Logan (A Cocky Cage Fighter Novel)

by Lane Hart

  I miss you, too.

  “I’m ready,” Sara calls out from downstairs so I put my phone away and jog down the stairs.

  “Are you okay?” she asks out of the blue.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I tell her.

  “You’ve been…off since I got here,” she points out, more perceptive than I gave her credit for.

  “Women problems,” I say, to see her reaction.

  “You mean you’re dating someone?” she asks, green eyes wide in surprise.

  “I am,” I reply honestly. “And things seem a little…shaky right now. I think she’s upset with me.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it will be fine,” Sara says with a wave of her hand. “And I can’t imagine you would do anything to make someone angry.”

  “Not intentionally,” I agree. “Anyway, let’s go.”

  On the way to the door, Sara asks, “Can I meet her?” causing my feet to come to a stop.

  “You would want to meet her?” I ask in surprise.

  “Well, yeah. I need to see if she’s good enough for you, especially if she could be my stepmother someday,” she replies with a grin.

  God, I wish it was that easy.

  But if Sara finds out her potential stepmother is her age – actually, two months younger, since Riley’s birthday is in February and Sara’s is December – she would go ballistic.

  …

  Dinner is great, and Sara loved the Japanese steakhouse. With my thoughts all caught up in Riley, I almost drive us past the pharmacy before I remember we need sunscreen.

  “You want to wait in the car or come in?” I ask Sara when I get parked.

  “I’ll come in and pick out some junk food,” she says, opening her door to climb out.

  I go grab the sunscreen while Sara finds some snacks, and then we meet back up at the register.

  “Hey, Brody. How have you been?” Tom, the owner, asks as he rings us up.

  “Good, you?” I ask to be cordial, even though I’m not in a talkative mood.

  “Busy weekend, but I can’t complain since it’ll start slowing down after Monday.”

  “That’s true,” I agree as I pull out my wallet from the back pocket of my slacks.

  “How’s your girl Riley doing?” he asks, making me curse under my breath while pulling out a twenty-dollar bill.

  “My assistant is great. She’s gone home for the holiday weekend.”

  “Oh, is that right?” he asks, pausing in his scanning to eye me through the glasses on the end of his nose. “She looked upset the last time she was here, so I wanted to make sure she was okay.”

  “Yeah, of course,” I tell him, trying to brush it off so he’ll stop talking about her in front of Sara.

  “Well, are you gonna be a daddy or not?” he asks with a toothy grin.

  “Ah, what?” I ask in confusion. “I am a father. This is my daughter, Sara.” I gesture to her with my wallet and money in my hand.

  “Nice to meet you, doll,” Tom says to Sara, who smiles politely at him. “I guess I should’ve asked if you were gonna be a daddy again.”

  “Not planning on it,” I grumble, wishing he would hurry up and just tell me the damn total.

  “Oh, then the test was negative?” he asks.

  “What test?” I huff in frustration.

  “The pregnancy test Riley bought last week,” he says, looking at me like I’m an idiot.

  And apparently, I am.

  When understanding finally dawns on me, my wallet and the twenty slip from my hand and fall to the floor. Every muscle in my body becomes paralyzed as two words repeat like a broken record in my head --- pregnancy test.

  Riley took a pregnancy test last week?

  Then she got upset and took off.

  Either the test was negative and she was so freaked out by the scare that she left or…

  She’s pregnant.

  With my baby.

  “Dad?” Sara says when I remain unmoving. She bends down and picks up my wallet, and pays Tom for our things. As he offers her the plastic bag, she looks at my frozen state. “Dad? Are you okay?”

  “No,” I reply, making my feet move to leave the store. “No,” I repeat. I need to talk to Riley and figure out what the fuck is going on. Why didn’t she tell me?

  Oh shit.

  This is all my fault. Just days ago, I freaked out about whether or not she wanted kids, and made it clear that I didn’t. Does that mean…is she going to end it? That thought makes me want to spew sushi all over the sidewalk.

  “What was that guy talking about?” Sara asks when I stand outside the pharmacy with my back against the building, trying to get my shit together as I hyperventilate. “And what’s the matter? Are you surprised Riley got knocked up by some random asshole? You shouldn’t be. I told you, she’s a slut.”

  That snaps me out of my panic attack and into motion.

  Turning to my daughter, I point my finger, inches from her face. “If you ever use that word when talking about her again, I will slap it out of your mouth!”

  “Whoa, Dad. What is your problem?” Sara asks, taking a step backward on the sidewalk.

  “You don’t know anything about her!”

  “Neither do you,” she argues with a clenched jaw. “You should hear the rumors about her at school, all the guys she’s slept with. Seriously, everyone says she slept with the whole baseball team in one night!”

  “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about! Why don’t you ask Riley what actually happened with those baseball players? Huh? Find out what the real story is from her and not believe the fucking gossip!” I shout, because hearing that shit from my own daughter’s mouth infuriates me.

  “Calm down,” she says. “It’s not rumors. She’s sleeps with everyone!”

  “Those boys drugged her and raped her, and you’re one of the reasons she blames herself for it happening!”

