Page 27 of No First Kisses

“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.”

---