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Jeni asked if he wanted to name the new bear, and the little boy immediately said Teddy.
Logan closed his eyes and pressed a fist to his grin.
It was times like this when he knew he’d never stop what he was doing through FSD, no matter how busy or stressed he got. It was too important. The kids were too important.
Twenty minutes later, Jeni approached him. “He’s asleep. Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking.
Fuck it. He pushed off the wall and crushed her to him, one hand on her hair and the other across her back. She came willingly, her arms winding around his waist, hands grasping his shirt and holding him tighter than he’d have thought possible. She pressed her face into his chest, and they breathed deeply together.
They remained there, embracing, for several long moments. Logan dipped his head a little and lightly brushed his lips across her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.
She pulled her head back, and he braced himself for a scolding for kissing her.
“Will you stay with me?” she asked.
“Stay?” He searched her golden-brown eyes.
“At least sit here with me, for a little while?” She pulled out of his embrace, and he immediately felt bereft. She lowered herself to the ground and leaned her back and head against the wall, looking up at him beseechingly.
Like he’d say no to that.
Logan slid down and sat beside her, and she immediately scooted closer, flush against his side.
She rested her head against his shoulder. “Thank you,” she said again.
He took her hand, and she held on tight.
“I’ve missed you,” she said so quietly he almost missed it.
Logan held his breath for a beat, and his heart tried to punch out of his chest. “I’ve missed you too.”
They didn’t speak for long minutes, and Logan had just decided Jeni fell asleep when she spoke again.
“You were a foster child, weren’t you?”
He closed his eyes and released a heavy breath. “Yes.”
“Did your parents adopt you from the foster care system?”
Logan always struggled with telling people about this part of his life. But for some reason, in this dark room where people spent their days trying to take care of children who needed safe places to go, it seemed simple to acknowledge her statements. “Yes.”
“How old were you?”
“When I went in or when I was adopted?”
“Both. If you don’t mind telling me.”
“Seven and thirteen.”
She squeezed his hand.
“Did Sandra tell you or something?” He wasn’t angry, just curious.
“No, why would she?”
“She was my case worker.”
“Ohhh,” she breathed out. “That’s why you two are so close.”
