The Firsts Series Box Set

by M. J. Fields

  He comes to when I sit him in the back of Lucas’s SUV. “The hell?”

  “You passed out, son.” Lucas slides in beside him and tosses me his keys.

  “I, what?” He attempts to hold his head, likely to stop it from spinning, and he whispers, “Fuck!”

  I slide into the front seat as I look at Maddox and Brody standing beside the driver’s side window. “I’ll send you a message when we get to,” I pause and look in the rearview at Lucas, “Where we headed?”

  Logan says home, Lucas says Cayuga Medical in Ithaca.

  “Dad, fuck no, I just need—”

  “Get that hand fixed.” Lucas shakes his head and closes his eyes. “Jesus—”

  Logan interrupts and finishes Lucas’s go-to statement of frustration, “I know, I know, L Christ. But it’s not a big damn deal.”

  “Your hand is shattered, Logan,” Lucas huffs.

  They continue the same bickering, and I continue watching in the rearview mirror as Logan fights for control of his own emotions and Lucas fights to help someone who doesn’t want to be helped, he just wants to be left alone. I glance up at the road as I hit the gas.

  Thirty minutes later we’re in the ER. Luckily, it’s not busy, and it’s probably also a benefit that my father in law is a natural flirt. Unfortunately, my wife takes after him in that respect. And like him, she’s clueless about it. It’s too bad it encourages every man on the receiving end of that perfect smile and twinkling blue eyes. They don’t have a fucking clue, until they see me.

  Sitting in the waiting room, I wonder what the fuck it is he meant about Ava hating him. The words weren’t delivered or received lightly. He believes he’s done something that will make Ava so angry she’ll hate him.

  Ava doesn’t do hate. She gets pissed. Real freaking pissed, like right now, I’m sure she’s real pissed that I left my phone in my damn vehicle. Last time I did it, she threatened to shove a tracking device up my ass. I know Lucas has been messaging her, and I’m sure the entire crew, with what Logan keeps repeating, “I don’t need a fucking audience to get my hand wrapped.”

  The silver-haired nurse practitioner orders an x-ray and Logan pulls his hat down over his eyes as he lays back on the gurney.

  I hate the smell of hospitals; the only time the overwhelming smell of disinfectant hasn’t caused me to get nauseous was when Ava gave birth to Faith.

  I reach in my pocket to send a message to check on Ava and the kids and remember, once again, I left my damn phone.

  “Fuck,” I mumble under my breath as I lean against the wall.

  “You good?” Lucas asks.

  “Yeah, yeah, of course. Need to use the phone.”

  He walks over and hands me his. “You sure—”

  “Yeah.” I take the phone and hold it up. “Thanks.”

  Out in the hallway, I try to ignore the wave of nausea rippling through my body. I weave my way past nurses and doctors toward the nearest exit.

  Once outside, I sit at the closest bench and inhale a deep breath of fresh air, hoping to feel better soon.

  When the phone chimes in my hand, I look at it.

  Ava.

  “Hey, Ava.”

  “Hey?” She pauses. “Luke?”

  “Left my phone in the truck, sorry—”

  “I know, I’m driving the truck. We’re almost there.”

  “Babe, he isn’t keen on—”

  She speaks over me, “He broke his hand?”

  “He’s waiting on x-rays, but I can safely say, yeah, he did. But Ava—”

  “When will he learn not to punch immovable objects, for God’s sake?”

  “Ava—”

  “I’m gonna kick his ass. He scared the hell out of us.”

  “Us?”

  I hear a horn blow and look up as Ava wheels past me in my white 4 door Chevy Dually, Duramax Diesel, just barely peeking over the steering wheel. I’m glad to see there is no us. She’s alone.

  “Babe, are you sitting in a booster seat?”

  “Screw you,” she laughs. Then under her breath, she mumbles fuck.

  I watch in amusement as she attempts to park the truck.

  When she stops and looks at me, I can’t help but laugh.

