“Uhh…”
At my lack of answer, the side of his mouth lifted in a smile, and his eyes looked clearer when he lifted them to look at me. “Shocked you, haven’t I?”
Nodding mutely, I checked the screen, wrote down Smudge’s weight, and then watched as he gave her a snuggle and kiss and swapped her out for Peanut. She was a peanut butter colored kitten who was the largest of the litter before doing it all over again with Adele, the most vocal of the lot.
I needed to get what I wanted to say back out, but I was a pussy—no pun intended.
“Life’s felt brighter for me ever since you moved in, like I can breathe again. I never thought I’d be so grateful for shitty plumbing,” I rambled as quickly as I could. “So, in order of their weights, Peanut’s a chunky monkey, Adele’s right behind him, Smudge is a bit more petite, and your favorite child is a lightweight in comparison to her sisters.”
Seeing what I was doing and not drawing attention to it, he tucked them in with the blanket he’d picked them up at the vet's office and then held his arms out for Prince, who didn’t even hesitate to walk up to him to be picked up.
It was surreal given their relationship up until only twenty-four hours ago.
“Did you give her the special food the vet gave her? I looked it up online, and there are better ones with more vitamins and nutrition in them that you can get, so I ordered some for her. They also had these little kitten collars, so you can identify them more easily—” I looked at the kittens incredulously. They were all different colors, why would we need help identifying them? “—so I added those. I know we’re a few weeks off them weaning as well, but—”
“Let me guess,” I cut in drily. “You got something for that, too.”
Smiling wryly over his shoulder at me, he went back to watching the babies. “It helps to be prepared. Imagine how shitty it would be if they needed something immediately, and we couldn’t get it.”
“We definitely don’t have that problem.”
“Exactly.” He frowned down at them suddenly. “But what if they need it before it arrives? Maybe I should—”
Groaning, I thumped my forehead with the back of my hand. “You should just relax and have your damn dinner. I’ve been watching them all day, and they seem to be doing just fine, even your little drama queen.”
He crawled across the floor to where I’d set up the makeshift table giving one last longing look at them.
“What’s for dinner?”
“Meatloaf, green beans, and potatoes,” I called over my shoulder as I went to go and get it all out of the kitchen. “The tomato ketchup sauce that should’ve come with it made me feel sick even thinking about it, so I used a tin of chopped tomatoes instead and made a—” I cut off as I cleared the doorway. The guy wasn’t just pale, he looked freaking gray. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
“Not yet,” he mumbled under his breath before pasting what looked like a psycho’s version of a smile on his face. “I can’t wait to try it.”
“Shut up,” I growled, placing the plate down in front of him. His weird smile turned to confusion. “Now, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, it’s just that it looks… Well, edible?”
I had to agree. Nothing was burned, the meat hadn’t just collapsed into a pile of ground beef, it’d cooked all the way through, and it smelled good instead of like crap.
Still, he waited for me to put the first forkful in my mouth, watching my reaction the whole time.
I couldn’t remember what Tony had added to it, but I was grateful that he’d left me step-by-step instructions on how to do it again. In fact, step-by-step wasn’t the best way to describe them. More like a dummies guide, to a dummies guide, to a dummies guide of making the meatloaf.
“Damn, it’s good.”
His hand only shook slightly as he put his own in his mouth, but all of the panic changed the minute he tasted it properly.
“Well shit, maybe he’s a miracle worker? This might be the best meatloaf I’ve ever had.” He shoved another forkful in. “Don’t tell Mom.”
Snickering, I enjoyed my own food. Even the potatoes were cooked and not hard in the middle. I couldn’t tell you where I went wrong with cooking, it was like it had a vendetta against me whenever I did it, but I followed every step and the timings I was told to when I tried to do it on my own. Maybe I could get Tony to help me cure the problem?
