Indestructible (44 page)

Not sure. Take care. I mean that. Goodbye.

No! Come back and talk to Logan. Work through things. Don’t just run!

He didn’t reply after that.

I showed Logan the texts. He read over them, scoffed, then handed the phone back and left the room. He refused to discuss Jax, and I wasn’t sure if he was angrier that he’d slept with Natasha or that he’d abandoned Oliver when he needed him most. Whatever it was, I didn’t bring it up again. Part of me wondered if Jax was bluffing about leaving—that maybe he’d pop in out of nowhere.

Although that didn’t happen, in so many ways, life was bouncing back…only this time it was so much better. I had everything I’d always wanted: love, devotion. I had it all.

About three weeks after Oliver’s birthday, Natasha seemed to have fled back to where she’d come from. However, her apartment had been left as though she planned to return aside from a few scattered drawers, or so my mother informed us. She must’ve stopped by there before skipping town, and was in a hurry—for good reason.

It was for the best, and as long as she didn’t try to pop in and out of Oliver’s life, he was better with her being gone. She was a loose cannon I’d never trust. Not to mention the sheriff had a few questions for her.

“You going to hang that phone up and come finish this game, or do you forfeit?” Logan called from the living room.

Oliver’s voice followed. “She’s taking too long. That means she quits and it’s my turn.”

My smile widened. “Hilary, I have to go. I’m in the middle of Monopoly, and if I know Logan, he’ll be helping Oliver rob the bank.”

She laughed through the line. “That’s fine, I just wanted you to know and couldn’t wait until I saw you in person. I’ll see you at school Monday. Bye!”

“Bye.” I hung up, nearly prancing back to my boys and plopping down in front of the coffee table, where the board game was sprawled.

I raised a questioning brow at Oliver. “Do I need to do a recount in here before we proceed?” I waved my hand over the bank cash.

Oliver’s face reddened, and out slipped two five-hundred-dollar bills from his sleeve. “Daddy took some too!”

I held out my hand to collect his loot, then moved it to Logan, demanding he pay up. Logan chuckled. “Just wanted to see if you were still up to snuff as the banker after that call.”

“You heard?” A wide grin spread across my lips again.

“You screamed really loud,” Oliver deadpanned.

Logan’s chuckle grew. “You really did. So I take it they found out the sex.”

My head bobbed with unrestrained giddiness. “It’s a girl!” I blurted out. “Oh my God, they’re having a little girl. Just think of all the dresses and tiny shoes. Oh, and the pink!”

“I don’t like girls,” Oliver said, waiting impatiently for me to take my turn.

Logan’s eyes lit with amusement. “Just you wait.”

I shook my head, playing my turn before Oliver’s head burst from the way he was glaring at my stationary thimble.

Hilary and Caleb returned a week after the Natasha drama ended, and had been inseparable since. Caleb even purchased a stretch of property a few acres over from Logan. They’d be breaking ground in the spring, and judging by the blueprints Caleb had been designing himself, the house could potentially beat Logan’s in size.

Hilary wasn’t an open book on what had happened with Caleb, but made no effort to hide the enormous diamond on her finger. She flashed that thing around to every pedestrian on the street. She was happy, in love, and by end of summer would be a mother.

The next morning was the perfect start to any Sunday, and one I’d never forget. Logan and I made love in his bed throughout the night until the sun rose and we crashed from exhaustion.

After we’d slept only a few short hours, Oliver flew into the room and jumped on the mattress. Scout was at his side, barking while Oliver demanded pancakes.

I sat up and tugged Oliver down for a morning hug, giggling as my hand scrubbed through his hair. He hated when I did that.

Logan was on his stomach with eyes closed, but there was no way he’d slept through all the commotion. My suspicions were confirmed when the sheet that pooled around his hips shot up and he hauled it over my head, snagging my waist and dragging me back down.

Oliver began smacking Logan’s arm, demanding he let me go, calling out to Scout that he needed help saving the princess trapped by the evil wizard.

My hand flew to my mouth, stifling my giggles as Logan pinned me under him, slowly opening his deep blue eyes.

“You better let me up. I’ve got pancakes to make the little prince,” I said, stretching my arm down and swatting Logan’s perfect ass.

His head dipped, mouth forceful against mine in a searing kiss. Then he drew back, taking the blanket with him as he sat up on his knees.

“She’s all yours,” Logan told Oliver, who was on the end of the bed, ready to attack.

“That’s no fun,” Oliver said, climbing down and frowning at the lack of a battle.

“You can help me make the pancakes,” I offered, my feet hitting the floor before Logan could snatch me back.

That was all Oliver needed to hear. He took my hand and led me from the room in pursuit of the kitchen.

After breakfast, Logan and I took showers—separately. It was the only way we ever got out before all the hot water was gone.

When I stepped out of the bathroom into Logan’s room, I found him there. His hair was damp and he was dressed in only casual jeans, staring down at the phone in his hands.

“Everything all right?” I asked, drying my hair.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice monotone as he typed something then set the phone on the dresser. “That was Julia. Said she needed me to come over…an emergency at the house…and wants Oliver to come, too. Probably a mouse, knowing her.”

Instantly worried despite his cool demeanor, I grabbed a grey T-shirt from his drawer and handed it to him.

He tugged it on and took the socks I held out next, kissing my hand in the process.

“I love having you here,” he said, sitting to put them on.

“I know.” My lips quirked as I slipped into my robe.

