CHAPTER TWELVE

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A Step Back

Logan

It’s been a long week. A week that feels like a month because of all the immediate and life-altering changes that have occurred.

Keeka adamantly declined Brody and Emma’s offer to stay with them. She adamantly declined Dad and Tessa’s as well. I knew she would. That’s why I offered to share my place until hers was done, which she adamantly declined until I told her that I spoke to Trucker and would do so again if she even thought I was going to let her stay in that shit-bag studio she thought she would be taking the angel baby, whose name had to be decided before she was released.

Leddie Lou Garcia-Lopez is seven pounds, two ounces and twenty-two inches of innocence and beauty. All the health and developmental testing the hospital ran, which I haven’t a clue what they mean, were good, and Tessa Links confirmed.

I decided to postpone my graduate classes when London announced she was going to take the semester off to help Keeka with the baby, her niece. I told her she needed to continue with school without a break, that she needed to do this for herself, put herself, her dreams first. That conversation took place in private, or so I thought, until I saw Brody round the corner of the hospital hallway, lock eyes with me, and nod what I suppose was his approval.

The first time Keeka walked into the apartment, she looked at me, unable to speak, and shook her head. I nodded mine. She cried.

Crying women, my Achille’s heel, my weakness, also the cause of so much confusion in my past has become an everyday, sometimes every hour occurrence.

I once thought, when a woman cried, I was the one to cause it in some way, or she was in pain, or that she was being dramatic. Over the past couple years, I realized I may have been wrong.

Rarely has it been about me. Like a piece of kindling set too close to a fire, one spark can cause it to combust. Emotions, ones in which a male can normally keep hidden, seem to be almost impossible for the females I am close to, to hide—they can erupt without warning. I know there’s hormonal shit that affects them, making it difficult, ones we males don’t contend with. But the women in my life—Ava, London, and now Keeka—seem to have an even harder time than most. Or is it me that has a harder time seeing them cry because I am emotionally attached to them?

Either way, it sucks to watch them cry and not be able to make it stop immediately. At least now I’m pretty sure I’m not the one causing it. I’m much more confident that just holding them, listening to them, being there eases the burden in which women like them carry. Women with hearts.

I look down at Leddie who is attached to my chest in some contraption Dad had to help me learn how to use. She’s asleep, but so is Keeka, and I’m afraid if I lay her down, she will wake up, and then Keeka will wake up and cry.

She’s exhausted, and yes, exhausting.

Leddie isn’t. She’s amazing. She cries when she has a reason, like if she’s hungry or shit through every article of clothing on her tiny little body.

Keeka is the champion of diaper changing. She’s great when it comes to the tasks that need to be done—diaper changes, laundry, and breastfeeding. But when she’s quiet, Keeka stares at her like she’s afraid of her. Honestly, I think she is.

While Keeka was busy feeding, changing, bathing, and dressing Leddie, I made myself busy in her apartment. She would come over and look around. When I asked her what she thought, she told me straight up it was too big and had too many windows.

The tone in which she speaks to not just me, but everyone, is detached, completely and totally null and void of emotion. Hell, half the time, she doesn’t even look people in the eye.

Dad and Tessa are here every day. I’m half expecting them to move in. Tessa cooks and Tessa cleans, and Tessa watches Keeka while she tries not to appear to be doing so. Dad and I work.

When London is done with school, she’s here. And unfortunately, it’s not to see me. Her agreement with her folks is she would sleep at Lawrinson every night, and she does. She leaves by midnight and is back by six in the morning to hang out with her sister, her fucking sister—still blows my mind—and Leddie before she goes back to class. Half the time, she comes here during her breaks, instead of taking the additional dance classes she did last semester.

I spoke to Maddox, who put me on speakerphone, making the conversation between Emma, Brody, Maddox, and Harper, voicing my concerns. We agreed that London had made up her mind and her focus was on Keeka and the baby; and trying to change her mind would be detrimental to her, as well as impossible. They were just happy she was taking classes.

Looking down at Leddie, I see features that are unmistakably Trucker’s. Hell, my dad saw it, too. When he asked me if he was the father, I told him not to ask. Then he asked if he needed to have a chat with him. I told him that, if he did, I would be incredibly pissed at him. He nodded and told me he trusted me, even though he had recently found out I didn’t always tell him when big things happened in my life, and that I should cut that fucking shit out because he understood each man had his own path, and that he was proud of me regardless of what I did. Well, except for not telling him two NFL teams wanted me. I simply told him that I loved the sport, but I wouldn’t want to miss out on things like births and life.

