by McLean, Jay
The last one he wrote was the one I read first.
He’d perfected it the day perfection was born.
A knock on the door startles me, pulling me from my reverie. Leo didn’t mention anyone stopping by, and so I hesitate a beat before the knocking begins again. “Mama? Is that you?” Benny calls from the top of the stairs.
“Someone’s at the door, buddy,” I say, opening it.
My heart drops to my feet when I see Lucas and Logan standing shoulder to shoulder. “Leo’s not here,” I manage to say before my throat closes in. I hate the sudden fear in my voice, the agony in my soul.
“Yeah, we know,” Lucas says. “Um… we were hoping to speak to you.”
I glance at Logan, whose looking down at his feet, his hand tapping at his pocket. I saw him doing it a couple of weeks ago, and I wonder what it means. What does any of this mean?
Lucas clears his throat. “Can we come in?”
I slam the door in their faces, my lungs filling with too much oxygen so fast that my body folds in half, and I have to hold on to the doorknob to keep upright.
“Who is it, Mama?” Benny asks, coming down the stairs.
“It’s, um…” I blow out a breath. “It’s…” Your uncles. I can’t even get the words out, but that’s who they are, and soon Benny will be old enough to work it out. With that in mind, I rush to open the door again, only to be greeted with their retreating backs. “Wait!” I call out and wait for them to turn to me. “I need a minute! Please.”
Logan’s eyes are wide as he nods, stating, “Take your time.”
I close the door just as Benny stops in front of me, head tilted as he watches me attempt to inhale. Exhale. Just breathe. “What’s wrong, Mama?”
“Nothing, baby.” I hold him to me, blinking back tears when his little arms wrap around me. “Mama just needed a recharge, that’s all.”
When he pulls back, his neck craned to look up at me, he smiles. “Are Leo’s brothers here to go on an adventure with me?” His eyes are wide, the joy and excitement filling them almost bringing me to my knees.
I know that I have to face them again. I can’t hide out here—in our own little bubble—forever. According to the twins, Leo’s already pushing them away. My initial fear is becoming real. Leo’s being forced to choose. Something I never wanted to happen. Even back then, over five years ago, I knew what it would mean to him to have to do that—what it would do to him. Like my disease, only I can fight this because it’s inside me.
I have to try.
For Leo.
For Benny.
“Maybe,” I tell Benny, and his smile widens.
“We might have to have a grown-up talk first, okay?”
Benny nods, and I turn around, open the door for the third time. “Hi.”
“Hey,” they say in unison.
I swallow my nerves. “Do you want to come in?”
“Actually,” Logan says, shifting on his feet. His hands in his pockets, but they look to be fisted. “I was hoping maybe you and I could talk out here, and Lucas can watch Benny?”
I open my mouth to come up with an excuse because the idea of Benny being alone—“Can I show him my room?” Benny asks, tugging on my arm. “Please, Mama! Please!”
My gaze drops. “Yeah, okay.”
Lucas steps forward, and I move to the side, giving him room to enter the house. “Thanks, Mia,” he says, and I know it means more than that single word.
I can feel it in the way he says it—the underlying meaning. He’s thankful for the chance, whether it’s for him or Logan—I’m not sure.
“It’s my most favoritest place in the world,” Benny tells Lucas as they climb up the stairs.
“Oh yeah?” Lucas responds. “I can’t wait to see it!”
When I turn back to Logan, he motions to the porch steps. “Want to sit?”
“Sure.” On shaky legs, I sit on the porch, noticing that he closes the front door. He probably doesn’t want Benny to hear whatever he has to say, which makes sense. A moment later, he’s sitting beside me, far enough that we don’t have to touch. It’s the closest I’ve ever been to him, I realize, and I ignore the fear clogging my airways.
“You probably know why we’re here,” he says.
I clear my throat, but I don’t respond. I look ahead at the large oak tree in the front yard. Beneath the branches, on the ground, is an old tire… for a tire swing, I bet.
