Indestructible

by Angela Graham

  Caleb shoved Logan’s hand away and stormed backward. It wasn’t just anger radiating off him, though—he looked lost, confused, and worst of all sad. I couldn’t stand it.

  “I’m sorry,” I managed finally, barely above a shamed whisper. “She was fine last night. What did you say when she told you? You must have done something to provoke her to leave.”

  “Told me? She didn’t say a word. I woke up to a Dear John letter explaining she had a sick aunt she was going to take care of and that she’d be back in a few months. Months! Who the hell leaves in the middle of the night for months? Something is up, and I want to know what!”

  I stood there, baffled. “Wait, but then…” She hadn’t told him. What the hell did I miss last night? As far as I knew, she was planning to tell him about the baby that morning.

  A door in the hall opened, and Oliver’s head peeked out. I started toward him, stopping when I saw Jax leaning against the opposite wall. He’d been listening. The moment he saw Oliver, he went to him, lifting him up and carrying him toward me.

  “Look who’s up!” Jax broadcasted for everyone to hear.

  “Morning, Cassie,” Oliver squeaked after finishing a yawn.

  “Morning, sunshine.”

  “It’s loud,” he complained, scrunching his nose.

  “Don’t worry, Daddy’s gonna make it quiet,” Jax told him as he carried Oliver past me and down the steps.

  Caleb shoved his hands in his pockets and dropped his head.

  “It’s all right. Caleb accidentally knocked a few things over,” Logan explained, not taking his gaze off Caleb. “You want some scrambled eggs for breakfast?”

  “Yeah, and chocolate milk!” Oliver looked down at the mess on the floor. “You ’kay, Caleb?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine, buddy. Just clumsy.” Caleb managed a semblance of a smile for him. “My bad.”

  “Come on, let’s get you fed,” Jax said through the unbearable tension, carrying Oliver into the kitchen.

  I descended the steps with wobbly movements. My throat was parched and my head throbbed worse than before, but all I could see was the grim display on Caleb’s face. It wasn’t my place to tell him, but how could I not?

  I stopped midway down, closed my eyes, and drew in a shaky breath, unsure where to start. Damn you, Hilary!

  “Why don’t you come have some breakfast, let Cassandra wake up, and then we can talk,” Logan said calmly. It was a statement, not a question.

  “Please, Cassandra, just tell me where she is.” Caleb moved toward me as I reached the foyer, but Logan was there in front of me again, his protectiveness tangible.

  “Is she leaving me? Did I do something?” Caleb’s brows pulled down as if he was scouring his mind for an answer—a spark of memory to mollify his fears.

  “Come on! Breakfast time!” Oliver’s voice rang out.

  Logan took my hand and led me away to the kitchen. Once there, he pulled me in close, our eyes connecting as his hands settled on my hips. He leaned in and whispered, “Whatever is going on, I want to know everything. I don’t do secrets, Cassandra.”

  He was angry—or was it disappointment I saw flash in his eyes? There was no time to decipher it before he pulled away and went to the fridge, grabbing a carton of eggs.

  I sat across from Jax at the table, scanning my brain numbly for the best way to tell Caleb the truth. He had followed us into the room and was leaning against the wall, typing on his phone. To Hilary, I presumed.

  “How many eggs?” Oliver asked, then counted the fingers we all held up. Even Caleb held up two and shot Oliver a wink when he added them all up correctly.

  Shit. Hit. Fan, Jax mouthed in my direction. I narrowed my eyes but didn’t reply.

  We all ate together with Oliver as the conversationalist of the group; no one else spoke. We were just finishing when the doorbell rang.

  Logan cursed under his breath, then went to stand.

  “I’ll grab it,” Jax said, dropping his plate in the sink on the way out.

  I glanced at Logan beside me. He was staring blankly down at his empty plate. I’d never seen him so quiet.

  Under the table, I reached over and placed my hand on his thigh. He didn’t move—didn’t even look my way to relieve some of my anxiety. He wasn’t making it easy, which pissed me off. I needed him to trust me and give me a sign of comfort, but instead he was blocking me out. Did he really think I had secrets from him? This was the only one—and it wasn’t mine to tell.

