Her eyes lifted to glance quickly at my dad. She smiled a little, a blush creeping to her cheeks. I kissed her there, leaving a splatter of taco sauce. I chuckled as I wiped my mouth with a napkin, and then wiped her cheek. "What am I going to do with you? Honestly, I can't take you anywhere."
She turned her head and lifted her chin to face me. Her smile caught me off guard. Our eyes locked.
Then: Thump. Thump.
But it was different this time. Not nerves, or anxiety. It was like the world’s way of telling me that I was alive, and to pay attention, that the girl in front of me, the one who could make or break me, was here. But she did neither of those things. Instead, she healed me.
I love you, she mouthed. It made my thumping heart race, but in all the good ways.
I opened my mouth to speak, but her ringing phone cut us off.
"Sorry." She grimaced. "It's Ethan, I should get that." She stood. "I'm sure I told him I wasn't going to be home," she mumbled to herself before exiting the room.
Dad cleared his throat. I gave him my attention. "You seem happy."
"Of course I am," I said, a sudden cockiness returning. I began to count on my fingers. "One. I have my girl." I paused. "Two . . ." I trailed off. There was no two. Nothing else really mattered. Shrugging, I stated, "I have my girl. That's all."
His smile got wider. "And she doesn't just make you happy. She makes you whole?"
I nodded.
"And Ethan? He's okay with it now?" He must've known Ethan was the one to do the damage on me, but he never brought it up, never accused him. That's the thing with Dad; he always took a step back and waited for me to make my own choices, but he never pushed, he only ever encouraged. Like in seventh grade when I told him that I wanted to be doctor, he smiled, but all he said was, "If that's what you want, of course I'll support you, but you make sure you're doing it for you." I didn't get what he’d meant back then, but I get it now. He didn't want me doing it for him. Truth; in a way, I kind of was. I guess I wasn't doing it for him, but I did it because I wanted to be the kind of man he was. The kind of man who could give his life over to a complete stranger—a little boy who needed help—and not once expect a thank you for any of it. So I let the words flow out of me before I dared stop them. "Thank you, Dad." His eyes widened in surprise. "Thank you for never giving up on me, and for always being there. And understanding me better than anyone else. You've done all this stuff for me, and I can't—" My voice cracked. I cleared the knot in my throat. "I can't thank you enough, for all of it. Taking me in—"
He raised his hand to interrupt. "That's enough of that." I didn't miss the moisture that welled in his eyes. "You never have to thank me for anything, Logan. You may think I saved you, but to me, it was the other way around. You gave me a family when I thought I'd never have one. I'm so damn proud of you."
"I'm sorry," her voice came from next to me. "I didn't mean to interrupt." She sat back down on her chair and placed her phone on the table, and then settled her hand on my leg.
"Is everything okay?" I asked.
"Yeah . . ." She seemed deep in thought.
I linked my fingers with hers and squeezed once. "What's going on?"
She turned to me now, with the same faraway expression as before. "That was Ethan," she said.
I already knew that. "Okay?"
"He, um, he found someone to take over my room." She chewed her lip, her eyes searching for a reaction.
It was instant—this stupid grin that completely took over my face.
Her own smile widened. "So, you still want me to move in?"
"What the hell kind of a question is that? You know I do." Letting go of her hand, I pulled out my phone and started typing notes. "You know what we should do? Split the spare room in half, and we can set up a desk on each side, so I'll have all my stuff on one side, and you can have all your girly Hello Kitty shit on the other. I should buy some more towels." I glanced up at her quickly. "You know, the fluffy ones you like. Oh, and Gummy Bears, we need to fill the house with those. I found this place online that sells them by the color—"
Her laugh cut me off. "Babe, there's no rush. I'm not moving in tomorrow."
My eyes narrowed. "What? Why not?"
"Oh." Her eyes widened. "I mean, I can if you want me to, but we need to discuss this properly. You kind of just said it in passing, and I wasn't sure if you were serious, but I told Ethan anyway—"
"Of course I was serious. What's there to discuss? It's not like we're not together all the time anyway."