I saw the way he looked at me. I had seen it a million times before. It was with pride.

When he abruptly left and came back an hour later with a bag of Skittles, I laughed.

Since I had played pee-wee ball, my father rewarded me every damn game, win or lose, with a bag of Skittles. Loved those fucking things. He did the same thing for Trucker, but with peanut M&Ms.

 

Last night, Mitch called with the results of the paternity test. He was not the father, and although I was happy for him, I was kind of pissed at his celebratory attitude. He asked for Trucker’s number. I didn’t give it to him. I told him, if he valued our friendship, he would leave it the fuck alone. He told me he wouldn’t say shit, except to Jamie, but if he ever saw Trucker again, he was going to piss on him.

I look down at Leddie as we walk to the window. “Your father is a little bitch, Leddie. No kid needs a role model like that in their lives. You have your mom, you have me, you have a huge family, nothing else you need in this world, but that and a clean diaper.”

I look down onto the street and see a car pull up. I watch as London gets out, immediately pissed off she didn’t call me for a damn ride.

“You also have an aunt who adores you and has the innate ability to piss me off like no other.”

I walk over, shove my feet in my slides, and then grab one of Leddie’s blankets to throw over her in case it’s chilly in the hallway. Then I open the closet to grab a hat, knowing there is no way to hide my annoyance at her right now. Then I decide against it.

I walk out and hear the sounds of construction going on down the hall. Saws, air guns, compressors. I pull Leddie’s head tighter against my chest and cover her other ear with the blanket, hoping she doesn’t wake up.

The elevator opens, and I watch as London walks off it, eyes focused on the floor.

“Your phone broke?” I ask.

She looks up at me blankly, eyes red and glazed over, expression devoid. “Not today, Satan.”

“What?” I gasp.

“Please don’t fight with me. I’m tired, I’m moody, and I’m miserable.”

I can’t help myself. “You should have called for a ride.”

She sighs heavily and looks at me.

“You look like hell.”

Now she rolls her eyes.

“When did you sleep last?”

“Logan, just—”

“When?”

“Last night. I slept last night.”

“Bullshit,” I hiss at her because.

“It’s not bullshit. I took a sleeping pill—”

“You did what?”

“Can’t sleep without them.” She shrugs and looks at Leddie. “Can I have her?”

“Fuck no, you can’t have her,” I snap. “You can take a damn nap.”

“I don’t have time for a nap.” She reaches out to unhook the contraption, but I take her hand, pulling her behind me.

When she stumbles, I turn quickly to catch her, but she grabs the wall.

“London,” I sigh as the door opens.

“Hey, Keeka.” London smiles.

“Hi. I need to feed her. My boobs hurt,” Keeka says hurriedly.

“She’s asleep,” I tell her.

“Oh, she’ll eat,” Keeka huffs as she unbuckles the carrier. With Leddie in her arms, she then looks at London. “You look awful.”

“So I’ve heard,” London jokes and cracks a smile. Even her fake smile isn’t believable.

Keeka nods toward London, saying to me, “You need to do something about her.”

“I’m fine.” She laughs.

Bullshit.

“She’ll be fine,” I assure Keeka, who nods then walks back into the apartment.

I watch London pull out a can and crack it open. “Cheers.”

When she holds it up, I see it’s an energy drink.

I take it from her hand before it hits her lips. “Let’s go.”

Once in my bedroom, I turn to face her. “So, you’re take sleeping pills to sleep and drinking that shit to stay awake?”

“People do it every day.” She puts her hands on her hips and throws her little nose in the air.

I grab her and gently toss her onto the bed. “Get some fucking sleep.”

She starts to get up, but I grab her hands as I push her down, holding them above her head. “I said, get some fucking sleep.”

She looks fucking pissed, so pissed, and something stirs. Not right fucking now, I try to tell myself, but it can’t be helped.

“You’re an ass—”

My lips crash down on hers. She immediately relaxes and whimpers when I press them a little harder. Then she pulls her hands away from mine and immediately grabs my hair, pulling me, guiding me to where she wants me.

Lying on her, she thrusts her tongue into my mouth and moans her satisfaction as she strokes my tongue with hers. My body heats with need, but my mind reminds me of who the fuck she is, who we are, and I slow the pace.

Taking her tongue between my teeth, I pull back, dragging them down her tongue. She knots her hands tighter in my hair, demanding me to stay on course. I grip hers and pull back, to which she groans, disapproving of my action as I run my nose back and forth across hers.

“Should we try this again?”

