Every.

Second.

D r a g s.

During the second week of No Logan, I reached out to my mom, told her what all went down. I also told her I was staying. “For Logan?” she asked.

“For me,” I responded.

“Be careful, Aubrey,” she said. Again. And when I asked her why she kept saying that, she made an excuse to get off the phone. But now it’s Friday afternoon and she’s here, in town, visiting like she promised. I show her around the shop, not that there’s much to look at, and she seems impressed. “I don’t know how you did all this,” she murmurs, and I roll my eyes.

“Seriously, Mom? You deployed four times, put your life on the line. This—” I say, pointing around us. “This is nothing.”

“I could never do this. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Well… thank you,” I answer sheepishly.

“So, you said you had an office?”

“Uh huh,” I nod, start leading her toward it. I pass the counter, and am halfway down the hallway when the bell chimes. “One minute,” I call over my shoulder. Then to my mom: “It’s just on your leahhhh!” I squeal when arms wrap around my waist, lifting me off the floor. I’d go on an attack, but I know who it is. I’d recognize these arms anywhere, know his scent from a mile away. My smile hurts my cheeks, and I’m giggling, smiling some more. As soon as I’m on my feet, I’m turning to him, my hands going to his face, and those blue-blue eyes I’ve missed so much land on my mine. I kiss him. I kiss him as if he’s the only air left in the world, and I melt under his embrace, sigh with contentment, and then pout when he pulls away. He tugs on a strand of my hair. “Worst week of my life, Red.”

“I thought you weren’t getting out until Monday!”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“Oh, I’m surprised!” I can’t stop kissing him. His lips. His cheeks. His nose. His entire face. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“I know. Prison blows.”

Behind me, a throat clears, “You were in prison?!”

“Oh, shit,” Logan rushes out. “You didn’t tell me…”

I turn in his arms but keep him close. “Not prison prison,” I tell my mom. “He was grounded, because of the whole Carter thing. I told you all this.”

“Right.” Mom nods, moves toward us.

Against my back, Logan is a brick wall. Rigid. Still.

“I’m Melissa,” Mom says, hand out for a shake.

Logan puffs out a breath that hits the top of my head, then he moves around me, eyes me with a cheeky grin. He looks down at her hand, then at her eyes, then at me. He clears his throat, plasters on a megawatt smile that usually has me dropping my panties. “I’m more of a hugger,” he tells her. My mom’s eyes widen when Logan wraps her in his strong embrace, and then she, too, is laughing, just like I was.

I pull him away when it lasts a second too long and go back to hugging him. “Come back. I’m needy,” I say, and he chuckles.

“So, you were grounded, huh?” Mom asks.

Logan nods. “No leaving the house. No visitors. No phone. No Internet. Which normally wouldn’t have been so bad, but not being able to see your daughter was The Worst.”

My arms are around his torso, his arm around my shoulders. We’re still in the tight space of the hallway, and Mom looks between us, a frown pulling at her lips. “Maybe I should leave early then.”

“No! Why?”

“Well, I’m sure he has plans for you guys. A date or something.”

“Or something,” Logan murmurs under his breath, and I elbow his side.

“You should stay,” I tell her. “We were going to have dinner together.”

“Yeah, but Logan—”

“It’s fine, ma’am. I can see her tomorrow,” Logan cuts in.

“Or later tonight?” I plead, looking up at him.

“Or,” Mom says, “maybe… I mean, maybe all three of us could go out for dinner. You could show me around town, Logan?”

Logan is a statue. A monument. “Sure.”

“You don’t have to,” I tell him.

“Why not?” Mom says. “It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah,” Logan agrees. “It’ll be fun.”

“Dad! Dad! Dad!” I’m rushing through the house, opening every door to every room. “Dad! Dad! Dad!” My heart’s racing and I need him and he has no life besides us so he should be here. I run back outside, down the porch steps and toward the garage. “Dad! Dad! Dad!”

The door to the garage apartment opens and Lucas is there, his eyes narrowed. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Where’s Dad?”

“Where’s the fire?”

“Fuck off. Where’s Dad?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Dad! Dad! Dad!”

“Will you settle the fuck down! What the hell’s going on?”

I stop at the bottom of the stairs leading to his apartment and settle my hands on my hips, try to catch my breath. “I have to take Aubrey and her mom on a date, and I have no idea what to do or where to go. Have you seen Dad?”

Lucas chuckles. “You’re screwed.”

“No shit, Luke! This isn’t funny.” I look around again. “Dad!”

“Calm down, Logan!”

“I don’t know where to go. I don’t know what to wear. And what the hell is wrong with my stomach right now?” I loosen my collar. “What’s happening to me!?”

Lucas sighs. “You’re nervous. That’s all.”

“But why?”

“Because you care, Logan.” He opens his door. “Come on.”

