Page 73 of Ruined

“Tomorrow?” Now that we’re making these plans, I’m too anxious to wait for much longer.

He nods, and his thumbs rub circles on my hips for a while. I hug him, every inch of our bodies pressed together. For once, I’m not hard. I’m too stressed out to be hard.

“Oliver,” he mumbles against my shoulder, and my heart rate spikes. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”

“What?” I lean back, feeling like my chest is about to explode. What hasn’t he told me?

“I made a promise. To her,” he grits out, and his eyes flash with pain.

“What promise?” I whisper.

He shakes his head, jaw tightening. “I can’t. Not now. Maybe… Maybe after we’ve seen her.” Noticing the distress on my face, he strokes my back in soothing circles. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing that changes things between you and me.”

“Okay.” I don’t know if I believe him. “Tomorrow, then.”

The anxiety thrumming in my veins is telling me, “No, don’t do it. Don’t jeopardize this. You finally have him, and now you risk losing him.”

I’m not ready. Not ready to face my mother, and certainly not ready for her to tear into Logan like I know she will. Not ready for the consequences her words might bring.

On the other hand, I’ve told him many times that he needs to trust me, because I trust him. He promised he wouldn’t leave me no matter what Mom has to say about our relationship, and I need to trust him in that.

Trying to be rational while my whole body is screaming is hard, though. The only things helping are Logan’s hands on my skin and the steady warmth of his body against mine. I can’t help the trickle of tears from my eyes when he strokes my hair and hushes me, my chest aching with the silent prayer in my heart.

He’s all I’ve ever wanted. My Logan, my daddy. Please don’t let me lose him.

25. ALL MY HEART

Tomorrow comes sooner than I’d prefer. The coward in me wants to wait, wants to argue that it’s too soon, that it’s none of her business, but that wouldn’t be fair to Oliver. He’s already been through enough back and forths; he needs this, and I need to be brave enough to give it to him.

“What did you tell her?” I ask as we drive toward the suburbs of Woodstock, toward his mom’s house—the house where I used to be her partner and Oliver and Mason’s stepdad. That house is the same house where I lived six years of my life, where we were a happy family of four. The house where I used to consider Oliver my son. No one is more puzzled than me that this is how we’ve ended up.

“I told her there’s someone I’d like her to meet,” Oliver says.

My jaw tightens. She’ll expect some guy the same age as her son, someone in his early twenties at the most. She won’t expect… me.

“Are you scared?” Oliver mumbles as we turn off at the highway exit.

“Aren’t you?” I ask, hands flexing around the wheel.

“Yeah… but not for the same reason, I guess.”

“Then why?”

He stays silent, and my heart aches when I realize what he means.

“Oliver… I told you I won’t leave you.”

“Okay.” His voice is barely more than a breath, shaky and strangely resigned, like he doesn’t believe me. Like he’s preparing himself for all possible outcomes.

I should prepare myself as well. I won’t leave Oliver, but Kim might try to convince him that he shouldn’t be with me, and if she does, I… I don’t want to let him go. God, I really don’t want to let him go. I’ve spent so much time thinking I’m not good for him, but since that evening with the twins, I saw a different reality. A reality where I’m exactly what he needs, despite everything.

Our past is how we started but not how we’ve ended up. I just happened to come into his life at a time he needed me most. First, when he was seven and couldn’t take care of himself. Then, when he was older and still craving a person like me in his life. He needed me both times in different ways, just like I needed him. Just like I still need him.

When we stop in front of Kim’s house, memories flood my mind. The last time I was here, I left in a flurry after packing my things, barely saying goodbye to the boys I considered my sons. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to.

The house looks the same. White wood exterior, two floors, and a sizable garage where I used to spend most of my time when I wasn’t in the kitchen. Here, I lived out my white picket fence dreams with Kim and her children. The more I think about it, the more I don’t think I loved Kim as much as I loved being Oliver’s dad. Being needed.

Her car is in the driveway. She’s home from work early for once; it’s only seven. Back when we were together, she used to work until late. I was the one to make dinner for the boys. I was the one to make sure Oliver got into bed on time. I was the one to pack their lunches, help them with homework, wash their clothes. I did everything for them.