She shrugs slightly but doesn’t open her eyes.

“Why didn’t you call for a ride?”

Her eyes pop open, her blues not as vibrant. Then she shrugs and does the sideways glance thing, averting eye contact.

I grip her hair a little more and turn her to face me. “London, we communicate. Remember the conditions?”

She closes her eyes and purses her beautiful lips.

When I tilt her head and kiss her neck, she immediately relaxes.

I see how this is going to work. Instead of Chinese torture, I’m going to win with sexual tension.

“Why?” I ask, keeping on task by licking her sweet-smelling skin.

“I have a tail. It’s not necessary.” She whimpers as she pushes her tits against my body.

“A tail?” I look up at her.

“A Clive,” she sighs. “Dad’s got it covered.”

“How long have you known and who is Clive?”

“Clive was Dad’s bodyguard years ago. Apparently, he’s out of retirement,” she answers dryly then slides her tongue across her lips.

“As much as I want to kiss you, we have more to discuss.”

“I don’t want to talk. Kiss me.”

I feel my eyebrows shoot up, and she groans and rolls her eyes.

“Hey, London?”

She glances back.

“I want you to sleep, then wake up and not look so fucking exhausted. I love you, London, okay? I just didn’t realize it came with all this shit.”

“This shit?”

“Worry, wonder, fear.” I bury my head in her neck.

I hate that all that shit just flew out my mouth, but I can’t take it back.

“Do you have any clue how worried I was when you got out of that car?”

“Worried or pissed?” she asks.

I have to think about it.

“Both.” I nod.

“You sure?”

Am I?

“Fine, pissed. I was pissed because...you call me.”

“I forgot, okay? I forgot, and I just decided to come here.” She looks away again.

“How much sleep are you getting?”

She shrugs.

“Hey.” I tilt her face back to mine. “Since when do you not tell me what’s on your mind?”

“I don’t sleep, okay? I can’t close my eyes without seeing Chaos or worrying about Keeka.” She looks away again. “So yes, I have taken some over the counter sleep aids to help.”

I let go of her hair and push away the black locks covering her eyes. “Go on.” I kiss her nose, then her forehead.

“I sleep like, three, maybe four hours with them. Then I wake and try to go back to bed, but I can’t, so I drink an energy drink and go to class.”

“How many of those things are you drinking a day?”

She averts her eyes again.

“London...?”

“A few,” she sighs out.

“Well, no more. Promise me no more.”

“Fine, if you kiss me.”

“Gladly,” I say, pushing her little wrap sweater apart and placing my lips on the bare skin just above her tit. I’m rock-hard immediately.

Her breath hitches as I kiss across to the other side.

Fucking cuddle season.

I kiss slower up her neck, taking my time, listening to her sweet, little noises, feeling her body shift under mine, learning all over again what spots cause her to gasp and what places make her quiver. Like now, when I pull on her ear with my teeth. It’s a quick inhale of breath with an ah sound, then a slow, longer intake where her entire body tenses like she’s fighting those feelings from taking over. Then, with the release of her ear from my teeth, she lets out long ohhhh.

It’s intimate. It’s sexy. It’s smelling, tasting, and touching. It’s her telling me that she trusts me and likes what I’m doing. It’s me showing her that I adore her, want her, but am going to take my fucking time with her, because not fucking London is so damn hot that I can wait. I can wait until it’s all right.

“Logan,” she gasps when I kiss down her neck, paying special attention to the center on the lowest part where it meets the collarbone.

“Mmm...” I respond, because I can’t talk while I’m licking that spot.

I turn her head and kiss up her neck to the spot just behind her ear where I suck gently. She likes it there. She likes it there a lot.

Her little mew sound is quivering as her hips thrust slightly, seeking friction that I generally avoid, but right now, I’m needing to give her just a little more than I have before.

I take her face between my hands and look into those blue eyes that are liquid, not wanting to miss this. Then I grind into her, watching her mouth drop open as her back arches and she pants “Oh no.”

I force myself to pull back, and from the noise she makes, no is clearly not a plea to stop; it’s a protest to do it again. Confirmation comes in a whimper, followed by a, “Please.”

I push against her again, watching those eyes roll back.

“Good. So—”

“Yeah?” I roll against her again.

Her mouth opens in an O, and she moans then hisses, “Yes.”

I continue doing just enough fully clothed to get her really fucking close, until I’m so close I know shit is going to blow soon.

I kiss her hard now, stroking my tongue along hers, pulling her lips with my teeth, and rolling my hips faster until she takes in a breath and holds it. Her body tenses, and she is no longer pushing against mine. She is pulling away.