  Ten seconds ago, I felt like I was going to throw up, now, I remember that no amount of memories brought on by smells or sounds can fuck me up, not when she’s around, and God help me, I wanna keep her around until we’re nine hundred years old, with a dozen kids, and their kids, and their kids, are running around us.

  My heart breaks for my father, Tommy, that he was never able to experience this. He died before I was born. I think of my paternal grandparents, his parents, and I’m angry that they never truly got it, got what family means. Even more mad that they tarnished me against my mom’s side of the family, Ryan, the man who raised me and a constant source of inspiration, and Lucas, Ava’s dad, who they blamed for an accident he had no control over and used it to taint me against him… them. Well, tried. Deep down, I always admired the man and father he is. And his past isn’t unlike many others I know. Including myself. I will never judge a person as harshly as they did. Especially a kid, a teenager, hell, even a young adult as they grow into the man or woman they are meant to become. Which is why I will not allow them time with my kids. They’d do whatever they could to discredit them. And yeah, I will judge the fuck out of any adult who manipulates a kid into believing their own personal shit, and for what, to make them feel better? To hinder their own growth? Makes no fucking sense to me, none.

  Life is a journey, a hard one at that. It’s hill after hill, with a hundred-pound backpack on your back, a million worries flooding your mind, and when you think ‘I got this’ you face another hill, another hundred pounds, and another million reasons to worry.

  But sometimes, if you’re lucky, God gives you an Ava. If you’re really lucky, he gives you a second chance when you fuck up… knowing damn well we were meant to be.

  I don’t like the path we took to get here, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. It would mean my little princess wouldn’t be the second hug I get in the morning. Biology be dammed, she’s mine. And had fate switched it up, had God taken me and not Thomas that day, I know down deep he’d have loved Chance the same.

  I watch her throw her hands in the air, no doubt cursing, and I hope—no, pray—that the drummer in the sky still gets to see these moments because I can’t imagine a God so cruel that wouldn’t allow that.

  When she looks up, she catches me grinning and flips me off. I laugh as she hops out of the truck walking toward me, so I walk towards her.

  When she gets close enough, she tosses me the keys. “You wanna park that beast?”

  “You wanna go with me and make out like teenagers?”

  She stops and puts one hand on her waist, accentuating her sexy as hell curves, while she opens her jacket to expose her shirt. And two soaked boob marks.

  I bite back a laugh.

  “Hot, huh?”

  “Everything about you is hot.” I wrap my arms around her, and she pushes me away. “You don’t need boob marks. And I need to get in there and see Logan.”

  I close her jacket and then hug her like I want to.

  “He’s going down for x-rays and doesn’t want anyone—”

  “That’s not how we roll,” she reminds me stepping back.

  “Right, how could I forget?” I joke.

  She leans back and looks up at me. “Would we have it any other way?”

  A little over a year ago I would have said hell yes. But the day I walked into that Brooklyn apartment as pissed, hurt, and confused as I was, I knew I didn’t belong anywhere but with her. Hell, I knew it before, I just couldn’t admit it.

  “No.” I kiss the top of her head and step back, placing a hand on her hip. “I’m just glad you came alone. He’s—” I stop when I hear another beep and look over my shoulder to see London parking.

  “Drove alone,” Ava says, and I look back at her. “Her fia
ncé lost his mind.”

  I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Fuck.”

  “Park the truck for me?” She literally bats her eyes, and it hits me that is exactly where Hope gets it from.

  I was once owned by my loyalty to the US Army for a contracted amount of time, and I have no regrets about it. But being owned body, mind, heart, and soul by the people I love and love me, there is no need for a contract, no expiration date… no duty, be it wiping ass or soothing hearts, I’m in it for eternity. “Yeah, of course.”

  As I park the truck, straight this time, I watch London walking toward Ava. She’s pissed and in a hurry.

  As I get out, lock the truck, and hurry to catch up with them, I worry Logan is in for one hell of a fight. And I’m not saying he doesn’t deserve it. He does.

  You don’t walk away from the people who love you, especially the one you put a fucking ring on, without repercussions.

  There isn’t a damn thing I can do to save him from that. But I can’t help but worry about what Logan said about Ava hating him.

