving me and your mom just a couple minutes alone?”

She giggles as she slides down. “Kissy-kissy time?”

“Go.” I laugh at her as she skips out of the room, already on her way.

“Are you okay?” Both London and Emma say to each other at the same time. Then I see tears falling down my wife’s beautiful face and hear London choke back her own.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” London says quietly. “I’m sorry he did that to you.”

“Brody and I were just discussing that, London. Nothing we can do to change the past, but we can move forward.”

I rub her back, easing the tension I know she carries.

“We can discuss a hundred different things that wouldn’t have happened had he not died.” Emma sighs. “No need to go back. We need to move forward. Honest to God, London, I hope she had a good life—has a good life,” she corrects herself. “If you’re sisters, she will be a part of this family.”

My chest burns with pride for the woman on my lap, in my life, my bed, my fucking heart.

“If not, you are friends, so she is, as well.”

“She didn’t know Dad,” London whispers, causing Emma to stiffen.

“Well then, he’s lucky he’s not here to take a knee to his nuts for not being in her life.” Emma briefly loses her shit. “But we are now.”

“Thank you, Mom,” London whispers.

“No thanks needed, London. I love you more.” Emma smiles. “And you’ll possibly soon have another niece or nephew.”

“Niece, and she’s beautiful. I was here when she delivered her. Right in the room, Mom,” London croons. “Let Dad know I’m not planning to do that anytime soon.”

Emma laughs, and so does London.

“I’m hoping to stay here for a bit.”

“Logan with you?” Emma asks.

“He hasn’t left, Mom, and I really hope he doesn’t.” I can imagine cartoon hearts dancing in her eyes, and it sickens me. “I know this is all new, but how strange is it that she and Logan were friends?”

“Pretty strange,” Emma says quietly.

“He’s going to make sure she’s okay, and I really want to, as well.”

“I’m sure the two of you will,” Emma says with an almost yearning sound to her voice.

“I’m still going to want and need you in my life. He’s...wonderful, you know?”

“I’m glad, sweetheart. I truly am.” The truth in Emma’s voice is evident.

“Make sure Dad gets that. Make sure he knows you trust me and Logan, and maybe tell him to remember who I am,” she pauses, “at heart. That hasn’t and never will change.”

“He’s right here, London. He and I already discussed Logan. He’s going to respect your decisions.”

Is that so?

“Let him know I overheard his and Logan’s conversation, and I think he could be less of a dick next time.” London giggles.

“Will do.”

“I’ll call you when I know we’ll be back.”

“We’ll?”

“Mom,” she sighs.

“London, last night was understandable, but I would prefer that you and Logan consider how impressionable Lexington is. She looks up to you, okay? So, no sleepovers with the boyfriend.”

London doesn’t say anything.

“London?”

“Yeah, Mom, I hear you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Thank fuck! I cheer inwardly.

Emma looks at me and visibly relaxes. She looks back at London and reminds her, “Make sure you check in and let me know when you’re on your way back.”

“I might stay for a while, Mom. She’s...” The pain in London’s voice nearly cripples me. “She’s not sure what she wants to do with the baby.”

“We’ll take it,” flies out of my mouth.

London laughs. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, little princess.”

“You do know she and Logan are friends, so if you’re a dick to him, she’s not going to like you very much.”

Emma sucks in her lips and watches me figure out how to bullshit my way through this one.

“Logan and I will be fine.”

“Is that so?” London asks smugly, amused.

“As long as he adheres to the rules and doesn’t hurt you, he’ll live.”

“Good. I love him, you know, so...” She sighs.

Love him. There’s that word, the same one he used when talking about her.

Fuck.

“We’ll work through this, London. All of it,” I assure her.

“I know.” Her voice is still sad. “We always do.”

Emma looks as if she may fall apart. I pull her into a hug.

“Love you more, little princess.”

“Love you both more,” she says before hanging up.

I hold my wife and comfort her as I take comfort in her.

She grabs my phone and scrolls through the notifications. “This is the least of our worries, Brody.”

We both look through the news feed on all the push notifications I get from various media and social media outlets on the Syracuse area.

Emma stops at one, the Carrier Dome. She zooms in and whispers, “Oh, my God.”

“Love, stop looking at those horrendous videos. Focus on the fact that we still have London.”

She holds the phone up and I see...him, Logan. Then I hear him demand, “Take a fucking knee.”

“Look what he did, Brody, look.” She holds it up closer. “He’s trying to help not only her, but his community heal.”

The door bursts open. “Dad, Mom, I’m trying to cook and there’s a problem.”

Emma jumps up and hurries to the door as Lexington laughs.

I look at the news feed for less than a second before hitting my recent calls list. He answers immediately.

“Yeah?”

“Hello works.” Fucker.

“Things are a little fucking hectic here, Brody, and I’ve had enough shit from...”

“Me. You’ve had enough shit from me,” I fill in the blanks as I sit back in the chair.

“Yeah, actually, I’ve had enough shit from you. I’m not gonna kiss your ass. I don’t have fucking time for that. So again, yeah?”

My eyes fall to the picture of Collin and it sparks a memory. A memory of when my own son was being an ass to him and how he handled it.

“I’d like it if you’d assist Maddox and me in putting together a benefit concert for the families of those not as lucky as we were last evening.”

“You want me to help you?” He laughs.

“Yes, Logan, I would like you to come up with some ideas, maybe make an entire day of it. You could rally your team—”

“Not my team anymore,” he interrupts. “But sure, whatever.”

“Logan...” I begin.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for getting her to safety. Thank you.”

Silence.

“Logan?” I say again.

“Yeah?” he says, giving me less attitude than before, possibly because I’m giving him less.

“Do not hurt her.”

“I know, ’cause you’ll kill me,” he huffs.

“I’d tell you I wouldn’t, but that would be a lie,” I tell him honestly.

“Gotcha. Anything else?”

“No.”

“All right then.” I hear what I think is a door close, then it sounds as if the phone is being muffled. “Doctor will be in momentarily, Mitch.”

“Is everything oaky? Mitch was the boy here, right?”

“It’s fine, Brody. Everything is fine.”

“It’s obvious at present moment we’re on the same team.”

“Should be more than obvious. It’s gonna be like that for a long-ass time,” he says, and then I hear a door shut again. “I’m not gonna fucking hurt her, and I’m a little busy right now, so if you and I could bullshit our way through bonding another time, that would be great.”

“I’m being sincere,” I assure him.

“Great. Wonderful. I should feel privileged, I know. Grateful maybe?” He laughs maliciously. “But I’m not sure what to make of a man who looks at my father with almost as much contempt as he looks at me.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. I sigh.

“This plays out the way I’m seeing it, you and my old man are gonna need to get along. As much as you’re on London’s team, I’m on his.”

There’s the muffled sound again and him saying, “Dad, here’s some coffee. Good shit, not the crap from the cafeteria.”

“Did I see Mitch?” I hear Lucas’s voice.

“Yeah,” Logan mumbles. “London still with Keeka?”

“She stepped out,” Lucas tells him.

“Well, with fucking who? She doesn’t need to be alone. What the hell—”

“She’s with Tessa. This isn’t our first rodeo, Logan, okay?” Lucas seems a little stern with him.

“Sorry, Dad,” he sighs.

“What’s up with the earbud?” Lucas asks.

“Oh fuck,” he mumbles. “You still there?” he says to me now.

“Yes, I’m still here,” I tell him.

“Dad, Brody wants you to give him a call. He’s thinking the two of you could put together a benefit show. Maybe throw in some football shit.”

You little fucker.

“Logan...”

“Yeah?”

Yeah? Is that all he can say? Had a fuck of a lot more to say to me earlier on video message.

“I don’t recall asking for your father’s involvement.”

I hear a door shut, then he speaks. “Doing my part, Brody. Now it’s on you. Gotta go.”

The fucker hangs up...again.

I stand and see Maddox at the door. He looks at me and shakes his head. “We doing a concert?”

“Gotta do something to keep fucking busy.”

“What’s your issue with Lucas?” he asks.

“I was very fond of Collin,” I remind him.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

What the fuck? Now I’m saying it!

“Collin had less of a problem with Lucas than you seem to.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means, we’re going to throw one hell of a fundraiser, all of us, together. It means, you’re going to be forced to see that he is in fact a good man.”

“I never said he wasn’t,” I defend myself.

“If my wife can accept him, you need to, as well,” he tells me.

“He’s just so fucking—”

Maddox laughs. “Dad, it’s time to move on.”

“So I keep hearing.”

“While we are letting go of things, feel free to question me about keeping tabs on London.”

“You asked him to watch her?” I don’t look at him.

“I did,” he answers, sitting on the edge of the desk.

I nod. “Any reason you wanted to push them together?”

He nods. “Several. It would have happened regardless. I wanted him to know I wasn’t stepping back.”

“Interesting approach,” I say. I’m not going to lie and tell him it was a good idea. “So, when he sent her a fake ID, how did you feel about that?”

Maddox shrugs and looks down.

“Maddox?”

“She’s safer in a bar than private parties.”

He’s still hiding something, so I repeat, “Maddox?”

“I sent it.”

“You what?”

“Be angry with me all you want, but until the incident at Chaos happened, I believed it to be the right thing. Had the outcome been different...” He pauses.

He’s upset with himself. Knowing my son, he’s beating himself up more than myself or anyone else could about it.

“She’s fine,” I tell him.

“Because of Logan Links. The same Logan Links who slashed tires and threatened every boy in school so they’d stay away from her.”

“You’re kidding?” I gasp.

“Dad, I don’t kid. Yes, Logan has always watched over her. I’m sure he questioned himself, but he did it out of care and concern. He also never stepped over any lines with her. And I know some of the teasing she has done to him, yet he controlled himself.”

“She’s a kid,” I remind him.

“I was getting backstage blowjobs at her age,” he reminds me.

I was getting that and much more, I think, but I don’t say it out loud.

“Dad.”

I look back at him.

“She’s going to be fine. She’s going to be fiercely protected. She’s going to be loved.”

I nod, conceding to the truth in my son’s words.

“And...” He smirks, standing up. “He’s going to have his hands full. She won’t put up with any nonsense. So, when you want to tear him up, think about that.”

“You mind if I run Emma home to get...” I scratch my head, trying to come up with some bullshit excuse to leave for an hour.

“Laid?” he asks. I look at him, seeing him shake his head. “Dad, I’m a married man; I know damn well what you’re going to run Emma home for.”

When we walk out and into the kitchen, I look at my wife. “Em, we need to run home for a little bit.”

“I wanna stay here,” Lexington whines.

“Sounds good.” I kiss her head then grab Emma’s hand, pulling her behind me to the back door. “I need you.”

“I need you, too.”

CHAPTER NINE

Winds of Change

Logan

I watched over Keeka and London as they slept curled up together for the majority of the evening and morning. I spent some time holding Angel, and other times, I sat in the hallway while Tessa and London try to help Keeka breastfeed, hoping she will bond with her.

This is one of those times.

Dad walks up to me and hands me a water. “You need sleep.”

“What time is it?” I ask, digging my phone out of my pocket. It’s dead.

“Almost eight in the morning,” he answers, looking at me with concern in his eyes.

“I’m fine, really.” I open the water and chug it down.

“How about you and I go grab a new truck?”

“SUV,” I tell him.

“Whatever you want, but four-wheel drive...and maybe a bumper grill?” he jokes.

I look in the room while Dad calls his friend at the Chevy dealership. She’s asleep.

“Not sure I want to leave,” I tell him.

“Joe’s gonna meet us. Shouldn’t take long.” He looks in the room, too. “Four sleeping girls. Angel just ate an hour ago, so we’re good for at least two hours.”

§

We take a cab because Dad insists we’re getting a vehicle today. He ends up being right.

I choose a Black Chevy Tahoe, RST, 6.2 liter, V8, ten speed automatic transmission with leather interior and chromed the fuck out.

Dad got a new ride, too. Same thing in navy. His will take a couple days to get here. Mine we drive out of the showroom.

I make him swing by Babies “R” Us to grab some shit. It’s cool he’s with me. My dad knows more about baby shit than any man would admit. Any man but him.

He was born to be a dad. May sound odd, but he just was.

There is no shortage of help finding shit. Seems like every sales girl in the place is up our asses. Yes, ours. My dad loves one woman, but he comes off as a flirt. I tell him so, and he looks at me like I’m insane.

We get a breast pump that he asked the sales person about. Embarrassing as hell, but it is what it is. And we get a bunch of onesie things, blankets to “swaddle,” and some clothes that he is being really fucking weird about, holding shit up and telling me it’s cute or adorable. I mean, yeah, they are, but seriously? Shut the fuck up already.

We also got a car seat, a stroller, a portable crib, and a bassinet. Tons of shit. Hell, we have to fold the third row down because we have so much. Wipe warmers, diapers, pacifiers—he was a fucking mad man in that store.

“You think we have enough?” I joke as we get in the SUV.

He laughs. “Hell no.”

When we get to the hospital, the girls are just waking up.

“Have you even slept?” London asks.

“Little bit,” I say, kissing the top of her head, then doing the same to Keeka.

“You’re so full of it,” London says, getting up.

“Come take a ride with me?” I ask.

“But...” she begins protesting, just like Dad said she would when I told him I was going to have her come with me to take everything to the apartment building he says is livable. I haven’t seen it yet.

“Just an hour. Two tops.” I tell her.

“We’ll stay here with Keeka and Angel,” Dad tells her. “When you get back—”

“You named my baby?” Keeka asks Dad.

Not going to lie; her calling the baby hers is a monumental fucking moment.

“Logan calls her Angel,” Dad basically throws me under the bus.

“Looks like one.” I go to pull my hat down, slightly embarrassed, and London gives me a sweet smile. “Whatever,” I scoff. “She needs a name. I expect her to have one when we get back.”

London and I hold hands as we walk down the hall. On the elevator, we still hold hands, but as I lean against the wall, I pull her in front of me, wrapping my arms around her, hands still linked, and resting my chin on her head.

Once outside, we cross the road to the parking garage, still fucking holding hands. I don’t want to let hers go. When I open the passenger door of the Tahoe, though, I have to.

When I get in, I see she is looking behind her. Then she looks at me, then back again.

“Did some shopping,” I state the obvious.

“I see that,” she says as I reach around and buckle her up. “Thanks.”

As I back out of the parking spot, I feel her watching me and glance over. “What?”

“New ride?”

I nod.

“Nice.”

I nod again.

“Where are we going?”

“My place,” I tell her, trying not to smile.

“Are you staying at your old place?” I hear concern in her voice. Unwarranted.

“Nope.”

“You already have a new place?”

“Yep.”

She smacks me in the gut. “You had time to get a new place, yet not one message for me, Logan? Not one call?”

“Nope.”

I get another smack, this time harder and more deserving.

On the road, I grab her hand. Safer to hold it than be hit by it.

“You wanna touch me, feel free. No need to hit me.” I smirk, knowing it will make her a tad bit uncomfortable.

“You don’t want to get hit, give some explanation when I ask a question,” she says, giving my hand what she may consider a hard squeeze.

“I’m pretty sure we went over this.” I put her hand on my knee then use both hands to turn. “You need more explanation, cool. Mom’s a bitch. I tried to put it to rest. Realized I was wasting time trying to fix something beyond repair. I let it go too long—the anger, the animosity between us. I didn’t want the same thing to happen here, with you. I planned to come back and try to avoid needing you to be stuck up my ass so you could do ...you know.” I pause, looking over at her when I stop at the next stop light.

It’s written all over her face that she likes what I’m saying. I’m sure it’s written all over mine that I am uncomfortable saying it.

“Second love.” She nods her understanding.

“Apparently, it’s the first one you can’t get over.”

When the light turns green, I take her hand again and tap the gas.

“Or maybe the number doesn’t mean a thing, Logan. Maybe it’s the connection.”

“Meaning?”

“My dad was my mom’s first love,” she tells me. “But Brody is her forever love.”

I smile. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I usually am,” she quips, sitting back.

I glance over, and she shrugs. I can’t help laughing.

It’s quiet for a minute, and then she sits back up and looks at me. “I still think your mom and your relationship with her is worth fighting for. I understand the hurt of rejection you may feel, but if you do try again, it won’t sting so bad.”

“How so?” I ask.

“Because, next time, you have me.”

So damn sweet at times. Naïve, too.

“And if I decide it’s not, you gonna let it go?”

“Probably not,” she says, which is exactly what I expected.

“You think we can get this Keeka shit sorted before I dive into that?”

“Of course,” she says, which is the opposite of what I expected, but it sure as hell is what I need.

I look over at her as I roll to a stop.

“What?”

“You look pretty, London.”

She laughs. “I highly doubt that.”

“You do.” I shrug as I drive toward the old warehouse.

“You don’t have to keep saying it. I forced you to once, but—”

“You didn’t force shit.” I bark a laugh. “Wouldn’t have said it if it weren’t true. You are. Always have been.”

“Not always,” she says, trying to hide the smile in her voice. “Remember the braces phase?”

“Still pretty, just a different kind.” I squeeze her hand, then set it on my knee as I pull between the two buildings to the back parking lot.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, you’ve had your stages of pretty.” I put the vehicle in park, turn it off, and then open the door to get out. “Braces were awkward, but you were still fucking cute.” I shut the door then walk around to her side, opening the door for her.

“Take my hand. It’s slippery as hell back here.”

She puts hers in mine. “You don’t have to make things up, Logan. I know you just want to hold my hand.”

“That, too. But you busting your ass is something I’d like to avoid, as well,” I tell her.

“Is this your new place?” she asks, looking up at the five-story brick building.

“Yep,” I answer, walking to the back door, holding her hand and fishing for the keys Dad gave me in my pocket.

“The whole building?” she asks when I drop her hand to unlock the steel door.

“It’s one of the places Dad bought to fix up. One of the classes I took made me want to play around with green living, so we’ve been working on it off and on for a few years.”

“Green living, huh?” She walks in as I hold the door open.

“Greener living.” I don’t want her to get the impression that everything is green; it’s not. “Geothermal heating was the first thing we worked on.” I take her hand again and lead her through what will be the lobby to the stairs.

“It’s warm in here.”

“Always,” I tell her. “The flooring is engineered bamboo throughout.” We walk farther into the building that has come a hell of a long way. “This will be the lobby. There will be a gym and other shit down here on the first floor.”

At the stairs, I look back to see her looking around, taking it all in.

“The second floor is pretty wide open,” I continue. “I had planned to have office space there, hoping Dad would fight to get his company back from Mom and headquarter it here. Third and fourth floors will be either two or four apartments, depending on what I want to go for—luxury or possible student housing. Maybe even visiting professors, doctors, traveling nurses—whatever. I haven’t really thought about it. Floors four and five are interesting. The building connects to an old parking garage that we own, too, so it makes an L shape. Dad and I fucked with it so the fourth floor of the garage is now living space, too. It’s where we did most of the work. The fifth floor of the parking garage is going to be a greenhouse of sorts.”

“A greenhouse?” she asks curiously.

“Yeah,” I answer, opening the stairway door to the fourth floor. “The first two floors will be covered parking, which is a rarity here, for tenants. We’ve already installed electric vehicle charging stations in it.”

“And you get a tank?” she jokes, and I smile.

As we enter an open space, I push forward, not wanting to slide back into talk of Chaos and why Dad thought I should stick with a larger vehicle.

“To the right is where I’ll live. It’s the larger section of the building. Left is where I was thinking Keeka and the baby could live, once it’s finished.”

“Show me?” she asks, more interested in the place I want Keeka to call home.

“It’s not done yet, but it will be,” I tell her, squeezing her hand a bit.

I open the door and motion her inside. “After you.”

“Wow.” She smiles, trying to take it all in at once.

“Three bedrooms.” I point left. “The master and the other two are on the opposite side.”

“I love the windows. So many of them.”

“Natural light saves energy,” I tell her.

She walks over and runs her hand over the large island.

“It’s poured cement.”

“It’s handsome,” she says. “And so smooth.”

I point beyond the counter to the stainless-steel appliances. “All energy star appliances.”

“Beautiful.” She turns then walks toward what will be a shared living and dining room.

“Open floor plan. Lots of space for couches, electronics, and—”

“Baby gear?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “Baby gear.”

“Four flights of stairs with a stroller?”

“There’s an elevator,” I tell her. “Dad said the inspector should be here today or tomorrow to give the thumbs-up.”

“It’s amazing.” She points to the walls. “Original brick?”

“Yes, I think it works with the industrial look of the place.”

“Sure does, and with the right furniture, it’ll feel less industrial.” She smiles as she turns back to me. “You did this?”

“Dad and I.” I nod.

“Wow.” She looks around again. “Impressive, Links.”

“Wanna see something more impressive?”

She looks back at me quickly, eyes widening by the second. My mind immediately goes...there.

“I’m not gonna fuck you.”

Relief floods her face, and then confusion follows.

“I want to fuck you,” I tell her, hoping to ease the confusion.

She looks at me slightly shocked and a little repulsed.

“Make love to you?”

She crosses her arms in front of her, waiting for me to continue.

“Both.” I nod, deciding I don’t want to go into this with her by not telling the truth.

She seems to be waiting for me to elaborate, so I do.

“I love you, London.”

When she blushes, it takes me off guard.

“Why does that embarrass you?”

“It doesn’t. It’s just...” She shrugs.

“It’s just what?” I step forward and take both her hands.

“We said it in Chaos, literally, in anger. I’ve heard you tell my dad. I’ve told my dad, my mom...” She sighs.

“But it’s never been the way it should be,” I acknowledge.

“Is there a right or wrong way?”

“I suppose I should have taken you out to dinner, maybe even bought you flowers.” I pause and think of the ones her parents always had set out on her birthday. “Those colorful, swirly ones that appear to be dancing. Buttercups?”

She smiles and nods. “Ranunculus.”

“Sure, those.” I pull her in closer to me. “I could have made sure there was a place for us to dance, but I’m not sure I’d ever want to dance with you. I prefer to watch you dance. Then maybe I could have taken you to the top of a building on a starry night and told you that I’ve loved you in some form or another since the day I met you.”

She rests her hands on my hips as she inches her way a little closer.

“I could tell you, regardless of the things you’ve said to me that annoyed the fuck out of me,” I lean in and whisper, “Or may have turned me on a bit...”

She giggles, and I lean back, knowing I want to kiss her, but thinking about how I wanted to do this when the time was right. I didn’t think it would have happened so soon, but now, now I’m thinking about all that could have been. I’m so glad she asked, “Do we love each other?”

I lift her chin and look into her eyes, not allowing my fear of loving her overshadow the fear of not being able to love her enough, as I finish telling her, “… I love you, London. Always have. Always will.”

“Promise?” she asks sincerely.

“No matter what.”

“No matter what,” she whispers, smiling.

I lean down to kiss her, watching her ready her lips by licking them.

I’m on the line, waiting for the snap. I want to take her down, but there will be no flag on this play. She’s worth the wait.

I kiss her forehead. “I love you, and it may kill me, but I have to do this right.” I step back and look down at eyes that are so fucking heated yet confused.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that we are not going to fuck, London.” I grab her hand and pull her behind me. “Let me show you my place.”

When she laughs, I look back, shake my head, and smile.

“I’m no bitch, pretty. This is all new to me, too.”

Her blue eyes are dancing, and I can’t help standing back to watch the show.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re making me a little uncomfortable. I may need your hat,” she says, still locking eyes with me.

“London, let’s call it rehearsal.”

“Rehearsal?”

“For when you’re laid out in my bed before me, and I’m standing there, looking down at you, trying to decide where I’m gonna start first.”

I expect more blushing, but she smiles and giggles. “Just know, when this genie finally comes out of the bottle, there will be no shoving her back in.”

“Is that so?”

She grins and nods. “I’m going to be insatiable.”

My dick stirs, my heart beats faster, and my mouth goes fucking dry.

Holy shit, I am a bitch.

I break eye contact, but only because I need more strength than I have right now. “God, help me.”

She giggles again, smacks my chest, and then walks past me toward the door. “Come on; show me where all this action is gonna take place.”

“London, you can’t say shit like that to me.” I grab her arm and pull her back against my chest, making damn sure she knows why.

“Oh my!” she gasps.

“I’m gonna do this right,” I whisper, then tug at her ear with my teeth. Fair is fair.

She moans, then clears her throat and smarts back, “Is there a wrong way?”

“Yeah, London, there is. Everyone else before you was a wrong way.”

“Or maybe...maybe it was just preparing you for excellence.” She grins as she looks back at me. “I’m gonna rock your world.”

“London...” I hiss my warning.

“Two can play at this game.” She pops that ass back against me, hitting the intended target, and I groan. Then she leaps forward and turns, grinning at me.

“Jesus L. Christ,” I huff, trying not to let on that she is an adorable bundle of sexy that will in fact fuck up every convoluted idea I have in my head about love. She already has.

She smiles. “I love you, Logan Links.”

“I love...” I swallow back whatever emotions are boiling inside me. “I love you.”

Her full bottom lip pouts out, but she pulls it back in, forcing a smile. I see tears well in her eyes, but this time they aren’t because she’s sad. No, these are different.

I walk up to her, wrap my arms around her, and hold her tightly against me.

“We have to promise, Logan. We have to promise that, no matter what happens, no matter what horrible stuff happens tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that, we won’t let it get in the way of us.”

“Just told you I haven’t known a day since I met you that I didn’t love you in some way, shape, or form.”

“But we gotta fight for it, or—”

“We’ll fight, London, we will. But there better be a helluva lot more times like right now.” I sigh, running my nose along the top of her head, and then take in her scent.

“Like right now?”

“Times when nothing is fucking right, but we are. Like right now.”

“Okay.”

I am so fucking relaxed holding her that I may fall asleep. Instead, I pop a kiss to her head and step back.

“I’m tired, so fucking tired, and I know you are, too. Can I show you my place without the ass rubbing against my dick?”

When she nods, I sigh, thankful that she’s going to let me behave, and then she says, “For now.”

“You’re something, you know?” I laugh, taking her hand and walking out the door.

“I’m something all right.”

I want to make damn sure she knows what she is.

“You’re mine.”

“Fine by me. And you’re mine.” She squeezes my hand.

“Yeah, pretty, I am.”

I’m just about ready to open the door to my place when I hear the ding of the elevator, and then the very distinct voice of my sister.

“All right, let’s go; we don’t have all day,” she orders.

“We actually do. Mom has the kids,” I hear Luke tell her.

“Right, we do, but, well...Dammit, Luke, we need to-” she giggles, “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” I hear him say. “I’m gonna get you so fucking pregnant, Ava Links.”

London laughs while I tell him, “Wanna do it when you’re alone?”

“Loggie?” Ava’s voice booms before she laughs then sputters curses as we round the corner toward the elevator.

London hesitates briefly, and I look back.

She holds our hands up and grimaces. “You okay with this?”

“Said I love you,” I remind her.

“Ha! I knew it!” Ava wraps her arms around us from behind, hugging us both.

“You always were the smarter one,” I joke as I turn to look at her.

She looks at us both with a shocked expression.

“What?” I ask.

“You both look like zombies,” she tells me.

“We’re tired,” I tell her.

“Well then, you’re going to love us.” She grins. “Luke, Logan’s here, and so is London.”

Luke rounds the corner. “Good. I could use some help. Come on, Logan.”

I look at London and wink. “You think you’ll be okay if I leave you alone with this one?”

She laughs. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

When I walk around the corner, I see an elevator packed full of furniture.

“The rest is downstairs. The sooner we get this unloaded, the sooner they’ll bring more up,” Luke tells me.

“Who—”

“You told Dad what you wanted. He told me,” Ava says as she passes us, dragging London behind. “I like to shop.”

“She does,” Luke says, watching her with what I’m now one hundred percent sure is love in his eyes for my sister.

Always thought it, but now I know.

CHAPTER TEN

Furnished

Logan

When everything is unloaded from the moving trucks that filled the back parking lot and the alley, I look around the apartment.

It’s huge. I guess I didn’t realize what thirty-five hundred square feet on one floor actually looked like as living space.

When entering the apartment, there is a small foyer, with a closet on each side of the door. One for coats and shoes. The other has four rows of hooks where I will hang my...hats. Ten feet from the door to the left are three large bedrooms. All but one has its own bathroom. To the right is a dining area that leads to the double island, chef’s kitchen that uses the same raw materials as the apartment I had already shown her.

Straight ahead from the entry door is a large room that will be my office, or man cave if I somehow can’t watch sports in the living room, which is often. There’s a bathroom next to it.

I watch her looking out the floor to ceiling windows over the city. The Dome and Syracuse University are clearly visible.

I walk over to her, wondering what she’s thinking, because she hasn’t moved an inch.

“Hey.”

She looks up and smiles just a little, then looks back out the window. “Hey.”

“What are you thinking?”

She looks back at me and shakes her head. “I don’t even know. Everything’s a mess. I told them I wouldn’t go back. I don’t want to go back. I want them to know I’m okay, because I need to know they are. But this...” She shakes her head again, seeming to clear the confusion. “My dream, you know?”

I nod, holding back on telling her that she needs to carry on. Just fucking carry on.

“Then Keeka has a baby, and Logan”—she turns to look up at me—“I know she’s my sister. I know she is, and I know that she’s a mess, too. I know...” The tears begin.

I pull her in, wrapping her up in my arms, and hold her.

“People died, Logan,” she whispers; I assume because she’s afraid to upset Ava. “And people were born. And sisters and dreams, and—”

“Life.”

She looks up at me, almost regretful, and then we both look toward the source of the word.

Luke has Ava under his arm as she smiles sadly at us. “Life has no damn guarantees.”

“But love does.” Ava smiles sadly.

“I’m sorry,” London says, looking at Ava.

“Don’t be. I understand. And London, you lost him, too. But as Luke said, life has no guarantees. Still, I have a really hard time believing I deserve to smile when...” She pauses and looks down.

“You deserve it.” Luke pulls her a little closer. “So do I. So do you, London. And what’s this shit about a sister?”

She smiles and shrugs. “I think she’s my dad’s daughter.”

“Troy had another kid?” he asks.

I can’t help laughing, thinking of how the hell Keeka is going to deal with a huge family after being basically on her own most of her life.

London looks at me oddly. “She’s going to be even more overwhelmed when you tell her how many aunts, uncles, and cousins she has.”

I look at Luke. “You have another cousin.”

“I might have another cousin,” he corrects me.

“She’s a beautiful, almost mocha London. Nose and all,” Ava tells him.

London self-consciously covers her nose. I pull her hand away and assure, “It’s a cute nose.”

Ava laughs. “That’s what made you become friends with a girl, Loggie.”

I shake my head.

“She reminded you of London.”

“Not true, Ava,” I correct her without going into details about Trucker.

Ava starts to say something when Luke turns her toward him. “Let’s you and I go check out the rest of the place.”

After hugs and thank yous are exchanged, I take London’s hand. “Let me show you the rest.”

She follows me past the living room where there are three steps down to the west side of the apartment. Then I drop her hand to push apart the double doors to the bedroom, turn back, and take her hand again.

She and Ava were busy fussing with the main living area while Luke helped me put the bedroom together.

“What’s with all the windows?” she asks, dropping my hand as she walks over to the wall of glass.

“Makes sense environmentally, and I like seeing the city.”

She nods and turns. “The fireplace?”

“Heat.”

Her back stiffens a bit as she looks past me, then she turns and walks farther into the room. I look back and mumble under my breath as I see the California King platform bed Dad and I made from old wooden, recycled palates. Two small throw pillows with the British flag are resting against the pillows.

London.

Fucking Ava.

I walk into the room she is standing in. Initially, it was supposed to be a sitting room; however, half of it has free weights in it.

“Workout room?” London asks.

“For right now.”

She looks at me for clarification.

“When the fitness room downstairs is completed, this will be more of a sitting room.”

She nods then points to the double frosted doors. “Bathroom?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

I open the doors into the bathroom. I have seen it many times—hell, I built it with my dad—yet I’m still impressed every damn time.

“Wow,” she whispers.

I look at her and nod. “Yeah.”

“The tub”—she points at the large soaker tub sitting in front of a wall of glass—“in the window?”

“Soaking your sore muscles while looking over the city will be relaxing.”

“What if people see you?” She pulls her little sweater so it closes across her chest.

“They’d have to be pretty tall,” I joke.

“Well”—she points to the window—“your tenant on the other side of the building could see right in here.”

I can’t help chuckling. “Keeka? I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t look at me through binoculars.”

“What if she and, you know, Trucker move away and you rent to someone and—”

“London.” I turn her to face me. “There are shades.”

She nods and steps back. “And that shower is huge.”

I know she’s uncomfortable, but I can’t help loving the blush across her milky white skin.

“Two-person shower. His and her sides.”

Her back does that stiffening thing again before she turns to the sinks.

I can’t help myself. “His and her sinks.”

She glances back at me, and then away quickly, but I see her looking at me through her insanely long lashes in the mirror.

I walk up behind her and put my arms around her. “What is going on with you?”

She shrugs and looks down.

“We’re alone?”

“We’ve been alone many times.”

I turn her to face me. “No, not really. There’s always been someone else around.”

She leans in and rests her head against my chest. “I’m tired, that’s all.”

I bend down slowly until we’re eye to eye.

“Do you have any fucking idea how hot it is that you seem so goddamned nervous when we’re alone?”

She shakes her head so slightly that it’s almost as if she’s fighting it, like she doesn’t want me to know.

I skim my nose down her neck then between her tits before scooping her up in my arms. “It’s equally as fucking frustrating.” I sigh. “Told you awhile ago I wasn’t gonna fuck you.” I walk out into the bedroom and kneel down on my bed, her still in my arms.

“Logan?” she whispers.

I lay her down, looking at her while she stares up at me expectantly, nervously, and yeah, wantonly.

I roll her to her side so she’s facing away from me, pull down the black duvet that I know Ava washed since it smells like home, and then lie beside her, pulling her into me.

“Trust me when I say it’s gonna happen when it’s supposed to.”

“When?” I hear faintly whispered.

I chuckle as I kiss the back of her head. “Four days, four years...ouch.”

That damn elbow of hers is bony as fuck.

“We’re gonna take a power nap,” I tell her.

“But Keeka and—”

“Dad and Tessa are there. I’m gonna insist. I need this, too.”

“Okay,” she yawns out.

“Okay,” I yawn back. Damn things are contagious.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“I just want to be prepared, you know?”

No, I don’t know, I think, yet I don’t want to say it.

“I want it to be...perfect.”

I can deal with that.

“Sleep.”

“Okay.”

Lying in bed, I think about what perfect would be. I don’t have anything to fucking compare it to. I mean, one girlfriend, lots and lots of dates, and even more one-night stands. None of which were better than kissing her.

She wants to be prepared, she’s counting on me to let her know...that’s beyond my realm of comprehension.

Fucking has always been fucking, and I will be damned if this isn’t making me a little nervous, too.

“Logan?”

“London?”

“I really like your place.” She yawns again.

“I’m glad you do, since you’ll be staying here a lot. It’s still cuddle season.”

She looks back at me and smiles softly, beautifully, almost peacefully.

“I told them I won’t return to school; how do you think it’ll work out when I ask to stay here with you?”

“Won’t be a fight you have alone,” I assure her. “And London, remember what you told me a while back?”

She shakes her head.

“You’re all woman now.”

She grins.

“We’ll be fine. It’ll be handled.”

“We,” she sighs out as she looks up at the headboard then back at me.

“Close your eyes.” I can’t help myself. I have to give her some shit.

She does.

“Perfect to me is going to be you gripping that headboard as you ride my face.”

Her eyes pop open. “Logan!”

“I’m serious as a heart attack. I never thought eating a girl would be something I’d be down with. But you, I’m going to devour.”

She’s speechless.

“But I’ll let you know before that happens, so you can prepare yourself for that, too.”

§

When I wake up, it’s nearly dark, and London is still passed out, in my arms. She’s going to be pissed when she wakes up. Hell, I’m pissed that my fucking powernap turned into a toddler nap.

I slide out of bed and grab my phone from my pocket. It’s not in it. Then I remember throwing it on the kitchen counter.

Heading out to get it, I stop when I hear Ava and a British accent, and not the friendly one either, but Brody’s.

When I hear Emma say, “Will you stop pacing?” I physically relax.

“Our daughter is in bed with...” He pauses. “I’m sorry, Ava, but—”

“No apology necessary. My dad was exactly the same with Thomas.”

I hear him sigh.

“I can wake them up,” she offers.

“No, no, they need to sleep. Just wish she was home doing so and not...” Brody pauses again then repeats, “Just wish she was home.”

“And you think if she knows the information you have, she’ll go home?” Ava asks.

“We’ve decided to ask Keeka to stay with us, as well,” Emma answers for Brody.

“Logan may not want that,” Ava tells her.

“Logan needs to focus on his studies,” Brody responds.

I walk around the corner and up the stairs. Ava is sitting in the corner of the leather sectional, curled up with Luke and holding a cup of coffee. Brody’s back is to me. Emma is the first to see me.

She stands up, looking past me, I’m assuming for London.

“She’s sleeping—”

“I’m awake.”

