by L. B. Dunbar
I glance over at Ben, who stares at Zack.
“Mason’s right. Just think about it,” Zack says before he stands and exits to the bedroom we’ve been sharing.
I turn to Ben. “Just ignore them,” I repeat his words from only moments ago.
“But I can’t ignore it, can I?” Ben says. “I don’t have time ahead of me to pass on things for later, and I really do want to be happy. Until my last breath, I want to do what I want with my life.”
He pats my thigh and stands, leaving me to ponder everything.
32
[Autumn]
I could have killed a man having sex with him. Okay, maybe not quite that extreme. But still, my thoughts race, and I can’t sleep. Eventually, I slip from bed, check on Lorna—who peacefully sleeps in the bed opposite Mila—and sneak out of the house.
Crossing the driveway, I know where the spare key is kept for the apartment, and I climb the stairs to let myself inside. Zack and Logan are sharing a room. As I step into their room, I find Logan sitting up in bed, reading something off his laptop. He isn’t wearing a T-shirt and looks as if nothing happened to him, but the dark circles under his eyes give him away. He watches me silently cross the room and lower to kneel next to his bed. Reaching for his hair, I brush my fingers through the soft, dark locks and chew my lower lip.
“Sweetheart, what are you doing in here?” he quietly asks.
“I couldn’t sleep.” I try to keep my voice lowered as well, so I don’t disturb Zack.
Logan reaches for my hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss into the center of my palm.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
I shake my head. I’m not okay. “Are you?”
He softly chuckles. “I’ve been better, but I’m even better now that you’re here.” He gives me a more genuine grin than earlier this evening, and his dimples show. I can’t help smiling back at him but my lips quiver.
“Get up here,” he softly demands. I press upward, scrambling onto the twin bed next to him while he sets his laptop to the side. Wrapping my arms around him, I still worry my touch alone will harm him. Yet I need to hold him. I need to feel him against me. I need to hear his heartbeat, and I slip a palm to his left pec, pressing my hand there.
“I checked on Lorna,” I whisper to him as he strokes my hair and slips a hand under the weight of it to cup the back of my neck. He tugs me tighter against him.
“You’re sweet,” he mutters to my temple.
“You’re both sweet, but I feel like I’m in fucking college again.”
Logan chuckles.
“Sorry,” I mutter over my shoulder. Zack lies on his back, face up to the ceiling but an arm over his eyes.
“No worries. Do I need to place a sock on the door or something once I leave?”
Logan laughs harder, and Zack flings back the covers. Glancing over my shoulder, I try not to admire his tight body. It’s been a shock to see how fit he’s become as a man in his forties. He’s always been attractive, but he’s sporting a serious six-pack. When I see something protruding from his boxer briefs, I quickly turn back to Logan’s chest.
“Get an eyeful?” He teases me as Zack exits the room, softly closing the door behind him.
“I’m only looking at you.” My head tips up to gaze at him. He flips back his covers, so I can crawl in next to him. The bed is only a twin, and it’s a tight fit for two bodies. He slips us lower, but I hesitate where to put my hands.
“Please don’t be afraid to touch me.”
“You need to teach me everything.” I speak to his abs and his pump before glancing up at his face. “I don’t want to ever feel so helpless again.”
Logan tugs me tighter into his side. “It wasn’t you,” he states, adding an extra squeeze to my shoulders. “This was not your fault.”
“I didn’t—”
“You don’t have to tell me anything. I saw it on your face. You thought you did something to me, and you didn’t. I was already worked up. It’s my stupid body. I know better.”
“Don’t say that about yourself. Just teach me so I know more,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to his left pec. “I don’t want to be a danger to your health.”
Logan softly chuckles. “You’re not. You’re perfect. I’ve told you before, while this disease has tons of information about it, it’s also highly individualized. And I will tell you more, but not tonight. I don’t want to keep talking about this.” His frustration rings through his voice, vibrating in his chest, and I stroke over the coarse hairs curling there.
“I just wanted to make certain you were feeling better.”
“I’m amazing now.” He presses another kiss to my forehead.
“I’m serious.” My voice is full of the concern and guilt I still feel.
“So am I.” His lips on my forehead linger a second, and I close my eyes, inhaling the scent of him. “You know, we could have some fun with this. If I dip again when we’re in the middle of sex, I could lick chocolate syrup off a spoon while you lick chocolate syrup off me. Or better yet, I could drizzle honey on your body and lap it up, especially one place in particular.”
His teasing tone does nothing to ease my anxiety, but I giggle as his hand lowers under the covers and hitches my legs over his.
“Hold onto me,” he whispers against my hair, and I tighten my arm around his middle. “Much better,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I scared you. Tell me the truth. I can get mean or even pushy. Did I do that to you?”
I press another kiss on his pec and tell him what happened. His arms tighten around me until I’m certain we can’t get any closer.
“I would never hurt you like that. Never. Don’t be afraid, okay?”
“I’m not.” I pepper his chest with kisses, intending to soothe his worries. I want to take care of him. I need to take care of him. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Logan states as if answering an unspoken question. Could he die from this?