  When I catch up to them, Ava takes my hand.

  Mine

  London

  Walking into the hospital, I’m pissed at Logan.

  Pissed he took off, pissed he apparently beat up the steering wheel, pissed he said something that made Dad pissed. So pissed, in fact, he could barely look at me, and then Maddox told me to get in his vehicle so I could get Logan’s truck and meet him at the hospital.

  The hospital?!?

  Dad told me he hoped I knew what the hell I was doing with that… boy, and if I was smart, I’d run.

  There wasn’t time to argue that Logan wasn’t a boy, he was a man, or to calm his worry and delve deeper into all the reasons he was a man, and that I knew exactly what I was doing.

  Logan is now and will forever be the center of my world, I will never run.

  Except now, when I am apparently unaware that I am in fact running, or at least speed walking, and I haven’t a clue as to where I am going.

  “London, slow down, he’s getting x-rays.” Ava’s voice does as she intended.

  I stop as I’m about to burst through the doors that go from the waiting room to the ER.

  “Miss, you can’t go in there.”

  I spin around and look at the lady at the desk. “I’m here for Logan Links.”

  I take in a deep breath and wait for her to let me through, push a button, open the damn door, but she looks away.

  I push the door, and it’s locked.

  “Miss, it’s immediate family—”

  Ava interrupts her, “I’m his sister.”

  “And I’m his wife.”

  I watch the nurse or receptionist, or whatever she is, eyeball me. I glare at her. She glares back. I glare even harder, and Ava interrupts.

  “Could you please just get my father Lucas, he’s with him.”

  “I’m aware that Lucas Links is with Logan, but I hope you understand that I will be checking your—”

  “Excuse me,” Luke interrupts. “I’m the one who brought him in. And this is his sister, my wife, and that’s,” he pauses and looks at me, “His wife.”

  And now… I realize what the hell I just said.

  She looks at something on the computer screen and motions to the door. This time when I push on it, it opens.

  It’s not hard to figure out where my husband’s room is. It’s the one with half the ER staff, all of the female persuasion, standing outside the door, peering through the glass windows as if they’re watching a television show.

  I feel my blood boil as I quicken my steps and I don’t even say excuse me, no manners, none, I just push past them.

  “Miss, you need to—”

  “Oh, shut it,” I snap as I push through the final group of nurses.

  “Well hello, Pretty.” Logan beams a big old smile and lifts his hand. “I have a boo-boo.”

  “Yeah? Well, I hope it hurt,” I scowl.

  He grins… Logan doesn’t grin, he smirks, he smiles… when we’re alone. But he’s typically a broody asshole in public, which I prefer, and not for any other reason than his grin clearly brings on attention, and he’s taken, I even put a ring on it.

  “Put that thing away, stow it, save it for—”

  “London.” Lucas’s hand clasps gently on my shoulder.

  I whip around and scowl at him, and he grins. What the hell is it with these men?

  “You too!”

  He looks shocked, maybe even a bit scared, okay, not scared, but at least nervous.

  I look back at Logan. “What the hell were you thinking?”

  “Miss, if you can’t calm down, we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

  I look back. “Oh really?”

  I cross my arms over my chest, tap my foot on the ground, and challenge the ever-loving shit out of her.

  “London.” Lucas tries to stop me, but that bitch looks thirsty. I scowl one last time at her and her blonde hair and big tits.

  “You should wipe the drool—”

  “Okay, now.” Lucas’s hands grip my shoulders from the back and turn me to face Logan. “Let’s focus our attention here.”

  “I’m so pissed at you,” I sputter.

  “I know—”

  “No, I don’t think you do know, Logan. You don’t just take off, beat up a steering wheel… hide. From them, maybe.” I toss my thumb over my shoulder at Lucas and Ava. “But never me. Do you understand? Am I making myself clear?” He starts to open his mouth, and I sneer, “I am not done yet.”

  His eyes widen a bit, and I continue, “You ever do that crap again, and I will do it back, and then you’ll understand how much it hurt.”

