The Firsts Series Box Set

by M. J. Fields

  “I really want to stay with you,” she states.

  I shake my head. “I’m good. Not even a scratch. I’ll stop over tomorrow if the media isn’t around town.”

  “And if they are, we’ll come back here.” Ava hugs me tighter.

  “Dad and Tessa’s,” I tell her.

  She looks up at me with hell in her eyes. She wants to say something she knows will piss me off, push my buttons. She wants to call me out on the London and me thing.

  “Ava, not now. But any other time you feel the need to be your old self—”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” She tries to act shocked.

  “You know damn well what that means. Bossy, pushy, nosey, Ava-ey,” I remind her.

  She smiles and sighs as she hugs me tightly again. “I’m back, Logan, and if I wasn’t, I would have driven here from Brooklyn last night to make sure you’re okay.”

  I nod, not too sure I believe it.

  I walk back out to the kitchen where Dad, Brody, and Maddox are all talking quietly. I look at them all. Dad and Brody looked pissed. Maddox looks impassive.

  “Anything new?” I ask.

  “Get some sleep.” Maddox grips my shoulder. “Plenty of time to chat later.”

  Sleep, I think as I walk down the hall toward the guest room, not knowing if it’s at all possible.

  Harper walks out of the bathroom, saying, “Fresh towels are in the bathroom. Clothes are in the bedroom.”

  “Wasn’t necessary, but appreciated,” I tell her and start to walk past her.

  She shocks me by wrapping her arms around me and hugging me. “I’m so glad you’re okay. And Logan, I know it was Maddox who told you where she was, but”—she looks up at me with tears in her eyes—“I love you, and if something had happened to you...”

  I give her a hug back. “It’s all good, Harper.”

  “Get some sleep, okay, little brother?” She steps back and smiles sadly. “You two—”

  I shake my head. I don’t want to hear about me and her.

  She nods. “Thank you for making sure she got out alive.”

  I nod. “You should get some sleep, too.”

  Standing in the shower, I think of how messed up it is that my stepsister is also a second cousin to the girl I told I loved not too long ago. Not only is she that, but she’s married to London’s stepbrother.

  London’s been really fucking wrong about a lot of things but keeping shit quiet from our families isn’t one of them. Now, though, Dad knows something’s up. Maddox and Ava know, too. So that means Tessa, Harper, and Luke probably do, as well.

  At least they all know I haven’t fucked her, I think as I shut off the shower, grab a towel, and then step out.

  Looking in the mirror as I towel off my hair, I think about the night she walked in after Thanksgiving, after all hell broke loose about Ava’s babies, my niece’s and nephew’s paternity. The night I decided there was no damn way I was going to keep playing grab-ass with her.

  I had decided she would hate that I would stick up for Ava, regardless of what went down. Then she—London—would be stuck deciding on Team Thomas or Team Luke, inevitably choosing anyone but Ava. I couldn’t do that to Ava or London if things got any deeper between us.

  She demanded I stick to the deal, even though I had every intention of sabotaging it by breaking every “condition” we had come up with by being with someone else.

  I was so glad she pushed me—was—until she fucking kissed him.

  Technically, she didn’t break any sort of agreement. The conditions were through the fall semester. But what she did break was a part of me. A very raw, very guarded part of me I never intended to reveal.

  I wrap the towel around my waist and look at the two doors in the Jack and Jill bathroom, realizing I have no clue which room I’m supposed to take.

  Of course I open the wrong fucking one. Luckily, I’m wrapped in a damn towel.

  I quickly close it and head to the other.

  When I walk in, I see something outside the French doors. Fucking media, no doubt, has found us here.

  When we were kids, Mom and Dad used to keep us away from all the shit that came with Brody’s and Maddox’s stardom. I was glad. I mean, yeah, I’m well-known in this area, but not around the world, and that kind of attention is not something I want.

  London, I think of all she has been through with the attention. Hell, she doesn’t even see how almost perfect she is. Then I get pissed when I hear a noise outside. Neither she nor the girls need this shit today.