Logan smirked at my cockiness then stood, fully dressed. “I’ll be back soon.”

I followed him downstairs, finding Oliver reading in the living room.

“We’re going to go see Aunt Julia,” Logan told him while I collected their coats.

“I saw her yesterday,” Oliver complained, tossing the book down on the chair.

“And you’ll get to see her again today.” Logan slid on his coat and grabbed his keys, waiting for Oliver, who wasn’t moving.

“Can I stay with Cassie?” he asked.

“I don’t mind,” I told Logan. “We’ll go over to my place and make some lunch for when you get back.”

“I want to work in the attic!” Oliver flew off the couch and snatched his coat from my hands.

I laughed at his enthusiasm. Logan had hired a crew of men to turn my dank old space into a full-blown office, with a corner library and ping-pong table in the center. He made me proud when the big reveal came earlier than expected, portraying ten times what I’d pictured.

“All right, stay with Cassandra.” Logan walked over and gave his son a hug, then moved back to the door. My arms snaked around his neck, and I kissed him so deeply I knew he’d want to hurry home.

“I’ll come back and get him if Julia really needs him there. I hate to drag him out if it’s for some silly reason.”

“I doubt it’s silly if she said it was an emergency.”

His head dipped as a chuckle escaped from his mouth. He looked back up, meeting my scowl, and his thumb stroked over the crease on my forehead. “Julia doesn’t know the meaning of a true emergency. I’ll be back soon. You want me to walk you guys over to your place?”

“No, get going, we’ll be fine.” I handed him his cell phone.

He nodded, and with one more kiss was out the door.

“Go get Scout, and we’ll head over,” I told Oliver as I went back upstairs to get dressed.

With Scout in tow, Oliver raced inside my house the moment I opened the door, making a beeline straight for the back stairs Logan had installed.

It was still surreal. I had an upstairs—a gorgeous one. The furniture in the room comprised items I’d marked in the catalogs we’d looked at while decorating Julia’s home.

I was shocked Logan had even noticed. I’d marked dozens of items through the various magazines, and placed dreamy little smileys beside the ones I liked for myself. I swore sometimes he could read my mind.

Oliver grabbed a paddle and a ball, situating himself in front of the ping-pong table while I set up the board in the center that allowed him to play solo.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” I told him, climbing back downstairs.

Oliver was already too enthralled in the game to respond, which was fine with me. I headed to the kitchen, and was debating between chicken and dumplings or beef stew when I smelled something.

I whirled around from the sink, where I stood washing my hands, and froze at the smell of gasoline that seemed to be growing stronger by the second.

With deliberate, cautious steps, I ambled to the pantry, where the scent was most pungent. As I reached for the handle, I felt in my gut that something was terribly wrong.

I flung the door open, meeting a wild roar of angry flames shooting around the inside. Smoked rolled in across the ceiling, fire crawling up the walls.

Oliver!

My adrenaline kicked in at the sight, my feet carrying me so fast up the stairs I barely touched the ground. Oliver’s stricken face met mine, and I caught the way his nostrils flared.

“It smells funny,” he said, his eyes growing wide as they caught the smoke billowing up behind me. He dropped the paddle.

“We need to go.” I grabbed him in a rush, lifting him up and pressing his head against my shoulder to shield his face.

Starting back down, I pulled my shirt over my nose and mouth. Forcing myself to ignore the heat spreading around us, I took precise steps through the darkening clouds of smoke.

I’d never been more terrified in my life. Oliver gripped me more tightly, his sobs cutting through the crackle of the flames, pushing me to move faster.

Once I was out of the hall, I jerked back at the sight of the flames that devastated my grandmother’s kitchen, now beginning their destruction to the edges of the living room.

Oliver began to cough and his body rustled in my arms, driving me faster through the chaos. I was determined to get him out safely.

Time stopped with every dreaded step until my hand finally hit the door. I yanked it open and raced outside, nearly stumbling from my speed. Once across the lawn, I placed Oliver down and bent over, gripping my knees, replenishing my dry lungs with clean air. I coughed, clearing out the smoke that had managed to sneak in, and wiped the sweat from my forehead.

Oliver sank down onto the grass, staring at the house. Smoke was billowing out the side where my kitchen had been.

And that was when I saw it: a slight movement in the trees not far away, and then a flash of dark hair getting caught on a tree. I knew exactly what I was chasing when I took off, calling back to Oliver to stay there and not stopping until my body was pouncing on a wide-eyed Natasha, who reeked of gasoline and liquor.

“You bitch!” I slammed her down, my hands clutching her shoulders as I straddled her frame, pressing her deeper into the snow.

“Get off!” she screeched, throwing her arms up, ready to attack.

My adrenaline was at full throttle, which made grabbing her arms and pinning her in place easy.

“How could you do this?” I screamed back, squeezing her wrists. “You could have killed—”

“This is
your
fault!” Natasha spat, rolling wildly from side to side, trying to buck me off. “You took everything from me! Always in the way! Always so sweet! So fucking perfect!” Her laughter was bitter and cruel. “Well, look at your home sweet home now. How’s it feel to have shit
stolen
from you?”

Shaking with rage, I pushed off from her arms and leapt back to my feet, staring down at a pitiful excuse for a woman—for a mother.

She was a mess. Her clothes were dirty and disheveled and her hair knotted. Dark bags hung under her eyes. She looked like death, and it only made me pity her.