Logan
Chapter twenty-nine
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” I call, my back pressed to the wall as I shuffle down the hallway.
Bright blue and orange darts litter the floor, and a distinct pop sound rings out before another dart flies toward me.
“Hey now!” I shout with a laugh, pressing off the wall and holding the small Nerf blaster in my hands as I creep into the living room.
When Liv first dropped the little guy off, I had no idea what we were going to do to pass the time.
His homework only consisted of a single page where he needed to trace his name, the sight word of the week, and color a few matching shapes.
It took less than fifteen minutes. We sat at the kitchen table staring at one another until I realized I had to do something to keep him entertained.
Sure, he has his room full of toys, but sending him off to play by himself wasn’t going to help me bond with him the way playing with him would.
I asked him what his favorite toys were, and he quickly responded with LEGO and Nerf blasters, but said he doesn’t get to use his blasters too often because he doesn’t always have someone to play with.
I made a mental note to look up targets so that he’ll have something he can use on his own when he wants to play with them.
He showed me his LEGO collection, explaining that his Pop and Nana like to surprise him with new kits once in a while when he spends the weekend with them.
I told him how my brother and I used to build all kinds of cool things with the colorful blocks when we were kids.
Still, it didn’t seem like it would be as much fun as a good old-fashioned Nerf battle.
Hunting down every last foam dart is going to be a pain in my ass, but the way his eyes lit up the second I suggested it makes the clean-up worth it.
“Alright, buddy. I surrender.” I hold my arms above my head as I slowly spin in a circle, pretending I can’t see him.
He is lying underneath the wooden coffee table, his Nerf gun clutched close to his chest. “If you come out, we can build a fort before your momma gets home,” I call, raising my voice enough to make it seem like I still haven’t found him.
I watch as he crawls out from beneath the table, using his forearms and his knees to wiggle his way out.
“What?” I exclaim, feigning shock. “Were you there the entire time?”
He giggles as he tosses his blaster aside.
“Yeah! That was such a good hiding spot. You didn’t see me?
” His face is bright with a smile as he stares up at me and brushes his sandy-blond hair out of his brown eyes.
Freckles are splattered across his nose and cheeks, standing out against the pink tint, and there’s a light sheen of sweat across his forehead.
We have been deep in our Nerf battle for a while, having used almost every room in the house—excluding Tessa’s—and every possible piece of furniture as barriers between us.
“What do you say we take a break and drink some water before we build our fort? I can make you a snack if you’re hungry.”
He runs to the kitchen, and I pull my phone from my pocket to check the time.
Tessa texted that she would be home within the next hour, and I want to make sure I get everything cleaned up before she gets here.
I’ve sent her a few pictures of Jake playing and one of the two of us together, holding up the Nerf blasters.
He’s dressed for battle, wearing protective glasses and a vest with elastic loops to hold darts.
Hanging out with him has been a lot of fun, but it has also opened my eyes to what my life could look like.
Being here with him while Tess is at work feels right.
It’s only been a few months, but everything with her feels this way—like we were meant to find each other that night at The Stampede.
I don’t believe in much of a higher power, but if one exists, I would be willing to bet they put her in my path.
Tessa and Jake feel like mine.
Like home.
I have been searching for the feeling for years.
Moving to Hartridge, being at a smaller station, and being closer to my brother was meant to give me what I was looking for.
I suppose it did for a while. But I always felt like something was missing.
It wasn’t until I met this breathtaking, feisty, resilient woman that I realized what that something was.
Having a family of my own to come home to and enjoy all of life’s little moments with has always been something I wanted.
I never anticipated that family would come in the form of a woman who has had to face more than most ever will, and a five-year-old boy who had a piece of my heart the moment he stood up at the fire safety demonstration and proudly announced that his daddy had been a police officer.
My heart sank when Tessa first told me about her late husband and all that she had been through.
I didn’t know how I was going to fit into her life or if she was ready to date someone new.
The last thing I would ever do is try to replace the love she lost, but I needed to know her heart was open to being loved and falling in love in return.
I love her.
The thought comes to me as I’m slicing an apple for her son. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, his legs swinging happily as he waits. He’s still wearing all of his toy battle gear, and his hair is wild from running around the house while we played, but he looks happy.
I set the plate of apple slices in front of him, along with a cup of water.
He reaches for the water first, taking a few big gulps, then snatching a few slices from the plate.
“Let’s build a fort,” he says loudly, sliding off his chair and darting back into the living room.
I swear this kid is running on an infinite power source.
He hasn’t slowed down since Liv dropped him off.
“Alright, J man. We’re gonna grab the cushions off the couch, and we need a few blankets.
” I grab the blanket draped across the back of the couch and set it aside as he pulls the cushions off one at a time.
Getting them arranged in a way that they don’t collapse is always the hardest part, but his excitement keeps my frustration over the falling cushions at bay as we maneuver them into different places.
“We need more pillows,” he shouts, running off down the hall. He comes back with the pillows and comforter from his bedroom and dumps them on the floor.
“Hmm.” I look around the room, trying to find something else we can use that will add a bit more stability. “Think your momma will mind if we use the kitchen chairs?” I ask.
“Oh yeah, the chairs!”
It’s the only answer I get before he runs to the kitchen, the distinct sound of a chair being dragged filling the room.
I shake my head with a laugh and follow after him.
I take over, grabbing the chairs and tasking him with deciding where we should put them.
The entire ordeal takes maybe thirty minutes.
Once we have the fort built and the inside loaded with soft blankets and pillows, he insists we have to hang out there and drags in a box of his LEGO.
Lying on the floor on my side with the pile of colorful building blocks between us, I’m exhausted, but my heart is full.
Eventually, he finally tires out and asks if we can put on a movie instead.
Pulling up the streaming apps on their television, he tells me which one has his favorite movie.
It’s been a solid decade since I last watched an animated movie.
I’m not familiar with any of them, but his smile over the little plane that becomes a firefighter has me settling in to watch.
I can’t help but wonder if his interest in firefighting has anything to do with me or if it’s merely because he’s five and loves anything remotely related to superheroes.
“Logan?” His voice is so low, I almost miss him saying my name.
“Yeah, bud?” I pull my phone out of my pocket, preparing to check my messages to see if Tessa has left the diner yet. He’s probably going to ask when his mom will be home, and I want to be ready with an answer.
“Are you gonna stay?”
The question catches me off guard. Does he think I would leave him home alone? “I’m not leaving until your momma gets home. I wouldn’t leave you here by yourself.”
“No. With my mom. You’re not gonna leave her, right?”
Fuck, my heart.
I don’t want to make a promise I can’t keep, but I also want to comfort him.
If life has proven anything, it’s that we don’t always get a say in how our futures turn out.
Shit happens, and we have no choice but to persevere.
I can only imagine the impact losing his dad has had, even though he’s never met him.
Especially at school, where so many children talk about their families, and some teachers still say things like “give this paper to your mom and dad” instead of using a more inclusive term like “your parents” or “your grownups.” Honestly, I never gave it much thought until I met them.
Knowing what they’ve been through, I’m careful with my next words. “I don’t plan on going anywhere, buddy.”