Deliverance
Page 105
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“What are you talking about?” I glare at him.
“Everyone who’s ever said they loved me can’t be trusted anymore. Except you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“My mother—” His voice chokes off, and he clears his throat. “She wasn’t my mother. She lied to me. All that time, all those reassurances that I was her whole world, and I was nothing more than someone else’s child thrust into her care.”
“Logan—”
“And Oliver.” The words pour out as if he can’t bear to hold them back any longer. “He said he loved me, too. But look at the facts. I was nothing more than the Commander’s long-term investment. Do you really think the Commander would make me an outcast and not have an insurance policy in place to keep me alive until his investment paid off? No wonder Oliver was feeding me. Someone had to make sure I was still alive.”
He looks at his feet. “And then there’s Jared.” His voice is so full of pain, it makes me ache too. “He carried regular reports of my well-being to my father. How could he not tell me who I was? I thought I’d earned his love and respect, but he was simply keeping an eye on me because that was part of his job.”
He presses his fingers to his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this. I don’t want to tarnish the memory of the family you’ve lost. You’d been through so much. Most of it because of who I am. I’m so afraid that you won’t be able to love me anymore, either.”
His breath catches in his throat, and he falls silent. My heart thrums against my rib cage as slivers of the dreams I once had for us slide softly back into place. I understand being afraid that the wreckage in his life makes him unlovable now. And I can see the flaw in his reasoning. I step to his side.
“Logan?”
He nods, his fingers still pressed to his eyes, his shoulders bowed.
“For someone so smart, you sure are thickheaded about relationships.”
He slowly raises his head. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“It’s the truth. And I’m learning that truth is the only thing that makes us better.” I reach up, ignoring the twinge of pain in my back, and cup his face in my palms, holding him so he has to look me in the eye. “Some families are built through blood. Some are built through choice. It doesn’t change what you mean to one another.”
He doesn’t reply, but he’s listening.
“Your mother—”
He makes a strangled noise and lifts a hand as if to protest, and I glare at him.
“Your mother loved you. Does it matter where you came from? Or does it matter that once she had you, she did everything in her power to take care of you, even when it meant risking her life?” I lean closer. “People don’t give their lives for others unless love is involved.”
He opens his mouth to speak, and I shake my head. “I’m not done.”
“I can see that.”
“Oliver wasn’t capable of deception, and you know it. When he said he loved you, he meant it. I don’t know if he was being paid to watch out for you or if he chose to do that on his own, but how you two became connected doesn’t matter nearly as much as the fact that he grew to see you as the son he never had. Can you honestly tell me you think Oliver would lie to you about that?”
“No, Oliver wasn’t a liar.” His voice is quiet.
“And as for Dad, well . . .” I pause to gather the right words, and Logan’s jaw tenses beneath my hands. “I can’t say he didn’t keep secrets from you. He might have known all along what was going on. Or he might have simply delivered unopened messages and been none the wiser. But he loved and respected you, and I can prove it.”
“How?”
I press close to him until I can feel the heat of his skin on mine. Until nothing stands between us but a few breaths of air. “Because when he knew he wasn’t returning to Baalboden, he wrote a will. And in that will, he asked you to take care of one thing. Just one thing. What was it?”
“You,” he breathes, and then his arms are around me, and my fingers are in his hair, and his mouth is on mine. His kiss is fierce, rough lips and desperate hands, and my skin hums as something bright and glorious rushes through my veins.
When he raises his head, there’s a wild light in his eyes that I know burns for me alone. “I love you,” he says.
I reach up and hold the necklace he gave me when he promised he would always find me, and I smile. “I love you, too. Always.”
And then he kisses me like he’s desperate for me, and I let go of his necklace and hold on to him instead.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
LOGAN
As darkness falls, I lead Rachel away from where the others have made camp for the night. Nola smiles as we leave. Frankie wiggles his brows and laughs as I roll my eyes. And Willow tells us not to get so distracted that we forget to be on our guard.
I find a spot on the crest of a hill a short distance from the others. Close enough to hear them if they run into trouble, but far enough away that Rachel and I can talk without being overheard. I have so much to say, and suddenly I don’t think I can find the words for any of it.
As I spread my bedroll out, trying to make it big enough for two since Rachel doesn’t have one of her own, I examine my options. I want to tell her that I missed her, but that doesn’t begin to describe the way I ached for her while we were apart. I could tell her that I thought of her often, but that’s a lie. It would be better to say that I never stopped thinking of her. That every breath I took was filled with how much she means to me.
