Page 38 of Keepsake

Without another word from them, I popped the hard hat on and went inside. This place should have been condemned, an old building with cracked walls, but a chain of hotels was paying us good money to put it back together. Disguising themselves as a small business, their plan was to build a cozy alternative to their expensive hotel just a couple of blocks away.

The crew was already in, nodding as I passed. I followed the path upstairs, ignoring the way the stairs creaked under my feet, and found Dustin in the second room, talking to the electrician.

“It’s not looking good,” the man was saying.

“Too early for bad news,” I said as I walked in.

Dustin checked his watch. “Are you sure?”

I grunted, already tired of everyone pointing out I was late.

When I left my room, Logan was already downstairs, feeding Lachlan in that uncertain way of hers. Dash and Vienna were in their Lone Pine uniforms, Dash’s eyes almost burning a hole into Logan’s skull.

I ignored his stupid plans because I knew it was never going to happen. Even if he could become their legal guardian when he turned eighteen, even if he could get rid of Logan, my mother would never let that happen. His plans were so improbable, I dismissed them the second I heard them.

But Logan might have been right. The way he watched her feeding Lachlan like he was personally offended by it, I realized it wasn’t about the plan coming to fruition or not.

I rushed to my truck and drove them to Lone Pine. Not before Logan had her time fussing over their lunches, promising to pick them up at the right time. Not that any of us had any doubts she was going to do everything perfectly.

Logan was as type A as they come. Back stiff, Ivy League attending, checklist making, little type A. I could see in her face when something went a hair out of what she had planned. Her little heart barely could handle it.

It was a bad combination. A woman who couldn’t deal with the unexpected and three kids who did nothing according to a script.

Not that I was good by any measures. I was bad actually, as bad as Logan’s shoulders were stiff.

I had no idea how to talk to kids. I didn’t know what I should be doing for them besides not letting them die. That part was simple. The real question was, what was I supposed to do to keep them from talking about me in therapy?

“You can’t avoid that,” Dustin told me during lunch, after the electrician finished telling us how much everything was going to cost.

I took a bite of my chicken bacon sandwich. “Some people have no problem with their parents.”

Dustin laughed. “Who? Who the hell? Nah.” He shrugged. “Some of us don’t care enough. But a parent’s job is screwing up the kids.”

“I know now why Alma loves co-parenting with you.” I grinned.

Alma was the girl he knocked up when they were eighteen. They never got together, but Alma always tried her best to co-parent with Dustin. Until his last comment, I was certain it worked.

“You’re an ass, but I’m going to give you advice, anyway.”

“Great,” I huffed.

Dustin dug into his pasta. “It’s like building on uneven ground.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Tell me you’re not going for builder analogies.”

“Asshole. Listen. I have wisdom I want to share.” I arched an eyebrow and for some reason, that seemed like enough to keep him talking. “We put our insecurities in the children, like our parents put theirs in ours. So it is inevitable.”

“I don’t have any insecurities.”

None that I’d share with the kids, at least.

“Everyone is fucked up,” Dustin continued.

“I hate you since you started going to therapy.”

Instead of being offended, he puffed his chest. “It brings this horrible deep understanding.”

I finished the sandwich and crossed my arms in front of my chest. “So you’re ok knowing you screwed Austin up?” I asked about his kid.

---