Through it, he spoke about how hectic his day had been, describing what it was like working with the guys from Palmerstown P.D. I remembered Kapono from high school and the issues the two of them had with each other, so the two of them having to work together was hilarious.
After dinner, I put the leftovers away—a new novelty for me, having leftovers that were edible and not just because the food was too disgusting to consume—and we cleaned up the kitchen.
“I bought Doyle another huge bone with extra marrow in the middle. It was in the bag with the other stuff I brought home,” he said as he tossed down the dishcloth. “I’m going to give it to him and see if he likes me after it.”
Following behind him, I watched him walk over to Doyle, who didn’t even blink as he unwrapped it in front of him.
“I don’t think he needs you to go to those lengths to prove it isn’t poisoned,” I pointed out, enjoying the show he was putting on.
“I dunno. If he brought me food, I’d assume he’d poisoned it. It’s all about gaining his trust.”
“This something you read online, too?”
His back was to me, so he didn’t see the sarcastic smile I added. Instead, he nodded and put the wrapper on the floor beside him before holding it out to Doyle for him to sniff. He took his time doing it, like he was torturing Logan for even deigning to get close to him, but eventually, he lifted his head and stuck his nose on it, taking loud whiffs of the bone.
But he didn’t take it. Oh no, Pops had raised him to be the ultimate asshole. Instead, he put his head back down and closed his eyes like he was going back to sleep.
“Damn,” he sighed, standing up with it still in his hand. “Guess I’ll just put it in the trash if you don’t want it. Maybe I’ll find another little boy who needs a bone to chew on?”
He only got one step away from him when Doyle started growling and sat up straight, still in his bed.
Shooting me a smug grin, Logan looked back at him. “You want it?”
Doyle’s head tilted to the side like he was thinking about it, but then he got out of his bed and jumped over to stand next to Logan, butting his head against him and making a quiet whining noise.
“I see you, but you haven’t said if you want it,” Logan pressed, watching the dog expectantly.
Doyle sat down and raised a paw, something I didn’t even know he could do.
“Well, would you look at that,” I breathed wide-eyed. “The little shit head has tricks and hid them from me.”
Shaking the paw, Logan said, “Say please.”
My new name for Doyle was going to be the bone whore, because he barked and sat up on his hind legs.
“Well, hell. I didn’t expect that,” he snickered, crouching down again. “Okay, you can have it, but I want a kiss.”
“I think you’re pressing your luck,” I warned, watching the dog warily. They didn’t go from an enemy to your best friend in seconds, it took t—
That little pecker head did precisely what he asked, bumping him under the chin and then licking him from jaw to forehead.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t jealous of him—especially with dog saliva all over his face—but I was pissed that he’d never done that for me. I’d been trying to get him to obey commands like sit and shake a paw and speak for weeks, and all he’d ever done was turn his ass toward me.
Scratching him on top of the head, Logan held the bone out for him and then got up and walked back toward me, smiling widely. Of course, he had to stop to watch the kittens for a moment, but then he crossed over to where I was and bent in to kiss me.
Pressing my hand against his face, I pushed it gently away. “Dude, no. You need to wash your face first. Remember when we caught him eating something in the garden and couldn’t figure out what it was? Well, I caught him sniffing the litter tray today, too, and I’m not one hundred percent certain he didn’t go truffle snuffling in it if you get my drift.”
Realizing the truffles would be cat poop, he scrunched his face and moved quickly to the bathroom. “Why didn’t you tell me that shit before I let him do it, Bex. Jesus, what if he’d touched my mouth?”
“I’d hope you wouldn’t be the kind of person who’d let a dog tongue you. But just in case it needs to be said—don’t let him tongue you,” I called over my shoulder to his back. Just as the door to the bathroom began to close, I added, “And use soap. Lots of soap.”
It would be nice when the furniture arrived to have a place to sit and eat downstairs, but I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be sad not to have the excuse to curl up in bed with him, watching a movie instead of sitting on a couch doing it.