Fuck that. Not when she’s this close.

I let go of her face and grab her hips, holding them up. Then I rub really fucking hard, watching as she grips the sheets, closes her eyes, and shakes while whimpering as she falls apart for real, for the first time.

I lie beside her afterward, waiting for her to open her eyes, and when she doesn’t, I demand it.

“Look at me.”

She shakes her head, her face immediately flushing.

“London,” I sigh. “Look at me.”

“Not right now please,” she whispers.

“In case you’re wondering, you just came,” I tell her.

She bites her bottom lip to stop her smile.

“In case you didn’t know, you liked it.”

“I knew that part.” She now smirks.

“I’m really damn glad you did. Now stay put while I’m in the shower,” I tell her, getting up, “so I can do the same damn thing.”

She covers her mouth to hide the laugh and rolls to her stomach.

That little peach of an ass is staring up at me. I cup it in both hands, bend down, and bite it. She squeals into the mattress.

“I’m gonna jerk off thinking about your ass,” I mumble as I walk away.

When I come out of the bathroom, she’s asleep, sound asleep.

I hit the remote to the electric shades to close them, grab my phone, and hit white noise on my iPod’s playlist before connecting it through Bluetooth, hoping that it drowns out any noise that could wake her.

§

Keeka is sleeping, and so is Leddie Lou, the name I’m going to have to get used to, because to me, she’s an angel. An angel amidst chaos.

Death and life, I think, death and life.

I walk out of the apartment and down the hall to the other. When I walk in, I see Tessa on a ladder, painting, and Dad holding it, looking up with a shit-ass grin on his face.

She turns around and shakes her head at him. “Don’t you have something to do?”

He nods slowly but doesn’t move. It’s cool that my dad and Tessa are still into each other after all these years, but as his kid, I still find it awkward as fuck.

I clear my throat, and he looks back.

“Oh, hey there.” He walks over and gives me a hug, “Place should be ready in a few days.”

I return his hug, step back, then look around. “Lots to do still; you sure about that?”

“Gonna have some extra help in a few minutes.” He leans in and whispers, “The British are coming.”

“Great,” I sigh.

Dad laughs. “Look, I’ve had to rub elbows with him all week for this fundraiser, so you can deal.”

“London’s in my bed,” I tell him. “She hasn’t been sleeping.” I don’t tell him about the pills or energy drinks.

“I don’t think you should tell the Brit that.” Dad laughs.

“It’s gonna be easier than telling him I’m gonna insist she stays with me so she sleeps.” I don’t laugh.

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at me.

“She’s fucking exhausted,” I explain.

“Well.” Dad scratches his head as he thinks of what to say. “Maybe you should, I don’t know, lay off it for a while.”

“Lay off it?” I gasp.

“You know, let her sleep,” he says, looking uncomfortable.

When it dawns on me that he thinks I’m keeping her awake, I sigh. “I haven’t fucked her, Dad. Jesus, she’s not sleeping because she’s having a hard time closing her eyes. She’s not sleeping because she’s trying to do it alone. She’s not sleeping because she’s not with me.”

When Dad glances behind me, I know immediately the British have arrived.

“Is she okay?” Emma asks from behind me, and I turn around.

Brody looks pissed, which isn’t unusual, and Emma looks like she could cry, also not unusual these days.

“She’s sleeping now,” I tell her.

“That’s good,” she says as she looks up at Brody.

“It’s good,” he tells her, pulling her into a hug while staring at me.

“I should go check on her,” Emma says, stepping back.

Before I have a chance to tell her over my dead body, Brody tells her, “I think we should just let her sleep.”

“All three of them are asleep. I agree with Brody.”

He nods then looks at Emma. “We came to work, love. You ready to paint?”

“Can I borrow you for a moment, Emma?” I ask, walking toward them.

She nods.

I open the door to the apartment and wave my hand to the hallway. “After you.”

She walks out, and Brody does, too.

For a moment, I’m annoyed. I mean, does the man think I’m going to try to fuck his wife? That moment passes when I think of Leddie and the fact that it’s impossible to not look in on her in the morning before I leave to get London, or in the evening when I come back from dropping her off.

When we walk into the apartment, Emma looks around and smiles. There’s a swing in the middle of the room that she points to. “New furniture?”

I smile. “When London isn’t holding her, and Keeka isn’t feeding or changing her, sometimes she likes to sit in that and stare at the light coming in through the window.”

“Has the father been told yet?” Brody asks.