  I open the door and step out. “Who the fuck is out here?”

  “Shhh...” I hear and look in the corner where London is sitting wrapped in a blanket.

  Both rooms have doors leading to the deck. I guess I should have looked closer into the bedroom they were all sharing to make sure all four sets of eyes were in there.

  I’m immediately pissed at her.

  “It’s damn cold out here,” I snap.

  “Then you should go inside,” she snaps back.

  “What the hell are you doing out here? Get inside where you’re safe,” I demand.

  “Inside where I’m safe?” She laughs irritably. “Never once had an issue when I was outside until now, so just leave me alone.”

  I think about what she has been through in her past and even last night. She’s right. She almost died last night in a club, years ago in their house in Liverpool, England, and in a car accident with her dad. Still, she needs to be inside.

  “It’s fucking January, London. Don’t be a child. Go back inside.”

  “A child?” She’s trying to be argumentative. She is being, but her exhaustion evidently takes some of the fight out of her. She sounds so fucking tired. “You’re the one in a towel.”

  I don’t wait for more nonsensical arguments from her. I shoot over and grab her to pull her up, but she pulls away, which pisses me off even more. I bend down and lift her up, carrying her ass inside while she silently fights to get away from me.

  “Just put me down. God, Logan, just leave me alone,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “Maddox is here. Brody is here. You aren’t being paid to babysit me, or fake wanting to be around me, or—”

  She stops yapping when I drop her on the bed.

  “Go to fucking sleep.”

  “Go away, okay? Just—”

  She stops when I turn my back to her, drop the towel, and step into the pajama bottoms Harper left for me.

  I turn around and look at the shocked expression on her face as it grows redder by the second. “Let your boyfriend know my ass is better than his.” I flop back on the bed and hit the light.

  When she starts to get up, I instinctively grab her wrist and pull her back.

  “Logan,” she cries softly. “Just don’t.”

  “Shut up”—I pull her toward me and position her so her back is to my chest—“and go to sleep.”

  “I don’t want to sleep with you,” she argues verbally while melding into me, little spoon to big spoon.

  “I know. You made that clear. You chose him last night.”

  “I...” She pauses. “I...”

  “Where was he when you were minutes from death, London?”

  “Don’t even. If Dad and Maddox hadn’t paid you to watch me—”

  “No money was ever exchanged, not one fucking cent. And your dad had no clue. So just shut up and go to sleep. Jesus, London, we need sleep.”

  She’s quiet, too fucking quiet. It’s appreciated, but I know it’s the calm before the storm.

  I inhale the scent I have missed, the scent that is her—sweet, clean, calming. Her body relaxes slightly, and I allow mine to do the same. I loosen the vice grip around her waist, and her hands that once gripped my wrist to pull mine away loosen, as well. Then she pulls it up as she lifts her head and turns my hand palm up before resting her head back down.

  I replace it with the hand I’m resting my head on and bring it back around her waist. That’s how it was for
those last weeks of college, and that’s how it should be now.

  After a few more quiet moments, she finally yawns and asks, “Where have you been, Logan?”

  “I’m right here now.” I can’t help pulling her closer. I can’t help thinking about what the world would be like without her. “We need sleep.”

  “Logan?”

  “No, London, just no talking. I’s so pissed off at you right now that I should put you back outside, so just stop talking because I—”

  “I’m pissed at you, too.” she pushes my hand away and rolls to her back. Then, when she looks at me, I expect her words to show on her face, yet they don’t. Those blue eyes aren’t angry; they are sad, confused, and filling with tears. She looks like she wants to say something, but when her lips part, they quiver. She closes them quickly then swallows down the building tears.

  I close my eyes, unable to comfort her the way I want, because I’m not hers. He is.

  “Well, I don’t get why you wouldn’t just leave me alone. You aren’t obligated—”

  “London, you should shut it down,” I warn, keeping my eyes closed, not wanting to engage in the bullshit she is turning this into, the escape from the cruel reality. “You wanna be pissed at someone, be pissed at the man who walked into a place where people went to have fun and opened fire on them.”

