by Christa Wick
Stevie appeared behind them, his expression unreadable. Noticing him, Mrs. Jones patted the top of his head before turning back to Logan. "Ready dear?"
He handed her the keys and told her he would follow in another minute. She started walking toward me as Logan hoisted Stevie in his arms. Moving away from the door, I turned to ensure there was zero chance of Mrs. Jones brushing against me. She didn't even look at me as she passed.
Logan whispered something to Stevie then kissed him and lowered him to the ground. Seeing Logan's approach, the way his mouth shaped the unspoken words playing along his tongue, I stepped out of the house and into the sunshine. I couldn't take him brushing against me in the hall or listen to whatever platitude he wanted to comfort me with.
"Lily…"
I didn't look at him when he stepped onto the porch. Instead, I gestured at his wife waiting in the passenger seat of his car.
When he spoke again, his tone had hardened. "We'll talk when I get back."
I remained mute, my blinks coming faster as I fought the urge to cry. I heard him sigh and then he passed in front of me, got in the car and drove away without looking in my direction.
Stevie had curled up on the couch by the time I stepped into the living room. He wouldn't look at me. It hurt knowing what he must have been thinking. His mom was back, and suddenly I was the enemy. How could he feel any other way?
With Logan and his wife absent, I followed my normal babysitter routine. Since there was no homework—mine or Stevie's, I straightened up around the house, my heart shriveling another inch in diameter when I entered Logan's bedroom with an armful of folded laundry to find two suitcases against one wall and a patch of red lace peeking out from under the bed. Putting the clothes on the bed, I reached down and snatched the fabric.
Women's panties, size small.
The house had three bedrooms. There was no good reason for her suitcase or panties to be anywhere near Logan's bed.
I put the underwear back where I found them and returned the folded clothes to the laundry room, trying to forget what I had just seen. I spent a few minutes or thirty in the bathroom fighting more tears, losing the battle as often as not. I tried to see the bright side—the awkward conversation with my parents wouldn't happen. Jody could stop sneering over my infatuation with Logan, at least after she stopped gloating over the return of Mrs. Jones.
At the end of two hours of almost total silence, Stevie jerked his head up from where he had resumed his position on the couch after lunch. I heard the sound of two doors shutting a few seconds later. Rushing to the hallway, I grabbed my purse and keys, the front door opening as soon as my hands closed around my bag.
Logan held the door open as the lady of the house walked back in with her head held high. Halfway down the hall, she paused out of habit, her head starting to turn left before she must have remembered that the mirror had been taken down. Her head dropped a little, the frozen smile thawing and dipping downward for a heartbeat.
I let her pass out of sight then I walked briskly down the hall, twisting and contorting so that Logan could not grab hold of me as I brushed against him on my way out.
"Lily!" He followed after me, his long, powerful legs bringing him to my driver side door seconds before I reached it. Grabbing the handle, he blocked me from getting inside.
"Baby—"
My hand flew up to silence him. His wife's panties were on the floor of his bedroom, her suitcases resting only a few feet away. I wasn't his baby any longer and, from the look of things, never had been. I was a convenient fuck. The fat, pathetic babysitter who had a crush on him, took care of his child and never said no to anything he wanted.
Not that I hadn't enjoyed every last minute of it, but that fact was irrelevant.
"You will talk to me, Lily." His grip on the door handle tightened, the muscles along his chest and arms bulging. "She showed up in a taxi, sending it away before I ever opened the front door. I couldn't have the conversation I needed to have with her where Stevie could hear—"
Right, I thought. Like that totally explained why her suitcases were in the bedroom and her panties were on the floor.
When I continued staring over the top of my car's roof, he lifted his hand from the door, gripped the bottom of my chin and drew my gaze in his direction. I stared down at his chest. Bad enough I had to hear his pathetic excuses, I didn't need to see the truth across his face. His wife—the woman he'd shared more than a dozen years of his life with—had returned home. His son's mother had returned home.