We remain quiet for a while, holding each other like we’ll never let go before I ask something else that’s been on my mind.
“What was all that earlier with Mason?”
Logan reminds me of what I’ve already learned about the business proposal when they were four drunk boys in college. “With Ben’s announcement, Mason’s really pushing things. Like he’s self-reflecting on his own life goals or maybe just wanting Ben to fulfill a fantasy designed when we were young and foolish.”
Thoughtful before I respond, I ask. “Was it really foolish to think you could work together? I only know the general concept, but it sounds like a plan that uses each of your talents.”
Logan sighs. “It’s only a concept. We don’t have a plan. And it involves a financial investment that I can’t give right now.” The doubt in Logan’s voice quietly warns me not to push the idea. However, other thoughts occur. Ones involving him moving here. We could live together. He could move in with me. He could save money that way, and I could . . . what? What would I do for him? We’ve just committed to dating, but what more does he want? I know that I don’t want to lose him, and an honest fear creeps in, considering Ben’s current condition.
Tugging Logan tighter once more, I wish for things I shouldn’t wish for.
33
[Autumn]
As Labor Day weekend drew to an end, it brought another heartfelt goodbye between Logan and me, but this one was without tears. I would be seeing Logan in a week as I planned to visit him in Indianapolis. I suggested I get a hotel room as I didn’t want things to be weird with Lorna. Logan only has a two-bedroom townhome, but he assured me he’d talk to Lorna. He wants me with him at his house. We won’t be able to have sex all over the place as I’d hoped, but I am just as happy to spend time with them, learning more about Lorna.
“I hate middle school.” Those words start the next weekend as we pick Lorna up from school. Logan wants to show me around the city, and then we’ll be heading to dinner—the three of us. As the
SUV door slams, I glance at Logan, who shifts in his seat to peer at his daughter.
“What happened?”
Lorna’s crossed arms and red face tell me it’s bad. She stares out the window and doesn’t answer her father. He glances over at me, and I shrug but also shake my head. I remember these days, and it might be best to let her stew. Maybe it’s more than middle school. Maybe it’s me being here or her mom in France. She has a lot going on, and middle school can be the worst years.
We take an awkwardly quiet tour of Indianapolis before Logan parks by the barbecue place he ordered from when I first visited. Once inside, Lorna and I take a seat while Logan places our order at the counter and waits for our drinks.
“Is it me?” I ask, hating how much I feel like a middle schooler asking Lorna, but I want to be cognizant of her feelings. She has a lot happening in her young life.
“Lucas DeFranco called me fat.” Lorna focuses on the tablecloth before her, and her lids blink rapidly. I slide my hand across the table and cover hers with mine.
“Boys can be jerks,” I tell her, understanding exactly how she feels. “Extra stupid jerks when they don’t see the lovely girl before them.”
“Bryce isn’t like that.”
“My nephew?” Oh boy.
Lorna nods. “Why can’t the boys in middle school be like him?”
“Well, first, Bryce is a little older, and now, he’s officially in high school.” Not that a few years gives him more maturity, but a few more years of experience does give Bryce a better sense of how to treat others. I’d like to think my nephew knows how to be respectful and not judgmental.
“Bethany Simone laughed when he said it.”
Oh, man. Sometimes girls are meaner than boys. “You know, I was once like you.”
Her head pops up. “I was a little bigger than my friends. Everyone was petite with small bones and tiny bodies that fit skinny pants. I hated them, but not really.” I recall some of my girlfriends from younger years and my feelings toward them.
“I was athletic and solid, my mother liked to say, but I didn’t find it a compliment. In high school, someone once told me boys like big butts, but I didn’t want a boy to like my butt.” I wrinkle my nose, and Lorna slowly smiles. “I had the biggest crush on an older boy too because he was always nice to me, but he thought I was just a kid.”
Lorna’s face falls. I’m not trying to sting her, but Bryce isn’t going to look at Lorna yet because of their age difference. In a few years, it won’t matter, but presently, it’s everything.
“I held on to the idea of that boy, though. He didn’t see me as fat. He teased me, but it was always good-natured because he was a sweet guy.” I smile larger.
“What happened to him?” Lorna asks, and I lean forward.
“He’s your dad.” I wink at her, and her mouth falls open.
Lorna smiles wider, but then her face falls. “But you aren’t . . .” Her eyes roam my body. “Fat.”
“I’m healthy,” I say as I pat my stomach. “I learned to eat better, and I exercised more, but you’re already exercising with soccer, and you eat well because of your dad’s needs. It takes time for your body to change, and it’s already gone through one big change this summer.” I smile, recalling her first period last weekend.
“That doesn’t help me now,” she wisely states.
“I know. Some days you need to grin and bear it. But you also need to ignore those negative comments because one day, those kids won’t matter. That’s not easy to hear now, but it’s the truth.”
Lorna sighs. “I wish we could move.”
Blinking at her, I pull my hand back. “Move? Honey, you can’t run from your problems like that.”
“I know, but Dad doesn’t love his job, and Mom’s gone, and I don’t really like my school. Mila already made her new school sound so fun.”