  Irritated, I removed my hand and stood. As I walked to the sink with my plate, Jax reappeared.

  But he wasn’t alone.

  “Morning.”

  “Mom!” Oliver flew from his seat and raced to her, his arms wide. She dropped down on her haunches and giggled when he reached her, squeezing tightly.

  “Looks like I was too late. I’d been hoping to take Oliver to breakfast,” she explained.

  “Then you should have asked yesterday.” Logan’s voice was harsh as he stood.

  “Sorry, you’re right. Maybe I can take him to dinner tomorrow after school?” she asked, releasing Oliver and straightening.

  “I’ll let you know,” was all Logan said.

  “Well, maybe I can hang out now for a little while and play with him?”

  “Fine, but he stays in the house,” Logan said. He turned to Oliver, his features softening. “Go get dressed, and make sure to brush your teeth.”

  “’Kay! Be right back. Don’t leave—promise?” Oliver’s eyes were big and bright as he stared at Natasha.

  She smiled. “Promise.”

  Appeased, he ran out of the room.

  Caleb was on his feet crossing the room in the same instant. He stopped in front of me.

  “Now—let’s talk.”

  I nodded, chewing my bottom lip. I had to tell him—and as scared as I was of how he’d react, he deserved the truth.

  “Living room?” I suggested for privacy’s sake.

  He headed in that direction without a word.

  “Everything all right?” Natasha asked.

  “Yeah,” I answered as I left the kitchen.

  Natasha followed, but I didn’t realize it until we were standing in the entryway to the grand room and I heard her sharp intake of breath.

  So much for privacy.

  I’d turned to ask her to give us a moment when I caught the look of horror darkening her expression. Confused, I followed her gaze over my shoulder, my mouth open and heart swelling at the sight it beheld.

  There, above the mantel in the center of the room, hung a new painting I’d never seen before. The canvas was massive, frame elegant and bold. And there in the center were Oliver and me, sitting in the dirt below my treehouse. Logan’s brush had perfectly captured the relaxed feeling and instant connection of that afternoon, as well as the cheerfulness in Oliver’s smile and adoration in mine. I was in awe.

  I was in awe. When had he painted it? It wasn’t there the previous day, which meant he’d hung it while I was out at night.

  One look back to Logan—who was now standing in the doorway, his head cast down in thought—reminded me it wasn’t the time to gush, or overanalyze what it meant that I was hanging on his wall as though we’d been together for years.

  I blinked and refocused my attention on Caleb, who stood in front of me, waiting impatiently for answers.

  “Can you guys just give us a minute?” I asked, peeking back at Natasha.

  She tore her gaze from the painting to look at me, a tight smile twisting her lips.

  “Sure. Oh, and Caleb, can you tell Hilary I had a great time last night?” Natasha asked. “She’s a sweet girl. It was great getting to talk to her.”

  “Did she say anything to you?” Caleb moved quickly, sweeping past me straight to her, hopeful. “Anything at all?”

  Natasha’s brows drew together, but her smile never wavered. “Like what?”

  “Anything. She left this morning, and I’m trying to find her. I know you two aren’t cl
ose, but if she said something, I need to know.”

  Her shoulders slumped, face puckering with fake sympathy. “Ah, I’m so sorry. She didn’t say anything. I can’t believe she’d leave. Especially considering…never mind.”

  She knew; I’d seen it the moment she cut her gaze to me after seeing the painting. Natasha knew, and seeing me take up half a wall with her son in her ex-fiancé’s house meant she was pissed enough to spill the beans.

  I shot forward and grabbed Caleb’s arm as I opened my mouth to speak, but his broken voice stopped me.

  “Considering what?” His voice dropped dangerously low. “Tell me.”

  “Look, I know I don’t have the best track record, but I could never have taken my child away from his father. It’s just not okay. I’m sorry, Caleb. It’s your baby, too—you have rights.”

