by Nicole Hart
“Did your mom teach you?” I asked, realizing that although we had a couple of in-depth conversations, he had never mentioned his parents. I was so determined to keep my childhood from being brought up, I didn’t ask about his, for fear the conversation might get reversed. But I asked the question without considering the consequences.
A deep grunt came from his throat, followed by silence, and I didn’t think he was going to reply. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” My voice became meek again, and I hated it.
Logan grabbed my hand and pulled me to his sofa that was soft and comfortable, placing me directly next to him and pulling me against him. The close proximity gave me a renewed sense of peace that was becoming oddly familiar when Logan was around.
“No, it’s fine, Jess. She wasn’t around much. She had her own issues.”
“I can understand that,” I mumbled, biting the inside of my cheek, to keep from opening my mouth. I didn’t want to tell him my story. I didn’t want to relive the memories any more than usual. But there was something about Logan that made me want to spill my secrets and beg him to touch me, make me forget. Weakness was a nasty little bitch.
“Is that why you and your brother left Louisiana?”
“There was nothing left for us there.”
“Did your parents die?” I really needed to stop being so nosy, but I genuinely wanted to learn everything about this man.
“I never knew my old man. My ma would leave the house for weeks at a time. Gage and I were just an inconvenience to her lifestyle. I’m sure she was probably relieved when we took off.” There wasn’t any pain in his eyes when he spoke of her. His strength surprised me.
“You didn’t tell her?” I asked, my voice raising a few octaves out of surprise.
“Nah, we weren’t really in contact for a couple of years before we left. We were both out of the house, on our own. Gage cut her out of his life before I did. I kept hoping she would get her shit together. But the only time she would call me was if she needed money. When I finally cut her off, she told me to go to hell. And that was it.” Logan shook his head and then shrugged it off. Just like that.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, snuggling into his broad shoulder.
“It was a long time ago.” I sensed his tension. His words didn’t match his body language.
“But you’re doing great. You and Gage turned out just fine,” I reassured him, realizing he didn’t see how amazing he was.
In a flash, Logan stood up and walked over to the window, before turning around and then faced the window once more. Bentley trotted over to his owner and nuzzled his head against his leg. Logan’s fists clenched repeatedly. Unclench. Clench. I wasn’t sure what was going on or if the conversation about his past was too much to bear.
He bent down and rubbed Bentley’s head, who continued to press his face against Logan’s leg, as if trying to comfort him.
“I’m okay,” he mumbled to him, before rising up and turning to face me.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” I stood and walked over to him but stopped just short of reaching him when he put his hand out in front of his body.
“I have to be honest with you about something.”
“Okay, I’m listening.” I urged him to sit down, which he did, as I crawled up next to him.
“I’m kind of fucked up in the head, Jess. I don’t know how else to put it,” he mumbled.
“I don’t believe that.” I kissed his broad shoulder and rubbed his hand.
“I mean, most of the time I manage, but sometimes it gets a little out of control.” He started to explain, but I didn’t understand what he was talking about.
“I have OCD. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder,” he admitted and then stopped, waiting for a reply, waiting for me to leave, waiting for something, but I wasn’t sure what. I wasn’t leaving, that was for sure.
I’d never known anyone with the disorder, but I knew a little about it. It wasn’t something he could help, and I surely wouldn’t judge him for something he couldn’t control.
“That’s not your fault, Logan. And it doesn’t make you fucked up in the head.” Repeating his words was like a punch in the gut. I hated that he felt like that’s what he was.
“It was really bad when I was a kid, but I’ve learned ways to keep it under control. Most of the time. But I still have bad days. I just want you to know what’s going on if I start acting like a head case.”
“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself that way,” I whispered, showering his shoulder with kisses.
“But the crazy thing is, it’s not as intense when you’re around,” his admission piqued my interest. He pulled me into his lap where my legs straddled his trim waist.
“What do you mean?”