I look back to see London right behind me.

Her eyes are still heavy, and she looks like she could still use about two full days of sleep.

As she walks around me, I hold back from taking her hand, but she reaches back and grabs mine.

I look at Brody, whose eyes widen as he looks at our linked hands.

When we get to the chaise side of the sectional, I kiss her hand. “I’m gonna grab some coffee; would you like some?”

“Water sounds better,” she replies as she sits down.

I walk to the coffee pot on the counter and pour myself a cup. Then I walk over to the fridge and open the door. It’s stocked.

I look back. “Thanks, Ava.”

As I grab a bottle of Life Water, Ava says, “Emma and Brody brought the groceries.”

“Well, thank you.” I nod to Emma.

“London’s roommates needed some supplies for their room; it wasn’t a big deal,” Emma tells me.

“They’re back at Lawrinson?”

Emma nods as I walk toward them with my coffee and Ava’s water.

I set my cup down on the coffee table then open London’s water before handing it to her. “Did Lisa decide to return for the semester?”

“Yes,” Brody answers this time. “I offered to find a place for them all with tighter security.”

Emma takes his hand. “But we know the college is safe.”

He nods.

“So, London will be returning, as well?” I ask, sitting next to her.

“That’s going to be her decision.” Emma looks at London. “It’s up to you.”

“I...” She looks down then back up at Emma. “Is Keeka my sister?”

Brody takes Emma’s hand and sits. “The test was ninety-nine percent positive.”

“I want to help her,” London says, shaking her head back and forth as if she’s confused.

“We’ve decided she’s welcome to come live with us.” Brody watches for London’s reaction.

“That’s great, Dad, but”—she rests her face in her hands—“she may not want to.”

“It will all work out,” Emma says as she stands then walks over, sitting on the other side of London.

“Mom, I’m so sorry he did that to you.” Her lip quivers, and I immediately hate another dead man.

“It’s in the past.” Emma hugs her. “What matters now is making sure she has what he should have given her—a family.”

I look at Brody, who’s watching Emma. He’s tense, angry, and all the things a man should be when he sees the woman he loves hurting. I suppose he isn’t all that bad.

“You should see all the baby things Lucas and Logan bought for her.” London smiles through her tears. “And Logan has a place almost ready for her to live. It’s here, and it’s really, really nice.”

“I’m curious as to why you feel like you need to take care of her.”

I look up at Brody, knowing damn well what he’s thinking.

“It’s not my child. Keeka and I haven’t ever been like that, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Then why?” he asks for clarification.

I shrug. “Something that needs to be handled.”

“A complete stranger and you—”

“They’re friends, Dad,” London tells him. “Just friends.”

Brody’s scrutinizing eyes leave mine to look at London.

“The baby isn’t his, and he doesn’t have to explain anything. What he’s doing...” She looks at me. “What he’s done is admirable.”

“I appreciate the praise, London, but I’m not doing it because I need a pat on the back.”

She leans in to kiss me.

Well, fuck, I think, trying to decide whether I should have seen it coming and pulled back, given her a cheek, or just let it happen.

I let it happen.

It’s quick, and when she pulls back, she looks up at me at the same time a growl escapes Brody’s chest. Her eyes widen when she realizes she just planted one on me in front of her folks. I can’t help feeling amused, which she can tell, a small, self-conscious giggle erupting from her mouth.

Fuck it. I lean in and kiss her quickly on top of her head, and do so while looking at Brody.

His eyes narrow a bit. Mine don’t change. I show no emotion, even though I would love to show him that it matters fuck not what he thinks of me, or my dad. London and I are going to be together.

Our eyes are locked, and I refuse to be the first to look away.

“Do you think we should get back to the hospital?” Emma asks.

Brody looks at her, saying nothing.

“Well?”

He nods and stands. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Same, motherfucker, same.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Angels

Lucas

“Honey, why are you crying? Is everything okay? I gotta whisper ’cause I can’t be too loud,” I whisper-sing to this tiny little Angel, as Logan calls her.

“Lucas.” Tessa smiles. “That one may be even more inappropriate than the last.”

I look down at little Angel. “Check out those pouty lips.”

“Just like London’s,” Tessa says, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. “I’m going to grab some coffee.”

“Want me to?” I ask.

She smiles big and brightly. My wife is still as fucking hot as she was back in high school.

“That was cute.”

“What? Me?” I wink at her.

“No, the fact that you offered to hand over the baby when I know damn well you have no intentions of doing so.” She winks back.

“Logan and London are baby hogs. Can you blame me?” I defend myself.

“Yeah, they’re horrible,” she picks on me as she turns to walk out the door.

“Hey, baby?”

She looks back.

“I’m fucking cute,” I tell her.

She laughs as she walks off, saying, “Yeah, I know. Always have been.”

“Hot,” I call behind her.

“That, too, Links, that, too.”

I look down at the tiny little life in my hands. Not going to lie; I wish Tessa and I had a kid together to replace the one we lost all those years ago. I know I can’t take back all the shit in the past, because it would change everything beautiful and perfect we have blended together over the past five years, but still.

Angel whimpers, and I smile. “I got more for you, sprout.”

Her eyes fixate on the dull light above the rocking chair that I’m sitting in.

“Baby, you’re my angel. Come and save me tonight. You’re my angel. Come and make it all right. Don’t know what I’m gonna do—”

“I know what I want you to do,” Keeka huffs. “How about shut up already?”

“Your mommy’s awake, and apparently, she’s a critic,” I tell Angel.

Keeka’s been straight-up nasty since Logan and London left.

“You’re no Brody Hines,” she says, sitting up and feigning shock. “Sorry, my bad.”

“You have a pass,” I say, to which she looks shocked. “For now.”

“I didn’t ask you to be here. I didn’t ask for Suzy Sunshine to be stuck up my butt either,” she snarls.

“Well, that’s kind of tough shit.” I play my words off as a joke, because I’m pretty damn sure, by attitude and spunk alone, she’s of Ross blood. “If you’re Troy’s daughter, that makes Suzie Sunshine—Tessa—your second cousin.”

“I don’t need you to draw me a family tree.” She rolls her eyes, but her tone had a little less attitude.

“John Ross, Jack Ross, and Josette—or Josie Ross—are siblings. Tessa, Alex, Kendall, Molly, and Jake are John and Maggie’s kids. Jack Ross is Jade’s daughter. His two other sons died when they were young. Josie had one child, Troy.”

She sits back and crosses her arms. “I don’t care.”

She does, so I continue, “Troy was pretty much as bad as Tessa’s high school boyfriend—he liked the ladies. When Tessa and her high school and college boyfriend went on a vacation together, they stayed with him and some of his friends in Ft. Lauderdale. That’s where Tessa and Carmen, your mother, met. They became instant friends, and the minute Troy saw her, he wanted her.”

She looks up at me then back down, trying to hide the fact that she was interested in what we know damn well is the truth, that she’s Troy’s daughter.

“He changed for her, and from what I’ve heard, he loved her. They were together at least two years. I don’t know why they broke up, but they did. Troy was a changed man because of her. He went back to college, and that’s where he met Emma.”

She looks toward the window, and I swear I see her eyes mist over.

“It’s all overwhelming, I know,” I explain.

“I’m sure someone like you has no clue, so save it.” She sniffs.

“I have a clue. I was seventeen when I got a girl pregnant. I was terrified, and Tessa, she assured me I could do it, be a dad. Trust me when I say I had no belief in myself. My dad is a fucking ass, and my mom was a lush.”

She looks back at me, this time with no malice in her eyes or words spewing out of her mouth to push me away.

I look at Angel. “Sweet girl, you’re blessed to have this family, and I dare say blessed to have this sassy ass over here as your mom.”

“She’s not blessed; she’s cursed.”

I don’t look at her. I continue to look at the baby, whose eyes are closed, sleeping peacefully on my chest.

“Angel, your mom is scared. I’ve been there. I thought after losing two babies to miscarriage that even God Himself knew I didn’t deserve to be a dad. Thought I had no idea how to be one. Your cousin, Suzy Sunshine, your mom’s friend Logan, your possible aunt London, they’ll show her just how much she deserves to be trusted to love you like she wants to, but for some reason may feel like she can’t right now. Maybe even feels like she has never been.”

“Don’t lie to her.” Keeka bats away a tear. “I’ve heard and said enough lies for a lifetime.”

I stand up and walk over to the side of her bed with Angel in my arms, then sit down next to her. “I’ve done a lot of shit wrong in my life, Keeka, a lot. Learned all my lessons the hard way. I pushed through and, by the grace of God, I’m still here. And I’m thankful I am, because I’m able to love my two kids, Tessa’s kids, our grandkids, like I never thought I deserved or was capable of doing. Took a lot to get to the point where I trusted in myself. But the moment when I bonded with Ava, and then Logan, I knew damn well they deserved love. More importantly, I knew I deserved to be their father and love them the way I learned to love. The Ross crew, well, there are no better teachers, so let them love you, let them love Angel.”

I hand Keeka her child, and she looks at her as she lies in her arms. I can see she’s trying not to get swept up in that little life.

“You wanna know a secret? The faster you let that wall down and let them in, the faster you’re going to see that every hurt you’ve experienced in your life so far and all alone will never fucking hurt you as deeply again.”

Angel begins to whimper.

“Can you sing?”

She shakes her head, then closes her eyes.

“Apparently, neither can I.” I nudge her softly.

She smiles a fucking legit smile. It comes and goes really fucking fast, but it was there.

“Give me a song with the word angel in it,” I tell her, knowing damn well I’m pushing here, but fuck if I don’t want her to break, to fold, to look at her baby and share in the love it freely gives her, us.

Angel whimpers again, I look at Keeka. “Give me one?”

Tears begin flowing down her face as she speaks in a sing-song tone the words of “Angel” by Sarah McLachlan. “Spend all your time waiting for that second chance. For a break that would make it okay. There’s always some reason to feel not good enough.”

She swallows back her tears and holds Angel higher as she brings her knees to her chest then puts Angel on her legs as she continues to say the words and cries while looking at her daughter.

Neither of us heard the door open until I hear my wife choke back a sob.

Keeka looks up at her, sorrowful tears flooding her face. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t you dare be sorry,” Tessa scolds, walking over to her and sitting at her other side. “Don’t you dare be sorry, sweet girl.” Tessa puts her arm around her and pulls her into a hug as Keeka looks at her child with fear, love, and what I believe is hope for the first time since she had her.

When Angel gets a little more vocal, Keeka looks at Tessa for answers.

“I think it’s time for her to eat.”

“And that’s my cue,” I say, getting up off the bed.

I lean over and kiss a tear falling down Tessa’s face. Then I kiss the top of Angel’s head before kissing the top of Keeka’s.

She looks at me in confusion. Confusion that I quickly clear up.

“Welcome to the family.”

“I may not be family,” she whispers.

“You are regardless.” I smile then chuckle. “Like it or not.”

When I walk out the door, I see Logan first, and behind him, the Hines. Brody is hugging both Emma and London.

“That was cool, Dad,” Logan tells me, letting me know they heard.

I grab his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “You look like you got some sleep finally.”

“Yeah,” he says, hugging me back.

I step back and look at London. “Did you get answers?”

She nods and smiles as Emma wipes a tear away, then she hugs me. “Thanks, Lucas.”

I give her a hug and nod. “Who’s gonna let Josie know?”

She and Emma both laugh and say, “You.”

I laugh, too. “She loves me.”

London smiles. “She totally does.”

“My teenage charm won her over.”

“So I’ve heard.” London giggles.

I glance up at my son, who is looking at her with all the intensity of a man who is in love with a woman who is going through a sort of hell on earth. I felt it at his age, but I was the cause of the hell. He’s not.

It’s not hard to see that he’s walking a path that I had a similar experience walking. It’s not hard to see that he’s walking it a hell of a lot better than I did. And it’s not hard to feel pride in that, because I showed him how to be a better man than I was.

I should want to crush my father, yet I chose to learn what I could from him. And I learned a lot.

My chest swells with pride as I look at him, and then I can’t help thinking about Keeka and all the hurt she has bottled up and is fighting. The things she has yet to divulge, the shit that she will be forced to face so it will not hinder that little angel baby’s life but enhance it in some sort of way.

Every man, every woman, every human being who has experienced emotional pain and has the strength to push past it, to survive it, to want better for themselves, carries inside them a gift. It’s a gift to be given to the next generation. It is knowledge, wisdom, hope. It is allowing love of self and accepting the love of others. It’s immeasurable strength gained from wanting better for everyone who your heart becomes attached to. And when you see your child for the first time, a part of you, an unbroken part, knows there isn’t a damn thing you wouldn’t do to help them avoid all that hurt and pain.

My divorce fucked him up. I know it did. I knew it when he questioned me, not in words, but by actions. I also didn’t try to make him see otherwise. I knew he would. And I knew he would by my actions more so than by my words.

I despise my ex, but I don’t hate her. How can I when she gave me two beautiful kids? She gave me a son who looks at a girl in a way that lets me know I showed him how to love.

I look at Brody fucking Hines, a man who I have given and taken shit from for years, who clearly is going to be even more a part of my damn life than he already is. “You and I are planning a fundraiser together, I hear.”

Logan’s back is to him. I see the little shit-ass grin form at the corner of his mouth. He did this. He did it for the girl he loves. He did it knowing damn well I would do whatever the hell was necessary to give him a better shot at his future.

“Probably should wait until Maddox is around. He’s gonna help get this thing going, as well.”

“Already talked to Coach; have a couple dates and a commitment from him and his team, as well as his assurance that the basketball team will participate, too,” I tell him.

He looks at me blankly—already I’m sick of his shit—then he looks at Emma. “You’re quite sure you don’t need me in there?”

“You’re a distraction.” Emma smiles fondly at her husband then looks around at the hospital staff who are whispering and gawking at him.

The high school boy in me takes offense. I mean, what the fuck?

“Looks like you have a few minutes then. Come on, Hines; there’s a room down here for us.” I pat his shoulder.

He forces a smile, albeit tight-lipped.

I walk down the hall to the small waiting room where I pour myself a cup of coffee. I consider pouring one for him, then decide, fuck it, he can get his own. Then I sit and wait.

He walks in and looks at me, then scans the empty room before walking over and pouring hot water into a cup. Then he reaches into his pocket, pulls out a tea bag, and opens it. He sets it in the cup, picks it up, walks over, and sits.

“How is Emma doing with the news?”

“She’s managing.”

Silence. Awkward silence.

Fuck it.

“I won’t pretend to know exactly how it must feel to her, or you, or London for that matter, but if there is any way I can help, I certainly will.”

He leans back, removes his scarf, and sets it on his lap. “My wife suspected the man she was married to had affairs throughout their marriage, and now she has confirmation that he in fact did.”

“I understand how she feels.” I take a sip of my coffee.

He stares blankly at me.

“My wife wasn’t pining away for another; she was committed to her marriage, so I’m not sure you do know exactly how she feels. You certainly don’t know how it feels to be Emma, who feels responsible for a dead man’s child.”

Oh, here we fucking go.

“Gotcha.” I chuckle.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks.

“I’m not sure you truly want an answer to that question, Hines, so it’s simply a response. You and I haven’t ever seen eye to eye on things, and I could give a fuck less. Hell, no one has the same way of dealing with the same or similar situations. You need to dig really deep and figure out when exactly it was you decided I was public enemy number one, and then you need to figure out how the fuck to get over it, for London’s sake.”

“London is none of your concern,” he hisses.

“On the contrary, my son is in love with her. She feels the same. London is also my wife’s family, and believe it or not, I do feel responsible for a dead man’s child. Troy Fields may have fucked up, but he and I were friends, and Collin Abraham and I were, too.”

He huffs and looks down.

“Spit it out, Hines. I’m not backing down.”

“You want to know my issues with you, Lucas?”

“Absolutely.” I take another sip of coffee then sit back.

“You lusted after another man’s wife, and not secretly. You did so openly and disrespectfully.”

“You and I both know that’s bullshit,” I tell him.

“Is it?” He looks at me smugly.

“It most certainly is. I respected him, I respected her decision to be with him, and I moved on. Not to pat myself on the back, but I did it with dignity and fucking class.”

“Was it dignity or was it class when my family was in crisis and you came to the Cape and told Tessa she should have stayed with you in front of her husband and half the family—”

“Really?” I laugh outright. “That was one moment in over twenty years—”

“It was fucking wrong,” he growls.

“Was it?” I lean over the table. “Was it wrong when my little girl called in hysterics because she was afraid?”

He leans forward, too. “She had nothing to be afraid of, Links.”

I can’t help laughing, and then I can’t stop laughing because I’m fucking exhausted.

“What the hell is so comical?”

After I get my shit together, I shake my head at him. “I shouldn’t have worried that two rock stars, all over the fucking news, balls deep in scandal, were with my kid who was eight hours away from me?”

“You should have trusted Tessa and Collin.” He points in my face as he stands up.

That’s one.

I stand as I bat his fucking finger away. “Says the man who doesn’t trust his eighteen-year-old stepdaughter around a man who wouldn’t harm a hair on her head.”

“I’m not worried about her fucking hair.” He reaches out and gives me a shove.

That’s two.

I grab his collar and push him against the fucking wall. “That was two, motherfucker. I don’t have three in me.”

“You give it your best, Links, because it’ll be your last,” he sneers.

“Yeah, I had nothing to fucking worry about, did I? You need to fucking think back, Hines, and you need to be fucking thankful I watched you change, and you need to be even more fucking thankful I have, too.” I let go of his collar and step back.

“Shall we let them carry on?”

I look left to see Maddox and Logan standing at the door.

“I’d say yes, if not for Piper, Reed”—Logan quirks his eyebrow at me, then Brody—“or London.”

“Right, of course, how quickly one forgets all that is at stake.” Maddox walks between us to the coffee pot. After he makes himself and Logan a cup of coffee, he walks over and sits down. “So, the fundraiser? A lot get sorted out with that between the two of you?”

I look at Logan, who shakes his head and says, “I’m thinking no. But I’m also thinking this shit needs to end here. There’s too much shit to do. Too many things happening. Too damn much going on to be at war with each other.”

“Cheers to that,” Maddox says, lifting his cup.

CHAPTER TWELVE

A Step Back

Logan

It’s been a long week. A week that feels like a month because of all the immediate and life-altering changes that have occurred.

Keeka adamantly declined Brody and Emma’s offer to stay with them. She adamantly declined Dad and Tessa’s as well. I knew she would. That’s why I offered to share my place until hers was done, which she adamantly declined until I told her that I spoke to Trucker and would do so again if she even thought I was going to let her stay in that shit-bag studio she thought she would be taking the angel baby, whose name had to be decided before she was released.

Leddie Lou Garcia-Lopez is seven pounds, two ounces and twenty-two inches of innocence and beauty. All the health and developmental testing the hospital ran, which I haven’t a clue what they mean, were good, and Tessa Links confirmed.

I decided to postpone my graduate classes when London announced she was going to take the semester off to help Keeka with the baby, her niece. I told her she needed to continue with school without a break, that she needed to do this for herself, put herself, her dreams first. That conversation took place in private, or so I thought, until I saw Brody round the corner of the hospital hallway, lock eyes with me, and nod what I suppose was his approval.

The first time Keeka walked into the apartment, she looked at me, unable to speak, and shook her head. I nodded mine. She cried.

Crying women, my Achille’s heel, my weakness, also the cause of so much confusion in my past has become an everyday, sometimes every hour occurrence.

I once thought, when a woman cried, I was the one to cause it in some way, or she was in pain, or that she was being dramatic. Over the past couple years, I realized I may have been wrong.

Rarely has it been about me. Like a piece of kindling set too close to a fire, one spark can cause it to combust. Emotions, ones in which a male can normally keep hidden, seem to be almost impossible for the females I am close to, to hide—they can erupt without warning. I know there’s hormonal shit that affects them, making it difficult, ones we males don’t contend with. But the women in my life—Ava, London, and now Keeka—seem to have an even harder time than most. Or is it me that has a harder time seeing them cry because I am emotionally attached to them?

Either way, it sucks to watch them cry and not be able to make it stop immediately. At least now I’m pretty sure I’m not the one causing it. I’m much more confident that just holding them, listening to them, being there eases the burden in which women like them carry. Women with hearts.

I look down at Leddie who is attached to my chest in some contraption Dad had to help me learn how to use. She’s asleep, but so is Keeka, and I’m afraid if I lay her down, she will wake up, and then Keeka will wake up and cry.

She’s exhausted, and yes, exhausting.

Leddie isn’t. She’s amazing. She cries when she has a reason, like if she’s hungry or shit through every article of clothing on her tiny little body.

Keeka is the champion of diaper changing. She’s great when it comes to the tasks that need to be done—diaper changes, laundry, and breastfeeding. But when she’s quiet, Keeka stares at her like she’s afraid of her. Honestly, I think she is.

While Keeka was busy feeding, changing, bathing, and dressing Leddie, I made myself busy in her apartment. She would come over and look around. When I asked her what she thought, she told me straight up it was too big and had too many windows.

The tone in which she speaks to not just me, but everyone, is detached, completely and totally null and void of emotion. Hell, half the time, she doesn’t even look people in the eye.

Dad and Tessa are here every day. I’m half expecting them to move in. Tessa cooks and Tessa cleans, and Tessa watches Keeka while she tries not to appear to be doing so. Dad and I work.

When London is done with school, she’s here. And unfortunately, it’s not to see me. Her agreement with her folks is she would sleep at Lawrinson every night, and she does. She leaves by midnight and is back by six in the morning to hang out with her sister, her fucking sister—still blows my mind—and Leddie before she goes back to class. Half the time, she comes here during her breaks, instead of taking the additional dance classes she did last semester.

I spoke to Maddox, who put me on speakerphone, making the conversation between Emma, Brody, Maddox, and Harper, voicing my concerns. We agreed that London had made up her mind and her focus was on Keeka and the baby; and trying to change her mind would be detrimental to her, as well as impossible. They were just happy she was taking classes.

Looking down at Leddie, I see features that are unmistakably Trucker’s. Hell, my dad saw it, too. When he asked me if he was the father, I told him not to ask. Then he asked if he needed to have a chat with him. I told him that, if he did, I would be incredibly pissed at him. He nodded and told me he trusted me, even though he had recently found out I didn’t always tell him when big things happened in my life, and that I should cut that fucking shit out because he understood each man had his own path, and that he was proud of me regardless of what I did. Well, except for not telling him two NFL teams wanted me. I simply told him that I loved the sport, but I wouldn’t want to miss out on things like births and life.

I saw the way he looked at me. I had seen it a million times before. It was with pride.

When he abruptly left and came back an hour later with a bag of Skittles, I laughed.

Since I had played pee-wee ball, my father rewarded me every damn game, win or lose, with a bag of Skittles. Loved those fucking things. He did the same thing for Trucker, but with peanut M&Ms.

Last night, Mitch called with the results of the paternity test. He was not the father, and although I was happy for him, I was kind of pissed at his celebratory attitude. He asked for Trucker’s number. I didn’t give it to him. I told him, if he valued our friendship, he would leave it the fuck alone. He told me he wouldn’t say shit, except to Jamie, but if he ever saw Trucker again, he was going to piss on him.

I look down at Leddie as we walk to the window. “Your father is a little bitch, Leddie. No kid needs a role model like that in their lives. You have your mom, you have me, you have a huge family, nothing else you need in this world, but that and a clean diaper.”

I look down onto the street and see a car pull up. I watch as London gets out, immediately pissed off she didn’t call me for a damn ride.

“You also have an aunt who adores you and has the innate ability to piss me off like no other.”

I walk over, shove my feet in my slides, and then grab one of Leddie’s blankets to throw over her in case it’s chilly in the hallway. Then I open the closet to grab a hat, knowing there is no way to hide my annoyance at her right now. Then I decide against it.

I walk out and hear the sounds of construction going on down the hall. Saws, air guns, compressors. I pull Leddie’s head tighter against my chest and cover her other ear with the blanket, hoping she doesn’t wake up.

The elevator opens, and I watch as London walks off it, eyes focused on the floor.

“Your phone broke?” I ask.

She looks up at me blankly, eyes red and glazed over, expression devoid. “Not today, Satan.”

“What?” I gasp.

“Please don’t fight with me. I’m tired, I’m moody, and I’m miserable.”

I can’t help myself. “You should have called for a ride.”

She sighs heavily and looks at me.

“You look like hell.”

Now she rolls her eyes.

“When did you sleep last?”

“Logan, just—”

“When?”

“Last night. I slept last night.”

“Bullshit,” I hiss at her because.

“It’s not bullshit. I took a sleeping pill—”

“You did what?”

“Can’t sleep without them.” She shrugs and looks at Leddie. “Can I have her?”

“Fuck no, you can’t have her,” I snap. “You can take a damn nap.”

“I don’t have time for a nap.” She reaches out to unhook the contraption, but I take her hand, pulling her behind me.

When she stumbles, I turn quickly to catch her, but she grabs the wall.

“London,” I sigh as the door opens.

“Hey, Keeka.” London smiles.

“Hi. I need to feed her. My boobs hurt,” Keeka says hurriedly.

“She’s asleep,” I tell her.

“Oh, she’ll eat,” Keeka huffs as she unbuckles the carrier. With Leddie in her arms, she then looks at London. “You look awful.”

“So I’ve heard,” London jokes and cracks a smile. Even her fake smile isn’t believable.

Keeka nods toward London, saying to me, “You need to do something about her.”

“I’m fine.” She laughs.

Bullshit.

“She’ll be fine,” I assure Keeka, who nods then walks back into the apartment.

I watch London pull out a can and crack it open. “Cheers.”

When she holds it up, I see it’s an energy drink.

I take it from her hand before it hits her lips. “Let’s go.”

Once in my bedroom, I turn to face her. “So, you’re take sleeping pills to sleep and drinking that shit to stay awake?”

“People do it every day.” She puts her hands on her hips and throws her little nose in the air.

I grab her and gently toss her onto the bed. “Get some fucking sleep.”

She starts to get up, but I grab her hands as I push her down, holding them above her head. “I said, get some fucking sleep.”

She looks fucking pissed, so pissed, and something stirs. Not right fucking now, I try to tell myself, but it can’t be helped.

“You’re an ass—”

My lips crash down on hers. She immediately relaxes and whimpers when I press them a little harder. Then she pulls her hands away from mine and immediately grabs my hair, pulling me, guiding me to where she wants me.

Lying on her, she thrusts her tongue into my mouth and moans her satisfaction as she strokes my tongue with hers. My body heats with need, but my mind reminds me of who the fuck she is, who we are, and I slow the pace.

Taking her tongue between my teeth, I pull back, dragging them down her tongue. She knots her hands tighter in my hair, demanding me to stay on course. I grip hers and pull back, to which she groans, disapproving of my action as I run my nose back and forth across hers.

“Should we try this again?”

She shrugs slightly but doesn’t open her eyes.

“Why didn’t you call for a ride?”

Her eyes pop open, her blues not as vibrant. Then she shrugs and does the sideways glance thing, averting eye contact.

I grip her hair a little more and turn her to face me. “London, we communicate. Remember the conditions?”

She closes her eyes and purses her beautiful lips.

When I tilt her head and kiss her neck, she immediately relaxes.

I see how this is going to work. Instead of Chinese torture, I’m going to win with sexual tension.

“Why?” I ask, keeping on task by licking her sweet-smelling skin.

“I have a tail. It’s not necessary.” She whimpers as she pushes her tits against my body.

“A tail?” I look up at her.

“A Clive,” she sighs. “Dad’s got it covered.”

“How long have you known and who is Clive?”

“Clive was Dad’s bodyguard years ago. Apparently, he’s out of retirement,” she answers dryly then slides her tongue across her lips.

“As much as I want to kiss you, we have more to discuss.”

“I don’t want to talk. Kiss me.”

I feel my eyebrows shoot up, and she groans and rolls her eyes.

“Hey, London?”

She glances back.

“I want you to sleep, then wake up and not look so fucking exhausted. I love you, London, okay? I just didn’t realize it came with all this shit.”

“This shit?”

“Worry, wonder, fear.” I bury my head in her neck.

I hate that all that shit just flew out my mouth, but I can’t take it back.

“Do you have any clue how worried I was when you got out of that car?”

“Worried or pissed?” she asks.

I have to think about it.

“Both.” I nod.

“You sure?”

Am I?

“Fine, pissed. I was pissed because...you call me.”

“I forgot, okay? I forgot, and I just decided to come here.” She looks away again.

“How much sleep are you getting?”

She shrugs.

“Hey.” I tilt her face back to mine. “Since when do you not tell me what’s on your mind?”

“I don’t sleep, okay? I can’t close my eyes without seeing Chaos or worrying about Keeka.” She looks away again. “So yes, I have taken some over the counter sleep aids to help.”

I let go of her hair and push away the black locks covering her eyes. “Go on.” I kiss her nose, then her forehead.

“I sleep like, three, maybe four hours with them. Then I wake and try to go back to bed, but I can’t, so I drink an energy drink and go to class.”

“How many of those things are you drinking a day?”

She averts her eyes again.

“London...?”

“A few,” she sighs out.

“Well, no more. Promise me no more.”

“Fine, if you kiss me.”

“Gladly,” I say, pushing her little wrap sweater apart and placing my lips on the bare skin just above her tit. I’m rock-hard immediately.

Her breath hitches as I kiss across to the other side.

Fucking cuddle season.

I kiss slower up her neck, taking my time, listening to her sweet, little noises, feeling her body shift under mine, learning all over again what spots cause her to gasp and what places make her quiver. Like now, when I pull on her ear with my teeth. It’s a quick inhale of breath with an ah sound, then a slow, longer intake where her entire body tenses like she’s fighting those feelings from taking over. Then, with the release of her ear from my teeth, she lets out long ohhhh.

It’s intimate. It’s sexy. It’s smelling, tasting, and touching. It’s her telling me that she trusts me and likes what I’m doing. It’s me showing her that I adore her, want her, but am going to take my fucking time with her, because not fucking London is so damn hot that I can wait. I can wait until it’s all right.

“Logan,” she gasps when I kiss down her neck, paying special attention to the center on the lowest part where it meets the collarbone.

“Mmm...” I respond, because I can’t talk while I’m licking that spot.

I turn her head and kiss up her neck to the spot just behind her ear where I suck gently. She likes it there. She likes it there a lot.

Her little mew sound is quivering as her hips thrust slightly, seeking friction that I generally avoid, but right now, I’m needing to give her just a little more than I have before.

I take her face between my hands and look into those blue eyes that are liquid, not wanting to miss this. Then I grind into her, watching her mouth drop open as her back arches and she pants “Oh no.”

I force myself to pull back, and from the noise she makes, no is clearly not a plea to stop; it’s a protest to do it again. Confirmation comes in a whimper, followed by a, “Please.”

I push against her again, watching those eyes roll back.

“Good. So—”

“Yeah?” I roll against her again.

Her mouth opens in an O, and she moans then hisses, “Yes.”

I continue doing just enough fully clothed to get her really fucking close, until I’m so close I know shit is going to blow soon.

I kiss her hard now, stroking my tongue along hers, pulling her lips with my teeth, and rolling my hips faster until she takes in a breath and holds it. Her body tenses, and she is no longer pushing against mine. She is pulling away.

Fuck that. Not when she’s this close.

I let go of her face and grab her hips, holding them up. Then I rub really fucking hard, watching as she grips the sheets, closes her eyes, and shakes while whimpering as she falls apart for real, for the first time.

I lie beside her afterward, waiting for her to open her eyes, and when she doesn’t, I demand it.

“Look at me.”

She shakes her head, her face immediately flushing.

“London,” I sigh. “Look at me.”

“Not right now please,” she whispers.

“In case you’re wondering, you just came,” I tell her.

She bites her bottom lip to stop her smile.

“In case you didn’t know, you liked it.”

“I knew that part.” She now smirks.

“I’m really damn glad you did. Now stay put while I’m in the shower,” I tell her, getting up, “so I can do the same damn thing.”

She covers her mouth to hide the laugh and rolls to her stomach.

That little peach of an ass is staring up at me. I cup it in both hands, bend down, and bite it. She squeals into the mattress.

“I’m gonna jerk off thinking about your ass,” I mumble as I walk away.

When I come out of the bathroom, she’s asleep, sound asleep.

I hit the remote to the electric shades to close them, grab my phone, and hit white noise on my iPod’s playlist before connecting it through Bluetooth, hoping that it drowns out any noise that could wake her.

§

Keeka is sleeping, and so is Leddie Lou, the name I’m going to have to get used to, because to me, she’s an angel. An angel amidst chaos.

Death and life, I think, death and life.

I walk out of the apartment and down the hall to the other. When I walk in, I see Tessa on a ladder, painting, and Dad holding it, looking up with a shit-ass grin on his face.

She turns around and shakes her head at him. “Don’t you have something to do?”

He nods slowly but doesn’t move. It’s cool that my dad and Tessa are still into each other after all these years, but as his kid, I still find it awkward as fuck.

I clear my throat, and he looks back.

“Oh, hey there.” He walks over and gives me a hug, “Place should be ready in a few days.”

I return his hug, step back, then look around. “Lots to do still; you sure about that?”

“Gonna have some extra help in a few minutes.” He leans in and whispers, “The British are coming.”

“Great,” I sigh.

Dad laughs. “Look, I’ve had to rub elbows with him all week for this fundraiser, so you can deal.”

“London’s in my bed,” I tell him. “She hasn’t been sleeping.” I don’t tell him about the pills or energy drinks.

“I don’t think you should tell the Brit that.” Dad laughs.

“It’s gonna be easier than telling him I’m gonna insist she stays with me so she sleeps.” I don’t laugh.

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at me.

“She’s fucking exhausted,” I explain.

“Well.” Dad scratches his head as he thinks of what to say. “Maybe you should, I don’t know, lay off it for a while.”

“Lay off it?” I gasp.

“You know, let her sleep,” he says, looking uncomfortable.

When it dawns on me that he thinks I’m keeping her awake, I sigh. “I haven’t fucked her, Dad. Jesus, she’s not sleeping because she’s having a hard time closing her eyes. She’s not sleeping because she’s trying to do it alone. She’s not sleeping because she’s not with me.”

When Dad glances behind me, I know immediately the British have arrived.

“Is she okay?” Emma asks from behind me, and I turn around.

Brody looks pissed, which isn’t unusual, and Emma looks like she could cry, also not unusual these days.

“She’s sleeping now,” I tell her.

“That’s good,” she says as she looks up at Brody.

“It’s good,” he tells her, pulling her into a hug while staring at me.

“I should go check on her,” Emma says, stepping back.

Before I have a chance to tell her over my dead body, Brody tells her, “I think we should just let her sleep.”

“All three of them are asleep. I agree with Brody.”

He nods then looks at Emma. “We came to work, love. You ready to paint?”

“Can I borrow you for a moment, Emma?” I ask, walking toward them.

She nods.

I open the door to the apartment and wave my hand to the hallway. “After you.”

She walks out, and Brody does, too.

For a moment, I’m annoyed. I mean, does the man think I’m going to try to fuck his wife? That moment passes when I think of Leddie and the fact that it’s impossible to not look in on her in the morning before I leave to get London, or in the evening when I come back from dropping her off.

When we walk into the apartment, Emma looks around and smiles. There’s a swing in the middle of the room that she points to. “New furniture?”

I smile. “When London isn’t holding her, and Keeka isn’t feeding or changing her, sometimes she likes to sit in that and stare at the light coming in through the window.”

“Has the father been told yet?” Brody asks.

I stop and look at him. My gut instinct is to tell him it’s none of his fucking business, but in effort to keep the peace, I let him know what’s up. “She doesn’t want him to know.”

“Is he a threat?” Brody asks.

“I don’t think so. I think the circumstances that brought Leddie into the world—”

“One-night stand?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I won’t betray her trust, Brody. I apologize, but I gave her my word.”

“I’d like you to consider what Maddox and Harper went through. It’s possible this man would like to know,” he says, face void of emotions.

“He’s not Maddox,” I assure him.

He doesn’t look convinced.

Not wanting to break a promise, I give him the last bit of information I will. The rest is for Keeka to share if she chooses. “I made a phone call, he denies it, and that’s it. She has me, she has family, she’ll be fine.”

He nods once.

“I asked Emma to come in here so she could see her daughter is fine. I was a little pissed off that she came over unexpectedly, didn’t call for a ride, and looked like hell. I insisted she sleep.”

“She didn’t call and ask for a ride?” Emma asks with worry in her voice.

I shake my head.

“I don’t understand.” Her eyes brows knit together.

I look at Brody. “If we were all on the same page, there would be less worry.”

When he sighs, Emma looks up at him.

“Clive has returned.”

“Clive?”

He nods. “He’s watching over her. Don’t be angry, Em. I just—”

“Logan’s right; we all need to be on the same page so we aren’t tripping over each other, Brody.”

“She also still wears that bracelet, has her location shared with Emma,” I remind them, “and until this morning, I felt really damn good that she was checking in, calling when she was done with class, and all of that.”

They both nod and now, now I have to put her first, regardless of my concerns.

