9. Poppy
9
POPPY
Logan finds me standing in front of the massive wall full of pictures. Pictures of my life. Like a love letter that he never got around to sending.
“When did you do this?”
His shoulder touches mine, but he doesn’t make any other effort to move closer or initiate any further contact. Which only makes me want to hit him harder.
“I built this house about six years ago, after my second hitch with the Marines. This photo was the first to go up.” He touches the very center frame, which has the picture we took the night of his prom. “The others went after, whenever I thought of a memory that I didn’t want to forget. Or when my mom showed me a picture that I needed to have.”
“Some of these pictures, Lo.” Emotion clogs my throat, and I have to wait for it to subside. “I didn’t even know there was a camera there for some of these things. These memories.”
Birthday parties, sleepovers, camping trips with our families when we were young. There are even photos of Lettie and me during the school years leading up to her death. Ones that I thought only existed in her cell phone or social media accounts that would be long forgotten by anyone other than me.
Our two families, both immediate and extended, are making a hell of a lot of noise on the back porch. So much that through the closed sliding glass door and all the way through the house, we can hear the mix of shouts and cheers while they have fun after getting all my stuff unloaded.
“I was always there.” Logan answers my unanswered question. “At first, I didn’t even realize I was doing it. But your smile, even when we were kids, there was something about it that I couldn’t turn away from.” He lifts a hand and runs it through his unkempt hair. “If we were to go back in time, I’m sure I looked like a fuckin’ stalker, standing there staring at you when you laughed. Or pushing your dad out of the way so that I could be the one to hold you when you cried.”
He nods toward one picture in particular. Pajama Day, during spirit week at school. I wore a sloth onesie, complete with the hood and everything. In the photo, I’m clinging to Sam’s back with my head thrown back mid-laugh. Evie was on the grass, lying on her back with her feet still up in the air, wrapped in a pair of fuzzy unicorn slippers.
And Lettie is holding on to Sam’s arm while I’m trying to drag him down to the ground. Horsing around and trying to prove ourselves. Something we did a lot during our years together.
“What do people say when they see this?” Smiling at the memories that live eternally on his wall, I rest a hand on my stomach when I feel our baby move.
Logan doesn’t answer me for so long that if I didn’t know for sure he is standing next to me, I would have thought he vanished.
When he finally does say something, his voice is so ravaged it seems like the words are ripped unwillingly from his mouth.
“Before today, the only person who’s seen the inside of my house is the older woman who comes by once every few weeks to clean for me.”
I stop the unconscious rubbing of my stomach that I started in the silence between us, something I’ve been doing for comfort since I found out I was pregnant.
“What?” Turning slightly so I can see his face, I raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“This is my space, Poppy.” He lowers his eyes to my stomach, then reaches out and puts his palm over mine, like he’s holding both my hand and our baby at the same time. “I didn’t want to share it with anyone, even my family, if I didn’t get to have you in it.”
“You’re really weird,” I blurt. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
A smile lights his lips, and his eyes are sparkling when they meet mine again. “I know. I just… If I couldn’t give you this piece of me, I didn’t want anyone else to have it either. But today, all of that changed.”
I don’t have a chance to answer him, or even process the heartbreaking words he uttered, because the sliding glass door opens and all of the noise from outside pours into the house.
“Logan, I think there’s a problem out back.” Ian walks in, beer in hand and a frown on his face. “I didn’t wanna interrupt, but whatever rig you have going on with your fire pit is too complicated for us to figure out.”
Logan sighs, motioning for Ian to head back out. “That’s because you’re not supposed to figure it out.” His hand drifts away from my stomach and for a second I forget I feel desolate without it.
With his back to me, I stare at his ass unashamedly, the familiar pull of attraction grabbing hold of me.
Freakin’ hormones make me want to jump him constantly, and I’m barely hanging on as it is. Now, I see his entire wall of proof that I’m not just a game. That it’s never been a game.
Why does he have to be so perfectly broken?
“Hey.”
I flush, my eyes moving up from where his ass had been to find his eyes locked on mine, desire flashing through them.
“None of that.” He winks. “Not until everyone leaves.”