“You soothe me. Somehow. I can’t explain it. There’s something about you.”
I pressed my mouth against his. Unable to resist touching him.
“I just need you to know what you’re getting yourself into.”
I pressed my lips against the crinkle that liked to form between his brows.
“Logan,” I mumbled, my lips still resting between his eyes.
“Yeah?”
“I have my own issues, trust me,” I whispered, shaking my head before burying my face into his neck.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He brushed my hair back so he could peck my neck.
“I will. But not tonight. It’s a lot. But I just want you to know I’m a little broken. My life isn’t perfect, and it never has been.” My confession was on the tip of my tongue, but more than anything, I wanted to assure Logan that I wanted him, regardless of his issues.
“Maybe it’s our brokenness that drew us together,” he said, staring into my eyes.
“Maybe so.”
“Right now I just need to kiss you.” His hot breath tickled my lips.
“Please,” I mumbled as his lips pressed against mine.
Chapter Sixteen
My shift was almost over, and I was beat. I hadn’t heard from Logan all day, and I had to admit it bothered me, just a little. I tried to call him during my lunch break, but it went straight to voicemail. I didn’t leave a message. I just ended the call. I didn’t try again, either—I didn’t want to come across as needy.
I was sure he was busy with work, and right now, I just needed to go home, take a shower, and crawl into bed.
“See ya later, Jess.” Hector gave me a nod as he shut the lights off in the kitchen.
“Goodnight!” I waved, pulled my jacket over my uniform, and shoved my cell phone into my pocket.
I headed out the front door, and the wind whipping me in the face caused me to shutter. I picked up the pace, anxious to get to my apartment, but an eerie feeling swept over me—as if I were being followed. I was a city girl and didn’t really get nervous on the streets. It was ridiculous almost. There was always a steady flow of people out and about, and this was the first time I’d ever felt this way. But it was also dark, and there were bad people everywhere, so I didn’t want to be naïve. I gripped my keys in my pocket, running my fingers over the pepper spray attached to the ring.
I whipped my head over my shoulder quickly, without slowing my steps to get a feel for my surroundings. There were two people at least twenty steps behind me, puffing on cigarettes, and the smoke billowed around them. I noticed another small figure behind them and realized I must just be paranoid and kept my steady pace. Fall in New York City liked to come in with a vengeance. Her winds would steal your breath and pierce your bones with a single gust. I picked up the pace, weaving my way around a group of girls taking a selfie on the sidewalk. Their giggles caused an involuntary eye roll as I passed.
My fingers were stiff from the cold when I finally jammed my key into the door. I barged inside, relishing in the heat as I entered.
“Oh, thank God you’re already here and turned the heater on.” I blew into my hands, trying to warm them as I looked over at Braxton w
ho was vegged out on the sofa with her Kindle.
She gave me a thumbs up without giving me a glance. I shook my head with a smile as I walked into the kitchen to heat up a can of soup. Braxton still hadn’t moved. When she was engrossed in a book, nothing else mattered. I envied that about her, the ability to escape reality with words. It seemed nice, but I wasn’t sure it would work for me. My mind never shut off. Braxton assured me I just hadn’t found the right one. And she was probably right, I hadn’t tried to read anything since high school, and those were definitely boring.
“Good book?” I asked, leaning over the counter, trying to get her attention.
“This bitch is crazy,” she mumbled.
I responded with a giggle as I slurped the hot soup into my mouth, enjoying the warmth as it made its way down my throat.
“I’m serious. You need to read this book. Margo’s a badass.”
I just shook my head, I wasn’t going to ask any questions because she would tell me the entire plot, and I just wanted to crawl into bed.
“He’s got to be real,” she mumbled to herself as she drew her attention back to the screen in her lap.
“On that note, I’m going to lie down,” I muttered, basically to myself as I shuffled my feet toward my bedroom.