“Everyone who’s ever said they loved me can’t be trusted anymore. Except you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“My mother—” His voice chokes off, and he clears his throat. “She wasn’t my mother. She lied to me. All that time, all those reassurances that I was her whole world, and I was nothing more than someone else’s child thrust into her care.”
“Logan—”
“And Oliver.” The words pour out as if he can’t bear to hold them back any longer. “He said he loved me, too. But look at the facts. I was nothing more than the Commander’s long-term investment. Do you really think the Commander would make me an outcast and not have an insurance policy in place to keep me alive until his investment paid off? No wonder Oliver was feeding me. Someone had to make sure I was still alive.”
He looks at his feet. “And then there’s Jared.” His voice is so full of pain, it makes me ache too. “He carried regular reports of my well-being to my father. How could he not tell me who I was? I thought I’d earned his love and respect, but he was simply keeping an eye on me because that was part of his job.”
He presses his fingers to his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this. I don’t want to tarnish the memory of the family you’ve lost. You’d been through so much. Most of it because of who I am. I’m so afraid that you won’t be able to love me anymore, either.”
His breath catches in his throat, and he falls silent. My heart thrums against my rib cage as slivers of the dreams I once had for us slide softly back into place. I understand being afraid that the wreckage in his life makes him unlovable now. And I can see the flaw in his reasoning. I step to his side.
“Logan?”
He nods, his fingers still pressed to his eyes, his shoulders bowed.
“For someone so smart, you sure are thickheaded about relationships.”
He slowly raises his head. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“It’s the truth. And I’m learning that truth is the only thing that makes us better.” I reach up, ignoring the twinge of pain in my back, and cup his face in my palms, holding him so he has to look me in the eye. “Some families are built through blood. Some are built through choice. It doesn’t change what you mean to one another.”
He doesn’t reply, but he’s listening.
“Your mother—”
He makes a strangled noise and lifts a hand as if to protest, and I glare at him.
“Your mother loved you. Does it matter where you came from? Or does it matter that once she had you, she did everything in her power to take care of you, even when it meant risking her life?” I lean closer. “People don’t give their lives for others unless love is involved.”
He opens his mouth to speak, and I shake my head. “I’m not done.”
“I can see that.”
“Oliver wasn’t capable of deception, and you know it. When he said he loved you, he meant it. I don’t know if he was being paid to watch out for you or if he chose to do that on his own, but how you two became connected doesn’t matter nearly as much as the fact that he grew to see you as the son he never had. Can you honestly tell me you think Oliver would lie to you about that?”
“No, Oliver wasn’t a liar.” His voice is quiet.
“And as for Dad, well . . .” I pause to gather the right words, and Logan’s jaw tenses beneath my hands. “I can’t say he didn’t keep secrets from you. He might have known all along what was going on. Or he might have simply delivered unopened messages and been none the wiser. But he loved and respected you, and I can prove it.”
“How?”
I press close to him until I can feel the heat of his skin on mine. Until nothing stands between us but a few breaths of air. “Because when he knew he wasn’t returning to Baalboden, he wrote a will. And in that will, he asked you to take care of one thing. Just one thing. What was it?”
“You,” he breathes, and then his arms are around me, and my fingers are in his hair, and his mouth is on mine. His kiss is fierce, rough lips and desperate hands, and my skin hums as something bright and glorious rushes through my veins.
When he raises his head, there’s a wild light in his eyes that I know burns for me alone. “I love you,” he says.
I reach up and hold the necklace he gave me when he promised he would always find me, and I smile. “I love you, too. Always.”
And then he kisses me like he’s desperate for me, and I let go of his necklace and hold on to him instead.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
LOGAN
As darkness falls, I lead Rachel away from where the others have made camp for the night. Nola smiles as we leave. Frankie wiggles his brows and laughs as I roll my eyes. And Willow tells us not to get so distracted that we forget to be on our guard.
I find a spot on the crest of a hill a short distance from the others. Close enough to hear them if they run into trouble, but far enough away that Rachel and I can talk without being overheard. I have so much to say, and suddenly I don’t think I can find the words for any of it.
As I spread my bedroll out, trying to make it big enough for two since Rachel doesn’t have one of her own, I examine my options. I want to tell her that I missed her, but that doesn’t begin to describe the way I ached for her while we were apart. I could tell her that I thought of her often, but that’s a lie. It would be better to say that I never stopped thinking of her. That every breath I took was filled with how much she means to me.