* * *

I sit in his living room with a bowl of cornflakes, because cereal calms me down, okay? It has ever since I can remember, and somehow Luke remembers that, too, because he’s the one who got it for me. He’s sitting on the coffee table opposite me, and fuck, why did I let him take control of this? I tap my empty pockets. He sighs, knowing what I’m looking for. “So, you want to impress her mom, right?”

I nod. “I guess.”

“So, food wise, have you thought—”

“I have no idea what I’m doing, Luke. You had it good. Brian already knew you before you started screwing Lane.”

“Don’t talk about her like that.”

I drink the leftover milk in the bowl and set it on the table next to him. Then I slump back on the couch, let my head fall back. I rub my hands across my face. “I need a smoke.”

“No, you don’t. You just need to take a breath, okay? Aubrey—she obviously likes you for you—”

“Yeah, but her mom, Luke.”

“So, go fancy. You can afford it right?”

“Yes.”

“Go to that French place.”

“I can’t even read the menu there.”

“So, fake it?”

“It’s suit and tie.”

“So?”

“So? I don’t own a suit and tie! I have, like, the tux from Lucy’s wedding, and that doesn’t fit anymore. And whenever we see Mom, I always wear something of yours.”

He shrugs. “So, wear something of mine.”

* * *

It takes a half hour for me to make his room look like a bomb exploded. Clothes, shoes, fucking socks.

I’m in a white tank and slacks, and I can’t decide on a shirt and tie, because I look like an asshole in every one.

I look like Lucas.

“Just pick one, bro,” he says through a yawn.

I notice his bed for the first time. The covers are disheveled on one side, as if he’d been sleeping. As if I’d woken him. “Did I ruin your nap time, you little bitch?”

“Yep,” he says, stretching. “I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep.”

“Ew. Lane’s like a sister, dude. I don’t want to imagine that shit.”

“I wish,” he mumbles. “She’s been having nightmares again. She wakes up sweating and completely out of it.”

My stomach drops, because Laney is like a sister, and I care for her in that way. “Did—did something trigger it?” I ask. Personally, I don’t have triggers, but I hear it’s a thing. Plus, my first therapist asked the same question every time I mentioned nightmares. I never told her what the nightmares were about.

Luke says, “That fucker’s lawyer reached out to her. Cooper wants to see her.”

“No fucking way you’re letting that happen, right?”

“It’s not really up to me.”

I lean against the door of his wardrobe, while I watch him cross the room to sit on the edge of the bed. His hair is a mess, his eyes are tired, his shoulders are slumped. He looks like Dad after spending half the night up waiting for me.

Luke adds, “Regardless of what you think, I don’t have a need to control everyone’s actions. And speaking of… I know you think I overstepped with the whole Aubrey thing. And I know you won’t believe me when I say this, but I just want you to be okay, Logan. I want you to have the best life possible. And if that meant apologizing to that asshole, I would’ve done it. Because Dad’s right, we don’t need anyone else in this family getting arrested.”

I sigh. “That’s not your weight to carry, Luke.”

He stretches out his legs, crosses his feet at his ankles, and stares down at his toes. “Maybe not. But also, maybe. Dad shouldn’t have to carry all that weight on his own. And I know I’m not the oldest, or whatever, but Luce—she has her own problems. She has her own family now.”

I swallow down the meaning of his words, take them in completely.

When I don’t respond, he says, “I don’t think I’ve ever known you to even like a girl before.”

“Can I ask you something?” I ask, ignoring his statement.

“Sure.”

“Why haven’t you asked Laney to marry you? I mean, we’re all waiting.”

He laughs once. “Because it’s not time.”

“Why not? Luce and Cam got married while they were still in college. They turned out fine.”

“Because… I want to give her the same as I want for you: the best life possible. And I can’t do that yet.”

“You have a steady job, with a steady income. So does she. Isn’t that enough?”

“No,” he says matter-of-factly. “It’s not just about us, Logan. It’s about all you guys, too.”

“That makes no sense.”

He shrugs. “Maybe not for you.”

He’s treating me like I’m dumb again. “Whatever.”

“The thing is… Dad—like, yeah, I don’t expect him to retire anytime soon, but he will, eventually, and the job, that company, our livelihood, it’s all going to fall on you and me. I don’t want to do anything to bring it down or change our way of life. The twins, they’ll be fine. But Lachy, he’s still young, you know? I want to be sure that we can give him the same life that Dad has worked his ass off to give to us. I want him to be able to go to whatever college he wants—if that’s what he wants—and not have to worry about any of it. And when I’m sure that I can do that for all of us, then I’ll ask Lane to marry me. Because as soon as we say those vows, we’re going to start popping out babies one after the other,” he says, clicking his fingers. “And I want to be able to give our kids the same life we had, because—I mean, besides Mom dying—we had it pretty fucking good, Logan. Don’t you think?”

I am nine years old, and the leather…

“Yeah, Luke. We had it real good.”