I shake my head, willing the hormones away. Unfortunately, they don’t go anywhere. Not at all. And as he stands there, smiling at me, I know that he knows.
“Rules,” I practically croak.
Logan shakes his head, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment before turning away. “Not mine. I told you I wouldn’t be agreeing to that. If you start it, it’s happening.”
Finding the courage I was missing a few moments before, I clear my throat and turn back to the wall, refusing to watch him as he walks away. “I’m not going to start it.”
Stepping forward slightly so that there’s no space between us, he presses a soft kiss to my cheek. “Liar.” His voice isn’t anything more than a whisper.
He shuts the sliding glass door before I can say anything smart in response to that. Mostly because we both know I’m lying and there’s no use denying it.
A sharp whistle from the kitchen tells me that I’m not alone, so I move in that direction.
“Damn. That tension between the two of you is thicker than my momma’s pecan pie.” Nia steps into the doorway with a bottle of water in her hand and a look on her face that I can’t decipher.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell her with a sniff. Then I step around her and sit down at Logan’s kitchen table, putting my feet up on the seat across from me. “There’s no tension.”
“Oh, there’s tension.” Chloe is there too, leaning back, her ass on the concrete kitchen counter. “You should have seen them during the week we were conned into thinking my brother was dead. Although technically, we thought he was dead so it wasn’t a con. But you know what I mean. Logan couldn’t keep his hands off her, and Poppy…” She pops her lips together and then takes a huge bite out of the pizza I didn’t notice in her hand. “She can’t turn that man down. Especially when he goes all caveman on her and picks her up, tossing her over his shoulder.”
“You.” I point at her threateningly. “Talk too much. And where’s the rest of the pizza? I want another piece.”
Like magic, the sliding glass door opens again and Logan is there with a box in his hand.
“I thought you might be hungry.” With a smile, he sets the box in front of me and then turns away without looking back, going back outside where the others are.
And yes, my eyes are glued to his ass the entire time he walks away.
“Yeah,” Nia says while snickering. “There isn’t any tension at all.”
“It’s the baby,” I complain while opening the pizza box and tearing off a piece of the pineapple and pepperoni deliciousness. “The baby’s making me want his stupid father’s dick.”
“There are so many things wrong with that statement.” Nia takes a big drink of her water. “Do you have any Capri Suns in this place?” She walks over to the fridge and opens the door, looking before I can tell her that I don’t know what is in Logan’s house. “Of course not.”
“Because grown women don’t want to drink them.” I tell her around a bite of pizza, my own way of covering my lack of knowledge.
With pizza in the vicinity, Chloe doesn’t stay on the counter for long. She scoots off and tries to reach around me, but I slap her hand away.
“Mine.” I bite at her with my teeth showing.
“So you’re pregnant with Logan’s baby.” Chloe sits at the table, choosing a chair that doesn’t have my feet on it. “And you’re like, really pregnant.”
“Yeah.” I smooth a hand down my growing bump, wondering what I’ll look like in a few months when I really start showing. “It wasn’t planned.”
“No shit it wasn’t planned.” Chloe reaches for my pizza box and steals a slice, lifting her lip in a silent snarl as she picks the pineapple off it. “Last time we talked about Logan, you swore you were going to hit him with a stick if he tried to fuck you again.”
“She let him hit her with his stick.” Nia snorts. “That’s how they got in this situation.”
I roll my eyes, unable to help the sarcasm. “Why are you two even in here? Don’t you have men to bother and harass?”
“Shut your blasphemous mouth.” Nia gasps outrageously. “I have no man.”
I raise an eyebrow and smirk at her. “For now. You stay around these guys and eventually one of their hot friends is gonna try and snap you up.”
Nia shoots a glare my way and then shakes her head. “Not gonna happen. I like being single too much for that nonsense. You keep their dicks away from me.”
“We’re here,” Chloe cuts in, “because you’re on bed rest and shouldn’t be outside trying to prove to everyone that you can be a good hostess during the party anyway, I bet. Unless we get you like a divan or something to recline on, your ass is staying inside. But I know you, and I know you don’t want to go outside to be surrounded by a bunch of people who are nosier than any group of women could ever be. Which is why you’re in here, with your feet up on a chair, stuffing your face with pizza.”
