Aside from my father, no one bosses me around. Apparently Logan does, though. The anticipation about what he’ll decide to do next is killing me.
It’s clear he’s done this before. He wraps my wrist in gauze, tapes it up, and then adds a Tensor bandage.
“Just in case it decides to bleed again. I’m gonna guess that if my jacket was three thousand, yours has to be twice that.”
He guesses correctly. “You’re good at that,” I say, inspecting the bandage.
“Ice dancer. We get hurt.”
I don’t like that so much.
Back in the kitchen, Jack and Mercy are involved in dinner preparations of their own. I lock gazes with Mercy, who’s burning with anger. Jack’s trying not to laugh. I don’t know how he finds Mercy’s anger amusing, but of course he would. It’s just the smallest bit annoying, but then his darling laugh breaks from his lungs, saving him from my ire. It’s beautiful, nothing else like it in the world.
“What’s so funny?” Mercy snaps.
“You, babe. Love ya,” Jack says.
And just like that, Mercy’s anger evaporates. He watches Jack dance around the kitchen with their real-life doll and okay, I see what Logan means, Mercy’s attention is pulled away from everywhere else. It’s only for Jack.
Jack and I were like that too, once upon a time. It wears out after a few years.
“I hate to interrupt your stargazing, but is this acceptable? Or shall I make myself a garbage bag poncho?” Logan says.
Mercy swings his head around, pulling his eyes from Jack as if it’s physically hard, but his expression is full of fondness for Logan. He crosses his arms pretending to inspect him. “They allow suits that look different in the swanky establishment I’m sure you’re taking him to, Elkington?”
“They’ll allow me whatever I want.” If it was only the restaurant I was worried about, I wouldn’t have made Logan change.
“Fine. I approve.”
Logan relaxes, his need for Mercy’s approval is obvious. “Thank you.”
“Wait.Get your ass over here,” Mercy says.
Logan, reaching his limit of fed-up, does, but with utmost ungraciousness.
“What time is the house curfew, Lo?” Mercy asks him.
His cheeks flush. “Are we really doing this? I’m not a child.”
“Jack, please set the table for one more since apparently, Logan doesn’t want to go anywhere to?—”
“It’s midnight. Can I go now?”
“No alcohol, Logan.”
“I’ll be nineteen in three days.”
“And on that day, I’ll hand you a beer.”
He rolls his eyes. He’s going to pull an eye muscle that way. “Alcohol is too loaded with empty calories for me to consider at this juncture.”
Mercy nods and then surprises Logan by pulling him to his side and kissing his crown. Logan wipes at his hair carefully—so as not to disrupt the styling—but I catch the tiny fleeting smile at the corner of his lips. “Have fun, kid. Rhett, a word,” he says, eyeing the bandage on my wrist.
Joy.“Yes, Dad?”
It’s worth saying for the look on his face. I’m going to have my fun around here, that’s for sure.
“My God, there’s two of them,” Mercy says.