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Only one thing crossed my mind when Marcus’s body rammed into mine: I couldn’t take a hit to the face. I wouldn’t let Oliver see me injured. I wouldn’t let him worry for me.
Chapter 4
Significance
“Oh my God!” Katherine shrieked, her hand flying to her mouth after she opened the back door. I’d texted her to meet me there.
I shot my hand out to quiet her and peeked inside. “Where’s Oliver?” I whispered.
Her alarmed gaze scanned down my body and back up, searching for answers. “In the front, waiting for you. He knows you’re late.”
My mood lifted at how perceptive he was. It wasn’t even half an hour, but our routine was set and he noticed any changes. It was the sole reason I hadn’t detoured home to clean up before I came over.
“Get in here, its cold out there,” Katherine demanded suddenly, opening the door further and ushering me in.
Glancing around, I followed her into the laundry room. “Stay here,” she said. “I’ll get the first-aid kit and one of Lawrence’s shirts.”
“Thanks.”
She stopped at the door, looking back hesitantly to ask the obvious. “Should I even bother asking what happened?”
I shook my head. “No, you shouldn’t.”
She nodded once. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”
Once she’d sneaked away from the small room, I slid my coat over my sore shoulders, kneading the pressure away. Marcus had some strength behind his fist, but luckily I’d gotten in enough blows to put him on his ass before he did any real damage. I looked down at the blood on my white dress shirt—mostly his—and had begun unbuttoning it when the door reopened.
It was Lawrence who strolled in instead of Katherine. He shut the door behind him quietly, studying me for any obvious injuries with his familiar calm-yet-scornful expression.
“Let me guess,” he said, tossing a clean shirt at me. “This was courtesy of your dick. So was it a wife or daughter you defiled this time?”
I ground my back teeth, insulted. I’d never touched a married woman, and didn’t plan to. I held his repulsed glare, matching it with my own of annoyance. “Neither. It was a sister.”
He lowered his head, shame obvious in his heavy sigh. “What are you doing, Logan? How long do you think you can live like this?”
“Don’t start.” I pulled the shirt over my head. “That fucker was just looking for a fight.”
“I don’t care about him, and I know you’re smart enough to take care of yourself. My concern is for that little boy of yours out there—the one who knows that when the small hand of the clock hits the number five that his daddy will be back to get him. Do you want to know what he’s been doing for the last thirty minutes? Huh?”
My shoulders deflated. “I get it. But I’m never late, so don’t put a guilt trip on me now.”
Lawrence continued, ignoring my plea.
“He’s been sitting in the foyer, refusing to play or even move from that spot because he knows any minute you’re going to appear through that door. And the longer he waits there, the deeper his frown grows. He’s worried about you.”
A sharp pain ripped through me. I pushed past Lawrence to go to my boy, but he shoved me back.
“Wash your face.” He held up a washcloth in his other hand.
I took it, ducking my head to look in the small mirror on the wall. Dried blood was splattered across my cheek and down my neck.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. Katherine wasn’t sure how to tell you, but Oliver’s been asking her about his mother a lot more.”
“Don’t.” I threw the soiled cloth down with my stained shirt.
“She doesn’t know how to avoid it any longer. He wants answers, Logan. He’s going to be four in a few months, starting preschool, and seeing all his classmates with their mothers.”
Anger boiled inside me. There was nothing I could do about that except make sure I provided everything he needed. “He’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it.” I started forward again, but his hands shot out, holding me back once more.
“Oliver’s going to find out about her, one way or another. It’s best that it comes from his father.”
Unable to control the fury brought on by even thinking about that woman, my fist connected with the wall, cracking the sheetrock. Lawrence didn’t even flinch.
“For Christ’s sake, he’s still a baby!” I roared.
I stepped back, turned away, and inhaled deeply. The oxygen filled the lungs constricting within my chest before I finally exhaled. I never even thought about Natasha. She was a box I’d locked up long ago and wasn’t about to open again.
My next words were spoken with my back still to him. “I can’t give him a mother, Lawrence, but when I believe he’s ready, I’ll answer his questions about her.” I turned back to face him, my expression as hard as the clamp around my heart. “Now move out of my way.”
“Maybe you can’t give him a mother, but you can try a little harder to find someone worth caring for again. I have a friend who works for a matchmaking—”
I groaned, running my hands through my hair. “You know me well enough to know that’s not happening!” I interrupted. “Now move, or I’ll move you myself.” I stepped into him, making it clear the conversation was over.
“You need to stop whoring around and find a good woman,” he pressed, despite my evident turmoil.
My hands ran up over my jaw and wrapped around my neck, fingers locking there so I wouldn’t hit anything else. “Give it up—I’m not interested. I take care of my son, and I take care of business. That’s all I have time for. That’s all I want.”
Lawrence said nothing. He just opened the door and moved aside, allowing me to pass. I dropped my hands and walked out.
“You’re better than all this, Logan,” he said behind me, his tone dejected. “You’re just lost right now.”
“And I don’t want to be found.”
***
I found Oliver sitting crossed-legged across from the front door, just as Lawrence had described, his little hands holding up his chin. He looked as miserable as I felt, and I was the only one to blame.
I moved toward him with light steps and lowered myself down the wall, stretching out my legs as I sat beside him. He jerked forward, startled at first, then jumped into my lap and hugged me tightly around the neck. I held him close, kissing the top of his head. My entire body relaxed. He was my home.
“Daddy!” He pulled back, smiling big, but with a hint of concern still lingering. I wanted to clear it away immediately.
“Sorry I was late. Did you have fun today?”
“Lots. Let’s go home.”
He stood up and held out his hand to help me do the same. I took it and lunged forward to my feet. “When did you get so strong?” I placed my hand over my heart, my expression one of exaggerated mock intrigue. “You nearly lifted me in the air.”
He laughed, pleased with himself.
“Me air! Me air!” Charlie called out, running toward us. He crashed into my legs and wrapped his arms around my knees. “Me air!” he demanded once more.