“Until this morning, after I voiced my concern and saw her get angry, not wanting to answer questions—”

“What kind of questions?” Brody asks accusingly.

“Like, why the hell didn’t you call for a ride? Why the hell aren’t you sleeping? That sort of shit, and that was all me. I was pissed because I didn’t have my thumb on her. I was pissed because I knew if something happened, some random bullshit like what happened at Chaos, I wouldn’t know where the fuck to find her without calling Emma or Maddox.”

“Well, then we’re all on the same page.” Brody nods.

“We may be, but it’s not what’s in her best interest,” I admit.

Brody stiffens. “I disagree.”

“I felt the same way until I watched her sleep. She’s exhausted because she’s not sleeping and she’s here all the time, and she’s trying to fucking make everything perfect. And because she’s worried, we’re all worried, and it’s selfish as hell to put that on her.”

“We’ve stepped back, Logan,” Emma says. “We’re doing the best we can.”

“I understand completely, I do. But when I put my shit on her this morning and insisted on answers”—I leave out what insistence entailed—“she looked even more damn tired. And when I went to shower and came out, and she was sleeping, I decided something needs to give.”

“Unfortunately, it won’t be Clive,” Brody says sternly.

I want to be a dick, but I have to admit, London didn’t seem that pissed off about it, so I can’t be either, not when I’m standing here, wanting what’s best for her, regardless of how it makes me feel. Not when I’m worried she will fuck up her health and her dreams.

“Now that Elle Fields’ secret has been revealed and London’s true identity is known, I won’t disagree. I wouldn’t ask because, honestly, she didn’t seem pissed. And even though I love that it’s me who picks her up and takes her back, when I think about what she did today, catching a cab, I think it’s progress for her.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement,” Brody replies, holding back that he probably gives a fuck less what I think.

“Let’s hope that continues when I tell you that she needs to be here to sleep.”

He rolls his eyes. “No.”

“No?” I huff.

“She isn’t going to move in with you, Logan. She’s eighteen years old and will finish school.”

“Well, again, we agree on her finishing school.”

“She’s not moving in with you,” he sneers.

“Your daughter sleeps when she’s with me. She feels safe when she’s with me. Does that account for nothing?” He starts to reply, but I interrupt to finish what I’m trying to say. “I didn’t say she should move in with me, but I do think she should move in with Keeka when the place is finished. I also think that, if Clive’s gonna be around, you should tell her to utilize him for a ride instead of jumping in a cab.”

Emma and Brody look at each other.

“I asked Emma to come over so she could see your daughter sleeping peacefully, to know she’s okay, to know she looks a hell of a lot better than she did when she walked in here this morning. And I’m going to be up front and honest with you both. I’m going to suggest it with or without your blessing, because she...” I pause and look down. “She’s better when she’s with me.”

When neither say a thing, I look up to find Brody’s eyes narrowed.

“Is she or are you?”

I hold his glare and answer honestly. “Both of us are.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Blown Away

Logan

I walk out of my place with Leddie strapped to me while Keeka showers.

London is still asleep and it’s almost eight o’clock at night. It’s a wonder she hasn’t woken up since I check on her nearly every hour, and Emma does the same.

I suppose it’s good that Keeka and she have spent the entire day together. Each time I asked if she needed a nap when I was checking on London, she would tell me no. When I told her Tessa and Emma would like to talk to her, she asked if I could take Leddie while she showered.

She didn’t have to ask me twice. I missed the little angel.

As messed up as today was, it was also peaceful knowing my three girls were all under the same roof and content.

We got a lot done today. Dad, Brody, and I took over the main living space while Emma and Tessa worked on what will be Leddie’s room. Emma and Tessa now wanted Keeka’s input on her room color and to show her Leddie’s.

When I walk in, baby secured to me, I find everyone standing around the island, eating take-out from Dinosaur Barbeque.

Dad beams when he sees her. “How’s our Leddie Lou doing?”

Both Tessa and Emma dash over before he’s able to stand up.

“Baby hogs,” he mumbles and sits back down.

They both stand beside me on opposite sides, swooning over her.

She looks at Tessa. “Hi, sweet girl, hi.”

Emma kisses the top of her head. “You look more and more like Troy every time I see you. More and more like your aunt London, too.”

“She does.” Tessa smiles. “She absolutely does.”

I look up at Brody as he watches Emma intently. Then he looks at me and his lips twitch up at the sides briefly, but it’s a smile.

I look at Emma then at him and give him the same.

“Clearly, he’s helping make any part of this that may hurt her okay.”

“Gotta eat.” I smile. “She’ll need to change sceneries soon.”

“I’ll hold her,” Dad offers.

“We’re good.” I smirk as I walk past him and sit down at one of the stools.

He points his fork at me. “You get her every day.”

“Not today I haven’t,” I tell him.

He laughs, and so does Tessa.

I fill a plate with a baby strapped to me, like it’s nothing new.

We talk about the fundraiser, and I find out it’s in just two weeks. As I listen, I feel overwhelmed by everything the community has done. Not to mention my old coach, my old team, and some of Dad’s old friends who have played for the NFL. I feel even more overwhelmed by what my father, Maddox, and yes, Brody have done to make this all happen.

When the song over the surround sound that was Dad’s addition to the place changes, Tessa clears her throat. “Emma and I were thinking that maybe Sunday would be a good day to have you all for dinner.”

“Lexington knows about your new sister and niece. She was so excited. When I told she you didn’t share the same parents, she grinned and said, just like me and London! She’s already claimed them. We can’t keep her quiet forever.” Emma laughs. “Brody told her that she could help plan a dinner soon, and Josie and the rest of the Ross family can be introduced to Keeka and Leddie.”

A feeling of protectiveness washes over me as I look down at Leddie. “I’m not sure she’ll be ready by then.”

“What do you think?”

I look up at London’s voice and see her and Keeka at the doorway.

Keeka shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay.” London smiles at her then looks at Emma and Brody. “Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad.”

They walk over and hug her.

“How are you feeling?” Emma ask as she steps back, taking her face in her hands and inspecting her daughter.

“Logan told us what happened.” Brody rubs her back.

She looks at me and scowls.

I shake my head, hoping she gets by now that my word is my fucking word. I told her I wouldn’t say anything if she stopped with the sleeping aid and pick-me-up crap.

“I’m fine,” she huffs.

“Grumpy, but fine.” Emma laughs and hugs her again while she glares at me.

Before I have a chance to say a thing, Keeka is unhooking Leddie from me.

“Keeka...” Dad sighs. “That boy of mine won’t share her. What do you say you let me hold her while you grab something to eat?”

“You have issues, Logan senior.” She smiles quickly at him. “But I’ll think about it.”

I look over as London walks out the door.

“Where’s she going?” I ask Emma.

“She thinks she left her phone in your room. She wants to make sure the girls know she’s okay.”

“It’s in her bag in the hall closet.” I stand and wipe my mouth. “I’ll make sure she finds it.”

I walk out the door and head to my place to save her from searching for her phone. When I walk in, I see her sitting inside the closet, texting frantically.

“I see you found it.”

She looks up, startled, and I feel bad for scaring her.

“I’ll let them know where you are.”

She shoves her phone in her bag and stands up. “Like you let my parents know I’m taking sleeping pills and drinking energy drinks?”

She tries to push past me, but I grab her forearms.

“I know you’re tired, pretty, but I gave you my word I wouldn’t say shit if you stopped doing it.”

“Lie to someone else, Logan.” She pushes my hands off her arms and walks past me.

“Never been one to lie,” I say as I turn around and see Emma standing at the door.

Emma and London are staring at each other, and I’m pretty damn certain she overheard what was said.

“He already told you,” London snaps, “so why are you looking at me like that?”

“He didn’t say anything, other than you weren’t sleeping and you looked like hell when you got here. Now I’d like to hear it from you,” Emma says firmly.

London glances at me, and then back at Emma. “I have to use the bathroom.”

When they walk away, I hear her phone, bend down, and pull it from her bag.

I expect to see one of her roommate’s names, but I don’t. I see Fletcher Reeves and a message.

I’m sorry to hear that, London. And although he’s correct, it wasn’t his place to tell them. I hope to see you tonight. Same time, same place?

When London snatches the phone from my hand, I can’t even look at her.

“Apparently, my words are the only one that’s not good here. If that’s what you want, have at it.” I grab a hat from the closet and shove it on.

“You’re overreacting like everyone else around here.” She sounds like she’s twelve again.

I nod then walk out the door.

§

Driving up to my old place, I see Mitch’s car and a few others. When I turn off the vehicle, I look down at my phone and see London has messaged, Dad has messaged, and Keeka has messaged.

I shoot Dad a text.

Gonna hang out with the guys tonight. Just need a break. I’d like it if someone stays with Keeka.

Then I shoot Keeka a message.

Be back by morning.

I don’t even look at London’s.

When it lights up with her name again, however, I glance down.

I hope you catch something.

Already did. The knowledge that I was right to hold back with you. You’re nowhere near ready to handle what I have to offer you.

Yeah, well, you can’t even have an adult discussion, so back at you.

I’m seconds from replying, “Tell it to bitch boy,” but I don’t. Instead, I turn off the ringer and get out.

When I walk in, Mitch looks up. “Hey.”

“Got a minute?” I ask him.

He nods as he stands and starts walking to his room. I fist bump the guys all sitting on the couch with a bunch of chicks snuggled up to them.

Cuddle season. Never partook until London. Right now, I wish I never did. Fucking knew better.

When I walk in, he looks at me. “You look two steps from death’s door, man.”

I pull my hat down. “Feeling it, too.”

“Well, you know...” He shrugs.

“I know I owe you an apology.”

He chuckles. “You sure you can do that?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, sitting down.

“Nothing, man. I’m just fucking with you.”

“You hear anything new about Downs?”

“Nothing.” He sighs as he sits on the opposite side of the bed.

“No news is good news, I assume.”

He looks down as his phone vibrates in his hand and hits a button.

Shit, Jamie.

“Am I interrupting plans?” I ask.

“Nah.” He smiles at the phone, then looks up at me.

“So, things are good?”

His phone vibrates again, and he looks back down. He reads the message then glances up at me. “Things are good on my end. What’s up with you and London Fields?” He holds his phone up, and I see her number and the message.

Hey, Mitch, this is London. If my boyfriend stops over, please tell him to call me.

“So, yeah, things are good?” Mitch asks.

“Ask her who the fuck her boyfriend is, because I was done a few minutes ago.”

“What the hell happened?”

“Fletcher Reeves,” I tell him. “No, fuck that, London Fields.”

“Bro, which is it?” he asks.

“Doesn’t matter.” I flop back on his bed and cover my face with my hat.

“Hell it doesn’t.” He flops back, too. “You’re in love with that girl.”

“Doesn’t matter either. Should have gone with my gut. Firsts aren’t called firsts because there won’t be a second.”

“You want someone else tapping that?”

“Fuck no!”

“Then fucking fix it.” He fucking laughs at me.

“Killing him won’t fix it. It’ll land me in jail faster than believing that, if there’s grass on the field, play fucking ball.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Cool. But seriously—”

“Seriously nothing. Came here to get away and to tell you I’m sorry I was a dick.”

He chuckles. “You were.”

“Yeah, well...” I yawn.

“Tired?”

“Fucking exhausted,” I admit.

I hear the TV turn on and pull the hat away from my face.

Justified is on.

“Left off at season three, right?”

I nod.

§

I hear yelling and open my eyes as Mitch jumps up.

“Is that—”

“What the fuck is she doing?” I grumble as I slide off the bed.

We both walk out just in time to see London pulling away from Brody and running into my old room.

“You’re such a liar!” she screams.

“What the hell?” I hear a familiar female voice.

Then I hear London say, “You are such a whore!”

“London, that’s enough.” Brody pulls her out of the bedroom.

“No, no, it’s not! He lied to me!”

“Come on, princess.” Brody wraps his arms around her and begins dragging her toward the door. “Let’s not do this here.”

“Not until he knows I hate him,” she spits.

When Jeremy walks out in sweats, she looks at him, stunned.

“Hey, Elle. I mean, London.” He wipes his eyes and blinks.

She looks back at Brody then scans the room. When her eyes land on me and Mitch standing in his doorway, she shakes her head as her lower lip pops out.

I glance up to see Brody looking at me.

When Tammy walks out, she opens her mouth to speak, but then sees Brody and stops.

“You should apologize to the young woman, London,” Brody tells her.

“Apologize?” London huffs, but it’s sad, not sassy like I’m sure she intended. “Penny here—”

“My name isn’t Penny,” Tammy interrupts.

“Well clearly, you’re like one—worthless and been in everyone here’s pants!”

“Okay, London,” Brody says, pulling her toward the door again.

She looks at me expectantly, but I know damn well I don’t have shit to say to her. Therefore, I turn around and walk back into Mitch’s room and lay back down. I just want to sleep.

I hear footsteps and then Brody yell, “London!”

When the door slams shut and locks, I don’t look up. I know it’s her.

“You’re acting like a fucking two-year-old,” I mumble.

“Well, so are you!”

When I feel something hit my back, and pretty damn hard, too, I roll over and sit up.

“Go ahead, read my private conversation with Fletcher. Hell, read all of them on my phone.”

I shake my head as I get up, grab the phone, and hand it back to her. “Not interested.”

“In me? In reading? In what?”

I move to open the damn door, knowing Brody is probably losing his shit about now, and she steps in front of me.

“You should listen to your dad. Not here, London, not here.”

“Then come home,” she pleads. “Come home and—” She covers her face as her shoulders start to shake with silent sobs.

I know this isn’t about me. It’s about her, her choices, her actions, her not being ready. It still doesn’t stop me from hugging her. And as good as it feels to hold her when she needs it, it also doesn’t stop me from opening the door and locking eyes with Brody.

“It wasn’t anything but reading lines,” she sobs quietly.

“It was more than that,” I tell her, and she looks up. “You didn’t listen to me, you didn’t trust me, and you went to him, London.”

“He’s my friend, and I thought you—”

“If you don’t trust me, this won’t work. If I’m not the first person you want to talk to when you’re hurt or upset, if I’m not the first person you want to tell when something good happens, or if you’re too emotionally drained and you don’t run to me, but to him; then you don’t love me the way I do you. And I sure as hell am not going to continue on with this.”

“It’s not like that. It’s...” She stops when I kiss the top of her head and leans against me, wrapping her arms tight around me.

“I’m not doing this, London.” I attempt to step back, but she holds on tighter. “Go with Brody.”

“I don’t want him. I want you,” she whispers.

“Not right now, London, not right now.”

When Brody takes her hand, she finally pulls away.

“Dignity and grace, London Fields. We walk with dignity and grace.”

She looks at me. “I will never forgive you, Logan, never.”

I turn my back on her and look out the window. I hear Brody whisper, “shhh...”

After a couple minutes, they leave.

“You gonna just let her walk out of here after she looked like a fucking loon so that bitch can talk shit about her?”

I look back at Mitch to see he’s pissed.

“Don’t fucking play her like that, man.”

“Wasn’t trying to, Mitch. Just need a fucking break.”

I walk out the bedroom door as Brody’s opening the front door.

“Hey,” I yell, catching their attention.

She looks back at me sadly as I walk to her.

I grab her face and turn it up so she’s looking at me. “I’m not happy with you.”

She nods, lip popping out again.

“You need to figure this out.”

“There isn’t anything to figure out. You love me.” She pokes me in the fucking chest.

I nod, lean in, and whisper, “Not letting you leave after acting like an ass so they can shit talk you. Not playing fucking games either. You need him, have at it. You need more from me than I’m already giving you, you fucking tell me. But I don’t know if it’s even possible since every damn thing I’ve done revolves around you. I will not fucking be played a fool, no more than I will let them think you are one. Get some fucking sleep.”

Even though I don’t want to, I kiss the top of her head then walk back to Mitch’s room.

“Better?” I snap at him.

“You’ll thank me for that,” he whispers.

Then I hear London say, “You try to mount him when he’s passed out again, Penny, I will fucking break—”

“London, enough,” Brody barks at her.

I don’t even fucking care.

Mitch leaves me alone for a while, and when he returns, he has two beers in his hands. He hands me one.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I ask, taking it.

“Had plans to take a girl out tonight, but she just blew me off.” He sits down.

“Why?” I ask to be nice.

He sighs. “Having a sleepover or some shit.”

“With bitch boy?”

Mitch chuckles.

“What?”

“He’s not normally a bitch, but I guess we all have our moments.”

“Little less cryptic, Mitch. I have a fucking headache.”

“Apparently, they’re all hanging at your place.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs.

“Great, just fucking great,” I groan.

I shoot Keeka a text, hoping she’s good with the fucking ‘V’ squad hanging out.

Her reply:

It was my idea. My sister’s guy is being a dick.

I respond:

Fletcher?

Please do not make me think you’re that stupid or that little of a bitch.

Keeks, I’m not in the mood.

Did you bump your vagina on the way out?

I type and send:

See you’re getting back to your normal self.

Or just accepting the inevitable. By the way, we’re hosting dinner Sunday. I’m cooking with Lexington apparently. Be here, okay? I can only handle so much.

Great, I think as I begin responding. However, her incoming text interrupts.

I think you need a break, and I think your father needs more grandkids. Stay with the guys for a couple days. Let him get this out of his system so he’ll leave me the fuck alone.

I can’t help laughing at that.

You sure? I gave you my word, Keeks.

Her response is immediate.

Stay away.

I look over at Mitch. “Mind if I crash with you for a couple days?”

“They kick you out of your place?” He laughs.

I nod.

“On one condition.” He smirks.

Wearily, I ask, “What?”

“It’s cuddle season, man; try to keep your hands off me.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Needing Home

London

I take screenshots of all my messages to and from Fletcher, everything, and send them to Logan. It’s not like he could possibly be more upset with me. And it’s not like everything in them is completely appropriate.

I know I hurt him again. I hurt him again because I jumped to conclusions...maybe. Maybe Mom was sticking up for him. Half of me hopes so. That way, I won’t feel as horrible about sending a message out of anger to Fletcher, venting about him.

I was sure, still am, that after this, they are going to insist I take the semester off. and right now, I wouldn’t fight them. I am so done with this hell.

With my knees to my chest, I bury my face in shame, in anger, and in complete and total exhaustion.

“I want to go home,” I tell Dad, but he shakes his head and continues toward Logan’s place. “Dad, I’m serious.”

“Well, your mother is at Logan’s, and your sister is there. I think it’s best we—”

“I can’t do this anymore!”

He reaches over to take my hand, but I pull it away.

“I can’t keep acting like everything is okay, even though I want it to be. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, and it makes it so I can’t concentrate on school. I can’t do anything right.” I pause as another sob escapes me.

“You’re doing it all right, London.”

I look at him. “Like sleeping pills and energy drinks?”

“What?”

“Like Mom didn’t tell you,” I scoff.

He runs his hands through his black hair then grips the wheel harder.

“Or like saying stupid things that will make your parents fight.” I cry again.

“London, in your mother’s defense, there wasn’t a lot of time for discussion when, one minute you’re there, and the next, you’re gone. We were clearly concerned about your safety.”

I throw my hands in the air. “Why? Clive has been tailing me since I went back to Lawrinson.”

When he glances at me out of the corner of his eye, I can’t hold back.

“Is there something wrong with me?”

“You’re overwhelmed, exhausted, and have been through hell, so no, London, there isn’t a thing wrong with you that sleep and a little less stress wouldn’t cure.”

“Aside from that, is there something all of you see in me that screams, she can’t take care of herself. That shouts, she puts herself in bad situations. That makes you all believe that I’m unaware of my surroundings, Dad? Is there?”

“Of course—”

“Because I’m aware. I am so damn aware. Yet, I second-guess myself all the time because all my life I’ve wondered why you all don’t trust me, which makes me mistrust my own judgment.”

“Princess...” Dad says as he pulls over.

“No, Dad, answer me. Is there something wrong with me?”

“Of course not,” he says, wrapping his arms around me.

I try to push him back, but he hugs me tighter.

“I saw him! I saw him, and he seemed out of place and awkward, but I said nothing to anyone. I saw him and didn’t stop him, Dad! I saw him! I smiled at him! I smiled at him, and then he killed—” The rest of my words get stuck in my throat, and all that comes out are uncontrollable sobs and tears while he holds me, which I don’t want him to.

I feel broken, ashamed, and out of control for the first time in my life. I’m afraid, so afraid I will never be able to put myself back together again.

I saw him. I saw the man who shot and killed all those people at Chaos. My gut told me there was something wrong, and I chose to walk away instead of doing something.

§

When I wake up, I’m in Logan’s bed, and I’m cold, so cold. Mom is next to me, and Dad is on the other side.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“No, Dad, I’m not, and I never will be again.”

“Drink, princess.” He hands me a bottle of water.

“I don’t want it,” I tell him then roll back to my other side to find Mom looking at me like she’s scared. I’m not sure if it’s of me or for me.

“Drink, sweetheart.” She wipes away tears I didn’t even realize were falling. “I don’t know how these will keep falling if you don’t. And London, they clearly need to keep falling.”

I drink for her then fall back asleep.

I sleep the entire next day and feel pathetic when I hear my friends, Keeka, and Leddie.

When I start to get up, I find Maddox beside me.

“Are you hungry?”

“No, but they’re all here, and I should be out—”

“Go back to sleep. They’ll be here when you wake up.”

I want to argue with him, but it won’t matter, because he’s right.

§

I wake up to sunshine flooding through the window and feel almost peaceful. I sit up and look toward the source of light.

When I see Logan standing there, his back to me, arms crossed over his chest, I slide back down into his bed and hope he just goes away. I don’t want to face him.

“I saw your reflection,” he says in an emotionless tone, one he’s used many times before. Before he kissed me, before he saved me, before he told me he loved me.

I can’t say anything, because I’m not sure it won’t come out defensive, or that I won’t cry.

When he turns around and looks at me, I have to look away.

“Your family will be next door in a couple hours. Lexington is on her way with Josie now.” He pauses, and I glance over as he looks at his phone. “I’d guess in thirty minutes, so you may want to shower.” He bends down and grabs a bag. Then he walks over and sets in on the bed, “Here are some clothes and things your mom brought.”

I clear my throat and sit up. “Where is she?”

“She’s in the living room with your dad.”

We stare at each other for a moment before I look down.

“Logan...” I begin.

“It’s fine, London. Everything’s fine.” With that, he turns to walk out the door.

“Then, why are you walking away?”

He stops abruptly, but he doesn’t turn back when he replies, “You’re going to be fine.”

I feel my eyes burn with the building of tears as he walks out the door. However, I swallow back my emotions as I force myself to get ready for Lexington’s arrival.

When I walk out into the living room, I see Logan at the island, his elbows on the counter, his head in his hands.

I clear my throat, and he looks up.

“You ready?” he asks.

I nod. “Where’s Leddie and Keeka?”

“Down the hall,” he says, walking to the door.

I hurry to catch up with him as he stops and grabs a hat from the closet.

My chest tightens at knowing I did that to him. I made him feel like he needs to hide his emotions.

“Logan?” I swallow hard as he glances back. “Can you get me one, too?”

He cocks his head to the side and looks at me like he’s trying to figure me out.

I shrug because, how do I explain in words that I’m a mess, that I’m ashamed, that I not only feel broken myself, but I feel his broken, too? It was me who caused it, and, “I’m so sorry.” The last part comes out in words unintended.

He shakes his head. “No need.”

When he starts toward the door, I ask, “What does that mean?”

“It means what I said, London. No need to apologize.” He holds the door open. “Ready?”

“I don’t know what I am. I don’t know what we are. I don’t know—”

He reaches out to touch me, but then stops.

“Why did you stop?” I ask, now reaching to touch him.

“Gotta slow shit down,” he says then hisses as if it pains him when I slide my hands to his hips.

“I don’t wanna slow anything down.” My words come out in a voice that is nearly begging.

He stops my hands when I begin to run them up his abs like I have a hundred times. “London, just slow it down.”

I pull my hands back. “You hate me now, right? I was so worried I would end up hating you, and the opposite happened.” I turn around, wiping the tears away. “I didn’t think it would hurt this badly if I hated you, but this, the opposite...This is unimaginable. This is—”

I stop when he circles his arms around me from behind and hugs me.

“I don’t hate you, so knock that shit off right now. I said, slow it fucking down.”

I turn and grab his shirt, looking up at him, and he drops his arms to his sides. “No.”

“No?”

“No. Until I woke up, before I fell asleep, things were finally—”

He covers my lips with a finger, stopping me from continuing. “It will be a hell of a long time before that happens again.”

I shake my head no, and he nods his yes.

“Slow it down, London, and get your head on right. I need to do the same. We gotta slow it down so no one hates the other, and so this”—he motions between us—“doesn’t heat so fucking fast that it burns up and turns to ash before it even has a proper chance to be right. Slow. It. Down.”

“You aren’t making any sense, Logan.”

“You are going to settle back into school, get used to having a new sister and niece, enjoy your friends, and you’re going to do whatever you need to in order to get back on track.”

“So, you’re breaking up with me?” I nod several times. “Okay, I deserve that, but—”

“I’m not doing a thing. Just gonna focus on building a foundation.”

“But you don’t love me anymore.” I don’t know why I’m telling him that and not asking.

“Does love ever truly die?”

I just stare at him.

“Does it?”

I lift my shoulder and close my eyes.

He clamps his hands over my shoulders then turns me toward the other apartment. “You’re gonna be fine, London.”

“You keep saying that. Well, what about you?” I look back at him.

“I’m not worried about me, and you aren’t allowed to either.”

When we get to the door, I can’t help myself. I need to know the truth in what we are.

I turn around and grab his hair, pushing the hat off in the process as I pull him down and kiss him. With my lips against his, I plead, “Please don’t do this to us.”

I kiss him harder and pull at his lower lip with my teeth, needing an answer, needing to taste either love or hate.

He hisses in a slow breath, and I want more. I want answers.

I push my hand up his long-sleeved tee, and when he grips my shoulders lightly, I know he’s going to push me away. But then, he runs one of his hands up the back of my neck, gripping my hair before he positions my head back while his lips come down on mine.

His kisses turn more possessive. The way he handles me, moves me, is reminiscent of being in his bed. Now I know he wants me.

When I feel him start to pull back, I push him back against the wall and kiss him harder. He groans and sighs at the same time.

When I feel him, all of him, hard against my body, I somehow feel I have gotten my answer, yet I don’t want to stop kissing him. When I hear a giggle, though, I step back.

Grandma Josie takes the top of Lexi’s head and turns it, facing her away from us. “Mind your business, little one.”

Lexi giggles. “I cannot wait until college.”

Grandma laughs as they walk down the hall.

When they are gone, I lean in to kiss him again.

“Hell no,” he says, leaning back. “You...Jesus L. Christ, London. Go. Go do family shit.”

“You aren’t coming with?” I ask, almost panicking.

He casts his eyes down, and I look down, as well.

“It’ll find a leg, right?”

“London,” he hisses. “Go.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I—”

He grabs my face and leans down. “You’re gonna be fucking fine, but no more of that shit for a while, okay?”

“Why?”

“Because, fucking you before someone else does is on the forefront of my mind. Doing it so you’ll never forget how fucking good I am, that’s second.”

“I don’t want anyone but you.”

“You will get nothing but honesty from me, so you come at me like that again, be prepared to get fucked. And when I say fucked, I mean, you won’t be walking for a couple days. I mean, it’ll hurt like hell because I’m not goddamned perfect, London. And if you don’t get shit sorted, I’ll ruin you for anyone else so that you never forget me. And driving a Mac truck into a mouse hole would sure as fuck do the job.”

I swallow hard and nod. “Well, what if I want that?”

His eyes bug out of his head, and then he adjusts himself with one hand and points at the door with the other. “Get your ass in there now.”

§

After the initial embarrassment about my...“breakdown” wore off, everything seemed normal again.

Grandma Josie, who is never emotional, worked at the kitchen island with Keeka and Lexington, making enchiladas for nearly an hour before walking around the island and hugging her. I saw her whisper something to her, and then I saw Keeka narrow her eyes before hugging her back. The two of them then disappeared for an hour into what will be Keeka’s room soon. When they came out, they held hands.

With mom next to me, eyes red the entire time, hugging me, she smiled. “I wish he had been brave enough to tell me. I wish you two hadn’t stumbled upon each other, but I’m so glad you did.”

Keeka took Leddie from Lucas and walked into the bedroom again. Lexington followed.

I received a text from Keeka

Sister from another mister is in here, and I need to breastfeed. Will it scar her for life?

She’s seen it before. Will it scar you?

Possibly. I’ll survive. It’s weird, but so is the new grandmother I feel like I’ve known forever.

I hold up the phone to Mom, and she smiles.

“I’m glad she’s accepting Lexington. She’d have been devastated otherwise.”

I sigh. “I’m not sure when she decided to like people.”

“Probably when she was worried you and Logan were dealing with too much.”

“Who gave her that impression?”

“The truth, you mean?” Mom smiles.

I shrug.

“Lucas.” She rolls her eyes and smiles. “They have an odd relationship forming.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s not really friendly, but it’s not unfriendly.”

“Sarcasm?”

Mom nods. “Very much so.”

“I guess if it works, then that’s good.”

Mom laughs. “Yeah, I agree.”

“How did she agree to this?” I ask.

“Lucas told her she could either do small here, or the entire family. That her sister was counting on her. That sister being Lexington. She told him they weren’t technically sisters, and he dared her to tell Lexington that.”

“Was she angry?”

Mom shakes her head then pushes some hair away from my face. “Lexington FaceTimed Dad and did that growl thing, saying, I need to meet my sister, and Keeka laughed.”

I rest my head against Mom’s shoulder and stare at Tessa and Logan, who are making all the sides for the meal.

“I have a question for you,” Mom says quietly.

“I may have an answer,” I yawn out.

“Logan mentioned the other day that, if you were to stay here with Keeka, you’d spend more time sleeping and less time running. Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“He won’t want me here now,” I whisper.

“If he did, would you?”

I shrug. “I may get more sleep, but I’d miss my friends.”

“What if they moved in, as well?”

I look at her, then around the room for them. “Mom, they don’t want to live with a baby. They didn’t even stay for dinner.”

“They’re still here,” she says, pushing my hair back again.

“Where?”

“Answer the questions. Do you think you’d sleep better here? Do you think you’d feel more relaxed here?”

“A couple days ago, maybe, but now it hurts to look at him.” I point in his direction at the same time he looks up at me. I turn and bury my head in Mom’s neck. “So embarrassing.”

“Erase the embarrassment. Will you want to be here with your sister?”

“Of course I would, but Dad surely won’t go for it. He’d be worried Logan would be trying to deflower me,” I say sarcastically.

“Erase your dad and answer the question.”

“Well, yes, of course I would,” I tell her finally, looking at her.

She’s not looking at me, though. She’s smiling at Logan then looking around the room, probably for Dad. When she sees him, she nods to him.

“Mom, what’s going on?”

“When Logan mentioned the idea, your dad was adamant against it. When you and he returned the other night, though, he not only changed his mind, but he talked to Keeka and then the girls’ parents. So, tonight isn’t just a meet the family dinner, London; it’s a welcome to your new place dinner, as well.”

“What?” I gasp. “Logan is going to be so—”

“I’m fine with it,” he says, walking over as he opens a bottle of water then handing it to me. “You just keep your ass on this side of the building, and we’ll all get along just fine.”

I look at him in shock.

“I’m joking, London. I said you’d be fine, and you will.”

He walks away, and then I look at Mom.

“See?”

“London, look around and ask yourself, who in this room doesn’t have your best interest at heart. The answer will be no one.”

“I hurt him,” I whisper.

“Did you apologize?”

“Profusely,” I admit.

“Do you think Logan is unintelligent?”

“No, Mom, of course not.”

“Do you love him?”

I nod. “So much.”

“Then you two are in the same chapter of the same book, and you just need to work your way back to being on the same page.”

Mom and her books, I think as I snuggle into her. “I love you more, Mom.”

“We love each other more,” she says, kissing my head.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Come Again

Logan

During dinner, I watch Keeka and the girls’ interactions, specifically Jamie and hers. I know she and Mitch had issues because he didn’t know whether he was Leddie’s father or not, so I expect a little animosity. However, there is none.

While Sleeping Beauty caught up on her sleep, and I stayed with Mitch, watching season after season of Justice in bed with him. Somehow, the three of them moved in right under my nose.

It was actually a great decision made by Brody. A lot of moving and effort done by the entire family for her, and I suppose for me, as well.

Keeka being thrown amidst all this without me to lean on, without London to step in when she was concerned Keeka would revolt, worked out for the best. Keeka actually seems comfortable, and dare I say, content, even happy now.

Lisa and Christy are sharing a room, while Jamie and London are, as well. They are all set up, and I feel a bit guilty that I didn’t help.

Keeka and Leddie have the master suite, which they will occupy in a few weeks. For now, they will stay with me.

Everyone is in the living room of the girls’ place, sitting on one of the two sectionals that magically appeared, watching some musical on the TV that also magically appeared. I’m in the kitchen, trying to keep myself busy.

I look at my watch, wondering what the fuck I was thinking inviting that asshole here after the other night, after what went down the last time we were in the same place. The answers are still the same.

I need to see with my own eyes that he’s not into her. If he is, I need to see if she likes the attention. If she does, I’m going to put an end to this shit as soon as she gets better.

When Brody called me and wasn’t a complete dick, I knew something was up. When he told me that he thought I was right, that she should be here, I thought maybe it was a fucking dream—or, well, a nightmare—because, until I finally read those messages she sent, and until he told me what went down in the vehicle when they left my old place, I was sure it was.

It may not be the nightmare I imagined, but it sure is going to be hell having her here with her basically throwing the “fuck me” signal around. I will not be fucking London Fields, not ever.

I look down at my phone when I get a message from Fletcher, and then I hit the app that controls the security system downstairs, compliments of one big fucking German named Clive. Then I shoot Fletcher a message

Fourth floor. Take a left off the elevator.

My fucking heart is in my throat as I watch her curled up with Emma. I take a mental picture of how damn beautiful she is, my first love, and wait for what I know is going to happen. That girl is going to crush me.

When the doorbell rings, I take a deep breath then pull my hat down as I walk to open it.

Fletcher Reeves is standing there in grey dress pants and a pea coat with a Burberry scarf wrapped around his neck, clearly not tight enough since he’s still breathing. I want to mention he forgot his fucking bow tie, but that would be a dick move, and I’m trying to be on my best behavior.

“Come on in,” I say, stepping back.

When he wipes his feet off on the mat outside, I look down at his shoes. Loafers. I want to say, “It’s fucking snowing out, douchebag,” but I hold that shit back, too.

He unbuttons his coat and removes his scarf, folding both over his arm. “Thank you for...” he pauses and looks at me, “inviting me?”

“Wouldn’t want you to miss running your lines on account of London not being there.”

He pursues his lips, and I see amusement in his eyes.

“What?”

“Nothing, Logan. Again, thank you,” he says then looks around the room.

I look over as London looks at me like I have lost my mind. She’s not wrong. I’m pretty fucking sure I have.

“Hello, London,” he says before he looks past her and around the room.

She stands and smiles. “Hi, Fletcher. Is everything okay?”

He holds up his man bag, or murse, or whatever the fuck that thing is, and nods toward me. “Logan invited me to run lines with you at your new place.”

She looks at me in confusion, which changes to a fucking sweeter than Skittles smile. “Thanks, Logan.”

I nod then look at Brody, who is leaning against the counter with a shit-ass smirk on his face, which pisses me off, and no, I’m not going to fucking let it slide.

I walk over next to him and grab some leftovers off the counter.

“Are you gonna make him a plate?” he asks.

“I’m going to do my best not to fucking strangle him with that goddamn scarf,” I sneer, not looking at him.

He chuckles.

I snap my eyes to him. “It’s not all that fucking funny.”

“Why on earth would you invite him here when you clearly despise him?”

“Because she doesn’t,” I tell him.

He smirks.

“Still not funny,” I tell him.

“She doesn’t like him the ways she likes you,” he whispers.

“She loves me,” I tell him.

“And you dangle carrots in front of her, hoping she changes her mind?” He’s fucking pissing me off. “Do you think he’s a better man for her?”

I turn and look at him, hiding no fucking emotions. I’m pissed.

“Do you?”

I feel the muscles popping in my jaw as I try to hold back every damn thing I want to say to him.

“Logan, Logan, Logan,” he sighs, giving my shoulder a squeeze as he walks past me.

What. The. Fuck?

I need a fucking distraction. Thankfully, Keeka, Josie, and Lexi walk out of the master suite, Keeka burping Leddie. She spots Fletcher and immediately looks at me, no doubt wondering what the hell he’s doing here. Then she walks quickly over to me.

Before she says a word, I take Leddie and tell her, “I invited him.”

“I thought you hated him.”

“Hate’s a strong word,” I tell her, trying to take the high road and leaving out, “so is murder.”

I glance at London, who’s next to Emma. Fletcher is sitting in a chair on the opposite side as them. The girls are all talking and laughing.