“I’m glad you’re eating,” she yelled to my back before I closed my bedroom door behind me.
“I’m glad you’re glad,” I called out, kicking my shoes off and throwing them into my closet, rummaging around for my favorite sweats.
I noticed a text from Logan and was a little disappointed I hadn’t gotten to hear his voice. But I wasn’t going to dwell on something so petty.
Logan: Been busy. Hope you had a good day. Call you soon.
I didn’t want to seem too anxious and tried to hold off on my reply. But that didn’t really work out very well.
Ok
I stared at my phone for almost an hour, waiting for it to ring, but it never did. My eyes were heavy, and I finally started to fall asleep when there was a light knock at my bedroom door.
“Yeah? Come in,” I called out, waiting for Braxton.
“Hey,” she whispered before stepping in and gently closing the door behind her. Her face seemed confused and full of turmoil. I immediately got worried, unsure of what was on her mind. Surely her book didn’t make her this dramatic. It had to be something else.
“What’s wrong? Is it Josh?” I stared at her, sitting up in my bed and waiting for her answer.
She didn’t reply right away, and my nerves kicked up a notch, butterflies swimming in my stomach. And not the good butterflies that Logan gave me, the ones that plagued me most of the time. The ones that always seemed to warn me of impending doom, even when it didn’t come. It’s like I was always preparing myself for it.
I watched her expressions as she opened her mouth to speak but then closed it again. Whatever it was deemed her speechless, which was a first for Braxton.
“Brax, what? God, you’re scaring me. What is it?” I crawled out of my bed, staring, watching, waiting.
“There’s a girl here,” she muttered, staring at the floor before bringing her eyes to mine.
Shit. Logan has a girlfriend. That’s what it was. He had a girlfriend who was here to warn me to stay away from her man. I knew it was too good to be true. He was too good to be true.
“Okay…” I braced myself for the rest of her explanation.
Her resistance to just spit it out drove me crazy. I needed to hear it, get it over with.
“God, Braxton. Just say it,” I spat, staring into my mirror, running my fingers through my top knot. I guess if I had to meet the woman who Logan was with, at the very least, I needed to look presentable.
Her eyes stared into mine, wide with worry.
I brushed past her, tired of her dragging this out. I’ll get it over with myself.
“She said her name is Maxi.” She grabbed my elbow, and I could feel her staring at the back of my head.
My knees began to shake, and my throat constricted. I needed to breathe. I heard her wrong. I knew I had. That was impossible.
“What?” I whispered, my voice hardly a whimper.
“It’s Maxi.”
Chapter Seventeen
“There’s no way.” I shook my head and stared at the floor before turning my attention back to Braxton.
Her eyes were wide and full of questions. Questions I wasn’t prepared to answer right now. Braxton knew a few details from my childhood, but I’d never given her the full story. It was too much, and I hated reliving the past, even though it haunted me every single day.
“You have the exact same eyes, Jess. The exact same icy blue—there’s no denying it.” Her sympathetic smile was trying to convince me to open the door. I wanted to. I needed to. But I couldn’t face her. Or the past. I had let them down.
I knew Braxton was ready to interrogate me. But there was so much I needed to know. And I knew none of my questions would be answered unless I forced myself to open the door. I grabbed the cold handle with shaky hands and turned it without allowing myself another second to change my mind. She was there, in my living room. I couldn’t just leave her waiting.
Please don’t hate me.
“Oh my God,” I whispered as I walked out of my bedroom and saw her standing there. She was beautiful, a young woman. Her long blond hair hung down to her waist. Her hands were shoved into the pockets of her skinny jeans, paired with black chucks and an oversized hoodie. Her eyes. Braxton was right. They were the same. Those eyes stared at me, so many questions lingering in them. She seemed lost and nervous, the same look I had seen her wear so often as a child. An innocent child who hadn’t deserved to witness the horror she had. I prayed night after night that she would forget since she had been so young. I read somewhere that children had the ability to unknowingly block out trauma from their memory, and I only hoped she was that lucky.