  “No. Dalton wouldn’t do that. She’s lying,” Sara replies, with a shake of her head.

  “No, she’s not. I believe Riley because that little shit was going to do the same thing to another girl!”

  “Even if you forget the baseball team, I’ve seen her go off with tons of guys myself,” Sara informs me. “She’s a…big flirt, and I just don’t think you know her as well as I do.”

  “That doesn’t matter to me,” I say. “None of it matters to me, not even what you think about her, because I love her!”

  “What?” Sara gasps. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m very serious,” I reply before I start for the SUV in the parking lot. “And when we get back to the house, I’m taking you back to Greensboro.”

  “Why?” she asks, following behind me.

  “Because I need to find out whether or not I’m gonna be a father again,” I tell her honestly.

  “Oh. My. God. I can’t believe this! What makes you think it’s yours? It could be anyone’s!”

  “If Riley’s pregnant, it’s mine,” I tell my daughter as we both climb in the 4Runner and slam our separate doors. “I know that for a fact because she’s been living with me.”

  “She lives with you!” Sara scoffs. “How could you…why are you…ugh, there are no words!”

  “That’s right,” I tell her as I buckle up and pull out into traffic to head to the house. “There are no words for you, because she and I are together, whether you like it or not.”

  “Are you seriously that insane to fall for her?” she asks. “You’re just like every other man; so blinded by her looks that you can’t see that she’s using you.”

  “She’s not using me!” I yell. “And I don’t want to hear another word about it. When we get to the house, grab all of your things and be ready to go in your car in ten minutes.”

  “I don’t want you to be with her. If you are” – I glance over and see Sara shaking her head – “I don’t want any part of it.”

  Gritting my teeth together in disappointment, I ask, “Could you at least try to give this a chance? I rea
lly care about her.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad, but I can’t,” she tells me.

  Blowing out a frustrated breath, I decide to deal with one problem at a time. And right now, talking to Riley about whether or not she’s pregnant is the most urgent.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Riley

  “It seems so small to cause all this trouble, doesn’t it?” Cheryl asks, as we stare down at the black and white photo in my hands, the embryo no bigger than a small peanut.

  “Yeah,” I agree.

  Last Tuesday, I made an appointment with the gynecologist and they did an ultrasound to confirm the pregnancy. Now I’m holding that confirmation and haven’t been able to put it down since the technician gave it to me.

  There’s no doubt about it.

  I’m pregnant, about five weeks along last week, so now six.

  “What are you gonna do?” Cheryl asks. “You can’t hide out here forever.”

  “I know,” I reply. “I’m trying to figure out how to tell Brody but each scenario ends with him yelling at me for being so stupid and telling me he doesn’t want it…or me.”

  And I haven’t answered his calls the last few days, just text messages, because I was afraid I would blurt out the truth on the phone and never get to see him again.

  “What about you? Do you want it?” she asks.

  “My decision this time was just as easy as before,” I tell her.

  “Oh,” Cheryl mutters. “So, you’re going to…”

  “Keep it. I’m definitely keeping it,” I tell her with a tearful smile. “Before, I felt like I had an alien growing inside of me, an evil creature that would destroy me. But this time…I know that this is a sweet baby made from love. Love and my stupidity, but at least there’s no maliciousness.”

  “Good,” she says, with a pat to my tummy that still looks exactly the same but is so different on the inside.

  The doorbell suddenly rings, causing Cheryl and me to stare at each other because it’s almost ten o’clock at night.

  “Well, it’s certainly not for me,” she says.

  Setting the ultrasound photo down on the coffee table, I stand from the sofa to creep over to the peephole and peer out of it.

  Turning back to Cheryl with my jaw hanging open, I mouth, “Holy shit!”

  “Brody?” she whispers back, and I nod. “Then answer it!”

  My fingers tremble as I undo the deadbolt and slide the chain free to pull the door open. And there he is, the man I love on the other side, his handsome face pinched in pain…with Sara scowling a few feet behind him, underneath the lamp posts.

  Oh no. Did he tell her about us?

  “Brody,” I say, wetting my dry lips to try and figure out what to say. “What are you doing here?”

  Without responding, he throws his arms around my waist and the other cradles the back of my head, crushing me against his chest.

  “Are you?” he asks into my hair, making me go rigid.

  “Am I…what?” I ask.

  Pulling back enough to see my face but keep his arms around me, Brody asks, “Pregnant. Are you pregnant, Riley?”

  I glance over my shoulder at Cheryl to see if she’s holding up the ultrasound or a sign that gives away the news, but there’s nothing in her hands.

  “How did you…” I start, but Brody interrupts.

  “Just tell me! For five long, excruciating hours, I’ve been about to die, waiting to find out, but you wouldn’t answer your phone!” he shouts, green eyes blazing with fury.

  “Yes,” I answer.

  Rather than walk away or yell at me again, he wraps me up in another hug before he asks, “And what are you going to do?”

  Looking at Sara, who obviously knows about us, I tell him, “I know you don’t want to be a father again, but I’m…I’m keeping it.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Brody mutters before he drops to his knees. He presses his face into my stomach and kisses my belly sweetly through my pajama top.