She sighed. "It's different though. We need to talk about how much rent I'm going to pay and—"
"No," Dad cut in. I was so overwhelmed with her news that I'd forgotten he was even there. "I've covered his apartment for a year, and you will not be putting a cent towards it. Or anything else you need to move in. Logan will cover it all."
Amanda's voice was quiet. "I can't accept that, you need to let me pay—"
"No," he said with finality. "Besides, you need to save your money for my grandchildren." He stood up, his chair scratching against the floor as he did. Amanda and I gaped at each other, before turning to him. "That one . . ." He pointed his finger between the both of us. "I said just to mess with you."
35
A month later
Logan
She said she’d wanted to talk about something important and to meet her on the rooftop when I got done at the cages with boys. She spun around from looking out over the edge when she heard the door open.
"So, what's up?" I asked after greeting her with a kiss, or eleventy-three of them.
"I think this is a sit-down kind of conversation."
I led us to the outdoor sofa and sat down. Whatever it was, it had to be serious. "What's going on? You're kind of making me anxious here."
Her eyes darted quickly to my hands. They weren't shaking, yet.
I sighed, and pulled on her shirt until she was sitting next to me. "Whatever it is, just tell me. Is it about moving in? Did you not want to?" My chest ached. "If you think it was too soon then that's fine, we can work out something else. I just want to be with you, Amanda. If—"
"Stop. That's not what this is." She blew out a breath and closed her eyes, as if building the courage to speak. I was beyond anxious now, but I tried my hardest not to let it show. "I just don't want you to be mad at me, and all of this started before you came back—"
"Why would I be mad?"
She looked away from me before speaking, "Because I want to go see your birth dad."
And there it was—the trembling in my hand.
I cursed under my breath.
She kneeled down in front of me and took my hand in hers, but didn't kiss my palm. She'd stopped doing that weeks ago. "It's okay, baby," she assured me. She made sure I was looking at her when she said the words, "Just focus." It's this thing she'd been trying to get me to do since Dad lowered the dosage on the Xanax. She was trying to get me to control it without the help of meds. "Just focus," she said again. So I closed my eyes and did what she said. She told me to keep a memory—a moment— in my mind, for this purpose alone, where I could think about it and feel all the emotions from that single moment in my life.
She turned her head and lifted her chin to face me. Her smile caught me off guard. Our eyes locked.
Then: Thump. Thump.
But it was different this time. Not nerves, or anxiety. It was like the world’s way of telling me that I was alive, and to pay attention, that the girl in front of me, the one who could make or break me, was here. But she did neither of those things. Instead, she healed me.
I love you, she mouthed. It made my thumping heart race, but in all the good ways.
I opened my mouth to speak, but her ringing phone cut us off.
"Sorry." She grimaced. "It's Ethan, I should get that." She stood. "I'm sure I told him I wasn't going to be home," she mumbled to herself before exiting the room.
Dad cleared his throat. I gave him my attention. "You seem happy."
"Of course I am," I said, a sudden cockiness returning. I began to count on my fingers. "One. I have my girl." I paused. "Two . . ." I trailed off. There was no two. Nothing else really mattered. Shrugging, I stated, "I have my girl. That's all."
His smile got wider. "And she doesn't just make you happy. She makes you whole?"
I nodded.
"And Ethan? He's okay with it now?" He must've known Ethan was the one to do the damage on me, but he never brought it up, never accused him. That's the thing with Dad; he always took a step back and waited for me to make my own choices, but he never pushed, he only ever encouraged. Like in seventh grade when I told him that I wanted to be doctor, he smiled, but all he said was, "If that's what you want, of course I'll support you, but you make sure you're doing it for you." I didn't get what he’d meant back then, but I get it now. He didn't want me doing it for him. Truth; in a way, I kind of was. I guess I wasn't doing it for him, but I did it because I wanted to be the kind of man he was. The kind of man who could give his life over to a complete stranger—a little boy who needed help—and not once expect a thank you for any of it. So I let the words flow out of me before I dared stop them. "Thank you, Dad." His eyes widened in surprise. "Thank you for never giving up on me, and for always being there. And understanding me better than anyone else. You've done all this stuff for me, and I can't—" My voice cracked. I cleared the knot in my throat. "I can't thank you enough, for all of it. Taking me in—"
He raised his hand to interrupt. "That's enough of that." I didn't miss the moisture that welled in his eyes. "You never have to thank me for anything, Logan. You may think I saved you, but to me, it was the other way around. You gave me a family when I thought I'd never have one. I'm so damn proud of you."