London looks at me and smiles. I lift my chin then turn away.

Looking down at Leddie, I see she has what appears to be a smile on her face.

“Look what you did.” Josie nudges me. “You made my...” She pauses and looks around, then leans and whispers, “great-grandbaby smile.”

Although I’m pretty sure she just needs to burp, I don’t tell Josie that. “Maybe we can get her to call you Grandma the Great.”

She smacks my back. “I love it.” Then she looks behind me. “God bless, what is it with you Links boys and those asses?”

I hear London chuckle and look over at her. She closes her eyes and looks down.

“Grandma...” Lexi groans then looks sideways at Keeka.

“What, Lexi? Should I hide the fact that I have no filter in front of Keeka?” She laughs. “Honey, she’s gonna catch on soon enough. We Fields are quick.”

Lexington laughs. “I can’t wait to be older like you.”

“That’s twice today you’re wishing away your youth, Lexi.” Josie shakes her head at her. “Don’t be doing that. With age comes accountability, and trust me, that ain’t no fun.”

“Accountability?” Lexington asks.

“Yeah, that, my dear, is a bad word.” Josie laughs.

I watch how Josie looks at them all, even Lexington who is not hers by blood, just as Maddox isn’t, yet she still seems to adore them. Hell, she even likes me. She walks around and gives them each a hug goodbye, even fucking Fletcher, who she doesn’t know from a bag of assholes.

Brody, Emma, Tessa, Dad, and Lexington are giving their goodbyes, as well.

Dad asks me if I will take a walk with him, and as much as I hate to leave her with him, the V squad is here, so I nod.

Keeka takes Leddie from me and looks back at the girls.

“Stay and chill, Keeks. I’ll be back.”

She takes a deep breath and nods.

“You got through, Josie.” Dad laughs. “These three are nothing.”

I see Brody take London’s hand. “Going to steal this one from you all for just a moment.”

I look back at Dad. “Ready?”

He nods.

§

Dad walks to my place and opens the door. “You have a lot going on.”

I nod. “You know...”

He smiles. “I do know. When you have kids someday, you’ll know just how well I know.”

“Don’t push it, Links,” I hear Brody say as we round the corner.

Dad laughs, knowing he hit a nerve.

I lock eyes with him. “Her being here isn’t so I can have my way with her.”

He narrows his eyes.

“I’m serious. I’ve told her many times that it isn’t happening.”

Tessa laughs, and Emma looks down.

“Do you think we’re ignorant?” Brody asks.

“You want the truth?” I smart back. “You want a play by play of what London and I have done in private?”

“No.” Dad laughs nervously.

“A play by play isn’t necessary,” Brody sneers. “But please don’t take me for a fool.”

“Don’t act like one then. You don’t know me from any other boy who’s ever wanted to bang your daughter, but I’ll tell you the same thing I told her.”

“Oh, dear God,” Emma whispers and looks down.

“If shit went down now, it wouldn’t be good. She’d never fucking recover.”

“Logan...” Tessa says, putting her hand on my forearm. She’s never, not once, tried to play Mom to me.

“He wants the truth, I’m giving it to him.” I turn back toward the angry Brit. “I’m not going to fuck your daughter until I know damn well she and I are both ready. We aren’t there.”

“From what I understand, you haven’t been too choosy in the past,” Brody huffs.

“Like you’ve been?” Tessa laughs at him, and Emma sucks in her lips. “Brody, you know I adore you and London, but if my stepson is telling you he hasn’t had sex with her, he hasn’t. If he’s telling you they aren’t ready, they aren’t. And if I were you, I’d be ecstatic that my daughter was in love with a man like him. The alternative could be a rock star who flew her to New York City, had sex with her, and then threw her back to her family. Then, after breaking her heart, fucked her backstage after a concert and discarded her again.”

Brody’s eyes narrow at her.

Dad chuckles. “She’s got a point, Hines.”

“I’ve yet to get to my point,” she says, looking away from Dad and back at Brody. “Collin and I loved your son, accepted him, and forgave his mistakes. We saw past all the troubles and looked at the man he was becoming.” She wraps her arm around my waist. “Logan’s already a man. He’s already proven himself more times than you even know that he cares about London’s wellbeing. So, I’m going to ask you to remember how Collin treated Maddox, and not how Lucas treated Thomas before finding out Ava was pregnant. Then I’m going to tell you that this one”—she squeezes me a little—“he’s my son, and you need to pull it together or you’re gonna have me to deal with.”

Emma smiles at Tessa while Brody runs his hand through his hair.

“I’d like you all to remember that I was the one who told you I thought he was right, that she should be here. But I can’t give him permission to have sex with her.”

“I’m not asking permission,” I tell him. “I’m not gonna give you a play by play if it does happen. But sleep well, Brody, knowing tonight I’ll probably just fuck my hand like I have for months now.”

Dad busts out laughing, and so do Emma and Tessa. Brody looks down to hide his own amusement. It wasn’t meant as a joke. It’s the fucking truth.

Feeling a little self-conscious, I redirect the focus away from what really is none of their fucking business. “We have two weeks until this fundraiser. Can we focus on that and not my sex life or lack thereof?”

§

When Keeka shoots me a message, I go back to the girls’ place where London and Fletcher are running lines while the girls are giving them feedback.

London smiles when she sees me, and it’s not a weary one, an exhausted one, or a sad one. She’s in her element, and my God, she’s even more beautiful.

“Break?” Fletcher asks.

London nods but doesn’t look away from me. She’s still smiling.

I nod, she nods, and then I open the fridge. “Anyone want a drink?”

“Water please,” the girls and Fletcher answer.

“Let me help,” London says, walking up beside me. Then she whispers, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is good,” I tell her as I stand up straight with six water bottles in my hands. “I got this. You go do your thing.”

She wraps her arms around me and hugs me. I bend down and kiss the top of her head. When she then looks up and sighs, I look at her, really fucking look at her.

“You’re fucking beautiful.”

She presses her head to my chest and squeezes me. “So are you.”

When she steps back, I see tears in her eyes.

“What’s that for?”

“I don’t ever want to fight with you again. It hurts, you know?” she whispers.

“Yeah, pretty, I know.” I nod to her friends. “Go.”

She smiles and grabs two of the bottles.

I legit wait to see who she gives them to, like it’s some fucking sign. Keeka gets the first, Jamie the next, and my dumbass feels much better as I hand Fletcher, Lisa, and Christy theirs. Then I open London’s and hand it to her.

“You guys have a good night,” I say, turning to leave.

“Stay and watch?” London asks.

I look back at her.

“Please?”

How can I say no to that?

§

It’s two in the morning, and I can’t sleep knowing she’s so fucking close. I look out the window, see a light on, and her silhouette. Clearly, she can’t sleep either.

I watch her and realize she’s dancing. I see her turn and stop. Then she raises her leg behind her, toes pointed at the damn ceiling. Her lean body appears to be in a straight line.

It’s beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. It’s also making me fucking hard knowing she’s that damn flexible.

I sigh, knowing I’m going to be rubbing one out more than once a day if she keeps that shit up.

I walk out of my room, grab a bottle of Jack, and laugh, thinking I’m about to have a date with my fucking hand while watching a private performance by the girl I love.

I watch her move, stretch, and twirl as I drink, wishing I had bought a pair of binoculars like she mentioned.

When my dick is so hard I can’t stand it, I push down my boxers and stand at the window, gripping the base tightly and stroking it slowly up to the head. When she stops and walks away, I groan, thinking I’m going to have to finish myself off without the visual.

I see the reflection of my phone light up and walk over to grab it.

London.

I sent a text saying goodnight and you didn’t reply. So, goodnight again.

I reply immediately.

Phone was dead. Can’t sleep?

I look out the window as she sits on the bed, holding her phone. The floating bubbles start to appear as she types, then they stop. I look up as she flops back on the bed, seemingly frustrated.

I’m okay.

I saw you dancing.

The bubbles immediately appear.

How did you see me?

Look out the window.

She gets up and walks over. I hold up my phone so she sees the light.

Was watching you dance. You looked amazing.

Are you okay?

I’m good.

Do you want me to come over?

No, London, watching you dance and having a couple drinks made things real hard over here. Stay put.

Hard?

Yeah, I’ve got it handled.

After I send it, I regret it.

Does that mean you’re...

Jerking off while I watch you dance? Yeah.

I watch her cover her mouth as she reads my text then looks out the window.

Binoculars are now being added to my shopping list.

I could come over and cuddle.

Not a good idea right now. I’m on a date with Jack and Rosie.

I look at the window as she receives my text.

She walks away and turns on the light. Now I can see her.

You’re missing out, and so am I.

You need sleep. So do I.

I slept better than I ever have after the last time we cuddled.

You mean after you came?

I grip my cock, picturing her face as she fell apart.

You’re lucky you’re a guy.

I get an idea. A great idea.

I take a picture of my hand gripping my cock. Then I crop it so you don’t see my dick, just my hand gripping it. I send it and then start typing.

Lie on your bed. I need you to do something for me.

What?

Do it.

When I see her lie down, I hit call, and she answers immediately.

“Run your hand down that sexy as fuck belly of yours and push your hand under your waistband.”

“Logan, I’d rather you do that,” she whispers.

“And I’d rather you know how to get yourself off, so when I let that genie out of the bottle, your insatiable appetite can be curbed even when I’m not around.”

“What do you mean, when you’re not around?” she whispers.

“I mean, when you’re at school and you’re thinking of how much you want my cock, you can go and suppress the need in just a few seconds.”

“Seconds?”

“Pretty, I’m gonna teach you everything I’ve learned while trying to get a girl off fast so I could bust a nut and get them out the door, because I didn’t want any of them in my bed, because they weren’t you.”

“Logan...” she sighs.

“Do it. Push your hand under your waistband and run a finger up and down the seam of your pussy lips.”

“This seems wrong,” she whispers.

“I’m over here, stroking my cock, watching a private ballet; is that wrong?”

“Uh-uh,” she says in barely a whisper.

“Tell me how wet you are,” I demand, fisting my cock, looking out the window at London lying on a bed.

“I don’t know. I’m just—”

“I bet those sweet lips are soft.” I rub down my cock and back up. “God, I can’t wait to fucking taste them.”

“Logan.” Her voice quivers, and my balls tighten.

“Put your feet flat on the bed and let your knees fall apart.”

I groan.as I watch her do as I asked.

“Christ, that’s hot. Fuck, London,” I hiss.

“Now what?”

“Push a finger inside your pussy.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You might want to practice now before you’re spread out on my bed, and I want to see you own that gorgeous body of yours.”

“I want you to own it,” she whispers.

“I wanna make sure you know what the fuck it feels like to take control of yourself, baby, so do it.”

I hear a sharp intake of breath, and it makes me hiss.

“Tell me how wet your pussy is?”

“Wet,” she whispers.

“I can’t wait to have my cock buried inside you. I’m so fucking hard right now,” I groan out as I stroke a little faster.

“Are you?”

“Fuck yes, I am. I’ve been for a while. You need to get there with me. Come with me.”

“I don’t know if I can.” Her voice quivers with desire.

“I know damn well you can if you listen to me.”

“I’m listening,” she whispers.

“Good girl.” I groan again, stroking faster. “Curl your finger up and rub around in that pussy until you feel a spot that’s so fucking sensitive, a bit swollen, and rougher than any place else inside you. That’s your G-spot.”

She takes in a deep breath, and my balls tighten even more.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck yes, that’s it.”

“O...kay,” is said a quiver.

“Push another finger inside and rub the walls while you mine for fucking gold.”

“What?”

“Your G-spot, London. That’s gold, baby. Mine for gold. Curl your finger over and over gently like you’re mining for gold.”

I swallow back the flood of salvia in my mouth, thinking about her pussy and how wet she’s getting.

I hear her moan.

“That’s it, baby. Mine and rub. Mine and fucking rub until you’re so goddamn wet for me. Shit, I mean for you.”

“You,” she pants. “For you.”

“No, baby, that’s all for you, by you. The next is for me.”

“The next?”

“Keep fingering that sweet, little pussy,” I groan.

“Are you still, um—”

“Fuck yes, I am. I’m close, too, so this is where you give me mine,” I hiss.

“Uh-huh,” she breathes out.

“Don’t stop mining and rubbing. Keep going.”

“Okay...” she moans.

I watch her body arch and her knees quiver a bit, wishing I could see the entire fucking performance as I grip my cock tighter and stroke faster. I’m close, so fucking close.

“Squeeze a tit with your hand.” I watch and see her doing exactly what I ask. That’s so fucking hot. “Now run that hand down your body and shove it in your waistband. That burn you feel that you’ve yet to touch, that’s mine. I need you to tap that clit while still fucking yourself with those beautiful fingers.”

“Oh, God,” she groans.

“Yeah, right there.” I squeeze the head of my cock and groan.

“I can’t,” she pants.

“Give it to me, London,” I hiss as I stroke faster. “I don’t want to come alone, baby.”

“Mine, rub, tap,” she breathes out my instructions.

“All that. And you keep going until you come.”

“Okay. Oh, oh, okay.”

I hold the phone to my shoulder with my ear and reach down to my balls as I stroke my cock faster and harder.

“Fuck yes,” I hiss.

“Yes?” Her voice quivers.

“Yeah, fuck. Yes.”

“Oh, oh, oh…” She takes in a sharp breath and whimpers, and I fucking come hard, knowing she’s done the same.

We are both silent for a few moments.

“You feel better?”

She sighs. “I’m not sure.”

“I’m imagining your cheeks being red right now from embarrassment.”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Don’t you dare be. That was so fucking hot.”

She doesn’t say anything, and I can’t help picturing her blushing more.

I want to make her feel better, less embarrassed.

“To ease that awkward feeling, I’ll tell you that I have cum on my window and my floor that needs to be cleaned up. Some on my stomach, too.”

She giggles.

“I love you, London. I’ll see you in a few hours. Get some sleep.”

She yawns out, “Okay.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

First Date

Logan

I stand at her door with flowers in my hands. Dancing buttercups, or Ranunculus—whatever the hell they are called. I know they are her favorites, and for some fucked up reason, they are now my favorites, too.

I’m wearing dark gray dress pants, a lighter gray button down shirt, a pair of laced-up black leather dress shoes—not fucking loafers—and I almost wore a tie, but then I tossed it to the side because, even though it’s not a bow tie, it reminded me of some shit Fletcher would have worn if he ever got a chance to take her on a date, which he never will.

I have slept with her in my bed for a solid five nights straight. I have made her come, listened to her make herself come, kissed her until both our fucking lips were nearly bruised, and I’m still a little nervous. Not the kind of nervous someone gets because they want to make sure the girl likes them enough for a second date. Actually, I don’t have a clue what that even feels like because I never gave a shit before.

I’m nervous because I plan on making damn sure that every one of her firsts will be her lasts with me. I’m nervous because I need to not only meet, but exceed every expectation, every fantasy, and every romantic notion London Fields has ever daydreamed about. I plan on being every first she experiences from now until we are no longer breathing, because I’m a jealous and possessive asshole, and because, never in a million years could I have imagined the things she makes me feel on a daily basis, and I will make damn sure she feels that way, too.

London may not be my first kiss, my first fuck, or my first date, but none of those firsts will ever compare to what I feel with her, and no more firsts will ever happen without her.

Ever.

So now, I’m on a fucking mission to make sure none of her experiences will ever leave her thinking, I wonder how Fletcher would be on a date? Yes, date. Because, if I allow myself to think of her in any other situation romantically with him, I will fucking kill the guy.

I knock on the door, and it opens immediately.

“Look at you!” Christy squeals.

Jamie laughs. “Oh, London, you’re in so much trouble.”

“The squad is going to lose a member tonight,” Lisa says on a sigh then turns away.

This is fucking worse that meeting the parents, and that’s saying something, since Brody hated me for a few solid weeks.

When London comes out of her room, she momentarily takes my breath away. Her hair is in loose waves, she’s wearing a dress and not leggings, or a tank top, or a wrap sweater, which I must say I fucking love her in.

Her dress is burgundy and a wrap style like her sweaters, but there are no fucking tank tops or one-piece dance numbers under it. It’s low cut. Very...very low cut. Her shoes are black heels, and I have no fucking clue how she can walk in those things, but she doesn’t walk in them. She fucking floats.

I think I’m fucking sweating, and getting hard, and—

“You look amazing.” She smiles as she gets closer, and then I smell her.

Done. I’m going to fuck her tonight.

“You look alright.” I shrug then laugh as I lean in to give her a kiss on the cheek and hand her the flowers. I don’t pull back. I whisper in her ear, “By alright, I mean, what the fuck, London?”

She leans her head back to look at me and smirks. “So, you like?”

“I like, my dick likes, everyone who sees you is going to like.” I stop and shake my head as she beams at me. Damn, that smile. “You look amazing.”

“I know.” She smirks then does some twirls. “Still amazing?”

I can’t answer, not after seeing the black thong in the crack of that perfect ass.

“I think the jaw on the floor is a resounding yes,” Christy answers for me as London hands her the flowers.

“Can you put these in some water?”

“Of course.” Christy smiles.

“Let’s get out of here.” I grab her hand and pull her toward the door.

“Have her home by midnight,” one of the girls calls behind us, and London laughs as I grab a black coat off the hook, knowing she will be cold.

In the elevator, we simply look at each other. I keep my eyes locked with hers because, looking down, seeing the black lacey bralette slightly exposed, is doing shit to me. Shit that needs to not be doing in public.

I let go of her hand and step behind her, looking at that perfect ass as I force myself to go against my natural instinct and drape the coat over her shoulders.

She giggles. “You covering me up, Links?”

“Either that or you aren’t going to make it out of this elevator a virgin.” I walk around in front of her, seeing her smirk. “Not a joke, London. You look so fucking sexy right now.”

“All woman?”

“Definitely.” I laugh as I take her hand.

§

I notice her looking out the window as we pass by the Dome.

“It keeps getting bigger.”

I glance over and see the memorial we started that night and how many more things have been added.

Things, I think and shake my head. They aren’t just things. They are pieces of people’s memories of Jones. They are pieces of hope for Downs. They are not just things.

“Yeah.” I take her hand and glance over at her at the stop light. She smiles sadly. Then I lift her hand and kiss it. “We’re going to block everything out tonight but us.”

She nods.

“It’s our lucky day,” I tell her as I pull into a parking spot less than a block from Pastabilities. “I’ve heard of this place, but never been. Have you?”

“No, but wow.” She looks out the window, smiling with all the excitement of a kid at a candy store. “Carbs.”

I laugh out loud as I get out, walk around the vehicle, and open the door for her.

“Miss Fields.” I hold my hand out for her, and she looks down.

“Shit.” I laugh as I take her by the waist and lift her over the three inches of snow that would certainly get those shoes wet and make her feet cold.

She giggles as I set her on her feet, which nearly pains me to do so. I would much rather carry her.

“The line,” she points out the line of people waiting to get in.

I take her hand and walk around them.

“Logan, no cuting,” she whispers.

I keep walking and open the door for her. “After you.”

Inside, I give the hostess my last name.

“Of course.” She smiles that kind of smile, and I look away, knowing if I were London, that would piss me off. Then I direct London in front of me, my hand on her hip as I follow her to the secluded room I reserved.

“Your waitress will be with you shortly,” the hostess tells us with a smile.

“Thanks.” I pull out a chair in the corner for London. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you.” She shrugs off her coat and sits.

I take it and hang it on a chair beside the one I will be sitting in, beside her.

My back is to the hostess, and I watch London look at her. She’s not all that happy either.

I look behind me.

“I’m sorry, but are they really auctioning off a date with you?”

I nod.

“So, you’re single?”

“No. Not in the least.” I look away.

“Oh, I see.”

I look at London who huffs and rolls her eyes slightly.

“What?”

London looks up again. “Is there something else?”

The hostess is still fucking here.

“Oh no. Sorry. I just...” She stops babbling, and then I hear the click of her heels as she walks away.

London looks at me. “I’m not sure I like this dating thing.”

“Why’s that?”

“The way she looked at you, then assumed I was just some random bimbo. It was annoying and disrespectful.”

I reach over and pull her dress up slightly, but not enough so I don’t get to stare at the vision before me. “Maybe because your tits are half exposed.”

“Oh, please.” She laughs.

“You’ll never be a random bimbo. You’ll always be my bimbo.” I wink and smirk at her.

She stares at my face, and yeah, I know what she’s looking at. She calls them devil dimples, the portal to hell, so I make sure to deepen them.

“That was very sweet, in an odd sort of way.”

“Odd?” I lean back and cock my head as I look at her.

“What?” She mimics me.

“Just considering the word, that’s all.”

Water and a basket of bread is placed on the table. I don’t look up. I don’t give a damn who delivered the food.

London smiles at me, a beautiful smile. “Do tell.”

“Is odd a bad thing or a good thing?”

“It’s not normal.” She picks up her glass of water and takes a sip, making her lips nice and wet.

“Normal is not a word that I would use to describe you or I.”

“No?”

I shake my head. “We’re not normal. We’re not even close. And I don’t ever want to be.”

She leans in a little closer and looks at my lips. I look at hers.

Fuck.

I grab a roll out of the basket, tear it in two, and put one half to the lips I want to kiss, knowing if I do, this date won’t be what I intended on it being—a slow seduction. Very fucking slow.

“Eat it,” I tell her when she hesitates.

“Carbs. Beautiful, delicious, dangerous carbs.” She peeks her tongue out and licks it. Insta-hard-on. “One taste, Logan, just one, and I am going to lose all control. I’m going to crave it every second of every day, and then—”

I take the opportunity to push it in her mouth. “Eat the damn thing and stop fucking with me. I’m trying really hard to give you everything you deserve, starting with a fucking carb.”

She bites it and smiles. Bread sticking out of her mouth, she says something that resembles, “Sexy?”

“Disgustingly so,” I admit because food hanging out of a woman’s mouth should at the very least make shit soften up, but it doesn’t.

She giggles as she pushes the bread into her mouth then sits back, chewing it.

“You’re trouble.”

I look up as the waitress asks us if we are ready to order.

“Didn’t even know the menus were here.” I run my hand through my hair and sit back, putting space between me and the source of my hard-on as I grab a menu. “Could you give us a couple minutes?”

“Of course, Mr. Links.”

When she walks away, I look at London, who is still chewing on the bread. “Mr. Links? Is my dad around?”

She shakes her head and swallows, distracting the fuck out of me as I watch her long slender neck.

“You’re a local hero, Logan.”

“Not looking to be. No more than I’m looking to be auctioned off for charity.” I take a drink of my water. “Playing a sport doesn’t make me a damn hero.”

She looks at me like Ava looks at those animals on the SPCA commercials. “Logan...” She shakes her head. “You’re a hero because you fearlessly drove into a building, jumped out of your truck, showed people a path to safety, and saved lives.”

I look around, lean in to her, and then laugh. “Is that what they all think?”

She touches the side of my cheek. “Not what they think, Logan. What they saw. Those cell phone videos are everywhere. You may not think of that day as heroic, but they all saw it.”

“They saw what they wanted to see. I didn’t see shit except a path to the bathroom where your girls told me you were.”

“And waving them under your truck to get out?”

“Maybe I was just saying hello, or get the fuck out of my way, because there is a girl in there that I fucked up with, and if I didn’t have a chance to make it right, I wouldn’t be sitting next to her, wanting so badly to drag her out of here and have my way with her, because she looks better than a piece of bread does to a starving dancer.” I wink, and she smirks. “But I’m holding back because I did get a second chance, and I’m going to make sure that girl—you, London—never stop looking at me like you are right now.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t talk down about yourself. You are so much more than that to everyone.”

“I don’t give a fuck about everyone. I give a fuck about you.”

She smiles. “I give a fuck about you, too.”

I can’t stop fucking looking at her, even when it seems to make her uncomfortable. This is the London who won my heart before it was even ready to start beating.

“You’re perfect for me, you know.”

“Everything you never wanted,” she reminds me of something I said a few months ago.

“Yeah, I’m gonna love you better than any little scene you’ve ever played over in that beautiful mind of yours.”

She swallows hard and looks down at my pants.

I lift her chin. “I’m not gonna fuck you tonight, London. I’m not gonna make love to you either.”

She looks relieved, and I laugh.

“Don’t laugh. I just want to be prepared, okay?” she whispers.

“Prepared how?” I whisper back.

She smiles, and that blush that was beginning disappears. “Oh, there are things we girls need to do in order to make things perfect.” She grins now.

“Yeah?”

“Yep.” She pushes that little nose in the air, smiling proudly at herself. “I’m going to blow your mind, Logan Links.”

“You’ve already done that a hundred times over.”

“Well, I’m gonna do it a million times then.”

“No doubt you will, pretty.” I push the menu over to her. “We better figure out what we want, or they may kick us out.”

She laughs and looks over the menu while I keep looking over her.

§

“I’m so gutted,” she groans, and I laugh as we walk out of the restaurant. “Laugh it up, but when I pass out from a carb high and sleep all weekend, who’s going to help with final plans for the fundraiser?”

I shrug.

“My dad, that’s who.” She laughs. “Won’t that be fun?”

“He isn’t an issue for me.”

“I’m so glad, because...” She stops and looks away.

“Because what?”

“Never mind.” She shakes her head.

I nudge her. “Spill it.”

“Can you imagine if I ever introduced them to someone who isn’t you?”

“You mean a pussy.”

She laughs now. “Yeah, I mean someone who isn’t as stubborn as you.”

“Determined,” I correct.

“I’m determined to...you know,” she says with all the self-confidence she carried on any production I have watched her in.

“What are you determined to do?”

“Make you love me—”

I interrupt her with a laugh. “Already do.”

She turns and looks at me. “Yeah, I know. But I’m gonna make it so you never stop. I’m gonna make it so you never run off to that house again, trying to get away from me. I’m gonna—”

“Putting you first took me there.”

Her face falls a bit.

“I’ll do that a million times over.”

“Well, I’m never gonna make you have to again.”

I hug her. “You and I doing things right, going on dates, getting to really spend time with each other, putting us on the top of our priority lists—we’ll be fine.”

She looks up at me. “I know we will. But I know you have needs and—”

“I need to experience all the same firsts as you do.”

“You’ve experienced a lot more than I have.”

“If you’re talking about fucking, I’ve had all the wrong kinds of experiences. I can’t wait until I experience that with you.”

She looks down. “So, when?”

“You’re making this too much fun, London. The waiting, the anticipation—all that shit I have never experienced. You have no idea how much I’m loving every beautiful experience with you, so we’ll get there when it’s time.”

“But you know I need to be prepared,” she reminds me.

“You’ll be well-prepared and that, London, will be the only time you’ll be thankful I’m experienced.”

Her eyes widen.

“So, think of my past as training leading up to the big game.”

I get a fucking high from watching her nervous excitement. But when she does what she’s doing now, looking at me with anticipation, I catch a bit of it, which makes me even higher.

I hear music and look around. Across the street is a little bar I have never been in.

“Let’s grab a drink,” I say, taking her hand and walking toward the bar.

I really don’t want a drink, but I hear music, which makes me want to dance with her.

“I don’t have my ID,” she says, laughing as I hurry us across the road.

“If I’m all you think I am, it shouldn’t be a problem.” I smile back at her as I open the door. “After you.”

She smiles as she walks in, and yeah, I watch her ass, following closely behind.

“I love this song,” she says as I grab the hand reaching for her.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I tell the fucker.

“It’s my fucking job, man.” He looks up at me. “Shit, Links?”

I shrug.

“So, this is—”

I hold my finger to my mouth. “Let her have some fun.”

He nods. “Yeah, of course.”

She smiles back at me and raises her hands in the air. “I love this song!”

Until just now, I was caught up in the moment, like she is now. I didn’t even think about being in a fucking bar with her. I wish to fuck I had a hat on, because as soon as she sees me, she’s going to know.

“Come on.” She smiles.

I look around the bar. There are a dozen people or so, all couples, all older, and all seem fucking normal.

“Logan.” She continues to smile. “Come dance with me.”

Fuck, I think as I walk over to her.

Her hands are on my shoulders. She runs them up my neck and to each side of my face. “Dance with me.” Her eyes aren’t smiling as much now, but she’s trying. “Dance with me in this bar, Logan.”

“You okay?”

She nods. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”

I pull her into my arms, and we fucking dance.

When the song changes, she looks up at me. “My father used to love this song.”

“Troy?” I ask, and she nods. “What’s it called, London?”

“ ‘High Enough’ by Damn Yankees.”

“You know the words?”

“Yeah.”

“Sing to me?”

She smiles and nods, and then, when the chorus begins, she sings, “Don’t say goodnight, say you’re gonna stay forever. Oh, whoa, all the way. Can you take me high enough to fly me over yesterday?”

I know this song. I don’t know where or when I heard it, but I remember it.

I start singing with her, “It’s never over, and yesterday’s just a memory.”

She hugs me tighter around the neck, and I do the same, as she sings in my ear and we dance to a song that makes a hell of a lot of sense.

No fucking way I want to live without her, not for a damn minute.

When the song ends, another begins.

“You know this one, too?”

“God yes, my dad loved hair bands.”

“Keep singing to me, pretty. I’ll keep holding you tight.”

After several ballads are played and a few groups of people begin to trickle in, the music gets faster .

“You ready to get out of here?”

“Home?” she asks on a yawn.

“Yeah.”

As we are walking out, London tugs on my hand, and I look back. Then she smirks and points to the corner of the bar.

Fletcher fucking Reeves.

I look at her. “You wanna go say hi?”

“Heck no!” She laughs.

“Thought you were friends,” I say, turning as if I’m going to go say hello myself.

“Don’t you dare.” She laughs again, yanking me back.

“Why not?”

“He’s on a date.”

“So?”

“So, that’s Mademoiselle Antoinette.”

“Another friend. That makes two. We should definitely say hello.”

She pulls my hand hard this time. “She’s a professor.”

I glance over to see her hand running up his thigh.

“Oh, my God,” London says, tugging my hand. “Let’s go.”

When we get outside, she’s laughing, not one bit upset that fucker is with someone else, and looking at me like I’m the shit. And you know what? I fucking am.

“Just one question?”

“What?” she asks, gripping my shirt.

“Did the bow tie do anything for you?”

She pushes me. “No, this is actually the first time I’ve seen him wearing one.”

“You rethinking this?” I motion between us.

“I don’t think so.” She grips my shirt and pulls me hard against her. “Can’t get rid of me that quickly.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

New Normal

London

As suspected, the past week has been incredibly busy and very emotional. Mom, Brody, Tessa, Lucas, Maddox, Harper, and even Grandma Josie have been here most of the time. Keeka and Grandma seem to be getting very close. It’s good to see her taking time away from her bar to live. It’s just as good to see Keeka smile, even when she looks overwhelmed. I have caught her crying many nights when I come in to cuddle up against Logan.

Her tears do not affect me like Lexington’s. Hers are tears caused by an overwhelming amount of emotions. Two nights this past week, I have fallen asleep talking to her while she’s feeding Leddie.

The first morning, Logan asked me if everything was okay when I walked out of her room.

“Just peeked in to see if she needed anything, and she was crying while feeding Leddie,” I answered.

“At the hospital, Tessa voiced concerns about postpartum depression. I looked it up. I saw it in the hospital and a couple days after we came home—”

“I think that was more about her being scared,” I said as he wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed the top of my head before handing me a cup of coffee.

“Saw a big change in her the night I left,” he said, kissing the top of my head again.

Feeling guilty, I looked up at him. “I’m—”

“Don’t be. Just part of what got us where we are now.”

I nodded, smiling. God, I smile so much now.

“So, you think she’s okay?”

“No way does she have postpartum depression. Postpartum obsession maybe. I mean, think about it. How often do you get to have Leddie strapped to you in that baby bjorn?”

“The what?”

“The carrier thing.”

He smirked. “Not a lot since the day I came back.”

“What?”

“Swear to God, when I came back here and saw you all un-showered and having taken up residence in my bed, I considered putting you in that thing and carrying you around.”

I smacked his abs and he laughed as he took my hand and kissed it.

“Seriously, though, we need to figure out what’s up with her.”

“I’m fine,” Keeka said, carrying Leddie into the room.

“I wasn’t insinuating you weren’t; just want to do something to help if you’re unhappy,” Logan told her.

“I’m un-showered. Which one of you wants to hold Leddie so I can shower?”

“I do!” We both answered at the same time.

“I win.” I smiled, getting to her first.

Logan handed her a cup of coffee. “It’s decaf.”

“Postpartum obsession.” Keeka giggled as she walked back to her room.

I watched him scratch his head as she walked away and shut the door. “Something’s up.”

“Your uncle Logan is crazy, huh, Leddie? Tell him. Yes, you tell him that your mommy loves you and is happy and is no longer fighting being here or accepting help. She’s just emotional. Yes, she is. It’s a girl thing, huh? Tell him.” I turned her to face him to find him looking at me like I cracked. “What?” I laughed.

“There are two things already this morning that I refuse to waste my energy on trying to figure out. The first is why mothers spend so much time in the bathroom, and the second is why grown women talk to babies as if they’re babies, too.”

I couldn’t help laughing, and if at all possible, I thought I loved Logan Links even...more.

§

It’s Wednesday evening when Clive pulls up in front of the apartment building.

“The second floor is all lit up, Miss London. Will you be staying in for the night?”

I lean forward and smile. “You’re officially off London detail, Clive. I’m not going anywhere without Logan. I’m assuming Maddox and Dad are here, as well?”

He nods and winks. “Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, Clive.”

When I walk in, Logan is in the lobby with Leddie strapped to him.

“Totally adorable.”

He nods and smiles, making the dimples deepen. My knees weaken. “I am, aren’t I?”

I love this Logan so, so much more than the brute, unhappy male whore I have been pining over for years now.

“You’re sexy, Links. Leddie, she’s adorable.” I wag my eyebrows at him, and he just shakes his head.

I look up when someone clears their throat, already knowing who it is without even turning around. “Hey, Dad.”

“How were classes today?” he asks as he walks around me from behind.

“Good. Better because it’s my Friday.”

“You aren’t enjoying school?”

“It’s fine, Dad. Just...” I shrug. “You know, lots of talk about everything and lots of questions about you, Maddox, and Logan.”

He puts his arm around my shoulders. “You can always come home.”

I look up at him sternly.

He smirks. “I’ll never stop trying.”

“I can accept that as long as you can accept that this is now home.” I smirk back.

He rolls his eyes and pulls me along beside him. “Shall we go sort out some details?”

I look back at Logan. “You coming?”

We walk through the stairway door. It’s loud. Clearly, there are more people than I expected to be here today.

When we round the corner and walk in, I look around, shocked to see the entire football team mixed in with my family, Logan’s family, my girls, most of our freshman drama department, and even Fletcher.

“No bow tie today. Must have left the teacher back in class,” Logan whispers, and I can’t help giggling.

“What’s everyone doing here?” I ask him and Dad.

“Sorting donations, preparing for the bachelor auction, and some are just lending a hand.” Dad pats my back then steps over to where Maddox and some of the team are surrounding a table that is heaping with items I assume are for the baskets that are also piled on the table.

“That’s...” I pause, still trying to find a word that means overwhelming, generous, or awe-inspiring. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow,” Dad says.

“You want Leddie or would you like to help?” Logan asks.

“What do you want to do?” I ask because he’s holding Leddie.

He shrugs. “I can handle both.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “And you think I can’t?”

Dad chuckles, no doubt amused by my sassy attitude directed at Logan.

“I’m sure you can do anything you set your mind to.” He smiles. “Most of the time.”

“Oh, please,” I huff.

Logan shakes his head. “Feeling badass today, huh?” His eyes dance in amusement.

To that, I can’t help smiling. “Actually, yes.”

He leans over, kissing the top of my head. “In this case, I’m right, pretty.”

“Is that so?”

“My arms are much longer than yours. You can’t reach.”

Dad chuckles. “He has a point, princess.”

Holy hell, my father just took Logan’s side. I mean, Logan’s right, but this, this is a miracle.

I look at Logan, knowing he sees it as a win, as well.

He winks. “I got Leddie. She’s sleeping and blissfully unaware of all the excitement she’s missing. When she wakes up, I promise you can have her.”

Lucas looks up from the table. “Oh no, I called dibs.”

“Bully.” Dad sighs as he pushes up his sleeves and walks over to the spot next to Lucas.

Lucas rolls his eyes. “Brit.”

I look at Logan, who looks amused. I know it’s because there is much less venom in their exchange. The two are actually joking now.

An hour later, Dad is holding Leddie and looking smugly at Lucas.

“You may have won the battle”—Lucas flashes a bright smile—“but we all know who wins the war.”

“Very funny,” Dad replies dryly. “Just keep in mind that history doesn’t always repeat itself. Take your son for instance.”

I expect Lucas to come back with something equally as sarcastic.

“His father raised him right.” Lucas looks at Logan, winks, and then turns back to Brody, waiting for him to throw a jab.

“That he did.” Brody looks at Leddie and sighs. “Which is fortunate for you, tiny princess.”

I may faint. Like, I seriously may fall out right now. My dad is actually praising Lucas and Logan right now.

