7
Logan
“Let me down… let me down… what’re you doing? Let me down… Ow! Motherfucker!”
“Quill!”
“What? I let him down. That’s what he asked, isn’t it?”
“You didn’t have to throw him down. He’s injured.”
“You were pissed as fuck with him, cricket, but I guess all it takes is a bazooka to the head, and…”
“Idiot.”
“You’re going to end up over my knee if this continues.”
“Idiot.”
“Let’s go, Piper.”
I groan loudly, struggling into a sitting position, and take in my new surroundings.
A makeshift tent has been pitched over a few long sturdy branches, with some covers and clothes found in our belongings.
There’s a crackling fire beside me, and a little further away, Lia is hunched over, hiding her face in her knees.
Meanwhile, Quill is in the process of dragging Piper off, and it’s dark and rocky enough in this countryside that soon, they’ll have disappeared from view entirely.
I bite down on my first instinct to call them back.
Clearly, I can trust Quill to take care of her, and by the way he nods at me as they leave, carrying a branch and a few more blankets and clothes, I realize he’s also decided I need some alone time with the girl I haven’t seen in nearly two decades.
Maybe he’s less of a psychopath than I thought.
Nah. Who am I kidding?
Grunting with pain, I crawl toward Lia and touch her shoulder. She startles and looks up, and in the firelight, I can see her face is wet.
“Hi, crybaby.”
She shakes her head. I have no idea what that head shake means, and I don’t want to find out. Just a few hours ago, I was planning to kill her, but now, the thought that she might not want me anymore terrifies me.
Everything that’s happened is my fault, and I need to make it right.
“Come here, Lia.”
Ignoring her hesitation, I drag her onto my lap, wincing at the ache in my arm. The wound seems to have been treated, but it still hurts like hell. Not enough though to keep me from wrapping my arms around her. Nothing could possibly hurt enough to keep me from doing that.
The bikers following us seems like a distant memory. So does that mysterious word Quill spoke before the explosion. Everything fades before her tears.
“I’m sorry, Lia,” I whisper, but I know how insufficient my apology is.
She looks away, clearly torn between fear and pain. I know I’m the cause for both, but I still force her to look at me.
“Please, Lia.”
She shakes her head again.
“Stop shaking your head. Tell me it’s okay. Tell me you forgive me.”
The hand on her face squeezes it in my desperation to force her to accept my apology.
“Yes, Logan,” she gasps.
“I’m sorry. I hurt you. Was I hurting you?” I let go, and a pang of guilt courses through me when I see the red marks on her face that will probably turn into a bruise.
“Do you really forgive me?” I murmur.
“Yes, Logan. I’m sorry, Logan.”
Her eyes are fixed on some distant point, as if she’s trying really hard not to look at me.
“You’re scared of me,” I murmur. “You never used to be scared of me.”
She bites her lip. “No, I don’t think that’s true, Logan. I think I remember being very scared of you.”
Yes, I guess she was. I suddenly realize I spent these past years constructing a much happier version of our past. A rose-tinted one, one where I wasn’t responsible for hurting her again and again and again.
It made it easier to grieve her when I could trick myself into believing I was the source of her happiness.
And now, I’ve hurt her yet again.
“Yes, I guess you were scared of me. But you were a brat to me all the same.” I smirk—or try to. “Remember, baby?”
She nods slowly. “Yes. I’m sorry, Logan.”
“Please don’t be. I want you to be my little brat again. You know I always loved it when you were my brat.”
She nods again. “I meant… I’m sorry. I don’t think I can be that for you anymore.”
“Lia.” My voice comes out needy. “Please don’t say that. Let’s try again. I want to make it right.”
“I mean…” She pauses, as if speaking is a chore for her.
“What I mean is that I can’t be that girl.
The girl you loved. I don’t have it in me anymore.
I’ve forgotten… I’ve forgotten how to be her.
If you really want me, you can have me. Or you can kill me.
Or you can let me go. I don’t… I don’t think it matters. I don’t really know anymore.”
“Baby.” I squeeze her to me so hard we both wince. “Don’t talk like that. You’re freaking me out.”
“I don’t mean to. I’m sorry.” She shakes her head. “I just… my mind isn’t right. I can’t really understand whether I’m asleep, or awake, or anything. I don’t know.”
“I understand.” I don’t, but I’m going to try my hardest. “I can fix it. I can make it okay.” I thread my hands through her curls, avoiding the bald patches, keeping her as close to me as I can.