At that moment, I had my head on Logan’s chest as we watched Son In Law, and the hand of his arm under me was brushing up and down my arm. The rhythmic thud of his heart was almost like a lullaby, and when he laughed, and I felt it vibrate on my cheek, it made the moment feel even more intimate. Lucky for me, the movie was freaking hilarious, so I got to feel it a lot.
“Can you imagine if I did that when we were younger? Your dad would’ve killed me.”
“Pops would’ve helped him,” I snickered. “I remember when he saw my tattoo for the first time. Saying he lost his shit is putting it nicely.”
He rolled into me, turning me onto my back as he looked down at me.
“What exactly is the tattoo?”
“It’s a design that I saw and liked,” I winced. “I thought I was cool getting one at the base of my spine until I heard someone call them tramp stamps.”
“But what is it?” he asked again, prodding me with his finger at the same time.
“Well, if my family ever asks, it’s the ancient Egyptian symbol for strength. If you ever go to a tattoo place, though, you’ll probably find it under the ‘bullshit tribal’ category of their tattoos. You know, the ones that are quick, cheap, and easy to get done.”
“What did your Pops do when he saw it?”
“Well,” I wriggled slightly to get more comfortable.
Telling stories about Pops hurt, and it was hard to do, but at the same time, I needed to talk about him, and Logan knew that, so he often asked questions like this. Talking about him kept him alive, and my heart was never going to let him go.
“He’d come to visit me, not long after he got Doyle when he was a baby, and I bent over to pick up a bag when we came from the store. My tank top lifted at the back, and he saw the tattoo. He asked if my parents knew about it, and when I said they didn’t, he very casually asked where I’d gotten it done as we put the groceries away.”
Logan was already laughing without me telling him what happened. “He went and gave the guy shit, didn’t he?”
“Worse than that—he went and threatened to get him shut down. He told the guy that if he ever saw me again, he was to lock his doorm and to turn and walk the other way if he saw me walking down the street. He even had the audacity to tell the guy that it was shittily done, and that if he was going to give tacky tattoos, he could at least do them well.”
Laughing even harder, Logan motioned at me to turn onto my stomach. When I was in place, he lifted the back of the t-shirt that I’d stolen and inspected it.
“You know, he might actually be right. The outside of it’s uneven, and the shading is weird.”
“That’s the perk of it being on my back, I can’t see how bad it is,” I chuckled. “But I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t feel embarrassed now when I feel my top lift up at the back and know that people can see it.”
“You should get Ellis or Mace to fix it,” he suggested, still tracing the design with his finger. “I doubt they have the old Egyptian symbol for strength in their books,” he snickered, “and the work they did for me was pretty killer.”
Turning my head to see the arm with my favorite tattoos on it, I thought about it.
“The problem is, I’m kind of a pussy. I’ve got a scar here,” I lifted my hand to show him, “where two of my teeth broke the skin when I bit down on it during the tattoo. I don’t know if they’d ever let me live it down if I did that while they were working on me.”
“I’m fairly certain Ava would kill Mace if he upset you in any way. Just bring both of us with you.”
That wasn’t a bad idea. I could bite his hand!
Liking the idea more now, I asked, “What would I get done?”
“Given how dark and thick the design is, it might take some work to cover it up. What about a book or something like that?”
Picturing it in my mind, I wrinkled my nose. “That would look weird like my ass was a bookshelf or something. What about a butterfly?”
The hard pinch to my butt cheek was unexpected and made me squeal.
“You know, one of my favorite memories from when we were little was when you spent the night and Mom read us the Jungle Book. I remember thinking it sounded weird, but when I looked at you and saw how into you were, I started paying closer attention. There was a scene in it where they come across the elephants—”
“I love that scene,” I said softly. It was my favorite scene from the book, but I think it had something to do with the original cartoon movie of it.