I jerked my chin from his grasp and grabbed the door handle before he could reclaim it.
"Lily, I'll make her leave, give her money for a hotel. You don't need to go."
I lifted my gaze to finally meet his. "I didn't talk to my mother last night."
I'm not sure why I said it. Probably to hide how badly I was hurting by suggesting I didn't care enough about him to be honest with my parents. Or maybe I wanted to give him an out, let him know that I wouldn't be going home defeated or embarrassed.
Whatever my reason, his gaze shut down and then that bitch, Mrs. Jones, opened the door.
"Do you need cash to pay her, love?"
"I'm all set," I called out and yanked the door open.
Trying to reach me one last time, Logan softly said my name. I slammed the door before I had a chance to hear anything else from his lying lips. Engine running, I whipped my car out of the drive and headed for Emy's, a half gallon of black walnut ice cream, and a long night crying.
12
Logan called. I didn't answer. He came by my parents' home. I made sure I wasn't there. Days passed and the calls and visits wound down to nothing. Word got around that Mrs. Jones was back. I stayed away from home to avoid Jody's knowing smirk and my mother's questioning gaze.
I worked on projects at school, volunteered for overtime at my day job, and visited Emy so much that even she, my best friend since the third grade, got a little sick of me. The last few days of conversation with her were devoid of any comfort for my broken heart, with Emy demanding I either talk to Logan like an adult or go out on a date with one of two guys she mistakenly thought were interested in me.
"Kyle only wants help prepping for the mid-term in finance!" Stuck at a traffic light on my Friday drive home, I glared at the cellphone in its holder before checking cross traffic.
"He's just using it as an excuse to hang out with you," she responded, her voice deceptively sweet. "I live closer to him and I have a better grade in finance than you."
"It's the only class you're pulling a better grade." The light turned green and I charged across the intersection in my little car.
"Don't be petulant, sugar tits." Her chuckle and our favorite term of endearment for one another told me I hadn't completely ruined our friendship. "Kyle wants to bone you, so does Rick. You have ignored both of them while you moon over Logan. You can choose to be a grownup for real by talking to Logan, Kyle or Rick. Or you can admit you're a baby and sulk, but I'm not going to let you get away with ignoring reality."
We continued back and forth like that for another five minutes before I pulled into my parents' driveway.
"Shit," I hissed and turned the car off. "I have to go."
"Why? Is Logan there?"
"No." I suppressed a growl. I had told her a dozen times over that Logan had stopped trying to contact me. He was done trying to apologize or otherwise excuse his behavior for having used me as a temporary sex toy. "But my mom is standing with the front door open and looks like she's about to deliver a baby via her anus."
Emy snorted. "Picture or you're lying."
"You'll just have to believe me on this one, sugar tits. Talk to you later." I snapped the phone shut and put the car in park.
Whatever had my mom upset, it brought her straight to the car door before I could open it. Seeing me hesitate, she pulled it open for me.
"Why haven't you answered your phone? I've been calling for at least half an hour!"
; I swallowed, feeling guilty and hoping no one was hurt. I had heard the calls, far more than half an hour's worth. I had ignored them on the off chance Logan had resumed trying to reach me. "Sorry, I was on a call with someone at work. We were going over project details."
God, when had I become such a liar? Oh, yeah, the second I realized I had to protect my heart against any further damage. Forcing what I hoped was an apologetic smile onto my face, I started to get out of the car but her body blocked me from completely opening the door.
"Stevie must have been trying to call you, too."
"Did he call here?" I froze in place, only my stomach and heart in motion as they both lurched forward. Damn those Jones men! The mere thought that something might be wrong with Stevie launched me into an instant state of panic.
Mom nodded. "I think he was crying, but he only asked once if you were here and then he hung up. I tried to call back, but there was no answer."
