She’d said this morning that we couldn’t worry about what could or what had almost happened. We just had to go on living for the moment so that if it did happen, we’d lived life to the fullest.
I might get on board with that mentality in twenty years, but not right now.
Bexley
Ten days later…
If Logan didn’t learn to chillax, he was going to give himself an ulcer to match the bruise he still had on his stomach from where King had shot him.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, holding the key to Pops’ room out to me. “We only just moved back in, and there’s a lot to do in the—”
“Give me the key,” I snapped as I snatched it out of his hand carefully. He had Miracle held against his chest in the other one, and I didn’t want to knock him off balance and risk him dropping her.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the door and stood frozen in place as I saw his chair, the ass indentations still in the cushion. I don’t know how long I stared, but I snapped out of it when Doyle nudged me out of the way and trotted into the room with his tail wagging.
Then came the whining. I’d heard him do this after Pops passed away, but I think I was emotionally and mentally too numb to understand what it was.
I got it now, he was grieving for his own loss, and he didn’t get that Pops wasn’t in this room waiting for him.
Dropping down to my knees, I called for him to come to me and almost got flattened to the ground when his long legs brought him over too fast. We both let out our grief at that moment, him whimpering into my shoulder and me sobbing into his neck.
Then, strong arms wrapped around both of us, cocooning us and smushing my face deeper into Doyle’s neck. Thank God he’d had a bath yesterday after rolling around in the garden. Ever tried bathing a mountain of dog? It’s a blast—so long as you don’t mind washing with him.
“We should keep the room just like this,” Logan said quietly. “In years to come, when we have kids, they can use it as a playroom or something.”
“A library,” I croaked, trying to jerk my face away from the dog hair that got too close to going inside my mouth. “Pops loved books, and all of his are in there. We’ll take out his bedroom furniture and make it a library.”
“Deal.”
Then Doyle did something that shocked me. He moved away from me and stood beside Logan before sitting down and sagging so most of his weight was against his side. If that’d been me—and I knew this from experience—I’d have toppled under it, but as always, he stayed in place and supported us both.
Deciding his idea was a good one, I scooted around until I was facing him and the tiny little kitten, whose blue eyes were staring at the world around her. Things were still new to her, but she recognized Logan’s voice and scent when he was around. It was like having a newborn baby when he came home because she mewled her ever-loving lungs up until he went and got her.
“Seems like he’s changed his mind about you.”
“Seems that way,” he agreed, scratching the top of Doyle’s head. “Couldn’t Pops have gotten a smaller dog, though? He’s like a horse.”
“He was scared he’d lose a smaller one, and there’s no chance of that happening with Doyle.”
“Figures,” he sighed.
“And you’re moving in?”
The blue eyes that’d been in my dreams for as long as I can remember focused on me. “There’s no way I’m ever leaving.”
God.
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I knew now that we needed those seven years apart to find and become who we were today, even if Logan couldn’t see any positives in our time apart yet.
I can’t say what would have happened if we hadn’t had them, but some paths are built after they separate and meet back later. Ours was stronger because of it, and so long as they didn’t split apart again, I’d travel this road with him for the rest of our lives.
Epilogue
Logan
Two years later…
Pulling up in front of Ren’s garage, I cut the engine and just sat there staring into space.
My life was about to change drastically.
I’d felt like this before, when Bex had come home, then when I’d moved into her house, after that it was the day of the shootings, and then it was when we found out that the Kirkwoods and Ingleston had been given life sentences, with no possibility of parole.
It’d continued even after Cinder Murphy was released from rehab and went back to Kansas, taking part of everyone’s heart with her.
After it, when I’d held Bexley’s hand as she’d gotten her elephant tattoo, with her teeth embedded in my wrist, and then I’d gotten the same one between my shoulder blades, that I knew then that life would never be the same. She was safe, and we were stronger together, with our history together inked into our skin.
I’d been in control of some of those, but this time it was different.
I was apprehensive, scared, and excited all at the same time.
I was also overwhelmed, which was why I’d come here, to this man over all of the others available.
Getting out, I walked slowly over the forecourt, searching for him.
Ren was in the last bay, glaring at the dented rear of a black SUV. Hearing my boots on the ground, he turned to see who was approaching him and then scowled when he saw me.
“Logan, man, you’ve got to talk to your grandpa about the stupid bullshit him and—” he cut off when he saw the expression on my face. “What’s wrong? Is it Gramps?”
I couldn’t blame him for the assumption, considering the bullshit our grandpas got up to together.
“No, it’s nothing like that.” Then, taking my