Logan squeezes my shoulder. “Let’s finish this up so we can head upstairs before midnight.”

When Keeka walks into the room an hour later, I can’t help smiling at the fact she has her hair done, straightened like it was the first time I met her, and she has on very light and a natural amount of makeup.

Maddox nudges me. “She looks well-rested and much more like her sister today than ever.”

I nod. “She’s amazing, Maddox.”

“Has she talked about Troy or her mother at all?” he whispers, and I shake my head. “How about Trucker?”

I don’t know why it shocks me that he knows who Leddie’s father is, but he does.

I glance up to see if anyone else heard him and find Lucas and Dad looking at me.

“Does everyone know?” I whisper back.

He nods. “And everyone is willing to say they don’t.”

“How did they find out?”

Maddox shrugs.

“Spill it.”

“I will not divulge that information at this time.”

I look up at Dad, who shakes his head, then I chance a glance at Lucas. He shrugs.

Busted, Lucas Links, I think.

“You should never play poker,” I tell him.

“Who? Me?” He points to himself.

I roll my eyes.

“Family is family, and we do what we can for them.” Lucas sets the orange colored football inside the basket he’s putting together then steps back. “Damn, I’m good.”

And just like that, he’s back to smiling.

I step back from my basket, as well, to go chat with Keeka.

“You look amazing,” I tell her as I give her a hug.

“I’m not feeling it, so why not fake it, right?”

“Are you sick?”

She shakes her head. “Just...you know.”

“Tired?”

“I shouldn’t be. I sleep just as much as Leddie does.”

“You need to get out,” I tell her.

“No need. Everything magically appears here.”

The way she says it makes me believe she needs it even more.

“Tomorrow, you and I are going to go get pampered. Hair, nails, toes, brows—the whole works.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not mooching off you all any more than I have been. Maybe it’s time for me to go back to work.”

I sigh. “You aren’t mooching.”

“Then, what would you call it?” She tries to make it a joke, but it clearly bothers her.

“It’s only been a couple weeks, Keeka,” I say softly. “And Leddie needs you and your boobs available on demand.”

I hear Lucas chuckle, while Keeka shakes her head.

“Tomorrow, we go get pampered. Our father’s treat,” I tell her.

“The dead one?” She again makes light of it.

“Yep.” I smile. “He was really good with money. He left us some. I’m sure he would be okay with it.”

She sighs. “It’s not mine.”

“We’ll discuss that later. Let’s get back to a day of pampering.”

“If you insist.”

“I absolutely do.”

§

As Keeka, Leddie, and I sit on the couch, Logan is reading over the instructional manual for the breast pump. I have no idea why that’s a turn on, but it is. I resign myself to the fact it’s just him. He’s every bit as perfect as I ever imagined he would be.

However, my imagination was limited to a kiss, not Logan Links walking around sometimes shirtless with bulging muscles fully on display with a baby bjorn strapped to him, making me weak in the knees. And I never imagined I would see him putting a breast pump together for my sister. Heck, I didn’t even know about her.

I feel a light elbow nudge and look at Keeka.

“What are you thinking?”

Knowing he’s listening to music with his earbuds in, I tell her exactly what I’m thinking. “Why does he look so hot putting a breast pump together?”

Keeka smirks and shakes his head. “Because you’re doing him.”

“Oh no, I’m not.” I laugh. “It’s still cuddle season. He hasn’t even tried to bring it home.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

I shake my head.

“Why?” she asks, sounding just as confused as I suppose I should be but aren’t.

I grin. “Because he’s perfect.”

“No man is perfect,” she says, looking at Leddie as she tells her, “Neither are women.”

“He’s perfect for me,” I tell her, trying not to personalize or become defensive.

She looks at me and smiles sincerely. “Sorry.” Then she looks at Logan. “He has definitely changed, and I know it’s because of how he feels about you. I mean, I thought Tru—” She stops, as if the world would fall apart if she said his name, and then shakes her head. “I’ve been around men who I thought loved my mom, maybe even me, and then they were gone. I guess Logan is all right.”

I know that’s as much as I’m going to get from her, and it’s okay that she takes her time. Maybe tomorrow she will share even more. My prayer is, by doing that, she will maybe expel her hurt and begin to heal.

“I think it’s good,” Logan says, holding up two funnel-looking cups attacked to tubes.

“Can you demonstrate?” I ask.

He deadpans, just looking at me.

Keeka gives a silent chuckle whereas I can’t help laughing.

§

After Logan’s tutorial, without the demonstration, he excuses himself and heads to the bedroom, while Keeka and I watch YouTube videos on breast pumping. She gives it a shot, and after a few curses, a “Holy shit! I think it sucked my nipple off,” and a “I’d rather get ten Brazilians than do this crap,” a few adjustments are made before she looks and sounds more comfortable and less pained. She also looks exhausted.

When she goes to bed and Leddie is asleep, I go back to the apartment and shower.

After about thirty minutes of chatting with my friends about the fundraiser and classes, I excuse myself and head back to Logan’s.

The moonlight is shining through the wall of windows, casting beautiful shadows over his perfectly sculpted bare chest, abs, and arms that are ripped and bulging and visual perfection. Every part of Logan Links’ body is sculpted like a Greek statue, only better.

He isn’t made of stone. In fact, his perfect physique is the most comfortable resting place I have ever lay against. Unlike a statue, he is not cold. In fact, I know how warm his body is. It’s warmer than even the thickest down comforter I have ever cuddled up in to sleep. There are no rough spots that don’t feel good against my body like there would be on a statue. Absolutely none. When I lay beside him every night, his soft, smooth skin feels like silk against mine, but even better.

He’s on his back, one arm draped across the bed, while the other forearm rests over his forehead, nearly covering his eyes.

I hug myself as I take in his face. His dark lashes are truly the thickest and longest I have ever seen on a man. They are the kind we females spend too much money and time trying to duplicate with a few strokes of a mascara brush.

I close my eyes, picturing his open. He has an almost puppy dog eye shape and an innocent look that shines through them. It wasn’t until the past few months that I truly got to see them when he was relaxed or truly content. They make you feel not only warm and invited, but they draw you in and make you feel immediately comfortable and unintimidated by the pure mass and perfection that he is. Logan’s eyes are truly the windows to his soul.

Past the hat, his armor, past the tough exterior, past the intimidating size and invisible bubble around him, hidden from the public is the real Logan. How lucky am I to have been invited to sit front row center to bask in all the new pieces and parts that I had never imagined were there?

“You done?” His voice shocks me. Here I was picturing the sweet and comforting ways about him when the deep and commanding baritone startles me.

I open my eyes. “Done with what?”

He smiles and shakes his head as he holds the duvet up. “Get in here.”

“Please.” I remind him of his manners.

“Now.” He smirks, toying with my sass.

With the portals to hell open, drawing me in, I immediately give in. “Fine.”

With my head on his chest, and my arm draped over him, he runs his fingertips slowly up and down my spine.

“If this gets to be too much for you, let me know and I’ll stop.”

“What?” I laugh.

“I know how amped up you are tonight and me doing this.” He applies a tiny bit more pressure. “If it’s too much, just let me know. I wouldn’t want to have to tell you no again.”

I smack his abs lightly. “Oh please, I’m just here for the heat.”

He chuckles. “Right.”

“You know, I was just standing there, admiring how perfect you look while sleeping, and you have to ruin it.” I sigh exaggeratedly.

“Lie to your parents, not to me, London,” he continues poking fun at me. “I heard you out there.”

“Heard me what?” I laugh again.

“Apparently, me playing with breast...” he pauses long enough for my cheeks to start burning, “pumps is a turn on.”

“Hey.” I lean back and look up at him. “You had earbuds in.”

He smirks. “Well, sometimes they are in just so no one bothers me. It’s a trick I learned at the gym.”

“Or you were eavesdropping,” I jokingly scold him.

“Or there was a song change,” he continues.

“Listen, player, your defense is getting weak. You may want to step it up,” I joke back. “Song change, that’s lame. Admit it, you just wanted to hear what we were talking about.”

“Not we, London. You.” He looks at me, eyes scrunched slightly, as if he’s trying to figure me out. “I just want to make sure you’re doing okay, you know.”

“Well, that’s very sweet.” I lay my head back down on his chest and hug him tighter.

“Selfish actually, because I will not bury myself inside you until I know damn well you’re one hundred percent sure about what you want with me. And London, I can’t wait to be inside you.”

My body immediately tenses and warms.

I feel his lips on top of my head. “Relax. It’s not tonight. But pretty, you need to think about getting prepared...Whatever the fuck that means.”

My body is a mess of nerves, anticipation, and excitement.

“Relax, pretty. You’ll be fine.”

It doesn’t make me relax. It makes me more nervous.

“London,” he yawns out, still lightly stroking my back. “Just rela—”

I sit up quickly and look at him, “That word is...is...not relaxing.”

His eyes widen considerably.

“It’s not.” I cross my arms over my body.

He sighs as he sits up at a far too lazy pace for my current mood. “Concerns?”

“Well, let’s see; the fact that your penis is on Yelp and is compared to the size of a donkey. Logan, my concern is that...it’s gonna be like you said.” I groan as I palm my face with both hands.

When I hear him sigh, I look up as he runs his hand over his hair.

“Well, first of all, the word penis is an understatement.”

“Logan! Still not helping.”

“It’s not the size of a donkey’s.” He’s now toying with me. The jerk!

“Really!”

He chuckles. “The fact that I said it would be like driving a Mac truck into a mouse hole was also exaggerated.”

“Again, not helping.”

“I’m not gonna pretend I know what it’s like to have a pussy, nor have I ever asked a chick, ‘Hey, how’d that feel to you compared to the average Joe’.”

Average Joe. Ugh, I’m screwed.

“And not to piss you off by talking about my past experiences, but I can assure you not one person has ever complained and all have come back, begging for more. My cock may be big, London, but I promise you that you’ll be fine.”

“How big?”

He takes my hand, holds it up, and grips below my wrist and at my elbow. I’m one hundred percent certain he’s now trying to comfort me as he kisses my wrist, but then he leans in and kisses the top of my head while whispering, “That’s about right.”

“What?”

He huffs now and lies back down. “London, I’ve never killed or injured anyone having sex, okay?”

“Yet,” I say, knowing it’s nervousness and anxiety talking.

I look down at him to see the corner of his lips turn up slightly.

“Sorry.” I sigh and lie down again, my head to his chest.

“You won’t be.” He kisses the top of my head as he wraps his arm around me again.

“I know.” I hug him tighter, giving him all the trust he has earned from me.

§

With Logan at the building with everyone, and Keeka having pumped enough for three feedings in the refrigerator, Keeka and I are on our way to have a relaxing few hours together. Just the two of us.

“Where to?” Clive asks, opening the car door.

“220 Walton Street,” Keeka answers, getting in the black SUV.

I smile big and bright at Clive, and he smiles fondly back at me, giving just a small nod.

“You know what you’re getting done?” I ask Keeka after I get in.

“Trim. Maybe a highlight or two.” She shrugs.

“Have you been there before?” I buckle myself in, and then notice she isn’t buckled.

She nods and giggles. “Marisa’s Fortress of Beauty, I don’t go anywhere else for my hair needs.”

“Well, if you trust her, I do, too.” I take this opportunity to reach around her and grab her safety belt.

“What are you doing?” she asks as I latch her in.

“Our father and I were in an accident. I was buckled. He wasn’t. I hung upside down for a couple hours, unable to free myself, and I watched him die.” I sit back and look at her. She looks horrified. “I’m mostly over it. I just insist everyone buckles up.”

She reaches over and grabs my hand. “I’m sorry.”

I squeeze hers in return. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to know him.”

She shrugs. “I’m sure he wouldn’t have wanted to.”

“I’m sure the sober Troy Fields with his life together and not worrying about all the secret parts of his life would have loved you in his final year, as he did me.”

She nods. “Can we do a little less talking about dead dads and more about how much I can’t wait for you to meet Karin Jean and her pup Lola?”

I smile and nod. “Of course.”

Silence, and then we both start laughing.

I look up to see Clive looking at us through the rearview mirror then back at the road.

In less than ten minutes, we have talked about what our plans are for the day. Normally, when Mom and I do this, it’s talk about the previous day, but we are too busy talking about breast pumps and booby milk.

“So, after hair, we can do manicures, pedicures, and get our eyebrows waxed before having lunch. Does that sound good?” I ask as Clive pulls up in front of the brick building. The exterior first floor is painted a deep purple.

“We’re gonna wax here if that’s okay. I sent Karin Jean a message. Luckily, she can get us both in,” she says over her shoulder as she gets out of the car before Clive has a chance to even open the door. When I get out, he’s there.

“I’ll text you.”

He nods.

“Thanks, Clive.”

I walk into the building behind Keeka and immediately come face to face with a suit of armor standing next to the reception desk and think, Interesting. I see Keeka sit on a couch to my left and pat the seat next to her.

“She’ll be here soon. We’re early.”

It’s then that I see a silver, headless manikin with a pink apron adorned with clips, brushes, combs, and all sorts of tools used by a hair stylist. She even has a pink strapless top with two bright yellow color tint mixing bowls with colorful gems hot glued to the bottom, and two-color application brushes sticking out.

Apparently, I have stared too long because Keeka asks, “What do you think?”

“I think she either lost her head over the knight over there, or he cut it off.”

She smiles as I sit down.

“I also think this place is much cooler than the places Mom and I go. I like it.”

“Do you need to use the bathroom before we wax?” She stands.

“Um, sure.” I stand and follow her down the long corridor, taking in all the rare and beautiful art. There are more mannequins dressed in different fashions and beautiful chandeliers over the stylist’s chairs.

Past two rooms to another sitting area and to a doorway, I follow Keeka down some stairs into a brick basement where there are more manikins, but they are dressed in leather and studs.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“They use this for fashion shows every now and then.”

“What kind of fashion? S&M?”

She laughs and points to a doorway. “You use that one. Make sure you wipe good.” With that, she disappears into the one next to it.

“Wipe good?” I laugh as I step inside.

When we walk back up the stairs and into the fortress of beauty, which is amply named, I see a tiny and adorable little dog skipping toward us. Yes, skipping. And dare I say, smiling?

“Hey, Lola.” Keeka bends down and pets her.

“Who’s first?”

I look from the cutest little pup to see who is probably Karin Jean. She’s tiny, with beautiful dark hair, perfect makeup, and a smile that is warm and inviting. I immediately like her.

“You wanna go first?” Keeka asks.

I shrug. “Sure.”

I walk into the room behind Karin Jean and see it decorated with beautiful crosses hanging everywhere.

“I’ll take your coat.” She smiles as I hand it to her. As she’s hanging it on a hook, she tells me, “Everything off from the waist down, except your socks.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, needing clarification.

She turns and looks at me. “Oh, Keeka didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“She made you an appointment for a Brazilian and didn’t tell you?” She shakes her head and opens the door. “Keeka, will you come here a minute?”

When Keeka walks in, she looks at me curiously. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie.

“Is this your first time?” Karin Jean asks me.

I nod. “I normally shave, but—”

“If your hair isn’t at least a quarter of an inch long, it—”

“Well, it’s been a while,” I admit.

“Then we should be fine, right?” Keeka asks Karin Jean.

“As long as she’s sure, then yep.” She smiles.

Uh, God, am I sure? I think to myself. Then I think of what Logan said last night.

You need to think about getting prepared.

“London, if you don’t want to—”

“No, really, it sounds fun.”

Fun? What the hell is wrong with me?

“I’ll go first,” Keeka says, dropping her pants right there.

When I turn around, she laughs.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve seen me before. Remember the delivery room?”

“Oh, my gosh! That’s right!” Karin smiles at her. “Wow, you don’t even look like you had a child.”

“A little girl, Leddie Lou.” Keeka smiles as she says her name, and my heart melts...momentarily. “But when you get a load of the mess I have down there, I bet I look a hell of a lot like a woman who stopped taking care of herself, so I apologize in advance.”

“Oh, don’t be silly.” Karin smiles. “Hop on up there. And London, this should put you at ease a little bit.”

At ease? Oh hell, what have I gotten myself into?

Thankfully, Karin is positioned so I’m not getting the entire view of my sister’s vagina...again.

I’m a visual learner. Whatever my mom or a teacher hasn’t taught me, I’ve learned on YouTube. So, if I take away the fact that this is my sister and my who-ha being next, I should feel more confident.

Her legs are spread eagle, knees bent and flopped to the sides, and her heels are touching. Oh dear, my stomach knots thinking about when Mom took me to the OB/GYN for the first time and how terrified—no, mortified—I was, but I survived.

You can do this, I tell myself.

I look now at Keeka’s face. She’s chatting away like it’s no big deal as a wooden spatula of hot wax is spread over her pubic area. Next is a strip of cloth, just like those used to wax eyebrows, only bigger, is placed on her. Then Karin Jean pulls it away.

I look from the hair speckled cloth as it’s tossed into the trash can to quickly looking up at Keeka, who looks totally fine.

They continue chatting, and honestly, I am glad she went first because my anxiety is not as high as it was when I realized what was going on.

After about fifteen minutes, she is done with that area, and then I watch as Keeka flips to her stomach and then pushes up into what I would describe as the child’s pose.

I look away when a new wooden spatula nears her butt and Karin Jean asks, “Eyebrows, too?’

“Might as well.” Keeka laughs.

When she hops off the table, she’s fine, absolutely fine, and I tell myself I will be, as well.

Being a little more modest or maybe it’s self-conscious, I turn my back and shed my leggings and panties. Then I sit on the table, and Karin Jean drapes a small cloth over my exposed center, which gives me a little more privacy, and for that, I’m grateful.

When the hot wax hits my skin, I take a deep breath.

“Are you okay?” Karin asks.

I smile and nod. “Of course.”

When she applies the wax removal strip and rubs it against my skin, I feel a little bit uncomfortable. When she rips it off, I feel like I’m on fire and may die. However, her cool, gloved hand immediately covering my heated flesh eases a little.

“You okay?” she asks as she reaches for another wooden spatula.

I have yet to catch my breath, so speaking isn’t an option.

She looks back at me. “Do you need a minute?”

I nod.

She smiles and says, “So, London, is that a nickname or your real name?”

“Real,” I squeak out.

“That’s a beautiful and unique name.”

Aside from the fact that she just ripped hair from my body, I think I love this woman. She is so personable and professional that, if it didn’t hurt, it wouldn’t be awkward.

“Shall we start again?” she asks. My eyes widen, and she nods. “Maybe you’d like to try another time?”

Keeka laughs. “And leave her with a bald patch?”

I think I like Karin’s idea.

“I could shave.”

Both Keeka and Karin look at each other and giggle.

Now I’m mortified.

Karin looks back at me and apparently sees that. “Oh, honey, we aren’t poking fun at you.” She smiles.

“It’s me,” Keeka says. “I had a razor incident that landed me in the ER and in desperate search for another way to groom.”

“Meaning?”

Keeka stands up and walks right next to my head. “I had sex for the first time with a guy who apparently had never seen a woman with a full bush. It embarrassed the hell out of me, so I shaved.”

“And you ended up in the ER?”

“After two weeks, I had this bump. I was sure I had gotten an STI from the asshole, so I forced myself to put my tail between my legs and get tested. The nurse practitioner told me that she was sure it wasn’t an STI, that in fact she’d seen it several times and it was caused by an ingrown hair getting infected. Apparently, razors harbor bacteria and, well, it’s not the most sanitary way to clean up our lady parts.”

“Don’t stop there.” Karin giggles.

Keeka shakes her head, rolls her eyes, and sighs. “In order to fix the issue, I had to have a procedure.”

“A procedure?” I ask while thinking how lucky I have been that all the years I have shaved the bikini area I never had such an issue.

She nods. “And it was a hell of a lot more painful than a Brazilian wax. I dare say it was equivalent to childbirth.”

“What did they have to do?”

“A shit ton of novocain to the outer vagina lips hurts almost as bad as lancing the bump so the infection could drain. Oddly, none of those two were as embarrassing as the voicemail I left the guy, blaming him for giving me an STI and calling him a piece of shit.” Keeka shakes her head, and Karin Jean chuckles.

“So, London, you still wanna pussy out?” Keeka asks.

I shake my head. “Wax away.”

Karin starts again about five inches from my belly button, and it’s not as bad as the first strip.

“I will tell you that, if you do this on a regular schedule, it begins to be less painful,” she tells me as she rips away the next sheet. “Unlike shaving, your hair grows back less coarse and much slower.”

That’s a relief, and then...Rip!

Oh God, this is awful, I think to myself.

“The summer months, your hair will grow back faster.”

Rip.

“But honestly, you’ll get used to it.”

Rip.

When her fingers now spread me a bit, I grip the sides of the table. The hot wax is more sensitive here, but not painful.

Phew.

Rip.

“Shit!” I cringe.

“Almost done,” she says as I hang on for dear life.

When she has removed all my hair, she sprinkles baby powder on me.

“Okay, now flip over.”

Dear God, let me not pass gas or something equally as embarrassing as this is, I think to myself.

Hot wax, cloth, pressure, burying my face in the pillow, and...Rip.

I sigh.

“We’re all set,” Karin says, and I lower my ass immediately.

“Was it that bad?” Keeka asks.

“Honestly, the butt was the easiest.”

She laughs. “I’ll make sure to tell Logan that.”

I gasp. “Oh no, you won’t.”

“Logan? You’re...” Karin pauses and looks at me, smiling almost sadly. “Logan Links?”

I nod.

“So, you’re London Fields.” She nods.

“Yes, but—”

“Butt,” Keeka jokes. “See? She’s still talking about the butt.”

Karin puts her hand over mine. “What happens here, stays here.”

“Thank you.”

And just like that, she asks, “Eyebrows?”

I smile. “Might as well.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Preparing To Heal

Logan

Walking around the second floor with Leddie, looking at the makeshift tables, I look down at her.

“There are good people in the world. You’ll be one of them. I’ll be sure of it.”

I laugh, looking at what we threw together when everything started coming in. We used plywood and saw horses to create the assembly line of tables to hold it all. I’m in awe of how generous this community has been.

The university donated season tickets to both male and female basketball games next year, and season tickets for football, as well. Some of Dad’s old NFL contacts have donated trips with tickets, hotel rooms, and airfare. Maddox and Brody have Steel Total Destruction coming to open and close out the show with them, as well as at least a hundred travel packets to concerts donated from record labels and individual artists themselves.

I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and pull it out. I see the picture of Mom and I and hit decline. I just can’t allow her in my life, and I sure as hell can’t stay angry at her. She made a choice, and it wasn’t us.

I look up when I hear laughter from the elevator. It’s not London or Keeka, but it is female.

When I see a few familiar faces, I realize it’s London’s theater crew.

“How can we help?” I hear a male voice. I know this one. It’s Fletcher.

He walks around the group, and I force myself to be grateful that they want to help, and not annoyed that he’s here. Hell, I invited the guy here last week.

“Thank you for coming, I’m not sure what else needs to be done.” I walk to the boardroom table that’s been pushed to the other side of the room. “I know there’s a list over here somewhere.”

I look around the mess, hoping to find it, when Fletcher clears his throat.

“This it?” He holds up a clipboard.

I nod. “Appears so.”

“All right.” He smiles as he looks down. After a moment, he nods and looks up. “It appears these baskets need to be taken to the Dome.” He looks over at the tables as he hands me the clipboard then scratches his head. “That’s a lot of Ubers.”

“We can walk,” one of the girls suggests.

“It’s twenty degrees outside and windy as hell.” I chuckle. “I thank you and appreciate the offer, but I suppose I could take a few trips myself when London and Keeka get back.”

“We have four vehicles here,” I hear my dad say and look up. “A couple trips should do it.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Maddox says as he and Brody enter the room.

It goes silent, then a few giggles erupt.

I look at Fletcher. “I’ll grab the diaper bag.”

“I’ll help them gather their wits.”

I nod. “Good luck.”

Four trips in four vehicles loaded with college girls who love music and are no doubt swooning over Brody and Maddox, and the room is empty of over one hundred baskets to be given to people who spend one hundred dollars to spend the day celebrating Each Moment. Fletcher rode with me and Leddie each trip, and surprisingly, we are still alive.

When we return from the final trip, Dad orders pizza and wings to be delivered for everyone.

Twenty minutes from that time, all hell breaks loose when a tall, dark-haired girl walks into the room and asks who’s in charge.

“We are,” I tell her, and she looks around.

“Aw, Brody and Maddox Hines.” She smiles as she shrugs off her coat. Then she quickly walks to them, holds out her hand, and says, “I’m Isabella Steel, my uncle Xavier manages Steel Total Destruction. They’re checking into their hotel and would love to come over after they get settled.”

“No way,” one of the girls whispers.

Brody nods to her. “Of course.”

“How is security?” she asks, pulling out her phone.

“Tight,” Maddox assures her.

“And these people?” she asks, looking around.

“They’re my daughter’s classmates and volunteers,” he answers.

“Have background checks been conducted on them?” she asks, eyeing them suspiciously.

“Of course they have,” Maddox answers.

“They have?” one of the girls whispers to another.

“Oh God, I hope not.” She giggles.

“Alexandra Sanford,” Maddox says, and her head spins in his direction, her mouth agape.

“You know my name?”

“He knows everything.” Dad laughs, trying to make light of the situation.

“Wow,” she says.

“Are you security for STD?” Maddox questions Isabella Steel.

She shakes her head. “I’m public relations for all of Steel Incorporated. Their last PR rep is...on vacation, and I thought it would be a fun trip.” She hits a few more buttons on her phone then looks at London’s classmates. “Do you suppose you could keep your shit together and help me sell this event out?”

“They’ve kept their shit together thus far,” I answer for them.

Isabella Steel looks at me and cocks her head. “I know you. You’re the one who ran through the building in that bad-ass truck.”

“There was something inside I needed to get to.”

She smiles. “London Fields.”

I shrug.

“Did someone say my name?”

I look toward the door, seeing London and Keeka walk in.

Her hair looks different. I like it. Fuck, she could be bald and I would like it.

Her eyes lock on me, and she smiles.

“Okay. We can use you two. How damn cute is that?” Isabella Steel smiles.

London walks around and hugs her peers. “Thanking them all for coming.”

“She’s precious,” Isabella says, standing next to me.

“She’s something all right.”

She laughs. “So, have you done a ton of interviews and—”

“No.”

“How have you avoided that?”

“As Maddox said, security’s tight.” I look over and smile at her. Up close, I can see she’s not much older than London. “Excuse me please.”

I walk over to Maddox. “Could I have a minute?”

“Is there a problem?”

“No, but your sister’s birthday is next week, and I’d like to plan something. Figured I’d ask for some help.”

He smiles. “Of course.”

An hour later, there are pizzas, wings, drinks, and bags of chips completely covering the tables that the baskets once sat on. Everyone has eaten, and aside from the obvious excitement for the live interviews with STD, Isabella Steel has the girls from the drama department posting live interviews using the hashtag, #Everymoment.

London sits next to me, beaming as she watches her peers. “They’re having such a good time.”

“They are.”

“I’m so glad, because they’ve definitely been out of sorts since, well, you know.”

Annoyed, because I should have asked her more about classes and how things have been since she was outed, I reply, “No, but you could fill me in.”

She glances over. “The whispers are not like high school, but they’re there. I think it’s more out of concern for all we went through, you know. But if it gets to that point, then there is always Ithaca College, and I could change my name again.” She laughs.

“I think you’ll be fine, pretty.” I pull on a strand of her hair, and she looks at me. “Highlights?”

She smiles. “Low lights.”

“They look nice,” I tell her.

“I’m glad you like them.” She grins then looks back at her classmates. “So, you really think it’s going to be okay after all this has quieted down?”

“I do. If not, I’ll make it better, because this is home, London.”

She looks over at me and smiles.

“I’m gonna head up; give you time to actually get in there and chat with your friends.”

“You’re fine,” she says, standing when I do. “Stay.”

I shake my head. “You need to show them that, regardless of all this, you’re still you.”

She giggles. “I can do that with you here.”

I bend down and kiss the top of her head. “Go show them that you’re the same girl that you were before Chaos. Show them you can stand on your own and shine.”

As I walk toward the door, Maddox calls after me, “Where are you going?”

“Heading up.” I look at London. “She’s got this.”

He nods, and then I walk out, Dad following.

As we wait for the elevator, he asks me why I’m leaving.

“My girl needs to shine, and fuck if I’ll ever dull her light.”

I look back when I hear someone clear their throat. Brody and Maddox are behind us.

“I couldn’t agree with you more.” Brody runs his hand through his hair.

“Tough pill to swallow, isn’t it?” Dad looks at Brody.

“It’s starting to go down a little easier.”

§

With Dad, Maddox, and Brody staying the night, I know London won’t chance coming in here, so I shoot her a text.

Meet me at midnight in the greenhouse.

Is it finished?

No.

Then, why didn’t you say the roof?

I flop back on my bed and chuckle as I realize, a few months ago, I would have engaged just to prove I was right, even if I wasn’t. Realization hits that she was right with the Lord London shit, but then, I needed her to listen to me, for fear she would fuck up and get hurt, or fuck up with the wrong guy. I briefly think, Well, she’s grown up, but that brief thought dissipates when I realize we both have.

See you then.

When the door opens onto the roof where someday there will be a greenhouse, I stand up from the double chaise and hold out my hand.

“It’s really cold out here,” she says, teeth already chattering.

“Cuddle season,” I remind her as she hurries to me.

I grab the blanket I brought and wrap her and me up in it.

“What are we doing out here?” she asks, pushing her freezing cold hands up my shirt, and I swear I hear a sizzle.

“We’ve gone on a date, danced, but we’ve never looked at the stars,” I tell her, walking us to the chaise.

I sit down and she follows, wrapping her body around mine. I throw the blanket over us and tuck it in behind her. Her hands, again, end up on my abs, and even though they are cold, it feels like they should be there.

She smiles at me and shakes her head.

“What?”

She grins. “Romantic.”

I simply shrug. “Just want to experience things with you.”

“Like looking at stars?” She pushes her head under the blanket and lays it on my chest. “I can’t see them anymore.”

I laugh as I pull the blanket down, uncovering her eyes. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Anytime.” I kiss the top of her head and take a deep breath of her, of calm. Then I laugh at myself when I realize I find her, London Fields, calming.

She looks up. “What’s so funny?”

“The fact that you make me feel calm.” I laugh again at the irony. “The girl who used to make me insane and irritable and—”

“Slash Colby Stanford’s tires?” She laughs at me.

“I will never confirm the accuracy of that allegation,” I tell her.

She pouts. “Well, I know it was you.”

“Sorry I may have ruined your big date. Tell me; did you have plans to give him those lips first?”

She shakes her head, still locking eyes with me.

“Why?”

“I always wanted my first kiss from the boy who made me crazy, mouthy, and say things my mom would lecture me about for a good hour afterward.”

I smile and nod. “Good answer.”

“It’s the truth,” she asserts, staring at my lips.

“So, you fantasized about me being your first kiss—”

Her laugh interrupts me.

“I wouldn’t say fantasized. I just knew you would.”

“I won’t even ask how you knew because I realized I always knew you’d be my first crush,” I tell her honestly.

She rolls her eyes. “You never had a crush on any of those girls you slept with?”

I shake my head.

“You’re so full of it, Logan Links.”

“I knew from the moment you stuck your tongue out at me all those years ago and it sent a pain here that I never felt before.” I put my hand over hers and pull it to my heart. “I knew every time I looked at you that you were nothing like anyone else was to me. I knew, London, that no one else on this planet would ever have the ability to crush me, so I did my absolute best to push you away. Yet that pain in my heart worsened every fucking time something happened to you. That pain worsened every time someone like Matthew or CJ, or fucking Trucker, warned me away from you. I swear it was because they thought you were too good for me. Hell, I felt the same. I tried to fucking dislike you, but that made it even worse. When...” I pause and close my eyes. “I don’t even want to talk about the single most horrific night of my life, but damn, London, that fucking hurt like hell. And still, I couldn’t leave it alone.”

“I’ll never, ever, ever do that to you again. Ever, okay?”

“I know that, I do. Jesus L., look what we’ve been through and look where we are. Your first kiss, my first crush. And I am going to be one hundred percent real with you right now. You’ll never have anyone inside you besides me. And yeah, that sounds fucked up and demanding, but I can promise you that I’m never going to let anyone”—again, I press down on her hand that’s still over my heart—“inside me either. Never.”

She closes her eyes and wraps her arms around me, pushing herself up so her head rests over my heart.

“I know you’re ready for the next step, pretty, but you need to know I’m ready for forever.”

“Well, I’m very well-prepared for both.” She smiles as she looks up at me, eyes dancing, and I know damn well she is.

We sit and look at the stars, neither of us too terribly cold, and neither of us wanting to go in. Just like that, we fall asleep.

§

We wake up to, “What the hell are you two doing? It’s fucking freezing out here!” Brody burst out of the door and onto the rooftop.

London smirks before she opens her eyes. “Still a virgin, Dad.”

“Well, I’d rather you just fuck and get it out of the way than die of goddamned hypothermia! So, you can stop doing whatever the fuck it is you two are doing up here and get inside.”

“We fell asleep watching the stars,” she says, smiling at me and holding back her laughter, but none of her sass.

“And we’re not ready to do so yet,” I tell him, hoping she laughs that belly laugh that I love so much.

She does.

As we walk past him, she says, “He keeps telling me not yet, Dad. Not. Yet.”

“Okay. Jesus, London, I really don’t need to know, okay?”

She smirks at me as she looks back at him and smiles bigger. “Love you more, Dad.”

The entire day, she is steps from me as we watch Maddox and Brody do the soundchecks at the Dome. I try to push her toward her friends, knowing damn well it’s important to her.

“Stop doing that.” She laughs at me.

“Doing what?”

“Why not just tie a pork chop around my neck so the other dogs will play with me?”

“That’s not even funny,” I scold her.

“Would it be weird if I ask you why you aren’t playing with your football buddies over there?”

“No, but I’m not a freshman in college. Hell, I’m not in college. I thought I had a best friend in high school. Turns out he’s a dick. But I got Mitch, so maybe you should be more receptive to the idea. Maybe you should find your Mitch.”

“I found my best friend when I was seven.” She sticks her tongue out at me and crosses her eyes. “I win.”

Can’t say shit about that. Can’t even try to be mad. Can’t do a damn thing but kiss her.

With my bottom lip between her teeth, she says, “I have other friends, too. No pork chop required.”

When she lets go, I catch her lip between mine and suck on it before letting go and telling her, “I don’t want a pork chop. I want you prepared for what forever means.”

“I’m all set.” She giggles as she walks toward Keeka. “Preparation completed.”

When I see London stop and tense up, then hug her sister, I walk over to them.

“Is Leddie okay?”

“She’s fine.” Keeka wipes away a few tears. “She’s got to be fine, okay? You have to promise that—”

“Links.”

I don’t even have to look behind me.

“You get her home,” I say, handing London my keys.

“Yeah, of course.”

When they hurry out the door, I look at Maddox, who is looking at me from off stage. When he gives me a nod, I know he’s got it. Then I turn around and am eyeball to eyeball with Trucker Cohen.

He smiles and shakes his head, glancing to the side. I glance to make sure he’s not looking at Leddie, Keeka, or London. He’s not. It’s Isabella Steel.

“Hello again.” She smiles.

I watch as he looks her over like a fucking meal.

“Isabella.” I nod. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, I won’t take up much of your time, but I wanted you to know that Trucker here boxed me on IG after seeing some of the live feed from last night and offered to help raise some money.”

“That’s great,” I lie, forcing a smile.

“Said he’d do anything.” She winks at me.

I have no response, so she continues.

“He also said, knowing you, you’d do the same.”

I nod

“Great.” She smiles. “We’ve decided to do closed bids for the bachelor auctions and have already calculated the numbers. We’re up to twenty-five thousand dollars.”

“That’s good news. The money will be put to good use.”

“He and I think that announcing Trucker will be joining his best friend on his date, we could make a minimum of five thousand dollars more.”

“I don’t think—”

“I insist, brother.” Trucker smiles a big-ass, full of shit smile.

“Wonderful.” She starts to tap away at her phone.

“I think keeping them separate will do more,” I say, knowing damn well I couldn’t stomach sitting through a meal with his ass.

She holds up her phone and smiles. “Already up eight hundred dollars, and it’s been under a minute. See you guys around.”

And she’s gone.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I snap at him quietly so no one hears me.

He glares at me. “Playoffs are over, bro. I’m here to do my part.”

“A week ago, you had no intention of doing shit,” I remind him.

“Seasons over,” he retorts.

“Huh, I didn’t even watch a game,” I sneer.

He laughs. “Finally fucking the Fields girl, are you?”

“She’s none of your damn business.” I ball my fists at my side so I don’t knock his fucking teeth out.

“Well, she seems to be all up in some business I need to deal with, so how about you back the fuck off, stop giving that little bitch Keeka a fucking shoulder and a place to stay, and let me deal with her?”

“Call her a bitch one more time and you’ll be shitting teeth.”