"I'll go check." I fell back into my seat and shooed her away from the door. Hopefully Logan or Mrs. Jones hadn't changed the front lock. Hell, hopefully nothing was wrong at all.
Flipping my phone open, I punched in the number for Logan's home. It was half past four. Stevie would be home from school, presumably with Mrs. Jones. Logan would be on base for at least a few more hours.
No answer.
I punched in the number for Logan's cell phone.
No answer.
Accelerating once I was away from the residential area, I tried the house number once more and prayed for someone to pick up the damn phone.
Nothing, nothing, nothing!
"Fuck!" I slammed my palm against my steering wheel. Why would Stevie call my house crying and refuse to leave a message?
Messages!
I swore again, abusing my steering wheel once more as I checked my voicemail for messages. Driving like a mad woman, I listened to the first new message.
"Lily, are you there?" Stevie's voice shook, pulling mercilessly at my chest like fishhooks in my flesh. "I had to walk home…no one is here…"
Shit, the bus cut-off was two miles, any child living within two miles of the school had to walk. Only two crossing guards—one when the kids left school, the second half a mile out where they had to cross a major road without a light. I didn't want to think about all the buildings he'd passed after that second guard, but there was at least one bar with a pawnshop next to it.
A second message from Stevie followed the first.
"I can't reach my dad. My mom—"
His voice broke and he hung up. I could guess well enough why—Mrs. Jones would have been responsible for picking Stevie up. I'd already had to witness her doing so twice since her return on the only two days mom needed me to drop Rhea off at ballet.
"Bitch, bitch, bitch," I growled as my car screeched to a stop half an inch from Logan's garage door.
I jumped from the car, heard the thunk of my door shutting as I raced to unlock the house. My skirt coiled around my knees as I ran, threatening to send me face first onto the cement walkway. Reaching the door, I jammed my key into the lock and twisted the handle. I barged inside, calling Stevie's name.
Absolute silence greeted me.
My pulse pounding like a marching drum, I kept calling for him as I rushed through the front room, popped my head into the kitchen then headed down the hall toward his bedroom. I opened the door, saw his book bag on the floor, its contents spilled around it.
"Stevie! It's Lily. Answer me, damnit!"
A hundred horrible scenarios ran through my head. Had someone seen him enter the house alone? Had he answered the door? Already insane with worry, another possibility wrapped its cold hand around my spine and squeezed.
Logan kept a handgun in the house. He also kept it secured in a lock box, with a trigger lock for extra measure. Only two people had the key—or had once had the key. Logan was meticulous about keeping his key on him, but Mrs. Jones had proven herself irresponsible. When she had abandoned them eight months ago, she had left her key on the bedroom dresser.
What if she'd done something like that again and Stevie, scared to find himself home alone…
I couldn't finish the thought. I'd puke if I even tried to. Spinning on my heels, I took my first step toward Logan's bedroom when I heard a sniffle.
The sound came from behind me. I turned back to Stevie's bedroom, dropped to my knees and lifted his blanket to look under the bed.
An empty space stared back at me.
Stepping to the closet, I threw the doors open to find my little bug with his face buried against his knees but appearing unharmed. Scooping him up, I wrapped Stevie in a tight hug that made the air come whooshing out of him.
"Why didn't you answer me, little man?"
He sniffled again, his slight frame shaking. I put him down on the bed, checking his exposed skin and the state of his clothing.
"Did you walk home alone?"
He shook his head. I half wanted to throttle him but sensed he was too scared to even talk.
Getting down on my knees in front of him, I gently grabbed his shoulders. "Tell me who walked with you."
"Tommy."
One word, two syllables, but it relaxed me. Tommy was two grades ahead but as gentle as a lamb. Better yet, he looked another grade older than he was, so the junior high students didn't give him any shit. He also lived half a block past Logan's place on the route home, so Stevie would have had company the entire trip.
I rubbed at Stevie's arm, hoping to calm him. "No one hurt you, did they?"