  My lungs stung; I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath. I blew it out in a giant puff, balling my hands into tight fists, wishing I was wearing actual clothing and not a robe as I struggled to watch the scene unfold. Caleb’s eyes went wide as he processed her words, the air thickening around him and igniting his rage.

  One moment, Caleb was near Natasha, and the next, he was pounding his fist into the wall across the room. His words were incoherent growls that continued until Jax and Logan flanked him, yanking him back and trying to calm his rage.

  It was useless. Natasha moved to leave the room, but I stepped around her.

  “You know what’s not okay? Playing off someone else’s pain to weasel your way back into this family. I should have known better than to think we could ever be friends. You haven’t the first clue about what friendship means.” I stepped closer, but she stood impassive, my words ricocheting off her frozen heart. “Who told you?”

  Her lips curled up. “Told me? I figured it out myself, and she all but confessed in the restroom last night. A shame, really—like you said, Caleb’s a good guy. I’m sure he’ll find someone he deserves.”

  She moved around me, but I sideswiped her. “What did you say to her?”

  “Nothing but the truth: That fatherhood changes a man—changes a relationship. But I didn’t know she’d up and leave after our conversation. That’s on her. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my son’s waiting.” Natasha shouldered past me out of the room.

  I stood there watching Logan and Jax restrain Caleb, attempting to talk him down.

  “I didn’t know she’d leave,” I said, walking toward them.

  “Stay back, damn it, Cassandra!” Logan shouted.

  I flinched at his cruel tone, but halted my steps. Caleb wouldn’t hurt me, would he? The look on his face frightened something inside me, though, and I moved back. If he was like this with me, what was Hilary in for? I needed to talk to her.

  “She was going to tell you—today, actually. She was scared before—thought about leaving, but we talked it out. She wanted you to know. Something must have changed last night, but I can bring her back. I know I can.”

  “Why would she leave, huh!? Is there even a sick aunt!?” Caleb yelled, his body struggling against the strength holding him pinned against the wall.

  “No, she’s not sick. And honestly, I don’t even know if that’s where Hilary went. I’m trying to reach her, and I’ll keep trying. I won’t give up. You have my word. I’ll do everything I can to stop her from—”

  I inhaled sharply, regretting what little I’d said.

  Caleb went still. “Stop her from what?” His eyes went dark. “Answer me!”

  “She won’t do it. I know her…she won’t.”

  “Ah, Christ, no!” Caleb closed his eyes. His body went slack, and he slid to the floor slowly. Jax let go, but Logan went down on his knees beside him as Caleb continued, his voice distant and shattered.

  “No. No, she can’t. Fuck! She wouldn’t. She knows me! I let her in, God damn it!”

  “We’ll bring her home,” Logan told him.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, choking on a sob.

  Logan looked up at me, and the disappointment that met my gaze wrenched my gut. This wasn’t my fault, but what was I supposed to do? I needed to talk to Hilary. She had to come back home. I’d go find her and bring her back myself if I had to.

  Jax moved my way. “You might want to leave now,” he whispered.

  Leave? Was I being dismissed? One more look at Logan, who was occupied with reassuring Caleb, confirmed just that. Apparently I’d done enough.

  Without another word, I trudged up the stairs to Logan’s room and packed my bag. It’d been the longest week of my life, and I was due back to school in the morning. Playing house had officially ended.

  With my bag full and slung over my shoulder, I looked once more around Logan’s room. Would I ever be welcome there again? Would he not trust me now? He had to understand why I couldn’t tell him.

  The longer I stood there waiting, the more I realized Logan wasn’t going to come up and ask me to explain so he could hear my side. Not yet, anyway.

  With tears welling up in my eyes, I made my way downstairs and out the front door. It was time to go home.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Searching

  Sadness shadowed me for the rest of the day. I paced, cried, and dialed every member in Hilary’s family tree until I finally got the number of her aunt in Ontario.

  The woman answered on the second ring, and for the first time that afternoon I breathed easy. I slid down onto my couch, allowing a thread of optimism to peek out only to have it beaten back into the submission of despair as soon as she began talking.