“We wanted to apologize about that night on the dock.” He pauses a beat. “There are no excuses for the things we said, or how we made you feel, or everything that happened afterward. We feel like… like absolute shit, to be honest, Mia. After you gave us a beatdown on Halloween, I haven’t been able to think straight. And Laney’s pretty much stopped talking to Luke, so that’s fun for him… Lucy’s stopped talking to all of us.” He shakes his head. “But that’s not your concern.”
I don’t know if he’s watching me, but I’m too scared to look at him.
His heavy exhale fills the silence between us. “I don’t expect you to forgive us or understand, but I hope one day you’ll see that we’re not the same people anymore.” He sighs. “I feel like everything I say is going to sound like an excuse, but I feel like if I don’t say anything, then you’re forever going to think that we’re those same fucking assholes we were back then. So I’m just going to say it, and you don’t have to listen.”
I stay quiet, anxiousness clawing at my insides.
“Besides Lucy, Lucas took Mom’s death the hardest, and it wasn’t because we’d lost her or we’d miss her. It’s because he felt like he had to step up and become more than his twelve years could handle. Lucy was gone with Cameron a lot, and when she moved out of the main house, it was basically him in charge, along with your mom—but she was mainly focused on the younger kids. I think he thought that in order to keep us in line, he had to be this obnoxious fucking dick all the time.”
My eyes snap to his, shocked at his words, and he cracks a half-smile.
“But it worked,” he adds. “For the most part. To be honest, Lucas put on an act around most people, even his best friend—who, if I recall—was there that night. Garray?”
I nod, look away again.
“I never thought I’d say this, but Luke—he’s not a bad guy. He was just a guy trying to do his best, make Dad proud, and not leave any of us behind. There was a lot of pressure on him—being the oldest boy and all—and sure, he was cocky and rude, but he loves hard, Mia. And after that shit with Laney—it really changed him, you know? He became… selfless.” His voice cracks on the last word, and when I glance at him, his eyes are clouded, filled with tears. He sniffs once, fighting back his emotions. “As far as me being an absolute shit bag—” He breaks off to clear his throat. “Look, I was going through a lot. I hated the whole fucking world, and to be honest, I was so high at the time, I’m surprise I even remember that night.” High? He would’ve been what? Twelve? Thirteen? Logan taps at his pocket again, and my eyes shift to the movement. He stops immediately. But his knees begin to bounce. It starts slow, then gets more and more frantic. “I was addicted to weed,” he says, and I try to look up and into his eyes, but he’s looking ahead, his gaze distant. “And weed—it’s not so bad unless you’re using it to to forget. And there was a hell of a lot that I wanted to forget.” His entire body is shaking now, both his hands slapping against his pockets and…
My eyes drift shut. I can’t believe I didn’t realize what this was before. This—the searching in his pockets—it’s his trigger reaction. I used to pull out my hair, only satisfied when the roots came out. It was always my left hand, my right too busy aching to be down my throat. I’d done it so often that I had a patch missing from my scalp. “You don’t have to tell me,” I rush out. “It’s okay.”
“I do, Mia,” he says. “Because I need you to trust me.”
And before I can stop him, tell him that I can work on trusting him without knowing or caring what it is that’s making him thi
s way, Logan tells me. And he tells me everything—the abuse and the addiction and the bender that led to rehab, all while his voice strains against every word. And then he tells me about his niece, Katie—how he turned it all around for her. I listen, my stomach twisting, my eyes flooding with so many tears I don’t even bother hiding them. It’s impossible to breathe, to speak. But I try. “I’m so sorry, Logan.”
“That’s not even the worst part,” he croaks, his eyes finally meeting mine. “Aubrey’s his daughter.”
My eyes snap shut.
