Indulge
Indulge
Logan’s Novella
Angela Graham
Copyright 2014, Angela Graham.
This book is intended for mature audiences only and
contains content that may be upsetting to some readers.
Reader discretion advised.
Editor—Jennifer Juneau
Cover Design—Sommer Stein @ Perfect Pear Creative Cover
Book Designer—E.E. Long, Biblio/Tech
All
Rights Reserved.
This book may not be reproduced in any
form, in whole or in part, without written permission from the author.
To my rock, Tommy
You’ll always be the man I adore, man I cherish, man I dream of at night. No
matter how quickly time passes
, jeans will always be in.
Cleanse
“
S
he’s gone.”
The words were meant for no one—they simply spilled out
as the realization sunk in. There was no hiding from the anguish crushing my
chest, but it wasn’t for me or the love I believed I held for her. No, it was
for our son, Oliver.
There, perched on the edge of the bed, was the mirrored
jewelry box that once housed the diamonds and pearls I’d showered her with. It
was open and empty. I’d known what that meant the moment I’d walked into the
room after returning home from work.
My disbelief was short-lived as I moved the box to the
side table, my muscles already sore from tension, and sat on the bed with
Oliver in my lap. He was so little—not even a year old, with only a few days
left until his birthday—and already the one other person who was supposed to
take care of him and love him as much as I did had let him down.
He squirmed in my lap, raspy bubbles on his lips as he
fought against my arms that held him close. I clung to him, not ready to let
go. The fear of losing him settled over me, deepening the wound.
She hadn’t taken him with her, but she could have.
Instead, she’d left him with the nannies I’d fought so hard not to hire. I
closed my eyes, inhaling his innocence. The thought of her leaving him alone in
the house had the nannies not been there erased the gaping hole in my heart,
replacing it with anger and rage.
“Dada!” Oliver cried out. I opened my arms reluctantly
and watched him scoot off me, crawling over to the pillows. He rested his head
there, kicking his feet above him.
I lay down beside him and wondered how I’d let things go
on for so long. If I’d allowed myself to really see, I’d have taken him and
left weeks ago. I’d foolishly held out hope that things would turn
around—convinced myself the phone calls she received late in the evening were
only from her family, like she said, and that every dinner she missed was
excusable.
My eyes closed briefly as I accepted the truth. I’d known
it was coming—known I was losing her—but there was nothing I could’ve done. I’d
given her everything I had without a single complaint.
I fell hard the moment I met her. She was beautiful,
adventurous, and everything I’d ever wanted. Steadfast in my belief she was
created to be my other half, I did everything in my power to be hers as well.
The moment she learned she was pregnant, I gave her my
full support. I dropped out of college and crawled to my unsympathetic father,
leaving my pride at the door to ask him for a job. I never regretted those
decisions.
That was less than two years ago; I was barely a man at
twenty-one. Yet I stepped up, cleared out my savings, and gave her everything
she asked for. But it wasn’t enough. The lifestyle I provided for her was
becoming harder to maintain, and I refused to work around the clock and leave
my son with strangers. The moment I told her we’d have to cut back on a few
extravagances a month ago was when I saw the first real crack I couldn’t
rationalize away.
I’d made enough money to sustain the lifestyle she
required, but still she refused to listen or cut back in any way, and tried to
persuade me to work harder—to take on risky ventures outside my father’s
business. It was becoming clear that I couldn’t keep her happy, and as much as
it hurt to admit even to myself, I knew Oliver couldn’t either.
So it was for the best that she’d left. He didn’t need
her—didn’t need to know his mother preferred shopping over bonding, and
manicures over rocking him to sleep.
I’d spare him that agony. No matter what it took, I’d
protect him.
“Mr. West, you called?”
My head fell to the side to find Gillian, the weekday
nanny, standing in the doorway. She regarded me with an unusually soft but
cautious look.
“When did she leave?” I asked, looking back at Oliver
beside me as he sat up and propped his back against my stomach.
“Around nine, sir.”
I scoffed, shaking my head. I’d left for work at eight
thirty, and there’d been no hint that it was going to be
that
day. I
closed my eyes to recall the kiss we’d shared after breakfast. It had been
passionate and overly tender; it was her goodbye kiss. I hadn’t realized the
significance in the moment. Was I really that blind?
“Huhp, huhp,” Oliver demanded, grabbing my hands so I’d
lift him in the air. I did so instantly, his giggles wild as he flew above me
in my outstretched arms.
“Is there anything else I should know?” I asked, my focus
never straying from Oliver’s grin.
“She said to tell you goodbye.”
Goodbye? That was it? “Any words for Oliver?” I asked
quickly.
There was a long pause before she answered. “No, I’m
sorry.” Her meek voice barely broke through the rumbling fury consuming me, but
still I tried to focus on my son. I needed to control my emotions, for his
sake.
“Did she spend time with him before she left?”
Another pause filled the space between us, aggravating me
further. I wanted answers—needed them. My hard scowl trained on her,
threatening.
She paused, shaking her head slowly before speaking. “No.”
I placed Oliver back down beside me and sat up, leaning back
against the headboard. My fingers raked over my scalp, locking behind my head.
I didn’t think or wonder. I just sat there, letting my emotions simmer.
When I glanced back at Oliver, his little fist was in his
mouth and he was chewing on it.
“What you got there?” I asked, carefully pulling his
drool-soaked hand free and unclenching his fingers to reveal a single pearl
earring.
Shit!
He must have found it on the bed.
“Can I have that?” I asked, taking it from him. Not only
was it a choking hazard, it was hers: Natasha’s. She must’ve been in a real
hurry.