  A state of somber wistfulness crept through me as Hilary’s aunt dutifully explained she hadn’t heard from her in over a week. Whether that was true or not, I was forced to either accept defeat or fly there and search her house myself. I stressed the importance of her calling me if she heard from Hilary, then rattled off my number. After a curt goodbye, the phone fell from my hands and the tears resumed.

  Hilary had yet to respond after more than twenty texts and numerous calls. Either her phone was off or she was too ashamed to answer. I hated that she’d left me in such a bad position, but as much as I tried, I couldn’t squelch the worry I felt for her. Where was she? Was she safe?

  Exhausted, alone, and completely useless, I curled my knees to my chest and rested my head on the arm of the couch. I sat there motionless until my gloom flowed out and the wave of anger rolled in.

  Hilary was the one responsible for her actions. This was about everyone else, not me. I’d gotten the crap end of the stick once again, but this time I was throwing it to the ground and stomping away. I had my own things to worry about—the first being my job, which I was due to return to the next morning.

  I dropped my legs to the floor and sat up, allowing my body time to absorb the newfound strength revitalizing my limbs. I smiled to myself, picturing my class of kindergarteners that would be awaiting me in the morning. That was my only focus.

  I skipped lunch and spent the evening preparing everything I needed for my class. At sunset, I crawled into bed with a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich and glass of milk. I plugged my phone into the charger on the nightstand and checked to confirm there’d been no activity on it. Logan had gone about his day without even sending a text.

  I finished my snack, debating sending him a goodnight or ‘I love you’ text, but decided against it. Instead, I lay there and closed my eyes, allowing my grief to stew.

  As if punishing me, sleep evaded me throughout the night. I tossed and turned until finally finding my mind’s reprieve through rounds of online solitaire.

  I eventually managed to doze off for a few short hours, only to wake with a second wind dragging me out of bed. As dawn approached, I was dressed in jogging clothes and pulling on my boots—the same boots Logan had insisted I not remove when he’d encased my body with his on his front porch a week earlier.

  My teeth dug into my bottom lip to cease the trembling. It was too soon for us to be at odds, and I despised what it did to
me. The dull ache was unavoidable when the enormous weight of reality set in and I saw exactly how deeply rooted Logan was in every piece of me. It was downright terrifying.

  I wrapped a scarf twice around my neck and walked outside, grateful for the earbuds that sang out tunes of independent women rather than failed love affairs. The sky was clear with no falling snow, but the air was frigid and chilled me to my bones. I welcomed the sun as I set out down the empty road, finding warmth in my long strides.

  I hit the shower the moment I returned home, emerging with clear thoughts and enthusiasm to start the day. With a towel around my body and one in my hands, working through strands of hair, I stepped into my bedroom humming a cheerful melody.

  “We need to talk.”

  I jerked back, my breath stolen and eyes wide. Logan was sitting on the edge of my bed, watching me.

  Dropping my gaze to calm my traumatized nervous system, I gradually composed myself enough to be able to at least pretend to appear cool. When I did, I was fully able to take in Logan’s tight features and stern eyes.

  He didn’t look happy; in fact, he looked exhausted. He wore a crisp black suit, his tie not yet in place, shirt collar opened. His hair was noticeably tousled and slightly damp, as though his hands had done nothing but run through it since he’d showered.

  My heart plummeted, body begging to run to him—to pull him into my arms, where he could bury himself in my warmth and love. Purely instinctual yet wild flames burned furiously to life in my chest, rooting me in place despite my unwavering need to apologize for keeping a secret from him.

  My chin rose. “Then you should have come by yesterday,” I said bluntly, turning away to open my closet door.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about Hilary?” His voice was rough and impatient.

  My back remained to him as I pulled out a dress, appraising it for longer than necessary. “Seriously, Logan, we need to do this later. After school.”

  “No, I want this settled now.” The anger in his tone sparked my own.

  I reared back. “I’ve been here the last twenty-four hours waiting to talk to you and explain. I didn’t sleep at all, actually—spent a lot of last night feeling like crap—and now I need to get ready and go to school. I can’t be a mess on my first day back!”