  My voice cracks, my eyes fill, but I push through. “You want this,” I motion between us, “Then you don’t ever, ever do that to me again because I will—”

  “London,” he slurs. Is he high? “Get the fuck over here.”

  “No,” I sniff. “No, I will not.”

  Now my tears fall.

  “Pretty, I have two hands.”

  “Yet only half a brain,” Lucas whispers under his breath.

  I look back at him, shocked, because Lucas never acts like that toward his kids. Ever.

  I expect him to give me his flirty Lucas, haha look, but he doesn’t. He pats my shoulders, then he turns around and runs his hand through his hair.

  “London,” Logan says in a sing-song, not Logan voice, drawing my attention back to his apparently stoned self. “And a tongue, Pretty, don’t be mad.”

  “Oh my God, just shut up, will you?” I cover my face.

  “What, now you don’t want me? Jesus, make up your mind, will ya?”

  “I want you, Logan, I want you to shush, just…. close your eyes and sleep.”

  “Will I wake up to you under the cov—”

  “Logan, if I get near that dumb stick right now, I’d yank it off and play whack-a-mole with your head, praying to God above it would be hard enough to knock you out so you’d shut up!”

  He grins again.

  God…. What the hell am I going to do with him?

  “Get. Over. Here.” He pulls the covers over, exposing… way too much. “It’s cuddle season.”

  “Good God.” I hurry over and pull the blanket back over him.

  “What? You don’t like him anymore?”

  “Logan, when you come off whatever pain med they doped you up with, you’re going to probably die of embarrassment. I’d prefer you not do that.”

  He wipes away a fallen tear from my cheek. “Wasn’t running from you, Pretty. Just couldn’t stop… laughing.”

  “So, laugh if you want to. Nothing wrong.”

  “I couldn’t stop.” He lays back and closes his eyes, and I sit beside him.

  “So, what,” I whisper. “You deserve to laugh, to be happy, to be you.”

  “Who the fuck am I now anyway?” He sighs.

  “You’re Logan Links, and you’re my forever.”


  “You deserve more than what you’ve settled for,” he whispers.

  “I call bull.”

  He opens one beautiful, yet bloodshot, blue eye and looks at me. “Sorry I’ve fucked up.”

  “That’s like apologizing for being human, Logan.” I finally give in to my need to make everything okay for him, for me, for us, and bend down to kiss his head and whisper against it, “I love you, but don’t you ever do that to me, to us, again.”

  “Love you more,” he whispers back.

  “Mr. Links.” A female in a lab coat enters. “I’m Dr. Kennedy. You’ve done a number on that hand of yours. We need to get you prepped for surgery.”

  “Hell no,” He grumbles and starts to sit up. I hold his shoulders and easily keep him down.

  “Shush,” I warn him.

  “Are you refusing medical attention?” Dr. Kennedy asks.

  Bitch.

  “No, he’s not,” I answer for my drugged up and emotional man… not boy.

  “London, I just want to go-.” He stops and falls asleep before saying home.

  “If it needs to be done, let’s do it,” Lucas says.

  “Oh, it definitely needs to be done.” Dr. Kennedy shakes her head. “His hand is basically shattered. The OR will be ready soon, and we’ll take him up. Since he’s asleep, I need the consent form signed.” Lucas reaches out for the clipboard, but she looks at me. “By his wife.”

  “She’s actually his fiancée,” Ava begins.

  Dr. Kennedy looks at me. “His paperwork says otherwise.”

  “He was not in his right mind,” Lucas laughs.

  Dr. Kennedy stretches the board out toward me farther, and I take it. “Sign by the X, Mrs. Links.”

  As I’m signing the paperwork, I hear a slight gasp and look up. In the doorway stands Tessa and my mother.

  “London?”

  “Mom.” I stand.

  “Is this a joke? I mean, it’s legal paperwork, you can’t.” She stops when I look down. “Oh my God, you’re… married?”

  “She better not be.” I hear Brody before I see him.

  I turn my back to them. I don’t have time for this right now, not when Logan is going into surgery.