  A strangled cry sounds from her throat, and my eyes open.

  Seeing the fear and confusion in her eyes, on her face that is lit up by the rising sun, I think, Fuck, this is how she copes, not that it’s a bad thing. She’s gotten through a fuck of a lot by doing that. But because I’m not going to be the one she blames, I tell her like it is; what she’s avoiding.

  “You aren’t pissed at me, London. You need someone to be angry at, and that’s not me. You know damn well it’s not, so shut it down and try to get some sleep, because when we wake up, we have to face it again.”

  “Why? Why would someone do what he did?”

  I give her the only reason that makes any sense. “Not gonna even try to figure it out. The reality is some people are just shit, London.”

  “How sad must he have been to—”

  “Do not give him the excuse of being sad. When you’re sad, you fucking cry, you drink, you go to the gym, you hang with friends, you fuck.”

  “What happened to make him so angry then?” She starts to tremble.

  “He’s responsible for his own actions, not someone who may have pissed him off.”

  “How hurt must he have been to resort to—”

  I take her chin in my hand, needing her to stop trying to figure out the actions of a mad man, wanting her to stop trying to make sense of the senseless. “Some people are just shit.”

  She clamps her hands around mine and nods as tears spill out of her eyes. “I don’t want to live in a world where—”

  “There’s more good than bad. There is, and you need to focus on that,” I interrupt whatever shit she’s about to say.

  She nods again. “Logan?”

  “Please no more.” I can’t fucking do this with her when all I see when I look at her is fear, anger, pain, and her fucking lips on him.

  “Do we love—”

  “Absolutely fucking not,” I snap and let go of her face.

  “You said it because you thought we were going to die. You said it because you wanted to keep me calm. You said it because—”

  “I said it because all those fucking reasons.”

  “Well, then I’m glad I hurt you by kissing him. I’m glad because you hurt me by lying to me.” She attempts to pull away, but I hold her tighter. “I’m glad, Logan,” she sobs into her hands, “because now...now you hurt me worse than I hurt you.”

  I pull her hands from her face.

  “Let go of me.”

  “We never did. We clearly have no clue what we want. Because when I fall in love with someone, they’ll never fucking do that to me. Never.”

  “Well, same, Logan, same.”

  “What the fuck does that even mean, same?”

  “When I fall in love, real love, not some stupid crush, the boy will never leave me without further contact. He’ll never lie to me about why he’s around me, and he would know that if he ever pulled something so stupid as to drive into a building to find me and he died, I would never ever forgive myself. I would never love a boy who did that. Never. Not ever.” Her face contorts into what some call an ugly cry. It’s not ugly; it’s sad, so fucking sad. Then she struggles, trying to pull her arms free. “Let me go. I don’t want a boy like you to see me like this.”

  “You look...” I stop myself from saying it, but then I just can’t. “You look pretty.”

  She turns her head and closes her eyes, lips trembling. “Stop lying to me. Just—”

  “Fine, no more fucking lies. I wouldn’t have said I’d watch out for you if I didn’t want to. No, I didn’t get paid. Yes, London, I fucking love you, but you—”

  I stop when she turns her head back to me and leans up. “Then kiss me.”

  “You have a fucking boy—”

  She yanks her arms away and grabs my face. I lean back, not giving in to her, denying myself exactly what I want.

  She doesn’t let go and sits up right along with me, hands now around my neck as I keep trying to get the fuck away.

  “I don’t. I was...” She pauses and looks down, scowling, trying to figure out what she was. “Mad, scared, hurt, angry. I needed—”

  “You needed him, yet here you are, straddling me? That’s not gonna fix shit, London.”

  She pulls herself against me and whispers, “I’m sorry.”

