Page 70 of Keepsake

The kids changed my life completely. I thought about them constantly. What did they need? How could we make their lives easier? And when I wasn’t thinking about the kids?

I was thinking about their legal guardian.

I couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t Logan. I thought about her and her little prissy clothes and severe ponytails. I thought about her ass when she was wearing those leggings. I imagined her in ways I shouldn’t imagine, but my biggest crime was that I still felt her tit in the palm of my hand.

I told myself a million times I should forget about that morning. I shouldn’t be touching her, even if it was my name on her tongue. We were sleeping. It wasaccidentalhumping, as juvenile as that sounded.

But nothing, not even the devil himself, was going to erase the memory of her soft skin on my rough palm.

I reminded myself she was sixteen years younger and my dead sister’s best friend. She was the kids’ legal guardian and the woman my mother saw as the enemy. The reasons were plenty. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

I needed a break. A full weekend without Logan, putting much needed distance between us. I was going to fill my nights with whatever used to be enough for me.

When I parked in front of my parent’s house, Mamá was already in front, swinging the door open to hug Lachlan like it had been years since she had seen him.

Dash and I exited. He went straight to the house without looking behind, and I opened the door for Vienna. “How’s it going?”

“He looks pale.” She gave her an assessment of Lachlan.

“Yeah, not many outdoors activities this time of the year,” I told her.

She joined me on the sidewalk, her hands now on Vienna. She made noises in the back of her throat as she took in the girl’s perfectly good ponytail.

“You’re staying for dinner.” She told me rather than asking.

“Can’t, Mamá.” I was already circling the car and going for the driver’s seat.

“What do you mean, can’t?”

“I still have to drive back and do a few things.” I cleared my throat to sidestep my lack of reasons. “I’ll be back to pick them up Sunday, ok?”

I never gave her time to agree. I got myself in the car and drove away before she was even inside the house. It was nothing against having dinner with my parents. I actually missed Mamá’s food more than I missed not paying my own bills.

It was Friday, I was exhausted, and I had to stop by Logan’s to tell her the kids were delivered and we all would be back by Sunday.

I drove in blissful silence and reached the city quicker than I thought possible. I hopped out of my truck, said my hellos to the doorman, and went up straight to the penthouse.

Right as the elevator dinged and the doors opened, I knew something was wrong.

Everything was dark. The living room area looked exactly the way I left in the morning. Even the T-shirt Lachlan spilled orange juice on during breakfast was still laying on top of the table exactly how I left it.

“Logan?” I called out but got no reply.

Starting from the kitchen, I tidied up things a little while I cursed under my breath every time I found a new pair of shoes tucked in a corner.

How many shoes do these children have?

Once everything looked back in place, I dared to go upstairs.

She could have left. It was Friday night. Maybe she was on a date or something.

I rolled my shoulders, pretending that wouldn’t bother me, and brushed the idea off. Logan didn’t have time for anything. She wasn’t swiping right on Tinder when I wasn’t looking.

Inching closer to her bedroom, the door wasn’t closed. I only had to push. “Logan?”

Something small moved between the sheets, but it was hard to see. The room was still dark, stale air like the door had been left closed for the whole day.

I got inside. “Logan?” I called again.

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