I’m certain my niece is putting on a brave face—grinning and bearing it, as I’ve just said—because her life is in turmoil as well.
“You know it’s different for Mila, right?”
“Because of her dad.”
“What do you know about Ben?”
“He has cancer. Mila looked it up. He’s going to die.”
Oh God. “But not soon. Not tomorrow or even a year from now.” I hope. I can only hope for a miracle to help him and prolong his life.
“When Dad had his diabetic episode, I worried he’d die too.” Lorna sits up and wipes at her eyes. There are so many emotions rumbling around in her young head.
“Baby, he’s not going anywhere. He’s not moving away. He’s not dying. He’s right here for you every day.” I’d like to be here for Lorna as well because I have such a kindred connection with this girl.
“Hey,” Logan says, placing our drink tray on the table and lowering to a seat beside Lorna. He looks from me to her and back. “Everything okay?”
Lorna answers for us. “Girl talk.”
Logan nods but glances at me once more to make certain Lorna’s speaking the truth.
“We’re perfect, just the way we are.” Lorna sheepishly looks up at me, and her slow smile tells me she’ll be okay.
+ + +
“What was all that at dinner?” Logan asks me once we’re alone on his couch. I’m between his legs, leaning against his chest in the position we were in a few weeks ago. A blanket drapes over my thighs, and he toys with my hair.
“Kids at school are picking on her.” Logan stills his twirling of my hair. “Some of it’s typical immaturity, but it hurts. You know Lorna’s sensitive about her size.”
Logan leans forward to kiss my head. “I hate kids.”
“No, you don’t.” I chuckle.
“Boys are assholes.”
“Girls can be mean, too.” I’m reminded of my own youth and remember how Logan spoke about me once. “More than once, a boy might break her heart or hurt her feelings.”
“I know.” His voice softens. “But I want to protect her from all that pain.”
Shifting, I glance up at his face. Those deep eyes. That scruffy jaw. Those beautiful lips. He’s had his share of pain as well.
“You’re a good dad,” I remind him. “And a great man.”
His face slightly colors at the compliment. “Is it too soon to tell you I love you because I do.”
I shift completely between his thighs to better face him. “It’s not too soon.” My face heats, and a smile pulls at my lips. “I love you, too.”
Warning bells go off in my head, telling me to keep cool, settle down. Don’t read into the phrase. But everything in me says this is right. We are right. I’m finally with the man I’ve crushed on half my life.
Our lips meet, and the remainder of the night disappears in tender kisses and soft caresses, reminding us both that we survived the rough teen years. We’re adults, and we can do as we please. And right now, we only want to please each other.
34
[Logan]
By the middle of October, I’m overwhelmed. We have three new projects at the firm. Chloe rarely checks in with Lorna. My daughter is suffering at middle school, and I hardly have time to see Autumn. It isn’t fair to her, and I argue it isn’t fair to me. I can’t do it all.
When scheduling blocks cut out another weekend to see one another, I’m done.
“I don’t think we should continue to see each other.” The words almost gut me, but I’m convinced it’s the right thing to do. I feel like a perv having phone sex with my hours-away girlfriend when my daughter is in the next room. However, I’d still be a perv if my girlfriend was in my bed because I fucking miss Autumn and the freedom to be with her.
“Logan, what’s going on?” she softly says to me through the phone. I’m sick of video conferencing and text messages. I want to touch her. I want to physically see her. I don’t know how people in the military do this kind of thing. I can’t be distant from my girl.
Everything feels off lately. The timing of Autumn in my life. The time I spend at the office. T
he time I wish I had with Lorna.
“I can’t do it. With Chloe here, I had a break every other weekend. I’m not begrudging having Lorna here. I’m not. It’s just everything I do revolves around her. I don’t get to see you between work piling up and her crazy schedule.”
It’s not like I can just hire a sitter or even trust Lorna home alone for a few hours and go on a date. My girlfriend lives three hours away.
“Why don’t you come here this weekend? We can work something out with Ben and Anna. Give yourself some time off.”
“No,” I snap, harsher than I should at Autumn. She’s not the person I’m most upset with; Chloe is. She’s Lorna’s mother, and she’s nearly disappeared. How could she do this to our daughter? On top of all the activities I try to keep my daughter involved in, I have to worry about her emotional state, which is off the charts lately between conflicts at school, fluctuating grades, and this new surge of hormones every month.
“Okay,” Autumn slowly states.
“I’m sorry. I can’t be what you want me to be.”
“Wait a minute. I don’t want you to be anything other than who you are,” Autumn defends, but I barrel onward.
“I can’t add another kid to the mix.” Instantly, I regret the words. I told her I wouldn’t feel obligated. I told her I could do this with her, but I just don’t see how.
“We haven’t been talking about babies in the last six weeks.” She’s right. I know she’s right, but it’s all too much.
“I don’t want it,” I lie. I do want it. I want everything with her, but I can’t envision us together. “I can’t be what you need.”
“You’re exactly what I need,” she states, frustration filling her voice.
“How?”
“You’re a good man. You’re kind and nice to me. You love your daughter and—”