“Finding that out is what led to the bender.” He clears his throat. “She’s been wanting to reach out to you because she knows what it’s like to be… an outsider, I guess. My whole family knows who she is, and sometimes she sees herself as her father’s spawn, but we don’t. I don’t. But if any of them ever treated her the way we treated you… holy shit, I’d burn the entire world down, Mia. And Leo—he’s at that point. I can see it. He’s lit the fucking match, and he’s just waiting… And I don’t want that, because…” He pauses a breath. “He dropped out of college to be there for me, and he has been. There are some things I tell him that I can’t anyone else, not even Aubrey. He’s been my strength through my physical and emotional recovery, and I don’t want to lose him. I can’t. And maybe that makes me the most selfish asshole in the world, but I’m seriously considering moving to New York when he does. I need him, and in order for him to exist in my life, I need you to—” He stops there, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t know what I’m asking of you and it wasn’t at all my intention to ask anything from you, but…” He looks at me now, his eyes lost, and for the first time in my entire life, I want to hug Logan Preston. “Mia, I relapsed.”
My stomach drops.
“That Halloween night….”
So did I, I don’t say.
“It was just one toke.”
It was just one purge.
“I need to be better than this.”
So do I.
“For Katie.”
For Benny.
I hug Logan Preston.
And he hugs me back.
And then I find my inner strength, my inner Mama, and I say something I never thought I’d ever say to him. “We’re going to get through this, Logan. And we’ll do it together.”
He doesn’t let go of me. Not until the front door opens and Benny pokes his head out. “Look what I drew, Mama,” he says, holding out a sheet of paper.
I wipe the remnants of my tears off my cheeks and take Benny’s drawing while he looks over at Logan, frowning. “Do you need another recharge?”
Logan chuckles. “Absolutely, I do.”
Lucas steps out, his brow furrowed as he looks at his brother. He doesn’t speak. I gaze down at Benny’s picture of a lopsided playhouse with a bright blue sign above the door that reads Benny! “This is awesome,” I tell him.
“Did you know Leo’s brothers build houses?” he asks.
With a smile, I reply, “I did know your dad’s brothers build houses. And do you know what you call your dad’s brothers?” I don’t miss the widening of eyes on both the Preston boys.
“No.”
“They’re your uncles.”
“Nuh-uh,” Benny says. “I already have an uncle. Holden.”
“You can have more than one uncle.”
“Nuh-uh,” he sings, and I sigh, roll my eyes as I look at the drawing again.
“It’s a great playhouse, Benny.” Then my eyes thin as I peer up at the brothers now standing on the porch. “Speaking of which, shouldn’t you both be at work?”
Lucas shakes his head while Logan scoffs and laughs at the same time. “We were fired,” Lucas tells me.
“Your dad fired you?”
“Yep,” Logan responds. “Papa Preston does not play.”
I get to my feet. “When did this happen?”
“Halloween night.”
Chapter Eighty-Eight
Leo
When I open the front door of my house, the first thing I notice is the smell of Mia’s cooking. The second thing I notice is the music. Soft and smooth, “Easy” by the Commodores plays just loud enough for me to assume it’s coming from a phone. I slip off my shoes at the entryway and make my way to the kitchen. Benny’s sitting on the kitchen counter with a sketchbook and crayons, and Mia is setting the table. I’d comment on how amazing it feels to come home to this scene, how it warms my heart, yet raises my insecurities, but… the table that Mia is currently placing silverware on? It wasn’t there this morning.
“Hi,” I say, and Mia spins, her hand to her chest.
“I didn’t hear you come in!”
“Leo!” Benny shouts, sliding off the stool to recharge my soul.
Mia asks, beaming up at me, “How was your first day?”
“Yeah, how was your first day?” Benny echoes, his arms raised. I’m not sure at what age he’ll stop wanting to be picked up and held, but right now, I’m all about it.
I answer, “It was… anticlimactic, to be honest. A lot of sitting in the car listening to my training officer tell old, boring stories.” I drop a kiss on Mia’s forehead and tickle Benny’s side before releasing him back to the floor. He climbs on the stool, the only seat that was here. Now there’s a bench on either side of the kitchen table. My eyes narrow as I look down at Mia. “When did you get a table?”