I hold her for a long time, running my fingers up and down her back. At last, she gives in to my caresses, and her quiet breathing tells me that, even if she doesn’t believe we can work, at least, she’s not fighting it.
She’s accepting it passively, and that’s a start. The next step is to make her want it. To help her believe she can have it.
A tiny bubble of hope rises in me as I wonder if maybe I haven’t lost time. Maybe I’ve gained it.
A second chance.
I breathe in her curls, and this time, I don’t avoid the reddened bald patches. I kiss each of them in turn. I need to remind myself that I did that to her. I threatened her with a gun. I was so cruel she jumped, and the only way I could save her was by hurting her.
What if I hadn’t caught her?
I shudder at the thought.
“Do you think it’ll grow back?”
“Hmm?”
“My hair. Do you think it’ll grow back?”
“It doesn’t matter, ghost girl. You’ll always be beautiful.” I rest my head against hers. “In a way, I hope it doesn’t. I want to remember how cruel I’ve been. I promise you, Lia, it’s the last time I’ll ever be cruel to you. I’ll take good care of you from now on.”
She doesn’t react, and my heart breaks a little.
“It doesn’t matter if you don’t know how to be my brat anymore,” I continue.
“You can be my good girl instead. Or just… be. You don’t have to do a thing, Lia.
I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to shower, or get dressed, or eat, or walk.
I’ll wash you, I’ll dress you, I’ll feed you, I’ll carry you around.
You won’t have to do a thing but breathe and let me be near you.
You’re so beautiful, baby. So goddamn beautiful. ”
She tries to hide her face in her hands, but I force them away.
“I’m old, Logan,” she says softly. “I don’t know how it happened.
One moment, I was someone else, and the next, I was waking up in this body that looks nothing like the one from my dreams. I don’t understand it, but I know I’m not the girl you loved anymore.
Maybe it was only a dream, after all. A sad little dream. ”
“No.” I kiss her lips, and when she doesn’t kiss me back, I press my mouth more insistently against hers. “You’re just as beautiful as you’ve always been. More beautiful even. I love every part of you, and I’m going to take care of you.”
I look around, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to do that in this place empty of everything but rocks and grass.
It feels crazy to think about mundane shit after everything that’s happened.
But even with my arm still throbbing and the dried blood crusted around my ear, I’m back to planning things for her like I used to all those years ago.
Things like washing her and feeding her and tucking her into bed.
“When’s the last time you ate, baby?”
“I don’t...” She blinks her eyes. “I don’t know.”
It’s good for me to move; I feel the haziness fading from my vision as I grab one of the backpacks Quill brought in from the car.
It’s the one with the loaf of sliced white bread and the cans of meat and beans.
Despite Piper insisting that Ireland does have supermarkets, I’ve been in enough shit over the years to know you have to go in prepared.
Relieved to find that some of the food is gone—it means Quill didn’t forget about feeding Piper—I open a can of beans and let the contents fall on a few slices of bread I’ve placed on paper plates.
Lia watches me with a slight grimace on her face, but doesn’t make a comment when I pass her a plate.
“You’re allowed to complain,” I tease her, my heart twisting at this new proof of how much she’s changed.
“Thank you, Logan,” she murmurs, bringing the plate up to her face. Her hands shake so much she nearly lets it fall.
“Baby.” Gently, I pull her toward me, taking the plate from her. “Don’t be so nervous. I’m not going to hurt you. I want you to complain. Okay? I know it’s not Michelin fare. Go on—bite my head off.”
She lets out a small laugh. “I guess it doesn’t really look... that appetizing.”
“But you’re going to be a good girl and eat it, aren’t you?” I pause. “I guess I could heat it up at least. But I’m a little too out of it to do that.”
She glances up at me. “Oh, Logan... does it hurt a lot?”
“No,” I lie. “No, it’s fine. I mean, I’m tired. And you are too. So let’s eat this horrendous shit and then I’ll do my best to tuck you into some sort of bed.” I bring the slice of bean-loaded bread to her lips, and she opens her mouth, dutifully chewing it all down.
“It won’t always be this gross. I promise. As soon as I take you back to Devil Tower...”
“Devil Tower?” she questions.
“Mhm hmm. I have a whole lot of things to tell you about. And... so do you.” I pause again, the memory of that word—children—making my stomach twist. “Do you have anything to tell me, baby?”
“I don’t... I mean...” She blinks her cloudy eyes at me, and just like I once did when every fact seemed to point to her rape by Carmelo, I decide to ignore the painful suspicion worming its way into my heart.