“You fucking them both?” He laughs. “Damn, Links, we had a code. We don’t swap cunt.”

I draw back to give him what I promised, when my elbow is caught. “Not here.”

I look to my left and see Maddox.

“Hey, Maddox, long time no—”

“Go fuck yourself,” Maddox snaps at him.

“Wow, you and that little skank have pissed all over my name, haven’t you?”

“I truly hope for your sake you aren’t talking about one of my sisters,” Maddox growls at him.

“I haven’t changed that much, man.” Trucker laughs. “I was talking about the little bullshit artist London left with.”

“Then you are speaking of my sister. One more word, and you’ll be lucky to wake up in time for the fundraiser.”

“I said—”

“She’s London’s fucking sister,” I interrupt him, not wanting to hear his fucking mouth again.

“Stay away from her and her daughter.” Maddox points an inch from his face.

“Daughter?” He swallows hard.

“Get the fuck out of here.” I shake my head. “Just fucking go.”

He takes a deep breath then turns to walk away. I notice him limping, and oddly, I don’t give a fuck.

When my phone vibrates in my pocket, I answer immediately, thinking it’s London. “Hey, pretty.”

“Logan?”

Fuck.

“Hey, Mom.” I sigh and look at Maddox, who pats my back and walks away.

I listen to her go on and on about how worried she’s been, but how she talked to Ava and knew I was okay.

I ask her when she’s going to visit Hope and Chance, and she changes the subject.

“I’d like to see you, Logan.”

“Well, you know where I live,” I tell her, watching Trucker chat with the team. Fucking fraud.

“I’d like you to come here, just you. It’s about the company,” she whispers.

“Dad’s company?” I snap.

“Logan, it’s mine, and I’d like to discuss something with you. I need to see you.”

“I’m a little busy,” I say, trying to hide my annoyance.

“I understand that, but Logan, every moment counts, right?”

Fuck.

§

Last night was difficult, but true to life, when horrible things happen, good people step forward to help where they can.

With the two apartments packed elbow to asshole with Ross, Hines, Fields, Links, and London’s roommates’ families, I can’t wait until everyone is in bed. When I can’t even wait that long, I peek in Keeka’s room and see London and Keeka asleep with tear stains on their faces. Lexington is also asleep, nearly lying across them. And Emma, her mother Caroline, Tessa, her mother Maggie, and Josie are trying their best to get Leddie to drink from a bottle so the girls get some sleep.

When her little face scrunches up, I walk into the room.

“Mind if I help?” I take her without waiting for an answer, take off my tee-shirt, and sit down. “Okay, baby girl, we’ve done this, you and I, skin to skin, and you are”—I rub the bottle’s nipple across her lip and she latches on—“all good.”

I watch to make sure she continues.

“She likes skin to skin contact, don’t you, Leddie Lou?”

I look up to see all eyes on me, all looking at me like I just cured fucking cancer or saved a dozen puppies.

Then Josie sighs. “I never thought anything could beat a Links’ ass, but that right there, bare-chested, hard body feeding a baby, is definitely better than an ass.”

Tessa laughs, Maggie palms her face, Emma closes her eyes, and Caroline looks at me and says, “You remember when you and London have babies—”

“Mom,” Emma scolds her. “Let’s get through college first, for God’s sake.”

I laugh. “I promise you, Caroline, when London and I have kids, she won’t be doing it alone.”

§

When I wake up, I’m in the same place I was while feeding Leddie.

“Shit.”

I jump up, looking for her, freaking the fuck out, thinking I dropped her or worse...Trucker.

When I look toward the door, I see my dad standing at the window.

“Go back to sleep, Logan. I got this.”

I push myself up out of the chair. “My responsibility.”

“And you’re mine.” He turns and looks at me. “Go to bed.”

I give him a stern look. He gives it back.

Resigned, I walk over and kiss her on the head. “Night, Leddie. Night, Dad.”

§

I wake in the dark to the smell of bacon, which makes no fucking sense. Who the hell cooks bacon in the middle of the night?

I reach over to grab my phone and see that it’s nearly noon. “What the fuck?”

I jump out of bed and run out into the kitchen to see it’s full of all the same women, plus Ava and Jade.

“Morning, Log—” Ava gasps and covers her mouth in shock.

Josie laughs. “Well, I guess morning Log is more fitting than morning wood, in this case anyway.”

“Grandma,” London scolds, palming her face.

I look down. “Well...fuck.” I sigh, then turn so my back is facing them and walk right the fuck back toward my room.

“My granddaughter is officially more woman than I.” Josie continues to laugh.

“She’s a virgin,” Keeka announces.

“Oh, my God,” London groans.

“Baby girl.” Josie sighs then laughs again. “I got nothing.”

“Thank God for that,” Emma whispers.

Josie laughs again. “What the hell was your mother eating while she was growing that one? Miracle-Gro?”

Ava laughs, and although it’s good to hear, I immediately want to kick her in the ass.

I can’t listen to anymore. All I can do is picture London packing a fucking bag and heading home.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Sticks and...

London

I insist they take all the food next door and wait for Logan to come back out. When he does, his head is held high as he scans the room before looking back at me.

“We alone?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t anyone wake me up?”

“A few people tried but said you swung a massive stick at them.” I shrug, looking down and trying not to laugh. “Now we know better. It wasn’t a stick at all.”

Within two seconds, he has me lifted over his shoulder, and I’m laughing hysterically.

“Uncle!”

“Not gonna work.” Thankfully, there is humor in his voice as he carries me into his room.

“Aunt?”

“Funny girl.”

“Barbra Streisand?”

To that, he laughs as he throws me on his bed, then stands and looks at me with wonder.

I smile so big it almost hurts.

He smirks. “I pictured you packing a bag and running for the hills.”

“Pft.” I roll my eyes. “Like that little thing is gonna scare me away.”

He laughs and flops down beside me. “Yet, you were freaking out the other night.”

“That was before...” I stop and cover my face.

“Before?”

“The Brazilian Keeka tricked me into.”

When he doesn’t say anything, I look over at him. His jaw is slightly open, but then he closes his mouth and swallows hard. “You got—”

“Plucked, pulled, tormented?” I laugh. “Yeah.”

He licks his lips, and I can’t stop looking at them. Then he stands up quickly and pulls me up.

“You need to get the fuck out of here for a bit.”

I laugh. “What?”

“No, seriously.” He runs one hand over his head and uses the other to squeeze...his thing. “Just go.”

“Are you mad?” I ask, knowing he’s not, but I can’t help myself.

“No, London.”

“Well, there’s a breakfast plate in the fridge for you.” I smile as I stand here, looking at him.

He closes his eyes. “If you don’t leave, I’m gonna have you for breakfast.”

I look at my watch. “Well, I’m well-prepared—”

Two hands against my ass lift me.

“Logan!”

He pulls me harder against his body, and my breath catches when he grinds his erection against me.

When I look in his eyes, he raises an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

I wrap my legs around him and link my hands behind his neck. “I think we can figure out how to make it work.”

Again, his face drops, and I feel victorious...until he speaks.

“So, you just want me to throw it in there and fuck you right here, right now?”

I simply nod, because speaking...well, speaking while I’m in leggings and he’s in running pants, the feeling is even more amazing than the times before first semester ended.

He sits down on his bed, bringing me hard against him, and a moan escapes my mouth.

“Aw hell, pretty,” he groans.

I manage to squeak out a, “Please?” before my body takes over.

“Fuuuuck,” he growls, burying his head in my neck, kissing it as I grind against him like he has me in the past.

“Um,” I pant. “Oh,” I moan. “I...I...”

He flips me onto my back and spreads my legs. He brings his mouth down between them over my pants, and I cry out his name. Then I grab his hair, pull him up, and kiss him as I wrap my legs around him and grind against him more.

The sounds escaping my mouth...the feelings...the burning...the electricity I feel between my legs is...“So good.”

“Fuck yes.” He grinds against me now as he grips my waist and pushes my shirt up.

With his hand over my breast, he squeezes, and I moan, “More.”

He pinches my nipple as he thrusts harder against me and everything goes red.

He grinds against me as he dips his head and bites my nipple over my clothing, and then everything explodes.

“Fuck it.” He buries his head in my neck and grinds faster, harder, and then stills. “Yes. Fuck yes.”

Lying on me, we pant in sync.

“Jesus,” he sighs out. “The shit you do to me.”

“I’m pretty confident you did it to me first,” I tell him.

He pushes himself up, his eyes smiling as he drags his teeth across his bottom lip. “I need to shower...again.”

“Can I join you?”

He chuckles as he kisses my nose. “Go. Away.” Then he disappears into the bathroom.

§

We all walk into the Dome together. Logan is wearing Leddie, and Keeka and I are on opposite sides of him. It’s an hour into the beginning of the event, and I am shocked at the amount of people in attendance. We were late because Keeka was adamant she wasn’t coming.

When she said that, Logan sat down beside her and said, “Then we aren’t going either.”

It turned into a near shouting match, and our families got involved. He told them all to go. Hell, he told me to go. Obviously, I refused, and then Keeka eventually caved.

The energy is high. Higher than anything I have seen. You would never guess this event, this fundraiser, was created because of a tragedy.

There are so many kids, and I find myself wondering if they are here for the fun, or if they are family to the victims.

When Logan squeezes my hand, I look up at him. He leans down and whispers, “Every moment.”

I nod.

Every ten minutes, a name is announced as a winner of one of the door prizes. I secretly hope the winners are the victims’ families. They need a break. They need a win.

“This is incredible,” Logan says as we sit down on the bleachers looking over the crowd.

“And you started it all,” I tell him.

“Your dad suggested it,” he replies. Logan is resigned to the fact that he’s no hero, but he is to me.

He looks over and catches me staring at him. “What?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

He leans in and whispers, “If you’re this giddy three hours after an orgasm caused by friction, you’re going to be like a damn rag doll after I’ve hit all your spots from the inside.”

I can’t stop from smiling wider.

He looks away. “You gotta stop that shit.”

“Stop what?”

“Fucking begging for it.”

I widen my eyes and poke out my bottom lip, giving him the best pouty, begging look I can.

He laughs, leans in, and gives me the sweetest kiss ever.

§

I look down at my phone when I get a text and sigh. “Time to go whore out my boyfriend.”

Logan looks at me, raises an eyebrow, then rolls his eyes as I stand up.

“Come on, stud.”

He stands up, holding the back of Leddie’s carrier, and then holds out his hand to Keeka.

“Uh-uh. Nope. I’m not going down there.”

“Like hell you aren’t. Head held high and proud, you hear me?”

“I’m not going.” She holds out her hand. “Give me my baby.”

“Come and get her,” he says, stepping down the bleachers.

She looks at me. “Do something with him!”

I can’t help laughing. “Like what? Super fly onto his back, hoping to knock him down? Come on; we’ll stand in the back of the crowd.”

She sighs. “I don’t want to see him, London.”

“Neither does Logan.” I grab her hand and pull her up.

Standing in the back of the crowd, Keeka now has Leddie in the bjorn, swaying as she kisses the top of her head.

I hear Jamie’s voice and look up.

“Hello, everyone. My name’s Jamie, and I am a student here at SU. We would like to thank y’all for coming today to help raise money for the victims’ families and the survivors of the horrific events that happened on January 27th.”

Lisa then steps up to the mic. “My name is Lisa, and I’m also a student and survivor of January 27th’s”—she clears her throat, and Christy steps up to her side and squeezes her hand—“happenings.”

Christy hugs her, and Lisa whispers, “Sorry.”

My phone goes off.

A text from Jamie.

V Squad needs you up here

I look over at Keeka, who sees my text.

“Go.”

“Not without you,” I tell her.

“Okay.”

Christy steps up to the microphone. “I’m Christy, a student here, and I was also at Chaos the night a sick man made the decision that took and changed lives...forever.” She looks down as I stand beside the stage. “You see, we went out to celebrate the beginning of our second semester at a college we all dreamed of attending, and somehow, we ended up meeting friends we dreamed of someday having. One moment we’re dancing, and the next, we’re in the bathroom, hearing gunshots. The very next moment, our quad mate was breaking a window and pushing us out. Without thinking, she saved our lives and stayed behind to help countless others to safety, as well.” She motions for me to come up on stage.

I look beside me and see my entire family.

Dad kisses my head. “Go, princess.”

“I didn’t want this,” I whisper to him as I turn and walk up the steps.

Standing in front of the crowd, in front of the mic, I close my eyes. “Hi, I’m London Fields—”

I stop when the crowd cheers, and then I shake my head, hoping they will stop.

“I’m a student here and was at Chaos January 27th when hell rained down on us.” I look out and see Dad, who nods.

“You’re a hero, London!” someone in the crowd yells.

“I’m no hero. I...I just...” I look around at my friends who stand beside me and laugh nervously. “I’m a theater student, and I can promise you it’s so much easier to be on stage when I’m not expected to be me.”

I get a sympathy laugh.

Dear God, I’m bombing this.

“As I said, I’m no hero. I just reacted.” I hold my hand over my heart. “I reacted the way I felt I should without second-guessing myself. I reacted because that’s what I have been taught to do in time of need and in time of tragedy.”

When the crowd claps again, I look at my friends.

“Looking over this crowd, I know that so many of you would have done the same if you were in the same situation. Looking beside me, I know they would have done the same if given the chance. I know this because two people’s courage are the only reason I’m here.”

“Number forty-two!” someone yells.

“He was one of them. Another was the woman who stood beside me, helping me boost people up so they could escape.” I clear my throat and look down. “When he came through the bathroom door, she tried to reason with him.” I cover my heart with my hand and look up. “I don’t know her name, but I wish I could thank her for all of those who survived because of her courage, including myself.”

I feel a hand on my shoulder and look back. Logan wipes a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen, and I push my face against his hand and smile.

He leans in and whispers, “You did good, pretty.”

When the crowd begins to chant his name, he sighs.

Staring into his eyes that are unshielded, I can see every emotion. I can read them better than I could just a few weeks ago. I feel that we sometimes have complete conversations just looking at each other, not saying a word.

He steps up to the microphone. “For several days, we’ve mourned those we lost. We’ve questioned strangers, we have grieved, and we have been angry because we will never know why that son of a bitch walked into a place of celebration and good times and opened fire on complete and total strangers to him. Those people were not strangers to us. They were family, they were friends, they were coworkers, neighbors.” He looks back at me. “They were the person we love more than we could have ever imagined.”

He turns back and looks at the crowd. “What I did wasn’t heroic. It was fucking stupid.”

The crowd erupts in laughter, while Logan shakes his head and looks down.

“Like London, it wasn’t a choice. It was a reaction. I’m sorry I didn’t hit the son of a bitch when I drove through the window. But the truth is, I can’t change the past. None of us can. What we can do is live for them and make each moment, every moment count. Today, we celebrate life and the lives lost. Today, we come together with love in our hearts and hope for a better future.”

The crowd erupts in applause, cheers, and whistles.

Logan steps back, wraps one arm around me, and the other around Jamie as Isabella Steel takes the microphone.

“Hello, Syracuse! I am Isabella Steel. I’m here today with Steel Total Destruction.”

Applause erupts.

“I kind of forced my way into being part of one of the many fundraising efforts held today. I mean, who wouldn’t want to take over the Ten Most Wanted bachelor auction?” She laughs.

The crowd whistles and applauds her.

“Me, that’s fucking who,” Logan reminds me.

I squeeze his waist. “It’s for a good cause.”

“Uh-huh,” he grumbles. “I’m last, so let’s get off this damn stage, shall we?”

As we walk off, Isabella Steel says, “While we wait for the amazing volunteers—many students here at Syracuse University and many more from the community—to take down everything you have enjoyed throughout the day and get ready for the show—”

More applause.

“—let’s see who won the silent bids for an amazing date with some of SU’s Ten Most Wanted bachelors?”

The screen behind Isabella lights up, and an old wanted picture pops up with Mitch on it.

“Our number ten most wanted is Mitchell Westcott. Mitch is a senior at SU. He’s six-foot tall and plays the defensive line. Come on up, Mitch!” Isabella introduces, and he walks out, smiling nervously. “Mitchell’s date paid over five thousand dollars for a night on the town. Big boy limousine service will pick him and his date up and take them to Dinosaur Barbeque where they will enjoy a meal for two. After dinner, they will be taken to the mall, Destiny USA and go to Wonder World, where they can play laser tag, conquer the rope course, and then watch a movie at IMAX theaters.” She hands Mitch an envelope, and he opens it.

“And the winner of my date is...Tonya Ports!”

I look at Jamie, who looks at me and shrugs. “Sure as hell wasn’t me. Five thousand dollars is a little over my budget.”

My stomach drops as I watch the woman walk up to the stage and hug him.

I hold Jamie’s hand and try to prepare myself for how I will feel when it’s Logan up there.

It feels like forever when Logan is called up.

“Logan Links is our number one Most Wanted bachelor, and it’s no wonder. Who wouldn’t want a sexy football star who turns into a superhero when needed?” Isabella Steel smiles at him as she hands him a similar envelope. “But wait!” She smiles. “Logan has a best friend who reached out and wanted to be a part of tonight, as well. Trucker Cohen is part of this...package. Trucker, come on up!”

Trucker walks on stage, smiling as he waves to the crowd that is going wild.

“Well, this is quite the package.” Isabella Steel walks behind them. “Two men, one offense, one defense, but both seem to have tight ends.”

She walks around the front of them and stands between them. Then she looks up at Logan and smiles. He looks at her out of the corner of his eye. “Hi,” she says flirtatiously.

He raises his hand and gives a sharp wave.

“You must be the quiet one,” she notes before turning to look at Trucker and does the same flirtatious, “Hi.”

“Hey, baby.” He winks, making everyone laugh.

“And this one”—she steps forward, thumbing over her shoulder at him—“is not the quiet one.”

Everyone laughs again.

“Must be why they’ve made such a great team for...” She looks at Trucker. “How long did you say you two have been best friends?”

“Seventeen...No, sixteen years.”

She laughs. “One bad year, huh?”

Trucker laughs, while the muscles in Logan’s jaw twitch, and then he pulls his white hat down over his eyes.

“Logan and Trucker’s shared date paid over fifteen thousand dollars for her date with the number one Most Wanted and the number one draft pick last year. The winner of this date will be flown to New York City, where she will spend two nights in a luxury suite in the Upper East Side of Manhattan, compliments of Gold Crown Resorts. They will spend one evening on Broadway, having dinner and watching a production. The second evening will be spent in the Resort’s spa, where they will enjoy a couple’s”—she laughs—“or triple’s massage and being pampered the entire night, ending with room service for three in her suite.”

I definitely just threw up in my mouth, but it’s not just Logan who I trust; it’s also Trucker, who I don’t. He is clearly here to torment Logan and my sister. Asshole.

“Logan, the envelope?”

I watch as he opens the envelope, cursing myself for not bidding on it. The winner is...“Maddison Brown”—he flips the card over—“who can’t be here tonight but is excited to meet us in New York on”—he shakes his head—“February fourteenth.”

“Perfect.” Trucker claps his hands together. “Valentine’s Day is for love.” His eyes travel down Isabella Steel’s body as she throws her head back and laughs before looking at the stage.

“Looks like we’re about fifteen minutes from the start of the show. Take a look at your tickets and feel free to start finding your seats and be prepared to get rocked!”

As they walk off stage, I look at Keeka, who turns her back to me. I know she’s doing it so she doesn’t have to see Trucker.

Logan walks off the stage and straight toward me, wrapping his arm around my waist before moving us toward our families.

“Hey, Lucas,” I hear Trucker from behind us.

When Logan stiffens, I wrap my arm around his waist and put my hand in his back pocket. He looks at me curiously, and then I give his rock-hard ass a squeeze.

“You trying to distract me?” he asks, narrowing his eyes and trying to give me an intimidating look.

I’m not easily intimidated, so I squeeze it again. “Is it working?”

His lips curl up slightly.

“Trucker, how’s it going?” I can hear the smile in his voice, and Logan’s nostrils flare slightly.

I look over at Lucas when I hear him say, “Great season you had, son.” Then I quickly look back at Logan.

“Incredible season,” Trucker says. “Hope you know I’m aware I owe you a lot.”

“You don’t owe me shit.” Lucas laughs, and Logan’s irritation seems to increase. “You did the work. Proud of you. Just keep on working on what’s important to you...in all aspects of your life. Don’t let the game become everything, and you’ll be fine.”

“Sent you tickets.” Trucker now sounds even less like a douche and more like I remember.

“I know. Just had a hell of a lot going on around here. Sorry I didn’t make one.”

Trucker shrugs then forces a laugh. “There’s always next season, huh?”

“You’re damn right there is.” Lucas pats his back.

“Nice to see you. I’m gonna go say hello to some of the guys.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” Lucas tells him.

When he leaves, Logan turns and looks at Lucas. Nope, glares.

Lucas sighs. “Logan—”

“Fuck that, Dad,” he snaps at him.

Lucas shakes his head. “You know him better than I do, and you know damn well—”

“I knew him,” Logan cuts him off. “I don’t give a fuck what he was. It’s who he is now I wanna crush.”

“I get it, but what you don’t get, Logan, is a man can look back as fast as he looked away, and neither you nor I should piss on his chance to do so.”

Logan starts to argue when Lucas holds his hand up. “Remember who you are and what you were taught. And don’t you forget I’m number forty-two’s biggest fan for fucking life, but I’m still your father, and sometimes, I do know what I’m talking about.”

Lucas pulls him into a hug then steps back. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bag of Skittles, tossing them to him. Logan catches them.

“You played a hell of a game today. What you said up there, never been prouder of you ever.” Before Logan can say a thing, Lucas turns to Tessa. “Let’s go find our seats.”

She laughs. “We’re back stage.”

“Baby, play along.” He sighs and tugs on her hair. “You’ve never been that damn blonde.” He laughs, releases her hair, grabs her around the waist, and pulls her away.

I look up at Logan, who looks away. I squeeze his ass again, and he looks back, raising an eyebrow.

“What?”

I shrug.

“You wanna side with him, then give me a few minutes to chill.”

I smile. “I’m on your side. Number forty-two for life.”

His entire body relaxes, and his face softens. “He fucked up. Still is fucking up.”

I nod. “I know.”

“I wanna beat the fuck out of him.”

“So, let’s go do it.”

He scowls then rolls his eyes at me.

“We can take him. You and I, we can totally—”

He crashes his lips against mine and laughs against them. “I love you.”

“Love you more, Logan Links,” I say against his.

He pulls me into a hug, and then we stand there for a very long time, just holding each other. Even though thousands of people surround us, we are taking this time to enjoy the moment, our moment, every moment.

“What’s up, Syracuse?”

The crowd starts to scream.

I look up and see Memphis Black, lead singer for Steel Total Destruction.

He laughs. “In case you didn’t know, I’m Memphis Black, and I’m part of this band we like to call STD.”

The crowd loses it again.

“We met Maddox and Brody Hines a few years back before STD were cool.” He laughs, and so does the crowd. “Oh shit, we’re the ones who made them so cool they had to change it to STI.”

The crowd laughs again.

“So, we were just starting out and no one else would touch us, like we were an infection and not just a disease. But these guys, they gave us a shot. Not only did they give us a fucking shot, they supported us from the go. They liked our disease. In fact, I’m pretty damn sure they loved it. When we heard about the event, we figured our invite was lost in the mail or some shit.”

The crowd laughs.

“So, we basically invited ourselves.”

More laughter.

“I’m not gonna open this show in the typical fashion.” He shields his eyes and looks out over the crowd.

The crowd cheers even louder.

Logan steps back and looks at Keeka. “Let’s go.”

She nods.

Logan is behind Keeka, and I’m in front of them, making our way through the crowd that has yet to all be seated.

Memphis Black laughs again and continues, “It appears to be a family affair, but we wanted to hop up here and tell you it’s time to start spreading love like a fucking STD.”

“So much for a family event.” I laugh, and Keeka finally smiles.

“It’s time to stop hate. It’s time to stop bullying. It’s time to stop looking the other way when a neighbor is in need. And it’s time to live every fucking moment the way you want to be remembered!”

I see Maddox and Dad walk out on stage, guitars hand.

“Maddox and Brody Hines, everyone!”

The crowd is now deafening.

I watch as Dad nods to Maddox then smiles when he steps up, hugs Memphis, and stands in front of the mic.

“Good evening. I’m Maddox Hines.”

When the crowd hits a new level, both Keeka and I cover Leddie’s ears as we watch from the wing.

The lights dim and several screens turn on as Maddox begins to speak again.

“Today, we remember the lives lost, but we remember them with love and with fondness. We remember to make every moment count!”

Music begins, but it’s not coming from the stage. It’s coming from the speakers.

Watching the screen, the name Douglas Jones flashes across it, and then photos for him with loved ones, fishing, dancing, on holidays, celebrating, laughing, smiling, and hugging.

“My son was thirty-two years old...”

I quickly glance from the screen to the stage, where a woman stands under a spotlight and speaks of her son while holding an unlit candle.

“I was blessed to see his smile nearly every day. I was blessed that he called me Mom.”

She walks across the stage, and Coach Brown then Dad hug her. I see my mom by his side. She also hugs her, and then Lucas lights her candle.

My heart shatters in two as I gasp and cover my mouth. Logan pulls my back to his chest and envelopes me in his strong arms as tears slide down my face.

Each name accompanies pictures, followed by a loved one, a brief story, and a lighting of a candle. I have to turn around and bury my head in Logan’s chest when I see Martha Newman’s pictures, the woman who saved so many, including me. When I look back, I see three girls talking about their mother, with a man standing beside them, no doubt their father. When they finish, he ushers them to the other side of the stage, where their candles are lit.

I turn back and fist Logan’s shirt in my hands as I bury my head in his chest, counting every break in my heart.

“I’m Trucker Cohen. Jones was just some kid I met through messenger online, during the second semester of my senior year. I checked out some of his game clips, the guy had raw talent, no direction, no family—raised in the system—no reason to smile. But, as you can see in these pictures, that’s all he did when he was on the field. Called him my little brother. And he was like a brother for the year he and I became friends. He talked a lot about what he wanted, and I heard everything he said. The day he got in here was my proudest moment, and yeah, his, too.”

A picture flashes across the screen of Trucker and Jones at Jones’ high school graduation. I am so shocked that Trucker took the time to attend his graduation when Jones had no one else.

I look at Logan, who shakes his head. “Motherfucker.”

“You didn’t know,” I say, knowing it’s eating him up.

“Fucking should have,” he growls.

“Logan, don’t do that to yourself, okay? Please don’t.”

“Every moment counts,” Trucker says. looking over in our direction. Then he walks across the stage, where Dad lights his candle.

“Hate and violence can’t take away memories and moments. They cannot take away love.” Maddox waves his hand across the stage. “It cannot bring darkness to what was already light.” He steps back. “A moment of silence for those whose light will never be darkened because they are still with us...every moment.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

New Respect

Logan

I watch as Trucker looks at me blankly as he walks off stage. I’m proud of him for what he did with Jones, and he didn’t do it for the accolades. But the way he’s dealing with Keeka...un-fucking-acceptable.

I nod to him, because straight up, that’s all I got for him, and he looks away.

I feel London move her hand up my shirt while she pushes her other into my jeans pocket and look down at her.

“It’s hard, right?”

I nod.

“I wish I could help.”

I put my hand over hers and assure her, “You are.”

She skates her hand across my abs then rests it on my back as she hugs me. Feels damn good to have her doing that right now. Feels even better that she’s gazing up at me with her blue eyes, looking at me with love and concern, easing the guilt I would normally allow to weigh me down.

I put my lips on her head and kiss her. Then I glance over at Keeka, watching her looking at him with a pained expression.

He deserves my apology, but he sure as hell should not get her fucking care.

I reach over and pull her toward us, and London wraps her hand around hers. We stand just like this as Steel Total Destruction then Burning Souls performs for the community, the victims, for us.

§

We don’t go back to the apartment tonight; we head back with our families. Lisa’s, Jamie’s, and Christy’s families will be staying there with them.

Every one of us is emotionally drained and being with family is necessary at this time. A day to reboot, to comfort each other by simply being there, and then it’s time to move forward, to live like they should be doing right now. We do it for them, and for us.

Pulling into the driveway at London’s home, I look in the rearview mirror as Keeka’s eyes widen.

“This is home,” London says, looking back.

“Looks like a castle,” Keeka whispers.

“Well, that would be Dad’s fault.” London laughs. “He got carried away with the whole princess thing.”

“I guess so.” Keeka looks almost in shock.

It’s a stone, two-story home, with two towers on each side, giving it the look of a castle. The first floor of the towers are Emma and Brody’s room, and on the opposite side is a guest suite. The floor above Emma and Brody’s is Lexington’s, and on the opposite side is London’s.

The four-car garage is also stone and is attached to the home with an enclosed breezeway of sorts. There is a stone cottage a hundred yards from the home that Caroline and Henry, Emma’s parents, live in.

As we pull up the paved driveway, motion censored lights automatically come on one by one, lighting the driveway. It’s extremely bright.

“I guess you always know when someone is pulling in, huh?” Keeka laughs the nervous kind of laugh.

London chuckles. “You have no idea.”

She sounds nervous, too, and I’m assuming she’s embarrassed because of how lavish the Hines’ estate is compared to what Keeka is used to.

“I bet your friends loved coming over here while you were growing up,” Keeka says, looking out the window as we get closer to the house.

London sighs. “Not really.”

“Why not?” Keeka ask.

“Well...” London starts, gripping her lap belt and letting out a slow breath. “Never really got close to any of them, I suppose.”

“Why? Did you just not want people around?”

I look at London, suddenly feeling sorry for her.

“People can be assholes,” I say, reaching over and squeezing London’s hand.

She smiles at me then closes her eyes.

“Judgmental and jealous bitches who think, because she appears to have everything, she’s a snob. She never was to them. Only me, huh?”

London laughs and shakes her head. “You deserved it.”

“I suppose I did,” I say, putting the vehicle in park before leaning over and hitting her buckle, releasing it.

“You did.”

She gets out of the vehicle before I can open the door for her. I let it slide, but also decide not to unbuckle her belt so I have a fighting chance next time.

I laugh at myself as I get out, open the back door, grab the three bags of Leddie’s essentials, and unlatch her car seat.

Looking at her sleeping, I think of what Trucker’s missing out on. However, I don’t get angry this time when I do so. Instead, I feel sorry for him.

“I’m going to have ten of you,” I tell the sleeping child.

I look up from her and into London’s shocked face.

“Not now of course,” I tell her.

Her eyes widen more.

“I wouldn’t expect that you’d want ten.”

Now she looks a little annoyed.

“What I mean is—”

Amusement flashes on her face now, and I shake my head.

“I just want kids and—”

“You should just stop now.” She rolls her eyes and smiles. “But I’m not having ten, and I’m nowhere near ready.”

“Of course you’re not. I mean—”

“Come on, London,” Lexington calls after her. “It’s cold.”

London giggles. “Come on.”

I follow them into the house and watch London as she watches Keeka look around.

“Come see my room,” Lexington says, grabbing Keeka’s hand.

Keeka looks back at London, who laughs.

“I’ll go with.” She looks at me. “You have her?”

“Of course,” I say, setting Leddie’s car seat on the ground as they walk away.

“Incoming,” Emma says with a laugh, and then I hear nails tapping on the floor.

I know what’s coming, so I step in front of Leddie’s seat and prepare myself.

When Birdy comes out first, I realize I’m making a face when I hear Brody chuckle from behind me.

“That thing...” I pause and correct myself, “That cat has—”

“Been alive forever?” Brody looks at the hairless cat the same way I assume I did.

“The dogs, though...” I bend down and pet one of the two Saint Bernards. “Bailey, right?”

“Shakespeare,” Brody corrects me.

“Right.” I pet both Shakespeare and Bailey until they have calmed down enough.

“They’ll sniff her but won’t hurt her.” Brody seems to be reading my mind. “The cat, however, I think you should get rid of just to be safe.”

I hear Emma laugh and look away from the hairless thing.

“Birdie won’t harm her either,” she assures me then looks at Brody. “After over ten years, you’re still trying to get someone to get rid of poor Birdie. He’s family.”

“Look at our family. Hell, even our dogs are attractive. That thing...” He shudders. “Despicable.”

Emma rolls her eyes at him then looks back at me. “He loves the cat.”

“I certainly do not,” Brody tells her, to which she laughs.

“Logan, would you like to put Leddie in here?” She pauses and corrects herself, “The room?”

I nod as I remove my boots, shrug off my coat, push up my sleeves, and then squat down to unbuckle her.

Brody grabs Leddie’s bags, and with Leddie sleeping against my shoulder, we follow Emma out of the foyer, through the family room, and into the guest room.

I have been in the house, yet never inside one of the bedrooms. It’s round and massive, and the walls are stone. The headboard of the king-sized bed sets against a wall that doesn’t meet the celling or touch either side of the room. It’s painted a pale pink and has white letters spelling out Keeka and Leddie hanging from it.

“Brody thinks I went a little overboard.” Emma shrugs. “I just want her to know she has a place here, as well.”

I nod as I continue looking around. At the foot of the bed is a round crib with a canopy over it.

“This was Harper’s when she was a baby. Tessa thought she’d like it. The sheets are clean and”—she motions to it—“you can put her down if you’d like.”

I nod and walk to it, laying her in the center. I watch as she moves a little, no doubt adjusting to the change in positioning. Then I step back and consider the size in comparison to the one bassinet she sleeps in at our place.

“It’s big.”

Brody chuckles softly. “Next time she’s in it, you’ll think it shrunk. They grow fast. Too damn fast.”

I look back at him and nod.

Emma clears her throat. “Behind the bed is the closet and bathroom. Lexington’s old changing table is in there. Would you like help putting her things away?”

I swallow hard. “I can do it.”

“Wow,” I hear Keeka whisper, and then Lexington laughs from behind her.

“It’s the same as mine and London’s, and it’s yours!”

“Shh...” Brody smiles at her. “You’ll wake your niece and scare your sister off at the same time.”

“Sorry.” Lexington tries to whisper, but it’s much louder than the average whisper. She pushes between London and Keeka and stops when she sees the crib. “They brought it?”

“Last night while we were up in Syracuse. Ryan and Jade set it up.”

“You didn’t have to do that for just...” Keeka looks from the crib to the letters on the wall then quickly looks at me.

I know the look; it’s fight or flight.

“It’s Harper’s old crib. Tessa thought you’d be able to use it—”

“I’m not moving here.” Keeka shakes her head adamantly.

Emma puts her hand on her shoulder. “We just want you to feel at home; to know, like London and Lexington, this is your home, as well.”

She looks at me again, and I nod.

“So, you’re not kicking me out?”

“Never, Keeks,” I assure her.

“I’ll get a job soon. I’ll—”

“Way to freak her out,” London scolds Emma and Brody.

“That wasn’t our intention,” Brody tells her firmly.

“Well, a little warning would have been great. She’s not used to all of you yet,” London huffs.

“But it would have ruined the surprise,” Lexington says sadly. I look over at her to see her eyes filling with tears. “I made the letters for yours and Leddie’s names. You can take them with you if you want.”

“No,” Keeka tries to soothe her. “Of course not. That would be silly. I mean, what if I got lost in this house and went in the wrong room? If they were gone, I would end up sleeping with you.”

Lexington giggles. “A sleepover?”

London smiles. “You wouldn’t get much sleep. She snores.”

“Well, I may snore, but she snores louder,” Keeka jokes.

“Wait until she toots in bed.” Lexington smirks then looks at me and quickly away.

“What?” Emma laughs.

“Yeah.” Lexi glances out of the corner of her eye and quickly away again. “London’s sleep toots are worse than Shakespeare’s and Bailey’s.”

“Really, Lexington?” London laughs and grabs her.

“Really,” Lexington squeals on a giggle.

I watch London and Lexington’s interaction, and then I watch as Keeka smiles at them, looking longingly at them.

Realization sets in, and I smile, looking down.

Brody pats my shoulder then nods to the door. “Shall we let them get the room set up?”

I nod then steal a glance at London. She’s hugging Lexington and looking at me with a smile.

In the kitchen, I sit and look around at the stone backsplash, sleek black countertops, and the stainless-steel kitchen appliances.

Brody opens the refrigerator and grabs two bottles of beer. He sets one in front of me and opens the other.

“We’re not trying to sway her to stay with us,” he states before taking a drink of his beer.

“She wouldn’t,” I tell him, twisting off the cap and taking a drink of mine, allowing him to let that sink in.

His eyes lock with mine and he nods. “She may want a welcoming, safe place to crash for her and Leddie when you and London are busy, or she needs a break, or if she’d like to spend more time getting to know the rest of her family. Or maybe, Logan, when you and her sister would like to take a few days to go to, I don’t know, New York City for a date?” He takes a drink, eyes still locked with mine as he allows realization to settle in me.

When he shakes his head, and I look away, he clears his throat. “You’re used to playing defense, Logan. I’m used to offense.” I look back at him. “We’re clearly playing on the same team here, so we should start supporting one another. London, Keeka, and Leddie deserve that. As do Maddox, Lexi, and you.”

