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I smile at the thought of the people behind producing Logan. “Your mom and dad sound different.”
“Night and day. Mom would have loved you.”
“And your dad?”
“Loves me.”
“Nice nonanswer,” I say and Logan chuckles.
“You remind me a lot of my mom,” he says.
My forehead wrinkles. “Never say that to a girl again, Logan. That is if you want to get laid.”
“If you met her, you’d understand that’s a compliment. People are naturally drawn to her and she dates guys half her age.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Mom’s eccentric.”
“So I’m eccentric?” It’s a pretty word for weird, but he has me.
He circles me and then plants his hands on my hips. “Very.”
His hands feel right on my body and my heart thumps. I lick my lips thinking of him kissing me and this gravity that exists only around him attempts to drag us closer, but I don’t know how I’ll say goodbye if I let him as near as he’s been for the past few nights. It’s like he’s already imprinted on my soul and withdrawals are going to suck.
I twist and duck to move around him, hating the loss of his touch. “Now, now, Logan. I have a reputation to protect in this neighborhood. People around here think I’m respectable.”
Logan glances around at the old houses as if he’s trying to guess as to what the people inside look like. “Do they?”
“Yep, I told them I run a food bank.”
“You did?”
“Nope.” My thirty seconds of playfulness fades away. “They all think I’m just like my father, but I’m going to do better than him. I’m going to get out and stay out.”
We continue to walk and ahead is a park. The sound of little kids screaming and laughing echo along to us down the street. Dad used to take me there. So did Grams. Sometimes when I felt too heavy after selling I would sit by myself in the dark and swing, pretending to be six and carefree and not a teenager who was drowning.
“Want to swing me?” I ask.
“Sure.” Logan stops walking and my heart aches because he has that expression on his face. The one that says he hears someone calling him home and that it’s time to stop playing.
“Please keep walking,” I say.
Logan releases my hand. “I can’t do this. I can’t pretend we’re just on a walk and that you aren’t about to leave the moment Denny gives you a new ID. I can’t do this make-believe anymore.”
“I need it.” Desperation claws at my chest. “I have always needed it. Pretending has helped me survive. When I didn’t have friends because of who my father was, when my father wouldn’t show for days, when I came to understand who he was and what he had done, then when he was arrested and on trial and Grams and everything. I love my father and my Grams but none of this life has been easy so I pretend. It’s like people who read books or see movies to escape. I pretend and I need you to pretend with me for just a few more minutes because I need to carry this very real memory with me for a very long time.”
Logan cradles my face with his hands and the pure raw emotion pouring from him nearly kills me. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“Do you want me to stay and sell? Do you want me to move up with Ricky?”
“No.” He sucks in a breath and his eyes are frantically searching my face. “Maybe I could go with you.”
I close my eyes as my mind automatically creates beautiful pictures of a future that would never happen. Asking him to go with me would be selfish. It would be stealing his life and leaving Abby behind is bad enough. “No.”
Logan jerks away. “So that’s it. You’re the only dealer who has decided to go straight?”
“No, but I’m not just any dealer.” I had lied to myself that I was, but that’s all it was—a lie.
