I felt him come up next to me, and I looked up just as his hand settled on top of mine. “You’re drowning the bread.”
I looked down and laughed, noticing the gobs of butter on one piece of toast. “Oh.” I began scrapping it off when he stilled my movements. He leaned his back against the counter then swung me around so that I was up against him, butter knife in one hand and my other grabbing hold of his bicep.
“You’re cute when you’re distracted. What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
He squeezed me. “Try again.”
“You’re comfortable here. The kitchen I mean.”
“Yeah, lots of practice.”
“Oh.” Huh.
“Just ask.”
I didn’t want to hurt him bringing up his childhood. He’d always been closed off about his life. Would he not want to tell me? Would he let me in?
“Eme.”
“Um, well you grew up with Raul. I just thought, that you ... I don’t know, you wouldn’t have learned to cook.”
His hands rubbed slowly up and down my arms. “I didn’t even see a kitchen there. Spent most my time training, but food was always available. I learned to cook after we escaped and came here. My mother was a ghost, barely spoke, just existed. It was like all the adrenaline and fight she had was to protect me and then to get us out; the trauma finally caught up to her, and she crashed. So, I looked after her. And I learned to cook.” Logan stopped stroking my arms, and I looked up into his eyes. “I grew up in a shit place with shittier people who had no morals or values. My mom tried to shield me from that. She fought hard against it so I wouldn’t get stained by it.
“By the time I was six I was seeing and understanding what she saw, the horror and disgust with who Raul was. She shielded that from me as best she could. I learned patience and persistence from her too, resilience that I was better than all of them. The fighting helped to release my anger at what they were doing to the women, and yes, there were children. All Raul cared about was making me the best fighter he could. So I was left untouched by most of it. But my mother ...” I rested my head on his shoulder and tightened my arms; tears streamed down my face as I listened. “My mother wasn’t so lucky. She suffered. But she also knew how to keep Raul happy, so she did what she had to do. To survive. To protect me. She gave me that will to fight for whatever I wanted. To never give up. And to protect whatever I love with everything I have.”
“Logan. I’m so sorry.”
“We got out. And I learned how to cook. I’d say that’s a damn good thing for you.”
I half-smiled into his shirt, and I could feel his chuckle rumble in his chest. “Mouse, eggs are getting cold.” He grabbed the plates, and we went to the stools and sat next to one another. “You’re dressed to ride.”
Despite knowing what I was wearing, I still looked down at myself. “Yeah. I’ll take Havoc out.”
“I want you with me today.”
“Well, ah I ...”
His fork dropped on the plate and made a loud clang. “No running.”
“I’m not.” And for the first time, I meant it.
He grabbed my chin and made me look at him. “Say it.”
“What?” I attempted to dislodge his hand, but he held tight.
“Tell me you’re not running.”
“I’m not running.”
He let me go and nodded as if satisfied with my answer. “You’re meeting my mom. Not today, but you are.”
“What?” Oh God.
“Your mom is no longer part of our lives, and I know you haven’t seen her in years. Now you’re getting my mom.”
I stiffened. “How did you know that?” But I knew the answer. Deck. It had to be Deck. In the two years Logan had been vacant from my life, Deck must have kept him informed. That’s why he checked up on me. Oh God, all this time, Logan had been watching out for me. It might explain the “buddy” thing, how close they appeared now. Deck and Logan had been talking for the last two years.
When I met his eyes, he knew I knew.
“Yeah, Eme. I kept tabs on you. Deck made certain you were good. I had to be sure you were looked after. Even if I couldn’t be with you. Even if this shit took me from you, I’d always know you were looked after. Now, go get changed. Wear jeans and a sexy white blouse. I’m taking you on my bike, we’re riding a while then we’re getting ice cream.”
It was then I let it go. All of the mistrust, the pain, the hurt. I let it all go, and I let Logan’s security wrap around my heart. He was mine, and I was his, and I wanted him to protect me. And it wasn’t because I was passive or weak or helpless. It was because he gave me everything I needed. A basic pure and raw need he fulfilled because he cared about me.
Logan must have sensed some of my epiphany, because he was there, reaching out his hand and taking me into his arms.
Logan was my avalanche.
He crashed into my life again and wiped everything bad between us away, until I was na**d with nothing except acceptance for what happened to us. It wasn’t me anymore; it was us.
We spent the day on his bike, eating ice cream, and talking, We laughed. We went to the city and saw Georgie at the coffee shop then had dinner at the Brazen Head where we first ate when we were a new couple over two years ago.
Logan even kissed me outside, up against the wall like he’d done back then. We made it back to the farm record time, though Logan took care to obey most traffic laws. He’d once told me he liked to drive fast, but when I was with him, his cargo was more precious than his pleasure. We didn’t stop to chat to Kite and Ream sitting in the kitchen; instead, Logan dragged me upstairs and we made love—hot, hard, and fast. Then I fell asleep nested within his embrace.