“Maddox tell you about the date?” I ask then take another drink.

Brody laughs. “It seems the two top bids for the date with you were Maddox with your money, and Emma with ours.”

I nod and can’t help smiling.

“They trust you. I trust London. She says she loves you. I see you feel the same. I do not want my daughter to hurt.”

Now’s as good a time as any.

“I want to marry London.”

He stiffens a bit, then takes a drink.

It’s going to get a lot worse, but fuck it.

“I plan to ask her to marry me tomorrow.”

He nearly spits his drink out.

“Before you threaten me, understand I’m not afraid. Also understand I’m not talking tomorrow, next week, next year, or hell, maybe I’ll wait until she graduates, which she will. And after we’re married, I’ll support every dream she has.”

After he collects himself, he nods. “So, a long engagement?”

I nod. “As long as she needs.”

“Then, why the rush?”

“I love her,” I tell him simply.

He takes a deep breath. “I know that.”

“I’m glad.”

“Are you waiting for my blessing?” he asks.

“I suppose I am.”

I see him ball his fists, and then he looks down at them and relaxes. He then smiles a tight-lipped smile as he says, “You have it.”

“Thank you, Brody.”

He picks up his drink and tosses the rest of it back before starting with, “Just remember—”

“I’d kill myself before I ever hurt her again.”

“What?” I hear London say then laugh as she walks into the room.

Fuck, did she hear everything? I ask myself.

“I threatened him again,” Brody answers her.

I look at him, and he shrugs.

“You both need to get a grip,” she mumbles as she walks past him and toward me. She stops just out of my reach. “I never want to hear that again.”

I nod then shrug. “Got it.”

She turns and looks at Brody. “I want him to spend the night.”

He lifts his hands in the air in defeat, then shakes his head as he walks away. “Couldn’t you just sneak him in so I can pretend I haven’t a damn clue?”

She laughs. “He’ll be out before Lexington wakes.”

He simply shakes his head and keeps walking.

§

Last night, she nearly begged me to “just get it over with already.” I had to grab her hand as she was trying to shove it down my damn jeans. I left those fuckers on all damn night, too. In the end, she got off again. Then, like a satisfied little kitten, she curled up around me and fell asleep. I made damn sure I was out the door before anyone woke up.

She has always had the ability to out shit talk me and give it back when I dish it out, and honestly, I fucking love that I am making her wait. I know when and where we will be when it happens. It’s already been fucking planned.

Dad and I hit the gym, eat breakfast out, and then we hit the jewelers. Something about him not knowing before Brody fucked with me. I wanted him here. Would have loved Mom to be, too, but she had made her bed.

When I open the box for the twentieth time, Dad laughs.

“You sure that’s the one?”

“Knew it when I saw it. Just trying to picture what it will look like on her hand.”

“You know your sister is gonna be full of I told you so’s.” Dad chuckles.

“I always knew it. Just didn’t want to hurt her. Never thought I could do this, you know.” I close the box. “Always thought second loves were the ones people actually fucking worked at.”

He nods. “That’s on me.”

“No, Dad, it’s on me. I shouldn’t have been so fucking afraid of fucking this up.”

He chuckles again. “That’s on me, too.”

I shake my head. “You raised a better man than that.”

He smirks. “You bet your fucking ass I did.”

It’s Super Bowl Sunday and the Hines’ house is full of London’s family, my family, and some friends when we walk in.

I wink when she looks at me, and she blushes. I haven’t a clue why, but it’s cute as hell.

London, Tessa, Emma, Lexington, and Keeka are in the kitchen where they have obviously been the entire day, cooking. The family room has enough food sitting on tables to feed an entire NFL team. Trays of vegetables and various dips, fruit platters, chicken wings in crockpots, those little cocktail wieners, nachos, chips, and so much more. And they are still cooking, laughing, and talking.

I force myself to stay the hell out of there, because I have a feeling that blush had something to do with me pulling her hand away from the goods. And now, well, now my cock is getting its revenge on me for not letting her have what is and always will be hers from before cuddle season on out.

I see Dad walking around with Leddie, singing to her and doing so very off-key whenever he’s around Maddox, who laughs at him.

I look at Brody and see he’s already looking at me. He smiles, shakes his head, and then he chuckles.

I don’t need his approval, but I’m certainly glad he seems to be giving it.

“Almost time,” Dad yells, and within minutes, everyone is in the living room, settling in before the players take the field.

I should be fucking nervous, but I’m not. I actually feel calmer than I ever have at one of these gettogethers. I mean, London Fields was the reason I was always in a defensive stance, just waiting for her to say some shit that would make me crazy.

When the volume of the TV goes down, everyone looks at Dad, expecting him to flip shit, scramble around, and try to figure out why the damn thing’s not working. Yes, it’s happened before.

I stand and turn around, holding my hand out to London. She looks at me oddly, yet she still gives me her hand.

I nod to Dad, and then the song starts.

“Dance with me?”

She looks at me, eyes wide, and nods her head nervously as Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect” begins. She’s speechless, which is far from normal for her, and an incredible turn on at not such an opportune time.

I take her hands, placing them on my shoulders. Then I place mine on her waist and begin slowly moving to the beat.

“Oh. My. God,” I hear Ava whisper.

“It’s obvious that you and I immediately connected when we were kids.” I smile, and she blushes. “I winked at you, you stuck your tongue out at me, and then your cousins instantly threatened to kick my ass if I pulled that shit again.”

She grins. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” I nod. “From that point on, I wondered what the hell it was about you that they all felt the need to protect you against me. Then I realized they were probably protecting me against you.”

Everyone laughs, including her.

“Not really, but for some reason, it made me feel...protective over you.”

She pushes her forehead against my chest and sighs.

Ava coughs out, “Possessive.”

Everyone laughs again.

“Tomayto, tomahto.” I shrug, and then London looks back up at me as I continue. “Your prom date wasn’t good enough for you. Your senior dinner dance date didn’t show up.” London laughs, and I shrug. “Then college came, and with it, the reality that no one was good enough for you because you were always supposed to be mine, and I was supposed to be yours.”

I hear the women in the room, “Ahhh...”

“I spent way too much time pushing you away, trying to act like I knew more than you, and I should have been showing you that you are perfect for me.”

Ava coughs again, “Jail bait.”

I laugh, and so does London.

“I don’t want to wait anymore,” I tell her, and her eyes grow bigger than ever. “You okay?”

She leans in and whispers, “I don’t think this is the appropriate time to tell me to be prepared.”

I can’t help laughing. She thinks this is about us having sex. Then I can’t help fucking with her a little more.

“I think it’s the perfect time to ask you to be—”

She kisses me hard then steps back. “I would love to be your girlfriend.” She steps back and looks around the room. “Logan and I are officially dating.”

They all start laughing.

London turns back to look at me, having to look down.

I am on one knee, holding a black velvet box.

“We’re perfect for each other, London Fields. Marry me.”

She looks at me like I cracked, and I just smile. Then she looks around and finds Brody, who gives her a soft smile.

“Is he being serious?”

They all laugh again.

“He is,” I tell her, and she looks back at me.

“Did you really just ask me to marry you?” she gasps out.

I nod.

“And Dad—”

“No, just you,” I interrupt.

Tears immediately start falling as she smiles. “Ask me again?”

“London Fields, marry me.”

She nods, batting away tears.

“May I?” I ask, pointing to her hand. Then I open the box, and she covers her mouth.

“Holy crap! You’re being serious.”

“Yeah, pretty, I am.”

I laugh as she thrusts her hand in my face.

“Yes, yes, yes!” London chants as she laughs, tears falling, as I push the ring onto her finger. Then I stand up, and she grabs my face. “Yes!”

I wrap my arm around her and lift her up to kiss her.

“I love you, London.”

“I love you more. So, so, so much more.”

§

I lie in bed, my bed, at my old house, looking at the ceiling and realizing I paid no fucking attention to the damn Super Bowl.

I laugh when my phone goes off, knowing it’s London.

I can’t believe you’re not staying here tonight...

I reply with:

Two words.

I watch the bubbles jump before her reply appears.

What two words? What are you talking about?

Blue. Balls.

Her immediate response is:

Your fault.

I laugh as I run my fucking hand over my hair because, fuck yes, I want her, but no fucking way is it going to be when Brody is under the same roof.

I love you. See you in a couple days.

Bubbles and then the message:

Oh no, just no. I’m not waiting for the rigged date in New York City to see you.

Yes, you are.

My phone rings immediately, and I hit accept.

“You don’t get to call all the shots here,” she fucking growls at me.

“London,” I sigh out.

“Lord Logan,” she hisses.

“I want it to be perfect, like the song, you know?”

She groans out, “Good night.”

“I love you, pretty.”

“Yeah, well...same.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Father / Son

Logan

London has been back to school for three days, and I have been home, keeping my fucking distance and going through all Dad’s properties with him. He managed to keep several, four of them much like the one I have taken over. Old warehouses and apartment buildings that he hasn’t done anything with. He’s enjoying his retirement.

“I’m willing to do all this with you,” he offers for the hundredth time.

“I know, and I will take you up on it when I need it. But let me give it a shot on my own first.”

“Not really an issue, Logan. I actually kind of miss it. These past couple months reminded me of that.” He smiles.

“I think you’d rather play Pop-Pop to Piper, Reed, Chance, Hope, and Leddie. Maybe you should run a daycare.” I laugh.

He doesn’t, but Tessa does.

He whips his head around and scowls at her.

“He’s right, you know.”

He stands up and starts toward her when my phone rings. It’s Mitch.

I step, outside knowing when he catches her, things will get loud.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“It’s Downs, man. You should come up.”

“Is he...?” I pause, knowing damn well I can’t handle another death. And London, it will push her back a fucking month.

“Not yet, but they’re taking him off the ventilators, so we’re all going in one by one to tell him to fucking fight. You need to be here.”

“Does Jamie know?”

“No one knows,” he tells me.

“Let’s keep it that way. I’ll be there in a couple hours.”

Once I let Dad know what’s going on, he and Tessa grab their coats.

“You don’t have to go,” I tell them, yet I’m glad they are.

I call London on my way up and let her know I will be there tomorrow morning.

“Take your time. I have a date in New York City tomorrow. Maddox and Harper asked if I wanted to ride with them. They’re driving down to meet with Thomas’s lawyer to finalize his estate.”

“We fly out in the morning; you sure you want to go with them?” I ask.

“Yeah, actually,” she whispers. “Maddox asked. I think he needs me there.”

It’s really damn odd.

“All right then.” I sigh. “What time are you heading out? I’d like to see you before you leave.”

She fucking laughs at me. “Oh no. Nope. I’ll see you in New York.”

“London...”

“I love you. See you in New York.” She hangs up on me.

I will make her regret that one.

§

Sitting in the waiting room for my turn, Trucker walks in. I nod at him, and he nods back before looking around for a place to sit. The spot to my left is free, but he walks across the room and sits in a seat next to Coach.

Ass kisser.

When it’s my turn to go in, I promise myself not to take up too much time. It’s nearly midnight and there are still a couple more guys waiting.

I walk by his parents, who look fucking exhausted. His father is holding his mother, and they both have tears running down their faces.

I sit next to Downs. He looks a hell of a lot better than he did, but that clearly doesn’t mean shit.

“Hey, Downs,. It’s Logan. Look, man, I’ve done five years here, three with you, and until you wake the fuck up, I’m stuck here.” I pat his shoulder and sigh. “Your folks haven’t left. Your team takes shifts. Hell, there was a rumor Coach Brown was going to retire if you didn’t wake up, and we all know he’s done his time.”

I sigh again, trying to think of something more to say and admit as much to him.

“I’m grasping at what to say, man. You can bet your ass, if I knew what play to call to get you up and on the line, I would.” I breathe out heavily.

“That’s offense’s job.”

I look up to see Trucker walking in.

He stands on the opposite side of Downs’ bed, looks at me then nods to the door. “The doctor wants us to come in two at a time; speed up the process.”

I nod.

“Trucker’s here, Downs. You must be something special to bring his ugly ass back here from living it up down in Jersey.”

“He’s something special for sure. Always thought he was better than both of us on the field.” Trucker scowls at me. “Look, Downs, the sooner you wake up, the sooner I’ll get to go back to where I belong. You do it soon, I’ll make damn sure to put in a good word for you down there. Would be really cool to play with a friend again. You do it tonight, I’ll buy you a new fucking car.”

I roll my eyes, and Trucker sneers silently at me.

“More of the guys are waiting to come in, man. We need you to fight. We need you to wake up; give us some hope. You were always that guy. See you soon, Downs.” I grip his shoulder before walking out.

“How’s he look?” Coach Brown asks when I walk into the waiting room.

“Better. Looks better, Coach,” I tell him as I sit next to him.

He nods.

“You been in yet?”

He shakes his head. “Can’t do it.”

“Tough shit, old man. He looks up to you. We all do.”

When everyone has been in and returned, I look back at Coach and whisper, “I’m not leaving until you get your ass in there and tell him to fight.”

Trucker sits on his other side. “He’s right.”

“Usually am,” I jab.

“You two need to knock the shit off,” Coach Brown tells us. “That could be one of you lying in there right now. Think about how that would make your ugly asses feel.” He stands up and takes a few steps before looking back. “I fucking mean it.”

When he walks out the door, I look at Trucker. “This doesn’t right your fucking wrongs, you hear me?”

He leans in. “I don’t give a fuck what you think of me.”

“The hell you don’t.” I pull my hat down and lean back.

“You sticking around?” Mitch asks. He’s sitting on the other side of me.

“I’m here till the old man gets back,” I tell him without looking at him.

Mitch leans over. “I know what the fuck you’re doing. I wouldn’t expect anything less. I’m talking to the fucking superstar over there.”

“You got a fucking problem with me, bitch two?” Trucker whisper-hisses at him.

“I got more than one,” Mitch snaps. “You make a good show here. Act like you give a damn about any of us, then go in there and tell a dying man to fight when you just really wanna know if his swimmers got there first.”

“You better put your boy in check,” Trucker tells me.

“I’m not anyone’s boy,” Mitch snaps. “And I’m not anyone’s daddy either.”

“You better shut your fucking mouth,” Trucker whispers.

Mitch laughs. “Or what?”

“End it...now.” I look at Mitch. “For Downs.”

I look at my phone when it vibrates in my hand. It’s London.

“Hey,” I whisper, looking around and noticing my teammates are sleeping.

“Sorry to call so late. Just wanted you to know we’re at the hotel,” she yawns out.

“Thank you for calling. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You will,” she says with a smile in her voice.

“Are you prepared?” I whisper even lower.

She giggles. “Overprepared.”

“Love you, London Fields. Sleep well, okay?”

“Love you, Logan Links. I will. Tomorrow,” she promises.

“You bet your ass you will,” I tell her.

“Goodnight. Think about me...in the shower or something.” Her voice is throaty and sexy as hell.

I stand up and walk out the door. “Do me a favor?”

“Anything,” she rasps.

I whisper, “Tell me how wet you are.”

“I’ll show you tomorrow.” Then the line goes dead.

Damn her.

I walk back in, sit down, close my eyes, and wait.

§

“Team, wake the hell up!” I wake to Coach Brown yelling. “Let’s go, go, go!”

“Have you lost your damn mind?” I ask him while rubbing my eyes.

When I open them, I see the old man smiling, tears rolling down his face.

“No, son, I just witnessed a miracle. Thought I’d share it with you.”

“Is he awake?”

“Praise be to God, men. Downs is awake, and he’s full of piss and vinegar.” He laughs. “Now line it up and get ready to go see for yourselves.”

I grab my phone out of my pocket. “Fuck.”

Mitch grabs his. “It’s seven thirty.”

“Aw, fuck,” I snarl, glancing at Trucker.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Mine’s dead, too. Missed our flight.”

I look at Mitch. “You wanna text Jamie and have her tell London to call me on yours?”

“When you’re done, I need it,” Trucker tells me.

“Fuck. You,” Mitch snaps at him.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Trucker snaps back.

“You.” With that, Mitch walks away.

“Leave him alone, Trucker; I’m warning you.”

“Am I supposed to be afraid of you?” he huffs.

§

“Can’t fucking believe we couldn’t get a flight and I have to be cooped up in a fucking vehicle with you for five miserable hours,” Trucker grumbles as he fucks with the seat again, trying to get comfortable.

“Feeling’s mutual, asshole.”

He sits up and looks at me. “You do know you could have gone pro, too, so tell me why the fucking attitude? No, fuck that. Why the fuck did you decide to shit all over me and crawl up Keeka’s ass?”

“You fucking left, man. You left and didn’t look back, so save your bullshit.”

“I left to do what we were supposed to do all along. I had nothing to do with what went down with Ava. I was there for you, and you pushed me away. You don’t see me crying because I fucking needed you when my life went out of control.”

“I didn’t push shit. I did what I had to for my family.”

“And when the fuck did I stop being part of that?”

I look over at him, shocked.

“I tried to support you. I did support you the best I could while trying to keep my fucking grades up, graduate, and then leave all that was normal to me with none of the support I was used to.”

“You needed something, you should have said so.”

“When, Logan? When T died? When Luke got blown up? When you stopped fucking answering messages? I fucking tried. I tried so damn hard that I almost didn’t graduate.”

“Had plenty of time to get Keeka knocked up, even after you knew you were fucking her before she was eighteen.”

He laughs haughtily. “You’d have been fucking London if you weren’t so worried about what everyone around you would say, so save the sermon for Sundays, Links.”

“You should have wrapped your shit, then you wouldn’t be in this fucking situation.”

“You know damn well I walked away from her. She kept showing up. I did what I had to do to make a point.”

I knew exactly what he did. I took a page from his playbook when I was trying to get London to end our shit when I didn’t want her to get hurt. But I didn’t actually fuck anyone. He did.

“She kept showing up. I kept pushing her ass away. I didn’t fuck her or anyone else those last two months when you left. We hung out. She cooked and shit. I told her we couldn’t be together. She said she didn’t care and wanted to be my fucking friend, because she knew I missed your ass. She was right; I did. And believe it or not, brother, I was worried sick about all of you, including Ava. I was fucking lonely. Weak, too.” He huffs. “Should have gotten a puppy. At least they can’t text nonstop.”

I hold back a laugh.

“I fucked up by doing her ‘one last time.’ She was on the fucking pill, and only with me,” he says in a sarcastic tone. “Should have known better when she called me up, accusing me of giving her a fucking disease.”

“You what?” I ask for clarification.

“I nothing. Mitch and Downs had her in their beds the last week of school; a week after I told her no fucking more.”

“Mitch didn’t fuck her. Mitch woke up with her in his bed and had no idea how she got there. He did a paternity test, and just so you know, he’s had one fuck of a year because of you.”

“Why is it my fault she climbed in his bed? And do you believe he really didn’t fuck her?”

“I have no idea why she climbed in his bed.” I pause and think. “Did you have someone in yours?”

“Every fucking night,” he answers proudly. “Disease free. Didn’t give her a damn thing, so yeah, I was pissed at her for lying to me.”

“ ’Cause you were falling for her,” I tell him.

He doesn’t disagree. “Like I said, I should have gotten a puppy.”

It’s quiet for a while. I can’t stop thinking about what he said.

“Two sides to each story,” I say out loud.

“And then some,” he adds, looking out the window.

Again, silence.

This time Trucker breaks it.

“You have family, Logan. You’re gonna always be okay. Someone’s always gonna have your back. I didn’t have shit, but now, now I don’t need it. Believe it or not, I did what I thought was best for you all. Just like I’ll fucking do what’s best for that kid, if it’s mine.”

“Keeka has no intention of going after you, so if you have no intention of being a dad, leave it alone.”

“So you can play daddy to what might be mine?” He sighs.

“I’d play daddy to ten of her,” I answer. Then I get pissed again. “You had us the entire time. All you had to do was say something, Trucker.”

“And like I said, I can take care of myself.” He sighs. “And now that the whole Ross, Hines, and Links crew think I’m the daddy, I’m gonna make sure if I am, I take care of it.”

“Her,” I tell him. “Leddie Lou is a girl, not an it. And no one will say a word. She’s their family. You know better than to think they’ll allow any drama that is unavoidable. And my dad sure as hell isn’t gonna let anyone fuck with you, so you do what you gotta do. But understand, Keeka is my sister-in-law. That makes that little angel baby my niece. I’ll go to war for her.”

“News flash, Links, you and London aren’t married. She’s not your anything. Don’t piss on my territory, or you’ll be trespassing.”

I loom over him. “London and I are engaged.”

He holds back a smile and looks away. “Fucking knew you were in love with that girl.”

“Shut up and get some sleep. You’re gonna need to drive in a couple hours. I’m fucking exhausted.”

“Can’t we just shelve this date?” he asks as he lies down. “Call this Madison up and say, hey, Downs woke up from a coma and we need to reschedule.”

I shake my head. “They’re already in New York City.” I laugh now.

“What’s so funny?”

“Emma bid on the date under an assumed name. London is our date.”

“This day just keeps getting worse,” he grumbles. “So, why the fuck do I have to go?”

“You’re the one who made this thing a big damn deal with Isabella Steel,” I remind him.

“Did you check her out? That woman is worth making a big damn deal over.” He smirks.

“I’d be checking in on my responsibilities before I go sniffing around, looking for a piece of ass,” I advise him.

“Thanks for the advice. Now I’ll give you some. Stop pissing on my territory; you’re trespassing.”

I fucking laugh at him. “You wanna be Daddy or you wanna fuck the Steel chick?”

“Got no problem doing both, if it’s mine.”

“Say it one more time, and I will fucking throw you out of this vehicle.”

“I get you sticking up for...”—he pauses, and I look over, daring him to say it one more fucking time—“the kid.” Lucky motherfucker. “But how about you think about what the fuck I told you. Bitch told me I gave her a damn disease. I didn’t. Never fucking had one. That’s not enough to stop treating me like some piece of shit, how about you think about how you’d feel if you busted that cherry and London started bed hopping in your territory?”

“If I were fucking everything offered, I’d deserve it.”

“Judgmental fuck,” he says, lying back in the seat again.

I don’t wanna fight with the dick, so I say nothing.

“You need me to drive now?” he asks.

“No.”

§

“I told you I’d drive.” Trucker yawns as he sits up. “Jesus, Logan, you could have woken me up.”

“I’m fine,” I say, taking another drink of iced coffee.

He looks at it, then in the back where the other four I’d already drank are shoved in the cardboard cup holder on the floor.

“Fucking ridiculous,” he groans.

“There’s a bag on the floor. Food in it. Got you a cup of coffee, too.” I point to the cup holder.

“You really should have woken me up,” he says, pawing through the Dunkin’ Donuts bag.

“Clearly, you needed the sleep more than I did.”

He laughs at me. “You’ve always been the one who required more sleep.”

“Well, times have changed.” I pause, but then decide fuck it. “Babies will do that to you.” I glance sideways at him.

“So, you what, take care of...”—he pauses again, and I wait for him to say it, hoping I can push his ass out of the damn vehicle—kid? “She too busy sleeping and shit talking me?”

“She doesn’t shit talk you one fucking bit. She begged me not to call you,” I tell him. “And she went through some shit.”

“What kind of shit?”

I swear I hear concern in his voice, so I tell him straight up. “That girl has been through a lot, Trucker. No family, while trying to figure out what she’ll do to raise a baby alone.”

“Was she gonna give it up?” he asks.

“No, but she couldn’t look at her without crying the first few days. Not sure if it’s the whole baby blues thing, or the fact she found out she was Troy Fields’ kid. But we got her through it.”

I laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Hell, everyone offered to take her. Brody and Emma, Dad and Tessa.” I shake my head as I see the line of cars waiting to get in the Lincoln tunnel and come to a complete stop. “Fuck.”

I grab my phone and hit London’s number. She answers immediately.

“You have one hour to get here.”

I laugh. “Well, hello to you, too.”

“Hey,” she says, and I know I hear a smile in her voice.

“Hi, London,” Trucker says.

“I can’t believe I have to deal with you—”

“London, we’re heading into the Lincoln Tunnel. We’re gonna lose service. But we’re almost there.”

“Can’t wait,” she tells me.

“Me either,” Trucker grumbles.

“Unreal,” she sighs out. “What were you thinking, Logan?”

I know she’s talking about the date and having Trucker on it, as well.

“I made nice with Reeves; you can deal with this.” I laugh.

“Fletcher didn’t knock up your sister and dodge his responsibility,” she huffs.

“You got a magic eight ball, London?” Trucker asks.

“You wanna talk about balls with me, super sperm?” she snaps at him, and I fight back a laugh.

Trucker looks at me and shakes his head. “You sure you wanna wife her?”

“Change of plans. Let’s skip the show tonight and take Trucker to get fitted for cement shoes for his swim in—”

The phone cuts out.

Trucker shakes his head. “I know you’ve wanted to tap that forever, but let me ask you: was it worth all that?”

I shrug. “I’m sure it will be.”

When he laughs at me, I look at him.

“You fucking seriously haven’t fucked that?”

I don’t answer.

“Some advice?”

“No.”

“Tough shit. If she’s holding out on you, waiting for marriage, you’re probably gonna be spending a lot of time in the shower. What the hell are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I love her and want things to be prefect. I’m thinking she’s waited this long for me—”

“You forget I was with you when you slashed that kid’s tires?” He laughs. “How do you know she’s waited for you?”

“I just know.”

He looks at me, waiting for more. He won’t get it.

Then he nods. “I really hope everything works out.”

I know he does.

“Same,” I tell him.

He runs his hand over his head and leans back.

§

I’m fucking exhausted, but I can’t stop the shit-ass grin from spreading across my face.

Aside from the fact that she looks beautiful in her light pink dress that hits right above her sexy knees, matching heels, her hair all done up, and after the initial fuck you looks to Trucker, she’s smiling from ear to ear. Right now, she’s looking at me from across the table at Juniors, an iconic restaurant that she swears has the absolute best cheesecake on the planet.

I look away briefly, and my eyes meet Trucker’s at a table nearby.

Turned out Harper stayed home, and it was just London and Maddox. It also turned out Maddox will be with us all night. He thought he and Trucker should give us some “privacy.”

Trucker rubs the side of his head and nonchalantly sticks his middle finger up at me.

Dumbass, I laugh to myself. That will be all over social media in minutes. Maddox Hines is very recognizable, and so is Trucker.

I look back at her, and my breath is momentarily lost again.

“You look pretty, London.”

She smiles. “I’m glad you think so. I prepared for your arrival all day.”

I smirk, and she grins.

“Even got my nails done.” She holds her hand up, and I look at the ring.

Wouldn’t matter if she had or not, but I still tell her, “They look beautiful.”

“It’s the ring.” She looks down at it as her smile widens and her nose crinkles. “It’s perfect. Better than perfect.”

I reach over and grab her hand, looking down at it. “Shouldn’t tell you this, but it took me all of five minutes to pick it out.” I stare down at the platinum band covered in diamonds, with the round center stone that now seems too big for her hand, but at least every fucker who looks at her will see it. “I knew immediately that it should be on your finger.” I look up at her and kiss her hand.

Her blush is immediate.

“Looks like a crown. Every girl should have a crown, especially a princess.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

NYC

London

I feel a tinge of guilt for what I did this morning, but I need him to feel as whole as I do.

This morning, I made Maddox take me to see Ashley. He strongly advised against it. I adamantly opposed his advice and was shot down by the doorman at her building.

I left her a note with my number, no name, telling her that we would be here for a couple days and that Logan is more than half of my heart, that I’m hurting because I imagine he is, and that I was sure, being his mother, she must be dying without him, and that she could easily fix it. I ended it with how she would be very proud of how he proposed to me and signed it, your future daughter-in-law.

No name.

Looking at him now, he doesn’t look all that torn up about anything. He and Trucker are even making jabs at each other from time to time. I thought it would make me angry, but after all, they were best friends, and maybe, just maybe, Trucker will do the right thing, which I have mixed feelings about. However, as I have grown to learn, my feelings are not as important as theirs in this situation. I’m meant to support my sister, like Maddox is doing for me, has been doing for me. I laugh out loud at the thought.

“What’s so funny?”

I shake my head. “Nothing.”

Contentment, happiness, and sexy. He looks so sexy. That’s what I see in Logan.

He smiles and runs his hand over his hair. The dimples deepen, and I want to crawl right in them, knowing it isn’t Hell they will take me to. It’s Heaven.

He’s dressed in gray slacks, a button down white shirt, no tie, with a matching suit jacket, and black leather shoes.

“You done?” he asks, leaning forward as he looks at his phone for the time.

“We haven’t eaten cheesecake yet.”

He looks up and smiles a slow smile. “I meant done undressing me with your eyes.”

I laugh. “Was not.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, pretty. I’ve been doing it to you all night.”

A shiver runs up my spine, and I can’t help smiling.

He winks, but it’s in slow motion.

My thighs clench instinctively as the waitress sets down our cheesecake.

When she walks away, I know my face is red, and that he thinks it’s because he’s made me slightly uncomfortable. What he doesn’t know is I’m not in the way he thinks I am.

“What else can you do all night?” I ask, taking a bite of my cheesecake before slowly dragging the fork out between my teeth, making sure to leave some on my lips so I can lick it away slowly and watch him squirm.

“You keep that up, and I’ll be doing it right here...in my pants.”

I can’t help laughing, and he smiles. He doesn’t stop either. He just keeps looking at me and smiling.

After a few moments, I think I may possibly have something on my lips, so I wipe my mouth, to which he chuckles.

“There’s nothing on your lips, London. I just can’t believe I get to look at you every day for the rest of my life and not care who catches me stealing glimpses anymore.”

I lean in and grin. “Same.”

§

Inside the theater, Logan and I sit next to each other. Maddox is on my other side, and Trucker is on his opposite side.

“Are you excited?”

“I’d be more excited if there was popcorn.” He links his hand in mine, and I laugh. “I’m excited to see what it is that you love about this.”

“Theater is amazing.”

He leans in and whispers, “When you’re on stage, I would agree.”

“So, like football?”

He laughs. “No, not like football.”

“I watch when you play; that’s it. Otherwise—”

“You watched with me,” he reminds me.

“Yeah, because it was cuddle season. Otherwise...” I stop and scowl.

He smirks and looks at the stage.

“I have a condition to add to our ever growing list.”

He looks back at me, smirking. “Utilize it now because, when you’re my wife, conditions be damned. Our love will be unconditional.”

“Fine.” I giggle. “For every hour of football you make me watch, you owe me an hour of theater.”

He nods once. “Whatever makes you happy.”

I pull out my phone. “Selfies make me happy. Selfies with my fiancé.”

“You’re serious right now?” A V forms between his brows.

I grin childishly. “It’s a condition.”

I take several, duck lips and all, and yes, Logan complies with my conditions. Logan also hands me tissue after tissue during the show.

After the show, as we are walking down Broadway, arms full of souvenirs, I notice a bag in Trucker’s hand.

“What did you buy?”

“Not nearly as much as you.” He wads up the bag and shoves it in his pocket.

“Why are you hiding it?”

“Could you do something with her?” he asks Logan, who laughs.

“Like what?”

Trucker sighs.

“Why won’t you just tell me?” I pretend to grab for it, and he jumps back, which makes me laugh.

“Why don’t you tell me why you cried during the whole show?”

“Trucker, you back the fuck off her, man,” Logan defends me.

“I’m okay, Logan,” I say, stepping around him and closer to Trucker, who shoves his hand farther into his pocket. “The show is about a woman who was strong enough to walk away and raise her child on her own and find happiness in doing what she loved. And loving herself enough, loving that child enough, to come out of a situation stronger than she thought she could be.”

Chew on that, Trucker.

“You must have watched a different show than I did.”

“No, I’m pretty sure you were two seats down.” I laugh.

He shakes his head. “She fucked around on her husband with her snatch doctor, who was also married. She didn’t want the baby through the entire thing.”

“She didn’t want the baby born into a situation like that.”

“Her friends pushed her into wanting that baby,” he sneers.

Maddox steps in now. “No, Trucker. They supported her becoming the best she could. They were catalysts in her gaining strength. And that little girl Lou was surrounded by love, all the love she needed.”

“Takes a village bullshit. Yeah, I get it. Shit, total shit.” He walks ahead of us now.

I look at Logan, who is studying him, worry forming into a scowl.

“Should you go with him?”

He shakes his head. “Wheels are turning. They need to.”

Walking back to the hotel, I’m tucked under Logan’s arm. Maddox is on the other side of me but a few steps behind, and Trucker is in front of me.

Logan leans down. “You okay?”

“I love it here.”

He gives me a questioning look.

“Oddly, I feel safe here. There are millions of people around, and yes, horrible things have happened in this city, but I’ve felt nothing but love every time I have been amidst all this.” I wave my hand above us, and he nods. “I can’t explain it.”

He offers an answer in the form of a question. “Less shitbags per square foot?”

I laugh and nod. “For every thousand smiles, there’s less than half a shitbag.”

“Is that a scientific study?”

“I’ll save the math and science for you.”

He kisses the top of my head. “Math and science for me; love and hope for you.”

I look up at him. “Well, the more love you give, the more hope you have for that happening.”

He winks one of those slow, sexy winks. I can’t help smiling and giving him the same kind of wink back.

“Well, tomorrow morning, Logan Links, you’re gonna be a changed man.”

He laughs from deep in his chest. “You bet your ass I will be.”

When I laugh at him, he leans in again.

“And you’ll be walking funny.”

In the elevator, I notice Trucker seems even more irritated as he sends and receives texts, just like he has most of the walk back to our hotel.

When I try to look at his phone, he cocks an eyebrow at me. “You mind?”

“Trucker, I’m telling you right now, back off her,” Logan snaps.

“Tell her the same thing,” he snaps back.

“Both of you, cut the shit,” Maddox interjects.

Logan looks at him like he wants to yell at him, too.

“Sorry.” I sigh. “Habit.”

“Again, Links,” Trucker says as the door opens, “have fun keeping that in check.”

When he walks out, Logan looks at me.

I roll my eyes. “Just wanted to know.”

“Know what exactly?” Logan asks as we walk out.

I shrug and look down.

“She wants to know if he’s bothering Keeka,” Maddox answers, and I glare at him. He glares back at me then smiles. “I understand wanting to be protective over those you love. Having said that...be safe tonight.” He turns quickly and walks away even quicker.

I walk up to the door and slide the keycard in. As I begin to push it open, my legs come out from underneath me, and I squeal as Logan kicks the door open and carries me inside, kissing me harder on the mouth than ever before.

He thrust his tongue in and licks mine up then down deeper than ever before.

Oh God, is this a theme? I think as he pulls back, sucking my lip as he pulls away...harder than ever before.

“You hung up on me yesterday.” He travels his hand up my skirt and growls when he feels the strip of fabric that is a thong...

Rip

… Was a thong, and then lays me on a bed.

He pulls the fabric away and holds it to his nose.

What the hell? I cringe, feeling a tad self-conscious.

“Fuck yes,” he groans then fingers the crotch of them and puts them in his mouth.

“Logan, what are you doing?”

He closes his eyes as he sits back on his heels and growls as he pulls them out and smells them again, whispering, “Taste the rainbow.”

“Oh. My. God,” I whisper.

He opens his eyes as he puts them inside his mouth, grabs my knees, and pulls them apart. “Un. Fucking. Real.” He licks his lips then bares his teeth, a thong string hanging out of them.

Instinctively, I pull my knees together, or try to.

“Don’t you dare,” he demands.

I swallow hard. “I’d like to freshen up,” I tell him, quickly flipping to my stomach and trying to scramble off the bed.

He catches my hips, stopping me.

“Fucking beautiful.” His big, old hands grip my ass and spreads my cheeks apart. “Everywhere, fucking beautiful.”

A rush of air and his name escapes my chest when I feel his tongue, then teeth, then lips on my ass cheek. “Logan.”

“Oh, Christ, London.” He licks, scrapes his teeth, and then kisses again and again.

“Logan...please,” I whimper. “Let me use the bathroom...please.”

He snakes his arm around my waist and pulls me up against him. Then he pushes my hair to one side and kisses my neck before whispering, “You have two minutes, and then...I will come in after you, spread you out on the bathroom counter, and eat you out until I am damn sure you have come enough times that your pussy is slippery enough for at least the tip.”

I run my hand up his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles, up his neck, his face, and into his hair. “I haven’t waited nearly nineteen years for just the tip.”

He breathes in a sharp breath between his teeth as he runs his hand between my boobs and up my neck, where he grips my jaw and lifts it so I am looking up at him. “You’re gonna let me make love to you; no fucking rush, not for my first time.”

“Your first time?” I silently chuckle.

“Never made love to anyone, London. You bet that sexy ass of yours it’s my first.”

I nod. “Yes, yes, okay.”

“Go before I say fuck the two minutes.”

I use the bathroom then wash my body as fast as I can in the shower, hoping he doesn’t come in, but not really caring either way. When I get out, I grab another thong out of my bag and a bralette, hurrying to at least put something sexy on and secretly praying he rips them off me again.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I look in the mirror as I brush my teeth. I feel like I should be giving myself a pep talk or reciting an ode to virginity, a sonnet to my becoming a woman. Maybe give my hymen a commencement speech, trying to talk myself into waiting until I’m married. Or something for God’s sake. Instead, I’m smiling. I’m happy. I’m so ready to be with Logan.