He shook his head.
"Would you tell me if they had?"
He hesitated then nodded. The hesitation hurt but I couldn't blame him. I had walked out of his life twice now, making me no different to him than his mother. I needed Logan home as soon as possible. He would get the full story from Stevie.
"I'm going to lock the front door, okay?"
Without a word, Stevie rolled over and stared at the wall.
"It'll just be a few seconds, little man." I knew Stevie had three contact numbers for Logan—the Major's cell phone, plus the main desk for both his unit and the battalion. Walking to the front of the house, I scrolled through the same contact numbers before I remembered the one from that long ago night with its misdirected text. Logan had said the building was something of a black hole for cell phone reception and I knew his battalion was military intelligence.
Dialing the number, I was almost to the front door when it exploded inward. Seeing me, Logan hesitated for a second. "Where is he?"
"In his room," I whispered and pressed my back against the wall as Logan thundered past me. I watched him continue down the hall, and then I stared at the open door.
My keys and phone were in my hand. My purse was in the car. Logan was home.
I could just walk through that open door and drive away. Considering the quiet fury I'd seen on Logan's face, I considered the option heavily.
Hand shaking, I shut the door and slowly made my way back to Stevie's room. I could hear them talking from where I waited in the hall. Logan kept his voice gentle, his words kind, even as he asked Stevie what had happened and why he had not gone inside to the school's office when no one was there to pick him up.
"Because everybody would know—" Stevie's whisper broke into a cry and then I heard muffled sobs.
Everybody would know…
Muscles knotted throughout my torso, making it impossible to breathe. Stevie had walked to an empty home in shame knowing that Mrs. Jones had abandoned him yet again. I couldn't imagine how lonely those two miles had felt, even with Tommy at his side.
I swiped at my eyes, losing the fight to contain my tears when I heard Stevie speak again.
"Is she gone?"
Logan's answer came out like jagged glass. "I don't know where your mom is, Champ."
"I mean Lily," Stevie whispered.
"I'm right here, little man." I stayed in the hallway, too cowardly to even pop my head around the corner and reassure hi
m. "Do you…" Afraid to say want or stay or go, I hesitated. "Do you need me to stay?"
The seconds that passed felt like an eternity. Stevie didn't respond. Logan offered a single word, tersely spoken.
"Yes."
13
A quiet evening passed after the initial drama. With Stevie settled on the couch beside me, Logan stepped outside to make several rounds of calls. From his inspection of the house and a few words exchanged between us, I knew that Mrs. Jones' suitcase and all the clothing she had brought with her were gone.
At nine o'clock, we started getting Stevie ready for bed. At ten, we both tucked him in. I didn't promise Stevie I would be there when he woke up. With the stony looks Logan kept throwing my way, I wasn't sure I would be allowed to remain once Stevie fell asleep. Neither did Stevie ask me to stay, but I could see the question lingering in his gaze.
I kissed him goodnight, told him I loved him. Choking on unshed tears, I stopped short of saying anything else and left his room while Logan finished tucking him in.
Retreating to the kitchen, I put away the clean dishes. I had just finished when Logan came into the room. His approach silent as a tomb, he stood there and said nothing, but I could feel him. My own emotions raw, I tried to outlast his silence.
I failed, of course, and turned to find him glaring at my back. A switch flipped inside my head, leaving me suddenly angry. "You're looking at me like this is my fault!"
I bit the words out, trying hard to keep my voice at the level of a whisper and not cause any more drama for Stevie.
Logan took three long strides across the room and then his hand locked around my wrist. Insistent, but not rough, he led me to his bedroom. My gaze nervously scanned the floor as if those lacy red panties of Mrs. Jones might jump out from under the bed and bite me.
Standing me in front of the dresser, Logan pointed at the top left drawer then placed its key in my hand. I knew it had a lock, but the contents had never warranted securing it.