“Oh, this,” she says, her smile confusing as hell. “I commissioned your brothers to build it. They did it in, like, two hours. Pretty cool, huh?”
I’m not sure what part of that sentence I’m not supposed to read into. “Wait.” I follow her to the stovetop, stand beside her as she stirs. “When did you see my brothers?”
“They came here. Lucas and I played in my room,” Benny answers from behind me.
Mia turns, her hands warm against my chest. She lowers her voice when she says, “Did you know your dad fired them?”
I rear back. “Who?”
“Lucas and Logan.”
Shaking my head, I mutter, “I haven’t really spoken…” I trail off, my mind racing. “Wait, they were here?”
Mia nods, her lips pressed tight.
Shoving my hand in my pocket, I pull out my phone, my jaw tightening as I mumble, “I’ll tell them they won’t be doing that again.”
“No!” She covers my phone with both her hands. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not.”
She motions toward Benny as if this conversation isn’t one we should be having in front of him. “It’s fine,” she repeats. “It was… helpful.”
“Helpful?” I scoff.
Fingertips to my jaw, she smooths out the muscles before kissing me quickly. “Yes. Don’t worry, okay?”
It’s impossible not to worry, especially when it comes to those idiots and anything important to me, but I let it slide. For now.
“I’m going to go up and change real quick.”
Mia frowns. “You can’t stay in uniform?”
“Horny girl,” I mouth, and her laughter fills my ears, my heart.
“Leo! Come look at my drawing!” Benny calls out.
I stifle my chuckle. “No luck on the whole Dad thing, huh?”
“Nope,” Mia sighs. “I’ll keep working on it.”
Mia
“When Mama cooks, we clean,” Leo says, his hands on his knees as he squats down to Benny’s eye level. “Deal?”
Our son’s gaze shifts to the open dishwasher, then to the sink, and then back to Leo. “Deal.” They bump fists. “What happens if I cook?” Benny asks him.
Leo thinks about this a beat. “Then we—your mom and dad—clean up after.”
Benny nods at this, comprehending. “Did you know that the earth’s crust is made of rock?”
I contain my giggle while Leo hides his frustrated sigh behind an overly dramatic grin. “I did not know that,” he says, standing to full height. He starts to clear the table while I sit at the kitchen counter, watching father and son.
“
Do you like bread crusts?”
“I don’t not like them,” Leo says, handing Benny a stack of empty bowls.
“I’m confused.” Benny walks over to the dishwasher.
“What are you confused about?”
“Mama always says that I’m not allowed to eat rocks, but if the earth’s crust is made of rocks, and I eat the bread crusts, then…” His head slants. “What is an earth?”
Leo busts out a laugh. “We’ll have to get you some more books, huh?”
Benny responds by nodding, his eyes as wide as his smile. “I like the books you get me.”
“I like that you like books… son.”
Benny looks out the window. “The sun’s gone home for the day. It’s dark now.”
After dinner, Leo showers and changes out of his uniform—boo—and then he and Benny head out to the porch to work on the porch swing. I sit across the steps, playing music from my phone. The playlist is old. Nine years old, to be exact, and I wonder if Leo realizes that it has all the songs we used to listen to when we were kids. I watch as Leo goes through the tools with our son, revealing his patience as he shows him how to use each one. On his knees, he stands behind Benny with a drill in his hand, letting him pull the trigger. Benny squeals when it whirs to life, and he tells him, “See? It’s like a smaller version of an auger driller they use at the quarries.”
“But it goes into wood instead of rock,” Benny confirms.
His lips curve. “How did you get this smart?”
Benny grins. “Let’s do another one!”
In my head, I picture Leo at this age, a version of Benny with blue eyes, looking up at Mr. Preston the way our son looks at him—as if he carried the world on his shoulders, and that world is safe and filled with nothing but good. It’s the way I used to look at Papa.
I wonder if Logan Preston ever looked at his dad that way. It must have destroyed him when he was forced to realize that the world has shadowed corners filled with darkness and evil. And evil doesn’t care how old you are or how much you’ll hurt.