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Something I failed to do in the end.
It makes my heart hurt, and I’m not sure if it’s for my sister or for what Logan went through or both at that age. What had he said yesterday? He’d only been twelve when he started working for Maddoc’s father.
I’m pretty sure Logan doesn’t want my sympathy, so I tuck it away. I definitely want to know more though, so I also clear my throat and prompt him with, “So, you met Maddoc through his father?”
He nods, then tips his head toward the intersection we just drove through. “It was there.”
“What, right here?” I say, twisting around to get a better look at the bleak corner. “Seriously? This spot is where you and Maddoc met.”
Logan shrugs, but an almost-smile graces his lips as he gives me another teaspoon-full of information about his past. “Jonas sent him to collect a package from me. That was the drop spot.”
“Small world,” I mumble, since we’re only a few blocks away from the bus station we’d checked the other day.
Logan nods and slides into an open parking spot on the street.
I follow him out of the car. “So, Maddoc was working for his father, too?”
Logan nods again, then darts a look to me, the faintest flush on his cheeks like he just remembered that I asked him totalk, and gives me some actual words. More of them than I expect. Speaking in fits and starts, he tells me a bit about his life on the streets as we start working our way through the rundown neighborhood, looking for any sign of my sister.
His childhood on the streets sounds bleak, dangerous, and just fuckinghard, but when I say so, Logan shrugs again.
“No. It was… better.”
“Better than…?” I start to ask, but I drop the question immediately when his eyes shutter.
And then I remember what he told me.
His mother. Right. She was a true monster, the kind I want to punch the world for letting her exist if I let myself think too hard about whatelsehe must have gone through.
But I don’t want to lose the unexpectedly relaxing vibe between us by dwelling on that, so I quickly change the subject.
“So you and Maddoc were kindred spirits right from the start?”
Logan gives me such a patronizing look that I can’t help but laugh.
“Okay, okay, so how did he get you to warm up to him?” I press.
We’ve reached the bus station by now, and Logan opens the door, holding it for me. “He killed someone.”
My eyebrows shoot up, but I clamp down on my curiosity as we walk inside. No way is Logan going to continue this conversation in front of other people.
He gives me the barest hint of a smile, his shoulders relaxing a fraction of an inch, when he sees that I understand that and won’t push him. Not in here. I smile back and then move to question the ticket seller, showing her Chloe’s picture while Logan prowls around the lobby quietly questioning people and staring intently in every nook and cranny, as if he sees the world differently than the rest of us and might actually suss out a clue from those scuffed, empty places.
But just like everywhere else we’ve checked so far, the bus station feels like just another dead end. It would be depressing as hell except, when we walk back outside, to my utter shock, Logan picks up where he left off without any prompting. Almost as if hewantsto open up to me.
“There was a girl who Jonas used to use for deliveries sometimes,” he says, staring straight ahead as we cross the street. “She was—she would have been Emma’s age. We called her Petal.”
Emma… that was Logan’s little sister.
I swallow hard, but he doesn’t give me a chance to accidentally voice my sympathy. I’m not even sure I’d know how, not for something so horrific. Losing my own little sister is literally my worst nightmare. One I’m currently living.
But thankfully, not the way Logan had to.
He continues his story, speaking in short, jerky sentences. “Petal couldn’t talk. Or just didn’t. Not sure why she was out on her own, but there was a drug dealer…”
Logan trails off, darkness descending on his face for a moment. But then he shakes it off and goes on, his voice harder.
“Jonas should never have let Petal get near him.”
