by M. J. Fields
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.”
Sh
e 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.
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 fu
cking 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.
