27 #3
“Well, you said you’d never forgive me.” She sighs. “You have forgiven me, haven’t you, Logan?”
I hug her to me tightly. “Yeah, Lia. I have. Have you forgiven me?”
“We-e-ll… maybe I will. If you let me come.”
“Naughty girl.” I bite down on a laugh. “Fine. I will… in nineteen days.”
“Nineteen days?” she gasps.
“You should be grateful it’s not nineteen years. Say thank you, brat.”
She closes her eyes, grumbling. “Whatever, asshole.”
_
“Chocolate cake for my baby,” I murmur, rousing Lia with a kiss.
Her neck still shows red angry marks from the collar, and when she blinks at me, her green eyes foggy, a sudden pang of anxiety nearly cripples me.
But a moment later, she rubs the sleep from her eyes, and I let out a breath of relief when I realize she’s just tired.
It’s not late, but I guess our session tired her out. Well, good—I’m glad I still have it in me.
She glares at me, then down at my crotch. “My neck is sore, my nipples are sore, every single part of me is sore. You’re not fucking me again. Not unless you let me come.”
I smirk, the last of my nervousness abruptly giving way to something a lot harsher.
“Look at you, trying to make demands. Don’t worry, I’m all fucked out.
But if I did want to use you, I would. And I’d play with your little pussy until you cried from frustration.
I won’t, but I could, because I’m a hell of a lot stronger than you. Don’t you forget that.”
She looks down at her hands, her green eyes hidden from me behind her long eyelashes, and my heart squeezes with remorse. I don’t know why I’m like this, loving one minute, cruel the next.
“Come here, you,” I murmur, my voice a lot softer. “I only wanted to bring you dessert. See? I always keep my promises.”
I can tell she wants to object to those words, but she bites down on her tongue. I sit her between my thighs on the bed and open the box.
“I also got carrot cake, cheesecake and red velvet. I know they’re all your favorites. Which one would you take with you if you were stuck on a desert island?”
“I don’t know, Logan,” she mumbles in a weary voice.
“You’d have to take one of them, no?” I prompt. “You have such a sweet tooth, I can’t imagine you’d survive very long without dessert.”
“I’ve survived for nineteen years without any.” She sighs when I bring up a spoonful of cake, but swallows it all the same.
“What have you been doing all those years, baby?” I ask, rubbing her back. “What were your days like? Did you have a job? Hobbies? Tell me. I want to know everything.”
She shrugs. “I don’t know, Logan. I was at home a lot. I spent most of my time staring out the window. Or helping mama take care of the house and garden.” She sighs again. “I just remember boredom... and pain.”
“Pain? What kind of pain?”
“I dreaded when papa would come home,” she admits, her face flushing. “He could be... cruel. And then, it was hard for me to think very clearly. But I had dreams. Very painful dreams.”
“About me? About Piper?”
She hesitates, then shakes her head. “I’m sorry.
I think I forgot about you very quickly.
But I remembered Jane. Even when the memory grew hazy, some part of me remembered.
And it hurt so bad, Logan.” She brings a hand to her face, and I let the spoon drop, squeezing her to me.
“I want to find her, Logan. I really want to find her. And Piper...” She hiccups a sob.
“But no, I can’t ask for that. I know I shot her.
I remember I did. What kind of mother shoots her own daughter?
She was right to leave. I hope, for her sake, I never see her again. ”
“Lia.” I sink my head into her curls, incapable of saying anything for a moment.
“I promise you, we’ll find Jane. And you will see Piper again.
You’re not a bad mother. You’ve suffered, but I’m going to take care of you.
I promise. No, I can’t promise; I know my promises are meaningless.
But I’m going to try my hardest. I realize I’m cruel.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me for being like this when you’ve already suffered so much.
But I’m suffering too, and I’ve never known how to deal with pain except by hardening myself.
I won’t lock you in a cage anymore. That is, I’ll try very hard not to.
But I won’t hurt you anymore, Lia. No, I can’t promise that either; but I’ll do my best. I guess none of that makes you feel better though, does it? ”
By now, her back is shaking, and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s still crying, or if it’s because my sad attempts at promises are making her laugh. I’m not sure she knows whether she’s laughing or crying either.
“Okay, Logan,” she says at last, wiping her eyes.
“Tell me, Lia,” I ask, kissing the last tears from her face. “I might have gotten a little carried away, before. I know I’m a little fucked up. But you would have used the safe word if you’d needed to... right?”
She hesitates for a long time, so long I start to feel sick to my stomach.
But at last she murmurs, “Yes, I would have. But I guess I’m just as fucked up as you.”