I stop and look at him. My gut instinct is to tell him it’s none of his fucking business, but in effort to keep the peace, I let him know what’s up. “She doesn’t want him to know.”

“Is he a threat?” Brody asks.

“I don’t think so. I think the circumstances that brought Leddie into the world—”

“One-night stand?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I won’t betray her trust, Brody. I apologize, but I gave her my word.”

“I’d like you to consider what Maddox and Harper went through. It’s possible this man would like to know,” he says, face void of emotions.

“He’s not Maddox,” I assure him.

He doesn’t look convinced.

Not wanting to break a promise, I give him the last bit of information I will. The rest is for Keeka to share if she chooses. “I made a phone call, he denies it, and that’s it. She has me, she has family, she’ll be fine.”

He nods once.

“I asked Emma to come in here so she could see her daughter is fine. I was a little pissed off that she came over unexpectedly, didn’t call for a ride, and looked like hell. I insisted she sleep.”

“She didn’t call and ask for a ride?” Emma asks with worry in her voice.

I shake my head.

“I don’t understand.” Her eyes brows knit together.

I look at Brody. “If we were all on the same page, there would be less worry.”

When he sighs, Emma looks up at him.

“Clive has returned.”

“Clive?”

He nods. “He’s watching over her. Don’t be angry, Em. I just—”

“Logan’s right; we all need to be on the same page so we aren’t tripping over each other, Brody.”

“She also still wears that bracelet, has her location shared with Emma,” I remind them, “and until this morning, I felt really damn good that she was checking in, calling when she was done with class, and all of that.”

They both nod and now, now I have to put her first, regardless of my concerns.

“Until this morning, after I voiced my concern and saw her get angry, not wanting to answer questions—”

“What kind of questions?” Brody asks accusingly.

“Like, why the hell didn’t you call for a ride? Why the hell aren’t you sleeping? That sort of shit, and that was all me. I was pissed because I didn’t have my thumb on her. I was pissed because I knew if something happened, some random bullshit like what happened at Chaos, I wouldn’t know where the fuck to find her without calling Emma or Maddox.”

“Well, then we’re all on the same page.” Brody nods.

“We may be, but it’s not what’s in her best interest,” I admit.

Brody stiffens. “I disagree.”

“I felt the same way until I watched her sleep. She’s exhausted because she’s not sleeping and she’s here all the time, and she’s trying to fucking make everything perfect. And because she’s worried, we’re all worried, and it’s selfish as hell to put that on her.”

“We’ve stepped back, Logan,” Emma says. “We’re doing the best we can.”

“I understand completely, I do. But when I put my shit on her this morning and insisted on answers”—I leave out what insistence entailed—“she looked even more damn tired. And when I went to shower and came out, and she was sleeping, I decided something needs to give.”

“Unfortunately, it won’t be Clive,” Brody says sternly.

I want to be a dick, but I have to admit, London didn’t seem that pissed off about it, so I can’t be either, not when I’m standing here, wanting what’s best for her, regardless of how it makes me feel. Not when I’m worried she will fuck up her health and her dreams.

“Now that Elle Fields’ secret has been revealed and London’s true identity is known, I won’t disagree. I wouldn’t ask because, honestly, she didn’t seem pissed. And even though I love that it’s me who picks her up and takes her back, when I think about what she did today, catching a cab, I think it’s progress for her.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement,” Brody replies, holding back that he probably gives a fuck less what I think.

“Let’s hope that continues when I tell you that she needs to be here to sleep.”

He rolls his eyes. “No.”

“No?” I huff.

“She isn’t going to move in with you, Logan. She’s eighteen years old and will finish school.”

“Well, again, we agree on her finishing school.”

“She’s not moving in with you,” he sneers.

“Your daughter sleeps when she’s with me. She feels safe when she’s with me. Does that account for nothing?” He starts to reply, but I interrupt to finish what I’m trying to say. “I didn’t say she should move in with me, but I do think she should move in with Keeka when the place is finished. I also think that, if Clive’s gonna be around, you should tell her to utilize him for a ride instead of jumping in a cab.”

Emma and Brody look at each other.

“I asked Emma to come over so she could see your daughter sleeping peacefully, to know she’s okay, to know she looks a hell of a lot better than she did when she walked in here this morning. And I’m going to be up front and honest with you both. I’m going to suggest it with or without your blessing, because she...” I pause and look down. “She’s better when she’s with me.”

When neither say a thing, I look up to find Brody’s eyes narrowed.

“Is she or are you?”

I hold his glare and answer honestly. “Both of us are.”