I’m reaching for another slice of the still-warm delicious food that I have, but at her words, I pause. “Are you calling me fat?”
The question comes out cold and calculating, but Chloe doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “Yup. You’re pregnant. Of course you’re gonna be fatter than you usually are.”
With a sigh, I keep reaching for the pizza.
Screw it.
“So what’s the story with you and Logan?” Nia tilts her head to the side for a second, her eyes on me as I catch a glimpse of Logan through the window. “I’m not from here, so I don’t know any of the history.” She nods toward the wall in the hall, where everyone had to see the photos of younger us.
“We grew up together,” I explain around a bite of pepperoni. “He was my first everything. He held my hand when I broke my arm in fourth grade and I didn’t want anyone to touch me because it hurt too much. And when I had my first dance in eighth grade, he went with me and kissed me on the cheek. But when one of the boys tried to dance with me, he punched him and then told my dad that he defended my honor. He was my friend. Then when I turned sixteen, he asked me out on a date after asking my father’s permission. I went to prom with him.”
After chewing on the crust of my pizza, almost choking on the dry bread, I rub my hands on my pants to push away the anxiety of telling someone the story, and I keep going.
“He was my first with sex, too, even though neither of us had any idea what we were doing. We figured it out together. It was perfect, until it wasn’t.” The smile I have on my face drops when the memories of what came next flood in. “We even stayed together after one of his sisters, my best friend Lettie, died. We were walking in an alley together, after he enlisted in the Marine Corps, taking a shortcut to meet our families for dinner. Someone came out of the shadows. He shot me. My heart stopped.” Absently, I rub that spot on my chest before pulling my shirt down slightly so that Nia can see the scar. “Logan did CPR and saved my life. But he left me after that. And now here we are.”
“He didn’t just leave her,” Chloe adds in, cutting me a harsh look while she’s talking to Nia. “Those pictures on the wall when you first walk in? That’s proof that he never really left. He was there, loving you from a distance the only way that he knew how. Someone who leaves… they don’t give up their life just to follow you if you go too far away. They don’t live their life with all the hopes and dreams that you had together, surrounding them.” She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, ignoring the tears that pool in my eyes. “Don’t be like me, Poppy. Don’t give yourself the chance to regret anything. He’s here, and he’s showing you that not only is he trying… but he’s always been here. Even if he was too stupid to own up to his stupidity. Too stupid to keep you instead of letting you walk away.”
“Damn,” Nia calls from the hall where I hadn’t even seen her go. “There are pictures here that look like they’re twenty years old.”
Chloe and I both get up and go into the hall with her.
“Some of them are close to thirty.” I point at one in particular. Logan and Sam, both under five years old and both holding the hands of their little sisters. “That’s me,” I say while touching the red hair I’ve always had. “But this, this is Lettie.” I clear my throat. “Charlotte. Logan’s little sister. She died a few weeks before the night I was shot.”
Nia whistles quietly. “No offense, but I would have run, too.”
I pause, my fingers still touching our baby photo. “What?”
“The man lost his sister, and then he almost lost the woman he loved? No wonder he ran away and tried to keep you safe. He probably thinks that he’s cursed.”
My eyes move to the opening sliding glass door where Logan stands with a concerned look on his face, scanning the kitchen, until he catches sight of me in the doorway.
“You okay?” He starts toward us.
My heart races in my chest.
“Yeah,” I lie, putting a plastic smile on my face. “Fine. Just showing them the pictures.”
I’m not fine. And until we are alone and I can apologize, I won’t be.
How could I be so stupid?
I’ve never even considered what Nia suggested. All this time, and all I could ever think of was the fact that he pushed me away. I lost Lettie, and then I lost him too. And he vanished into thin air, first with the military. Then he was here, always teasing and laughing and pushing me for the physical side of a relationship, without the emotions.
But here… here on the wall, I see all of the things I thought were gone.
Hopefully, Logan will forgive me for being just as selfish as I’ve accused him of being for all these years.