  “Well, I’m not. I’m not fucking sorry I was there. Not when your brother asked, and not when I landed at Hancock and saw the club shooting on the news. I’m not sorry that I listened to my gut. I fucking knew you were there, London, I did, and I’m not sorry I fucking came for you. You can’t love a boy like that. You can go back to Lawrinson and cuddle up to a guy like him—your boyfriend. Your first boyfriend. Jesus L. Christ, London, what have you done?”

  She hugs me tighter. “I’m sorry.”

  “You bet your ass you are.”

  I mean to push her away, but I don’t. I lay back, her tangled around me, and me around her. She pushes up so she’s straddling me, takes in a deep breath, and then slowly runs her hands up my abs.

  “Don’t start what you aren’t gonna finish with me. Not now, London.” I put my hands over hers, stopping them.

  “I want you to...” She pauses and closes her eyes. “I want you right now.”

  For some reason, that fucking pisses me off.

  I sit up and flip her onto her back. Her sweet breath bursts out as her back hits the bed. Then she reaches down, grabbing the hem of her shirt, and starts to pull it up.

  “No.”

  “No?” she asks in confusion.

  “No. You have a fucking boyfriend, and I am not ever gonna be someone’s fucking side piece. And you, you’re not ever gonna fucking cheat, you hear me? That’s not you.”

  Her lip pouts out again, and she slowly nods up and down.

  “Now, roll over and resume the fucking position. And no more talking, London. It’s sleep time.”

  She does.

  I can’t sleep, but she does. She’s sleeping, she’s safe, she admitted what I should have known, what I did know, but that mental picture of her kissing him, that’s going to take a hell of a lot to forget. And if I see him again, he will be the one who pays for her fuck up.

  She murmurs something in her sleep and turns onto her stomach. I wait until she relaxes then push her hair away from her face.

  I watch as she becomes more restless, but she is still fucking perfect; looks like an angel. A tortured angel.

  When she gasps and grips the sheets, her eyes fluttering open, she whispers, “Sorry.”

  “Sleep,” I say, pushing more of her fallen black hair away from her face.

  She moves closer, rolls to her side, and wraps he
r arms around me. I lie back and pull her head to my chest where, within seconds, she’s no longer restless. She actually looks peaceful.

  §

  “She’s okay.” I hear the attempt of a whisper and open my eyes.

  Fuck.

  I see Maddox attempting to push Lexington back out the door while whispering, “She’s fine, Lexi. Let her sleep.”

  “Why’s Logan naked?” she asks, suppressing a grin, reminding me of London when I first met her.

  “Great question,” Brody hisses.

  I feel London move slightly against my chest, and then she whispers, “You’re in so much trouble.”

  “I heard her!” Lexington yells then runs into the room, leaping onto the bed.

  London sits up and catches her. “You can’t go back there ever, London. You can’t.”

  “I know, Lexi, I know,” London says as she hugs her.

  I sit up and meet the angriest eyes I have ever seen.

  “Do you think you could put some clothes on?” Brody spats.

  I slide off the bed and stand. “I have clothes on.”

  “Not a shirt.” Lexington is apparently done crying and is now amused. “And you have big boobs.”

  “Okay, Lexington,” London and Emma say at the same time.

  Maddox throws a shirt at me, the one he just had on. “I’ll grab another.”

  Lexington gasps.

  “What, Lexi?” He flexes his chest, and she laughs.

  “Just trying to stir up trouble.”

  He grabs her and throws her over his shoulder. “Breakfast is ready. Then the kids are going to hang with the grandparents.”

  “All of them?” Lexington asks as she giggles.

  “A bunch of them,” he answers as Piper dodges his attempt to grab her up, too.

  Piper stops in front of me and raises her arms.

  “One second,” I tell her as I throw the shirt on to appease Brody. Then I grab her and start to swing her around my back. She puts both hands on the sides of my face and looks at me.

  After a few minutes of her staring and saying nothing, she smiles. “You gonna haf a Weed.”

  “A what?” I ask, knowing full well what she said since I speak Piper. Ls and Rs are an issue. She’s telling me I’m gonna have a baby, a Reed, her brother’s name.