"I'm sorry," her voice came from next to me. "I didn't mean to interrupt." She sat back down on her chair and placed her phone on the table, and then settled her hand on my leg.
"Is everything okay?" I asked.
"Yeah . . ." She seemed deep in thought.
I linked my fingers with hers and squeezed once. "What's going on?"
She turned to me now, with the same faraway expression as before. "That was Ethan," she said.
I already knew that. "Okay?"
"He, um, he found someone to take over my room." She chewed her lip, her eyes searching for a reaction.
It was instant—this stupid grin that completely took over my face.
Her own smile widened. "So, you still want me to move in?"
"What the hell kind of a question is that? You know I do." Letting go of her hand, I pulled out my phone and started typing notes. "You know what we should do? Split the spare room in half, and we can set up a desk on each side, so I'll have all my stuff on one side, and you can have all your girly Hello Kitty shit on the other. I should buy some more towels." I glanced up at her quickly. "You know, the fluffy ones you like. Oh, and Gummy Bears, we need to fill the house with those. I found this place online that sells them by the color—"
Her laugh cut me off. "Babe, there's no rush. I'm not moving in tomorrow."
My eyes narrowed. "What? Why not?"
"Oh." Her eyes widened. "I mean, I can if you want me to, but we need to discuss this properly. You kind of just said it in passing, and I wasn't sure if you were serious, but I told Ethan anyway—"
"Of course I was serious. What's there to discuss? It's not like we're not together all the time anyway."
She sighed. "It's different though. We need to talk about how much rent I'm going to pay and—"
"No," Dad cut in. I was so overwhelmed with her news that I'd forgotten he was even there. "I've covered his apartment for a year, and you will not be putting a cent towards it. Or anything else you need to move in. Logan will cover it all."
Amanda's voice was quiet. "I can't accept that, you need to let me pay—"
"No," he said with finality. "Besides, you need to save your money for my grandchildren." He stood up, his chair scratching against the floor as he did. Amanda and I gaped at each other, before turning to him. "That one . . ." He pointed his finger between the both of us. "I said just to mess with you."
35
A month later
Logan
She said she’d wanted to talk about something important and to meet her on the rooftop when I got done at the cages with boys. She spun around from looking out over the edge when she heard the door open.
"So, what's up?" I asked after greeting her with a kiss, or eleventy-three of them.
"I think this is a sit-down kind of conversation."
I led us to the outdoor sofa and sat down. Whatever it was, it had to be serious. "What's going on? You're kind of making me anxious here."
Her eyes darted quickly to my hands. They weren't shaking, yet.
I sighed, and pulled on her shirt until she was sitting next to me. "Whatever it is, just tell me. Is it about moving in? Did you not want to?" My chest ached. "If you think it was too soon then that's fine, we can work out something else. I just want to be with you, Amanda. If—"
"Stop. That's not what this is." She blew out a breath and closed her eyes, as if building the courage to speak. I was beyond anxious now, but I tried my hardest not to let it show. "I just don't want you to be mad at me, and all of this started before you came back—"
"Why would I be mad?"
She looked away from me before speaking, "Because I want to go see your birth dad."
And there it was—the trembling in my hand.
I cursed under my breath.
She kneeled down in front of me and took my hand in hers, but didn't kiss my palm. She'd stopped doing that weeks ago. "It's okay, baby," she assured me. She made sure I was looking at her when she said the words, "Just focus." It's this thing she'd been trying to get me to do since Dad lowered the dosage on the Xanax. She was trying to get me to control it without the help of meds. "Just focus," she said again. So I closed my eyes and did what she said. She told me to keep a memory—a moment— in my mind, for this purpose alone, where I could think about it and feel all the emotions from that single moment in my life.