Something inside me took over, and I padded my feet across the living room floor, my arms outstretched before I could get close to her.
“Maxi.” I pulled her into me, rubbing the back of her hair, just as I had when we were kids.
The motherly instincts I had hidden for so many years resurfaced as we both started to cry. Although she was taller than me now, I wanted to wrap her in my arms and rock her. I wanted her to know I never stopped worrying about her even after all these years. But I didn’t know how to start the long overdue conversation.
“Thank God I didn’t have to explain who I was,” she whispered, squeezing me hard.
“I think about you every day.” The tears started to fall from my eyes, and my bottom lip began to tremble. I hadn’t allowed myself to cry in so long, but this was necessary, and there was no stopping the waterworks. It was like I had spent so many years trying to avoid the past and ignore the pain, that one look at Maxi and I just needed to crumble. I wouldn’t, not right now. But the tears were inevitable.
“I’m going to give you two some time,” Braxton said quietly before closing her bedroom door behind her.
“You’re not the easiest person to track down,” Maxi said with a giggle as she wiped a tear from her eye and flipped her hair, gathering her composure before she ever really lost it. Not like me—I was a mess. I wanted to fall to the floor and bawl my eyes out.
“I never thought you would want to see me again,” I muttered as I pulled her by the hand, and we both sat on the sofa. “I looked for you. I never had social media, but I would search from Braxton’s accounts. Except I could never find you. There were a few Maxi Bridges, but none of them were you. I just wanted to know that you were all right.”
“Bridges?” Her left eyebrow raised in question, just like when she was little.
I couldn’t help but smile through my tears.
“Oh,” she muttered in recognition. “That’s not my last name anymore. I tried to find you on my own, but I never had any luck. Then my mom suggested we hire a private investigator.”
“Mom?” I
mouthed through the lump in my throat. They gave her back to our mother. The thought of it made me sick.
“My mom. I was adopted when I was seven. My last name is Jameson now. That’s why you couldn’t find me. God, I didn’t even think about that.”
“You were adopted?” I could hardly speak, the awe of it shocking me.
“Yeah, my mom is here with me. She’s at the hotel. I had to beg her to let me come alone.” Her laughter was music to my ears.
“Have you had a good life?” I knew from looking at her, she was healthy, and she appeared happy. But I needed to hear it come out of her mouth.
“I’ve had a great life.” She smiled, but it didn’t meet her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I wanted to know the truth. I wanted to protect her. I spent so many years riddled with guilt because I couldn’t keep her safe when we were kids, not enough. I was an adult now, I could help her if she needed me. Maybe make up for some of the mistakes I’d made when I was young and helpless.
“No, nothing’s wrong,” she reassured me by gripping my hand in hers. “I’ve just always felt like something was missing. My parents are great, but I wondered what happened to everyone. Where did you go after you got adopted?” Her assumption caused the tears to fall once again.
“I never did.” I waved her question away. I didn’t want to discuss me right now—I wanted to know all about Maxi.
“What?” Sadness washed over her, and her body slumped forward.
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” I didn’t want her to feel sorry for me.
“Then what happened?” She wouldn’t let this go. It was best to just get it out there so we could change the subject.
“I just floated between group homes and a couple of foster homes. I was older. Then I turned eighteen. It’s okay. I’m fine.” I forced a smile.
“I’m sorry.” Maxi grabbed me in a tight hug.
“I’m really okay. Tell me about you.” I pulled away and smiled, determined to find out more about her.
“My parents adopted me when I was seven. We moved to Wisconsin shortly after that for my dad’s job. I’m an only child. My parents couldn’t have children of their own. But my mom always made sure to let me have friends over, she would do anything to make me happy. Both of them would. Um…I took a year off after high school, but I start college next semester. That’s about it,” she said with a heavy sigh.