  His reaction is the last one I imagined, in all the million ways I tried to figure out how to tell him. Relieved beyond belief, big, fat tears spill from my eyes.

  “Dad?” Sara asks, and I brace myself for her verbal attack. So does Brody, based on the tension I feel in his back where I’m still clutching him to me.

  “Just go home, Sara. We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” he tells her without turning around. He can’t see that her arms are no longer crossed over her chest, and her scowl has turned to confusion, and now hurt, that he’s dismissing her. It’s what she deserves for always pushing him away, but she’s also his daughter, and will be a part of our family too, whether she likes it or not.

  That’s why I try to offer an olive branch of peace to her, even though I’m pretty sure she would rather beat me with it than accept it graciously.

  “I have a picture, if you want to see your baby sister or brother,” I tell her.

  Her eyes widen as she realizes for the first time what our baby means for her.

  Heaving a breath, she rolls her eyes and says, “Fine. But I’m never calling you mom.”

  “That’s okay,” I agree, biting back a grin as she marches past us and into the apartment. “I think I would prefer Mommy anyways.”

  Brody looks up at me, his face damp with his own tears but a smile on his face, and says, “I’ve always been partial to Daddy myself.”

  Laughing in relief that he’s not angry at me, and Sara is actually not being a bitch, I kneel down with Brody to kiss him on the welcome mat.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him against his lips, my fingers clutching his hair. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  “I know,” he replies, cradling my face in his hands and kissing me. “But at least it happened now before I become even more ancient.”

  “Get a room,” Cheryl teases from inside the apartment, making me smile even wider.

  “Sounds good to me,” Brody says, helping me to my feet. “First, show me the picture of my son or daughter, and then tell me everything the doctor said.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Weeks later…

  Brody

  “Riley!” I call out when I’m finished arranging the bedroom.

  “Yeah?” she yells from downstairs.

  “Can you come up here for a minute?”

  “On my way,” she replies. “Everything okay? You’ve been banging around up here for hours,” she says as she comes toward the bedroom.

  When she steps through the doorway, I hold my arms out. “Surprise!”

  “Oh, wow,” she gasps as she looks around the candlelit room. Other than the soft glow of the candles, there’re only the picture lights lit up around the room above the new photos I just hung on the wall.

  Going over to grab her hand, I pull her toward the first one. “This one is called ‘American Girl’,” I tell her, as she takes in the photo I took of her on the beach back in June. It’s similar to the one on my desk, but this one is not a close up of her. Riley’s looking out at the ocean, her dark waves blowing in the wind.

  “I’ve never seen it before. I’ve never seen any of these before,” she says. “They’re beautiful.”

  “You’re beautiful,” I correct, pulling her to the next photo, the one I took of her napping in the guest bedroom the day after our night together. “This one is ‘Free Fallin’ because I knew, when I was unable to resist capturing you so gorgeous and peaceful, that I was a goner.”

  “I had no idea you took this one,” she says.

  “I was sneaky.”

  “Yes, you were,” she agrees with a smile.

  I lead her to the next to last one on the wall, one I’m sure she remembers taking just a few weeks ago when we got back from Greensboro, after I found out I was going to be a father again.

  “I think I’ll call this one ‘Wreck Me’,” I say, as we both look at the photo of the two of us, standing on the beach with my arm around her. I set the timer on my camera to take it right before a thunderstorm came
up. The clouds are angry and gray in the background, but both of us are smiling, uncaring about the threat of rain or thunder, whether it’s the weather or the future. Come what may, we’re in this together and nothing can tear us apart. It’s the first photo we took together, and you can see the happiness on our faces because we don’t have to hide any longer.

  “And finally,” I say as I pull her over to the most recent ultrasound photo that I had enlarged and framed. Our son or daughter is healthy and perfect as he or she can be at twelve weeks. “‘The Waiting’ seems to be the most appropriate title for this one,” I tell Riley. “The hardest part has been the waiting. Waiting for you to come along, and now waiting for our baby to be born so we can start a family. You were both well worth the twenty-year delay, and now I can’t imagine my life without you.”

  Reaching into my pants pocket, I pull out the diamond ring before I drop down to my knee, still holding Riley’s left hand.

  “Riley Yates, I love you and I want us to spend the rest of our lives together. I promise to wake up beside you every morning, hold you through the nights, and never let you go. So, sweetheart, will you marry me?”

  I hear her sharp intake of breath as I wait, heart pounding, for her to give me an answer.

  “Yes! Oh, my God, Brody, yes! Nothing would make me happier than becoming your wife,” she thankfully agrees with a tearful smile.

  I slip the ring on her finger and stand up to pull her into my arms, and kiss her.

  “Dance with me?” I ask and Riley nods before slipping her arms around my neck. I wind mine around her back to hold her close as we sway to the soft song playing through the speakers.

  “How soon can I convince you to be my wife?” I ask her with another quick kiss. “And not because the baby is on the way, but because I want you to be mine.”

  “As soon as you want,” Riley replies, looking up at me with a smile.

  “Good,” I say in relief. “We’ll start making plans.”