“I know. You said it back then, and then you started telling us about how smart they were and explained how an elephant herd operated. After that, you made me watch the movie twice before we went to bed. Every time I see one, all I can hear is the song from the scene while I try to figure out how they can suck things up like water with their trunk and not drown.”
“Remember when we tried to pick up peanuts with our noses?” I chuckled, thinking back to something I hadn’t allowed myself to think about for a long time. Memories that went back over two decades that’d hurt to remember for so long.
“Oh shit, I forgot about that. You had to go and get it removed at the hospital because you snorted it so hard, it got stuck.”
I had. I’d inhaled to get it to stay in place instead of just trying to scrunch my lip against my nose. The damn peanut had gone so far inside that we couldn’t get it out. Every time I tried to pick it out, I just pushed it higher until I freaked out that it was going to get stuck behind my eye.
“That was so embarrassing. Pops was blowing up my other nostril and tried to make a grabber out of a bobby pin to pick it out, and it was too painful to take it out again, so I had to go to the ER with a bobby pin and a peanut up there.”
Logan had been doodling on my back with his finger, but he rolled onto his side and burst out laughing. “I had no idea.”
Yeah, there was a reason for that.
“Pops didn’t want my parents to know he’d made it worse, so he was the one who took me instead of them. The doctor who treated me knew him, so he wasn’t surprised by it at all. Afterward we went home, and Pops told them he hadn’t wanted to worry them about it because Mom had just had her appendix removed and was still in bed recovering from it.”
His body was moving the bed with his laughter. “Do they know now?”
“Yeah,” I snorted. “He told them about my tattoo, and in self-defense, I dropped the peanut story to get back at him.”
I was still smiling at the memories by the time Logan stopped laughing, but what he suggested next would have tipped me from liking him to all the way in love with him if I hadn’t already been there.
“Your grandpa reminded me of an elephant. Majestic, strong, never forgot a thing, protective of the people around him, capable of doing anything, and he was someone that people stopped to appreciate. Mixing that with The Jungle Book, I think an elephant would be a great cover-up for your fake Egyptian symbol.”
I stayed quiet while the worlds settled into my bones, but my mind remained active.
I wanted to tell him I loved him. I wanted to tell him how much I’d missed him. I wanted to put the incident behind us like it never happened.
I wanted to tell Pops he was right and I was wrong. I wanted to share my happiness with him. I wanted more time with him, to make more memories, and ask him which ones were his favorite.
I wanted something that was impossible, and I wanted something that was possible.
I could look forward and make new memories. By getting a tattoo like the one he’d suggested, I could keep Pops with me, as well as keeping old memories alive as well. Wouldn’t that be what Pops would want me to do?
“I want that,” I croaked, then cleared my throat. “I don’t want a cartoon, I want a black line drawing of one facing whoever took the photo I pick. Like it’s about to charge at them, suspended in time watching the person in front of them.”
His hand landed gently on my back and began to sweep up and down it. His reply was brief, but it was everything. “Then that’s what you’ll get. We’ll find the perfect photograph and make sure you have Pops with you.”
Raising my eyes from where I’d been staring at his throat, I took in the soft expression on his face. He was reading me, always making sure I was okay.
“It’s more than that. It’s my memories from the past, ones that I wish had been recorded so people could watch them and enjoy them, too. A lot of people forget what made them who they are today, and that was one of the moments that made me who I am today.”
Smiling at me, he tapped me on the nose. “Well, we’ve got a recording of you booping me on the nose and knocking on top of my head to share out to whoever you want to.”
Cringing, I pushed my head deeper into the pillow. “I’d prefer it to be non-embarrassing ones.”
“You think going to the ER with a peanut and bobby pin up your nose isn’t embarrassing?”
Bursting out laughing, I pressed the nostril the peanut had been up. “I swear I can still feel it twenty-one years later. I thought if I inhaled, it would go into my brain and get stuck there.”
Eat Crow (Cheap Thrills Series Book 6) Page 19