My first kiss, my first and forever everything.

“God, you sound like one of those wacko Barbie bimbos.” I laugh then spit the paste into the sink before pointing the toothbrush at myself in the mirror. “No review on Yelp after this, young lady.”

One last look at my goofy-ass grin, and I am opening the door.

For the first time, I see rose petals, candles, champagne, a tray of strawberries, and whipped cream.

“How did I not notice all this?”

I hear Logan clear his voice and turn to see him.

“I’m ready,” I say then nod.

I notice the sad look on his face, and that he is still fully dressed.

“Please do not tell me you changed your mind.”

“I’m upset with you. Very upset with you,” he says, walking into the bathroom.

I laugh, thinking it’s a joke. “What did I do?”

When he walks out, he’s holding clothes for me. “Put these on.”

Suddenly, I’m self-conscious.

“Before you do that, your thong is on backward. You should fix that.” He turns his back to me and sputters something.

“You...you don’t want me?” I hear my voice crack and am immediately angry at myself for sounding like I imagine any given bimbo who’s stood before him and been denied sounds like.

Fuck that.

He sighs. “London, just get dressed.”

“No, no!” I walk around him, backward thong and all. “You tell me what I did. You don’t turn your back on me. That’s not love, Logan. That’s...that’s...bad.”

He looks up and stretches his neck. “Your phone announced a call. I took it. We’re wanted at my mother’s.” He turns and walks to the mini bar. “Get dressed, London.”

I feel as though I may get sick as I start to put on my leggings.

“Turn the damn thing around,” he grumbles.

I look up, and our eyes meet in the mirror. He’s not just angry; he’s hurt.

“Right. I’m stupid, so stupid,” I say, frantically trying to right myself.

“I didn’t say you were stupid,” he huffs.

Putting my shirt on, I nod. “But I am. I am, and I’m sorry. I should have said something, but our date and—”

“London, you shouldn’t have done this. You should have left it alone.”

“Right. A new condition?” I attempt to joke.

He shakes his head and walks over to the bed to put on his boots.

In the elevator, I take his hand, a desperate attempt to right a wrong. His fingers flex a few times, and then he closes them around mine. That gesture makes me feel as if the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders.

When the elevator door opens, he drops my hand, places his on the small of my back, and hurries us through the hotel.

His phone rings in his pocket, and he grabs it. “She’s with me, Maddox. She’s fine.”

I look at my bracelet and sigh.

“We’ve been summoned to my mother’s.” His voice is full of anger. “Thank you. Goodnight.” He shoves his phone back in his pocket then holds the door open for me.

I raise my hand to hail a cab when a car pulls up.

A man gets out and opens the door. “Mr. Links, Miss Fields.”

I recognize him, the man I gave the note to.

He doesn’t say one word, and I force myself not to, too, the entire ride. When we get there, he opens the door, gets out, and then waits for me.

“I could wait,” I offer.

He huffs, pulls a white baseball hat out of his jacket pocket, and stuffs it on his head. My heart breaks a little bit.

“No, no, you don’t.”

When I reach for his hand, he pulls it back and wipes it on his pants. Then he puts it on my back, guiding me inside.

In the elevator, he stuffs them in his pockets and leans against the corner, keeping his head down.

When the door to the suite opens, I see Ashley sitting in a chair and gasp. Then I look up at Logan.

His eyes widen, and his hand goes to his chest. Then he reaches up, pulls his hat down, and makes a sound that I will never forget, one of pain and sorrow.

“Mom,” he whispers, and I hear the pain in his voice, too.

“Hello, beautiful boy.” She smiles as tears fall down her face.

“What the fuck is this?” He shakes his head back and forth.

She smiles. “Something stronger than wild horses, Logan.”

He hurries toward her and drops to his knees, placing his head on her lap.

I feel a hand on my back and look to my side. It’s Ashley’s husband.

“Have a seat, Miss Fields. This is gonna take a while.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I pushed. I didn’t know. I’m—”

“No one did. And now she’s ready to talk.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” I whisper.

“If you love that boy, there is no place else you should be.”

“Of course I do, but—”

“Come on; have a seat.” He smiles sadly.

“London.” Ashley wipes away a tear. “Come and sit.”

“Ashley, I’m sorry.” I shake my head back and forth.

“I’m sorry, too, but I’m gonna have to ask you to keep this all a secret. My little girl has been through enough, and I do not want her to worry over me.”

“That’s fucked up, Mom. That’s...” He looks up.

“I’m going to have to believe you’ll understand and honor my request, as well.”

“I can’t not tell Ava. If she kept this from me, I’d finally give her the ass kicking she has deserved since birth.”

God, he sounds like a little boy. My heart breaks again.

Ashley laughs. “You save that for another time. A time when you’ll have a chance to make it right again. Right now, I need to make sure you make every moment count.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Wild Horses

Logan

I lost my shit. I lost it all fucking over and in front of London.

“Robert, will you give us a minute?” Mom asks, and I finally sit up.

“I can go, too,” London whispers.

“No.” Mom smiles. “I’d like to see that ring.”

Fuck, I think as I sit back on my heels and look at Mom. “What are we gonna do? What are we up against?”

“Five years ago, they found a tumor in my brain.” She smiles softly at me, and I want to tell to stop fucking smiling.

“Five?” I gasp.

She nods. “Maybe six.”

“Five and a half,” I hear Robert say from the other room.

“You’re supposed to give me a few minutes.” She smiles toward the door.

“I’ve heard it a million times, Ashley. I lived it.”

“I don’t give a damn. Go.” She is annoyed, and I want to kick his ass.

“Yes, dear,” he says, and then I hear a door shut.

“I don’t want to hurt his feelings by talking about your father.”

“Dad fucking knows?” I spat.

“No, Logan. But you have started using some very colorful language, haven’t you?”

I close my eyes. “Sorry.”

“The year I got the baseball to the head and your dad flipped out, he took me to the ER, and they told him he was overreacting.”

“He wasn’t?”

“No, he was.” She smiles softly again. “But I continued having headaches, so when I went to the doctor for a yearly exam, I mentioned it then. They did a scan, and I was told I had a tumor that was not active, but it did call for a scan every six months to monitor it. I didn’t tell your father because of chronic overreacting and”—she sighs—“because I knew it would be Tessa he would go to about it. I confided in Robert, who at the time was a very close friend, who I dated off and on for a few years. The last time was six months before your father came back into my life.”

I nod, saying not a damn thing, because I want to know what the fuck is going on and couldn’t care less about Robert’s involvement.

“The next scan I got was when Ava was at the Cape with Harper. The time your father went to get her, because...” She looks at London. “I’m sorry, honey. I shouldn’t have.” She looks up. “I get confused a lot lately. But Lucas was angry that she was afraid because of all the news about your family.”

“It’s totally fine, Ashley,” London says. “The news scared me more than actually living it all.”

Mom laughs. “You are adorable. Always have been. Isn’t that right, Logan?”

“Mom, the headaches?”

“Right. My scan results came in, and the doctor asked me to come to his office. When I walked in, Robert was waiting for me. My doctor and he are friends. I was told it had grown significantly. You and I stayed at the Shore for a few days. I let your father believe it was because I was angry about him saying Tessa should have stayed with him, which I was, but I was also worried about...”

I nod and hold her hand.

“Collen died, and I knew...I knew he’d do what was right. And I also knew I needed to get through this. I found myself wanting Robert to be the one I went through it with.” She looks at me. “I needed to put myself first. I needed someone who would do the same.”

“Dad would have,” I tell her. “He—”

“Your father and I”—she takes a deep breath—“it was never right, Logan. I was always jealous of her. He never denied he loved her, not once, and I could have lived with it. But the way Robert puts me first, the way he has fought for me when I couldn’t, the way he...” She swallows back tears. “The way he loves me is the kind of love I needed then, now, and hopefully for a very long time.”

“So, you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine—”

“Ashley,” I hear Robert say.

“Oh, my good Lord.” She laughs. “Go away.”

“You’d miss me,” he says, peeking his head into the room.

Fucking moon head, I think.

“Your mother has been through every treatment under the sun. She’s done trial after trial, and when another comes available, she’ll do that, as well.” He sits next to her and holds her other hand.

She shakes her head and looks back at me. “I’m tired, Logan.”

Now I’m shaking my head.

“This trial is making me feel worse than any of the others. The day you left here...” She looks down and squeezes my hand.

“I didn’t know, Mom. I’m sorry, so sorry.”

She smiles and nods. “Ava will remember me being with her at the hospital. She’ll remember me helping. And someday, she’ll know the nanny I hired was because I was too sick to be there, not because I didn’t want to be. But you”—more tears build up in her eyes—“I would never forgive myself if that was the last time we saw each other. You, Logan, have always been my little boy, then my little man. I didn’t want you to see me like this, but through thick and thin, you were always there. Yes, I did and said things I regret, but it doesn’t mean I didn’t love you just the same.”

“She loved you even more,” Robert tells me. “She wanted to protect her children from this. She wants you to live and not feel responsible for her health.”

“Unacceptable,” I tell him.

He nods. “But that’s what she wants.”

“Well, I want the magic cure.” I stand up. “I want that, so I can have my mother back.”

“I can promise you, Logan, we want the same thing, and I am looking under every fucking rock I find. Which is what she doesn’t want for you and your sister. She wants her children to live, to love, to raise their kids, and not help me turn over rocks.”

“Ava can’t know, Logan. She’s just starting to sound like her old self. She’s been through enough.” She looks at London. “And I know my future daughter-in-law will make sure you get through this, too.”

“I don’t understand how you can expect me to say nothing, do nothing.”

Robert looks at Mom. “Ashley.”

“I’m not ready yet,” she tells him.

“Ready for what?” I ask.

When neither of them replies, I look at Robert.

“For fucking what?”

Mom sniffs and wipes away a few tears before Robert wipes the rest.

“She has stage four glioblastoma. Twenty percent of patients with it live more than a year.”

“Well, how long has she had it?”

“We found out a week after the twins were born,” he answers, and now I see tears in his eyes.

“Three percent live more than three years, and that’s what I’m aiming for.” Mom leans into Robert.

“After London left the note, your mother and I talked. She is happy, Logan. She said she knew someday the two of you would be together and is so happy she’s lived to see it. She just wants to make sure Ava has some time to adjust to her life and plant her feet a little deeper into the ground beneath them. She didn’t tell you so that you had to carry this burden with us. Hell, that’s what she has avoided from the beginning. She did it because...” He pauses and looks down.

“I’m tired,” Mom finishes for him. “My babies are where they are meant to be and who they are meant to be with. I may not get to see my little girl or little boy get married, but I got to see them graduate high school, college. And Ava is engaged and has babies, beautiful babies, and you are engaged now, too. I have seen my children grow up, and that is a blessing.”

“I would hate Ava if she didn’t tell me.”

“Then love me enough to hold off until the time is right for her. Please, Logan, I need your word,” she pleas.

I nod. “Okay then.”

Mom smiles and looks around me toward London. “And yours.”

“Of course.”

§

When Mom has fallen asleep, Robert tells me he needs to put her to bed so he can run the IVs of the latest trial’s medicine so that she will sleep through the nausea and unpleasant side effects.

I lean down, pick her up, and walk toward the room she and Robert share, that I have never been in.

I look around the room and see pictures of us everywhere. Pictures of Hope and Chance, and pictures of her and Robert. I look around and see they haven’t followed me.

“You’re going to fight, Mom, and you’re going to win.” I sit down and hold her as I whisper, “I love you forever. I like you for always. As long as I’m living, my mommy you’ll be.”

Her eyes flutter open, and then she smiles and giggles. “That book every night was a bad idea.”

I smile back as I lay her down. “You planted that seed, Mom.”

“I would never want you to stop living to take care of me dying.”

“We’re all dying, Mom.”

She smiles again and closes her eyes. “Every moment.” She pats the side of the bed. “Stay till I fall asleep?”

“Yeah.”

I wait until she’s asleep, and then look behind me toward the door where Robert and London are standing, his arm around her.

“I need to get her hooked up,” he says, walking toward her.

“Does she have a nurse?” I ask.

“She has a team of them. Sometimes she wants them here; sometimes she doesn’t.” He smirks and shakes his head.

“What does that mean?”

“It means, Logan, that your mother can be a huge pain in the ass, which means she’s got a lot of fight in her. When she doesn’t, I do.”

I really don’t want to like this fucker.

“The beginning of a new treatment is always the hardest. She has said the last three times we’ve started a new one that it was the last.” He finishes pushing the tubes together and sighs as he turns to look at me. “I was sure she meant it last time. But something happened that gave her something more to fight for.”

“What?”

“You.” He pats my back. “Don’t be a stranger, Logan. Your sister has a weekly FaceTime chat, and your mother sits in front of a mirror, making sure her face is made up and wig is in place. Tonight, she was a little high.” He laughs. “I tried to get the wig on her, and she batted my damn hand away.”

When London giggles, I look at her.

“Sorry.”

“Stop being fucking sorry, London,” I tell her.

She nods, and I shake my head as I walk to her.

“I’m pissed you came here without talking to me. You do shit like that, and it pisses me off.”

“I’m—”

I take her hands, and she stops before saying it again.

“Don’t be, okay? At least now I know.”

She nods quickly like she’s afraid of me, and that fucking hurts.

“London, let me ask you something.”

She nods again, eyes widening.

“I want the truth.”

“Of course.”

“Would you do it again, knowing what you know now?”

She looks down.

“London?”

“Yes, yes, I would because—”

I pull her into a hug. “You pissed me off.”

“I probably will again,” she whispers.

Robert laughs. “Your mother was right about her. She’s a trip.”

“Yeah, the fucking trip of a lifetime.”

I look at Robert and see him smiling at Mom.

“So, you knew this whole time?”

“Loved her more because of it.” He sighs. “Love her more every day because I never know when it will end.” He looks at us and smiles. “Each moment, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Before you leave, I’d like to give you something,” he says as he walks out the door. “Follow me.”

We walk into his office where he sits behind the desk.

“Have a seat.”

We sit down. London has a killer grip on my hand when he pushes a file in front of me.

“This is yours,” he says as he leans back. “Links Construction.”

“What?” I gasp as I open it.

“Everything is notarized. I had my lawyers working on it all day.”

“Mom make you do this?”

“No. She probably kept it as a way to show me she chose me over your old man. Who, by the way, is a fucking asshole, but a damn good father.”

London giggles, and I look at her.

“I love your dad, but he can be pretty sarcastic, which is a riot. I can only imagine being on the receiving end of it.”

“Your grandfather is a different kind of asshole,” he tells me then looks at London. “Not one enduring quality in the man.”

I nod. “I agree.”

“I pulled some strings and made sure his name was off the majority of the holdings. You’ll have to do the rest. I’ll help, but I don’t want my name dragged through the mud, so I’d appreciate no mention.”

I nod.

“I don’t want your father’s on it either,” he says, looking at me sternly. “Your mother earned what she walked away with.”

“My father is my partner in some real estate investments we’re working on now.”

“Again, anything that has Ashley’s name on it, I’d like replaced with just you, your sister, and maybe her kids. Anything still bearing Landon’s name, Lucas can piss all over; just not my wife’s please.”

Looking through the papers, I see no mention of what he’s asking for. “And if I do?”

“This isn’t about me, Logan. It’s about the woman I love’s work being taken seriously by you. May not mean shit to anyone else, but it does to me.”

I hate that I am starting to like old moon face, but why fight it, especially now?

I stand and hold out my hand. “You have my word.”

He stands, too, and then walks around the table and shakes my hand. “I’m glad.

“Another thing.” He flips through the file, pulls out a piece of paper, and then slides it over to London. “I think this will interest you the most.”

Before I have a chance to look, he sighs and rubs his hand over his bald head. “You are more than welcome here any time. But I will ask that you respect her need to not resemble your mother when you are around. Ava has no clue what it means to her that she has a face to face chat with her weekly. She gets to see her grandchildren and hopes they’ll remember her like that. Also, don’t mention she was as bald as me when you saw her. Next to her kids, she misses her hair the most.”

“I won’t.”

When we walk to the door, I stop.

“Does she ever get out?”

“Most every day. She likes to go to Central Park.”

“If she’s feeling up to it, do you think maybe tomorrow we could do dinner out?”

“I know she’d love it, if she’s feeling up to it. If not, we can have dinner here.”

Waking out of the building, everything hits me. I need to fucking let off some steam.

“I really am sorry,” London whispers.

“You’re a pain in the ass, London, but I know why you did it, and obviously, I’m grateful.”

Mom and Robert’s driver opens the door, but I shake my head.

“I need to walk.”

“Mr. Links, it’s midnight and less than thirty degrees out,” he tells me.

“Yeah, well, we’ll survive,” I tell him and look at London. “Run with me?”

She smiles. “Of course.”

I zip the file in my jacket, and then take her face in my hands and kiss her. “I hate that I’m going to say this, but thank you.”

Her pouty lip sticks out and tears fill her eyes. She looks exhausted.

I step back, turn around, and tell her, “Climb on.”

“You sure?” she asks

“Yeah, pretty, I’m sure.”

§

Back at the hotel, we are in the elevator. Her eyes are red as fuck, and my fucking heart is shattered. I hold her while the elevator climbs to our floor, and when we walk off, I can barely keep my eyes open.

Inside the room, the flowers, champagne, rose petals...the very fucking romantic mood I had set looks exhausting to me.

“Wanna sleep?” she asks, obviously sensing it.

I shake my head, not wanting to ruin our plans.

“Would you be upset if I wanted to just cuddle with you tonight?”

“Only if you’d be upset that I wanna cuddle you back.”

We strip down to our underwear. She leaves on her bra and climbs under the covers. Her head goes to my chest, and she skates her nails over my head.

No words are exchanged. None are needed.

§

I awake to hearing voices and find myself in an empty bed.

“He’s tired,” London whispers.

I hear Trucker chuckle. “Still a virgin, asshat”

Maddox chuckles now.

I get up, step into a pair of jeans, and then walk out. “Everything okay?”

Trucker smirks. “You tell me?”

London slugs him in the arm. He rubs the opposite one, and she shakes her head.

“You two are a lot alike.”

“Grew up together, Paris,” Trucker fucks with her.

“Well, one of you grew up. The other needs to.”

Maddox chuckles at that.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Keeka’s mom has a storage unit that...Well, I found out about it and think it’s absurd she’s paying for it every month. I was going to ask you if you’d like to come, but I think Trucker and I can get it.”

“Me?” Trucker gasps.

“Yes, you. Then I think you and I can ride home together.”

“This is the worst fucking date I’ve ever been on,” Trucker grumbles.

“I’ll buy you a drink on the way home,” Maddox says then looks at London. “You sure you’ll be all right if I take off?”

She thumbs back at me. “He drove through a building to get to me. I think I’m in good hands.”

Bet your ass you are, I think.

After our goodbyes, I look at my phone and see a bunch of emails popping up from Robert. Then I see one from the DMV. I hit it and read.

“Fuck,” I say, sitting down on the suite’s sofa.

“Everything okay?”

“Got a fucking ticket. Forgot I didn’t put my E-ZPass in the new vehicle.” I keep reading. “Looks like if I pay it, I won’t get my pass pulled.”

“Online?” she asks, sitting beside me.

I scroll through. “It’s the county clerk’s office on Worth Street, not far from here.”

“We should do that today. You have a lot going on, and you might forget.” She stands up.

“You sure?”

She nods. “We could go grab breakfast before heading over.”

“You don’t want to hang out here?”

She smiles. “I want to go wherever you go.”

“All right. Let me get dressed.”

§

Walking past that sign again on our way out, I stop.

“London?”

She stops and looks at me.

“I wanna do something today that you can say no to.”

She looks up and smiles. “They’re going to kill me.”

I love that she knows exactly what it is I want to do. Hell, she looks excited.

“It could be our secret,” I tell her.

“And hers?”

My chest tightens, and I nod. “We’re going to do it someday anyway.”

“Why not now?” She steps a little closer to me, her smile broadening.

I grab her hips and nod. “You can say no.”

“I say yes.” She gins now.

I pull her a little tighter. “All right.”

Standing in yet another line, my heart is beating faster as I send Robert a text, asking him to help me pull off the biggest day of my life and giving him the details.

Standing at the window, we slide our driver’s licenses under the window, along with the application to the clerk.

“Any reservations?” I ask her.

She grins and buries her head in my chest. “Not at all.”

We walk out onto the top step of the old Town Hall building, now the county clerks. The sun is shining over us.

How the fuck do I know the history? To pass the time in line, London read it off to me on her phone.

I laugh to myself, knowing that, no matter what life throws at me, at her, at us, we can get through it together. Hell, we already have.

She stops me. “Selfie?”

“Anything you want,” I tell her. “Anything you want for the rest of your life.”

In the cab on the way back to the hotel, I get a text from Robert.

“They’d like you to go over to their place to get ready. You okay with that?”

“Of course I am, but I’d like to grab some things.” She shakes her head like she can’t believe we are doing this.

Her phone chimes, and she looks at it. When I lean over, she hides it.

“No peeking.”

“Why? What is it?”

Tears well in her eyes. “Your mom wants to help me with everything.”

“And that upsets you?”

“No, Logan, not at all.”

§

At six p.m., I am standing on top of Bow Bridge in Central Park, in a brand-new tuxedo, next to Robert and a friend of his, when the car pulls up.

My mother gets out in a champagne colored pant suit with a tan fur coat on. The driver stands by her side, helping her. From this distance, she looks like my mom always has—beautiful, healthy, and happy.

I look over at Robert. I can tell by the way he looks at her that he loves her.

“She’s having a good day,” he whispers.

“She looks great,” I respond.

Then, well, then my heart seems to stop and race at the same time, causing my knees to weaken, as I watch London get out of the car in a long, white dress, underneath a long, white fur coat. Her hair is piled on top of her head in lose waves, and she is smiling from ear to ear.

For just a moment, I feel awful that her family and the rest of mine isn’t here to see how stunning she looks, how happy she looks, and how fucking pure she looks.

“Wow,” Robert comments.

“Definitely wow,” I say back.

I pull out my cell and start snapping pictures as Mom and her driver get closer. It’s no wonder she can fool Ava on FaceTime. Hell, right now she doesn’t resemble the woman whose lap I cried in.

I also take a million pictures of London then slip the phone back in my pocket before she busts me.

Robert’s friend is a New York City judge. He leans in and whispers, “How would you like this?”

I see Mom stumble a bit and tell him, “Make it fast.”

He nods.

London looks from Mom to me with worry in her beautiful blue eyes.

When London is in front of me, I tell her, “You look pretty.”

She smiles then looks back at Mom. “She’s tired, Logan.”

I nod, thinking that maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

“Marry me?” London smiles.

“At least twice.” I smile back.

When I say my vows to her, I feel a calm wash over me in a much different way than ever before. When she repeats them to me, I feel the same, but the calm strengthens.

When it’s time, I kiss her gently, adoringly for the first time as my wife. She opens her eyes as I pull back and looks at me as she takes a deep breath then slowly lets it out as a few tears roll down her face, closing her eyes once more. When she opens them again, her face still in my hands, I wipe away the tears with the pads of my thumbs.

“You okay?”

“I’m...I’m so happy it almost hurts.”

I pull her into a hug, lift her, and spin her around. She laughs as she lifts her hands in the air.

“Mrs. Logan Links.”

When I set her down, she is still smiling as she hugs me. “I feel like I will never be lonely again, like nothing will ever feel impossible again. Is that weird?”

“No, pretty, it’s perfect.”

Her nose scrunches up. “Right?”

§

“Jesus L. Christ,” I groan as I grip her ass under her dress and kiss her harder while pushing her against the elevator wall.

She wraps her legs around me as her tits press against me while she tightens the grip she has on my hair. Her tongue now pushes mine away, and she succeeds in fucking my dick via my mouth.

Panting, she pulls back. “Rip them off me and take me right here.”

“Fuuuuck,” I say as I snap the band, pocket the panties, and then unbuckle my belt.

The bell on the elevator dings, and with it, the reality that I’m in a fucking elevator with my bride, who’s a virgin yet clearly thinks she’s playing the lead in Fifty Shades of Grey. I’m not talking about the virgin role either. I’m talking the belt yielding male lead.

“Wrap them around,” I tell her, turning to face the door then realizing we aren’t on our floor and an elderly couple are getting on.

“Come on, Links; let’s get this show on the road.” She pulls my hair, yanking my head back so I’m looking up at her.

“She hurt her ankle,” I tell them, and the woman giggles.

London’s face is immediately bright red. She burrows it in my neck.

When the elevator stops on our floor, I am still carrying my wife, which is a good damn thing because my dick is stone.

“Are they gone?” she whispers.

I toy with lying as I continue to walk toward our suite, fishing for the room card in my pocket. “Yeah, but you gotta slow it down or you’re gonna get hurt.”

She pushes her hand between us and starts unbuttoning my shirt as I slide the key in, unlocking the door.

“I think you should just, like, ram it in there and—”

She squeals when I drop her on the bed.

I shrug off my jacket then finish unbuttoning my shirt, tossing it aside. Then I lose my pants and boxer briefs.

“And what are you thinking now?”

Her eyes are as big as saucers. She opens her mouth then snaps it shut, then tries again.

It’s comical.

“Why not just skip making love, and I just bend you over and ram it in that ass?”

She slaps her hand over her mouth as I walk toward her.

“Or maybe...” I kiss her lips softly as I push off her coat and unzip the back of her dress. Her eyes finally leave my cock, and she looks into mine. “Maybe you let me show you what I’ve been dreaming of doing for you, London, not to you, for months now?”

She slowly nods.

I step back and hold out my hand. When she takes it, I pull her up.

“Good girl,” I say, raising our linked hands then turning her so her back is to me. I then unzip the rest of her dress slowly while kissing her neck then working my way all the way down until I’m on my knees in front of her.

She’s not wearing a bra, and her panties are in my pocket. She’s completely bare, and I am completely determined to take my time with her.

I take her hips, guiding them so she turns. Then I lean in and kiss the soft skin of her waistline, down her left side, down her hip to her knee, and then move to the right, kissing from her knee to her hip.

I look up as I grip her calf, placing her leg on my shoulder. I then look down at the pink flesh and inhale, before looking back up as I kiss her inner thigh all the way to her pussy lips, watching her the entire time.

“You smell delicious, London.”

Her body quivers as she holds her breath.

I now lick the outside of her sweet little slit.

“You’re going to need to sit down so I can properly worship your pussy,” I tell her as I run my nose up her slit. “You smell so fucking good. Too fucking good. I may just do this all night.”

I kiss her lightly as she lies back on the bed, my mouth never once leaving her flesh. I spread her knees wide and run my tongue up her spread pussy. Her knees clench.

“Fucking so good.” I lick around and around her opening, not ready to go in yet, wanting to just enjoy the moment.

When her breaths become harder, and she grips the sheets, I lick around her clit, and her hips thrust as she moans. I kiss down her lips and dip the tip of my tongue inside her, and she cries out. I do it again and again gently, because I can’t fucking stop tasting her, and I can’t get her there too fucking fast, so I take my damn time.

When she starts to whimper, I know it’s driving her as crazy as it is me.

I flick my tongue over her clit, and she stiffens. I kiss her sweet lips again.

“Taste so good, London. So, so good.”

I flicker my tongue over her clit again, and she cries out.

“Good, baby?” I ask before doing it again.

“Oh God...yes,” she pants.

I do it again. “Still good?”

“Logan...” she whimpers.

I grab my cock with one hand and squeeze it while I flick and suck, flick and suck, flick and—

“Oh God. Oh, oh, oh...”

Pumping my cock in my hand, I suck harder as she comes, crying out my name. Then I do it again.

I stand up and kiss up her body, grabbing her tit in my hand and nearly fucking coming from how soft it is.

“Perfect. Fucking perfect,” I tell her before taking her nipple in my mouth and sucking it hard.

“Oh,” she pants. “My,” she pants harder. “God.”

I continue sucking on the most beautiful tits I have ever tasted and release my cock, fearing I will finish myself off.

I cup her pussy, and her body jerks before she moans as I begin to rub the outside of her lips. Then I slowly push a finger inside.

I release her tit and hiss, “So tight. So fucking tight.”

“Feels...good.” Her voice quivers as I curve my finger up and feel for her G-spot.

Her body thrusts when I find it. Then I gently push another finger inside her tight, little body as I continue tapping the spot. She comes in seconds.

“More, I want more,” she begs.

I hover over her sucking one tight nipple while caressing the other. Her fucking nipples are hard as hell.

I grind against her to get her closer to the edge, and then I reach between us and rub my cock up and down her wet slit. I watch her eyes roll as she grips my shoulders.

I stop and tell her, “You’re so fucking beautiful,” as I push into her just a little.

Her eyes open wide, and she looks at me in wonder.

“I’m gonna make you feels so fucking good. I can’t wait to feel you come around my cock.” I push in more, and she stiffens. I pull back, and she relaxes a bit as I fuck her nice and shallow to get her more fucking wet. “You feel so damn good. So good.”

I push in farther, and she gasps, so I pull back and then move in farther and farther each time until she gasps and holds her breath.

“Fuck,” I scold myself and start to pull back.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare stop. I know it’s going to hurt for a second. I don’t care. I want you inside me so bad, Logan. I want you to feel like I do. I want you to come with me.”

We rock together. Little by little, I get in farther and farther.

I look down when I swear I feel like I hit rock bottom, and my cock is only half in.

“Son of a bitch.”

“Take me, dammit,” she says, pushing against me. “Please, I want—”

I bury my head in her neck and reach between us, rubbing her clit as I continue working my way in.

“Oh shit!” she cries when I feel the bottom finally give out.

I look up at her. “Is it...?” I rock in, and she groans. I pull back farther this time, and then push in harder.

“Yes...” she moans.

“Fuck yes,” I say, sliding out and in, harder and faster.

“So full,” she moans.

“So tight,” I grunt as I push in harder.

“So good,” she says as she opens her eyes.

“Yeah?”

She nods. “More.”

“My fucking pleasure,” I tell her, releasing my worry because my London, my wife, is starting to meet me thrust for thrust. “That’s it, baby, just like that.”

Within two minutes, she comes. And within two more, she does again, and this time, so do I.

EPILOGUE

May

It’s two days before the semester ends, and I have a shitload of work to get done if I’m going to have this place ready for students in August.

Tonight, we are going to see Fletcher star in SU’s theater production. He doesn’t bother me one bit anymore. I actually kind of like the guy.

London still stays with the girls or in Keeka’s room until they are asleep, and then comes into our room.

Cuddle season has ended, and it’s now fuck season. My secret wife was accurate when she said that, once that genie came out of the bottle, it would never go back in. Not that I’m complaining one damn bit, but I also haven’t gotten shit accomplished because she comes home for lunch now. And by lunch, I mean she wants to serve me on a hotplate, the one between her legs.

One day, I came up to grab a sandwich, and she was bare ass, spread eagle on the kitchen island.

Looking at me, she said, “Pull up a stool; it’s lunchtime.”

I was face-first in her for half an hour, and then I fucked her for another thirty minutes. She was late to class.

One day, I looked down at my phone and saw a message from her. I had set down the drill and clicked the message.

Come up and fuck me.

I quickly sent her one right back, correcting her.

First of all, don’t ever message me that again. I’m not a booty call. I’m your husband.

Second of all...I’m on my way.

When I opened the door, she was laughing at me.

“What’s so damn funny?” I asked her as she walked backward toward the bedroom, naked as the day she had been born.

In a voice I assumed was mimicking mine, she said, “Second of all, I’m on my way.”

I tackled her ass and fucked her so damn hard she slept through all her afternoon classes.

You would think I would have gotten a lot done in those hours, but I didn’t, because I kind of missed cuddle season and she was all kinds of cuddly after three or four vaginal orgasms.

One day, I was at the home improvement store when I got a text.

Can you grab me something?

I replied:

Sure.

A steak.

Confused, I texted back:

A what?

Forget the steak. Bring me home that side of beef between your kick-ass legs.

I called her up immediately and told her that she needed to get a handle on herself. She hung up on me and sent me a picture. And no, it wasn’t a handle. It was a finger placed in a spot I frequented.

She asked me to put a pole in our room, and I said no. I mean, what the fuck? She would flunk out of school and not one damn thing would get done.

One day, I woke up to her playing with my cock under the covers, and she seemed annoyed when I caught her.

“It’s fascinating, Logan. Just leave us alone.” With that, she threw the blanket back over her and my dick, and then proceeded to have a damn conversation with it.

I fucked her stupid that day, too.

The thing is, I’m sure that’s what she was aiming for.

She messaged me another day that she didn’t forget her dance bag.

I replied:

Good thinking ahead, pretty.

She messaged me:

I drank a liter of pineapple juice.

I thought she might have sent it to the wrong person, so I sent her back:

What?

She sent back an emoji with googly eyes with its tongue sticking out.

I was hard all day.

Aside from London and I, our family is good.

Mom is still fighting, and London and I go to the city once a month to visit her. Our excuse is to catch a show. Most of the time, we do, but we also spend a lot of time at their place.

Ava is planning a birthday party for Hope and Chance; immediate family only. She also made me swear to keep a secret that somehow ended up with me getting ordained. She and Luke will be getting married at the party, and I will be marrying them.

I knew Mom wouldn’t be there, and I also knew that would tip Ava over a little.

I plan to tell her after her other secret is revealed, the one that is growing in her belly. Dad’s going to flip shit.

Aside from all the secrets and tragedies looming over our heads, life is amazing, but isn’t that true in everyone’s lives? We choose to focus on the here and now, the positives. We still live each moment...loving one another and those we hold close to our hearts.

I was terrified that London would slip one day and say something to the wrong person. She hasn’t. My wife is actually smarter than I ever knew. She’s also more fun to hang out with than any person I have ever met, and I get to fuck her. She’s loyal, she’s my best friend, she’s my confidant, and she’s my lover.

She’s my everything.

### The End ###

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

USA Today bestselling author MJ Fields write books that scorch pages and melt hearts. Her style is raw, gritty and authentic.

Love an alpha and a strong heroine? She does too.

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Join her readers group: Ladies of Love and Steel

WHAT’S NEXT IN THE FIRST SERIES?

Keeka, Jamie, Lisa

and

Christy

Will all star in their own, stand alone, series companion novels in 2018 and 2019.

Make sure to sign up for the newsletter so you’ll be alerted when they are available.

Until then…check out all my other work :)

IN THE STEEL

FAMILY OF BOOKS

The Men of Steel Series

Forever Steel

Jase

Cyrus

Zandor

Xavier

Raising Steel

The Ties of Steel Series

Abe

Dominic

Eroe

Sabato

The Rockers of Steel Series

Memphis Black

Finn Beckett

River James

Billy Jeffers

The Match Duet

Match This!

ImPerfectly Matched!

The Steel Country Series

Hammered

Destroyed

Wasted

Tied in Steel

Valentina

Paige (coming soon in 2018)

Gia (coming soon 2018)

IN THE LRAH or THE LEGACY SERIES FAMILY OF BOOKS

These families’ stories are intertwined starting with The Love series, they move to the Wrapped Series, the Burning Souls series, Love You Anyways, 27 Truths, 27 Lies, Her First Kiss, and His First Crush.

Many more series will spin off from these characters already written and each will be a standalone series but for those of us who love a story to continue I recommend reading in this order.

BEST READ IN THIS ORDER

The Love Series

Blue Love

New Love

Sad Love

True Love

The Wrapped Series

Wrapped In Silk

Wrapped In Armor

Wrapped In Always and Forever

Burning Souls Series

Stained

Forged

Merged

LRAH Legacy Additions

Love You Anyway

Love Notes

The Truth About Love Series

27 Truths

27 Lies

Firsts Series

Her First Kiss

His First Crush

(The following are coming soon)

Keeka’s story

Jamies story

Lisa’s story

Christy’s story

The Norfolk Series

Irons

Shadows

Titan (coming soon)

The Caldwell Brothers Series

(co-written w/ Chelsea Camaron)

Hendrix

Morrison

Jagger

Visibly Broken

Use Me

Standalones

Offensive Rebound

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To The Reader of this book,

You are my blessings. Thank you so much for reading my words, my stories, sending messages, emails, being part of my group, commenting on posts, leaving reviews...basically thank you for anything and everything you do for the love of my words.

To the bloggers involved in this release,

Some of you have been with me forever, some are new, but all of you are gold to me.

To Kris, Jules, and Josie

Without you, my book would be unpolished. Thanks so much for the polish!!!

Thank you!

To my reader group,

You’re still my morning hug, and my evening sweet dreams.

You’re part of my my… more.

LYA and Forever Steel.

Conor,

A million thanks for being you and so easy to work with.

Ally,

Still holds true….

You’re my everything, and the sweetest and strongest parts of you have and always will be. London to me. I’ve always been in awe of your insight and strength.

Never forget to love yourself...more.

I will always, love you more.