His bottom lip shot out, his chin quivered, and I knew
what was coming. I pulled my keys from my pocket and handed them to him in
exchange. His sullen expression jumped to one of excitement immediately.
“Thank you,” I said, kissing his head before peering over
at Gillian. “I need this room cleared of her belongings tonight, then the rest
of the house tomorrow. I want everything of hers gone.”
“Yes, sir. Where would you like me to have it stored?”
My brows furrowed. “Don’t store it—just get rid of it.
Donate it or something, I don’t care. I just want it gone. And make any photos
she’s in disappear.”
I helped Oliver down from the bed and stood. “Also, after
tomorrow, I won’t be in need of your services any longer. Please let Maria know
as well. No more nannies for my son. I’ll make sure you each have excellent
references for future employers, as well as a small severance.”
Oliver waddled over to Gillian, falling down once before
quickly pulling himself back to his feet and taking her hand.
“Huhp,” he said, his head tilting back to look up at the
woman who’d been more of a mother to him than his own.
“I appreciate how much you have cared for him. He adores
you, but from now on it’s just him and me.”
Despite a solid attempt at composure, her expression
wavered. “I understand, sir. I’ll take care of everything. Thank you.”
I walked to the door and scooped Oliver into my arms,
carrying him down the hall.
“How about we paint?” I suggested, smiling at the
enthusiasm his eyes held. “And then I think we need a trip. Can you say ‘trip’?”
Oliver’s grin only brightened; he had no interest in
learning new words. It was something he and I would work on together. I didn’t
need anyone else, and neither did he.
W
ith no one to answer to, Oliver and I sneaked
away for our first father-son vacation. We escaped to the lake house I grew up
in. It was the one place I truly felt a sense of peace. We spent the days
sailing, painting, and reading while building the beginning of Oliver’s
vocabulary. There was no cell phone, no internet, and no cable—just me, my boy,
and nature.
By the time we returned home, I knew what would be
waiting. I’d been dreading it the final week we were away and the entire flight
home. There was no escaping it, but facing it less than two hours after our
return? I was impressed, but even more than that, I was annoyed. My sister was
a persistent little thing.
Oliver splashed happily in the tub; the little seat that
held him up was a godsend. He seemed oblivious to the pounding radiating from the
front door and echoing off the walls.
“Here you go.” My lip quirked up as I handed him back the
washcloth he’d splashed to the other side of the tub.
I knew turning my phone off would lead to more issues
with Julia than my business partners, but the mere sight of the phone left me
craving a drink— a hard one—and that wasn’t an option.
“I know you’re home, Logan!” Her fierce roar fell on deaf
ears, though I was fairly skeptical of her accepting that.
When the beating of her fists on the door fell in rhythm
with the buzzer, I actually cracked the smallest trace of a smile that wasn’t
directed at Oliver for the first time in weeks. Maybe longer…maybe even before Natasha
left.
I ran my wet hands through my hair, reminding myself not
to go there. The past was the past. I wasn’t interested in spending any more
time sorting out when or where things had gotten so off track. I’d put it to
rest at the lake house.
Oliver blew bubbles on the cloth as I splashed warm water
gently over his back, rinsing away the suds. My boy was handsome and smart, and
I’d be damned if I’d let him down by dwelling on my own baggage.
“You can’t avoid me forever, Logan!”
Unfortunately, I knew that was true. I stood from the
floor beside the tub and grabbed a towel from the rack.
“Open the door! I’m not leaving! You hear me?”
I entertained the thought of appeasing her for only the
briefest moment before deciding against it. She’d leave eventually if I blocked
her out. It was a school night, after all, and my mother would have the entire
city looking for her by nightfall. A fifteen-year-old girl out alone wouldn’t
sit well with anyone, including myself. But I knew Julia, and she’d never
intentionally cause our mother worry.
I leaned down over the tub, setting the towel beside me. “Sorry,
little guy, but it’s time for some food, then sleep. You ready?”
Judging from the look he was giving me, I knew he wasn’t
happy.
“No!”
I shook my head, chuckling.
What sounded like a kick to the door was followed by a
deafening wail. “Fine, looks like I’ll be here all night!” Julia continued. “Who
knows—maybe if I’m lucky, some crazed rapist will come by!”
She’d always had a flair for drama. I could only imagine
what the neighbors thought if they heard her.
It wasn’t even six, and I was already wishing I could
skip dinner and get some sleep, but Oliver needed to eat and Julia was driving
a wedge even in that plan.
“All right, up we go,” I said, lifting Oliver. He
screamed, flailing his arms and legs in protest inside the towel.
“That’s it, I’m calling the police!”
Oliver raised his cries an octave and jerked back in my
arms, desperate for a longer bath. I left the room, a single throb infiltrating
my left temple. The police? She had to be joking, but I doubted it.
“Dow’, Dada! Wata!”
I adjusted him higher on my shoulder, tightening the
towel around him. “It’s okay. Your aunt’s crazy, that’s all.” I tried to calm
his fit, but he was tuning me out—exactly as I was attempting to do to Julia.
“HI, YES, I NEED AN OFFICER SENT TO—” she yelled through
the door, and I detoured from my path to Oliver’s room straight to the foyer, ripping
the door open.
“What do you want?” I growled, watching her stand there
with her phone to her ear, eyes narrowed at me until Oliver’s shrill sob drew
her attention.
Always one to bluff, she tucked her phone in her pocket.
She stepped inside quickly despite me blocking the way, and I noticed
Katherine, my brother Lawrence’s wife, behind her. I moved to the side,
allowing her to enter with no issue, her large, protruding stomach due any day.
The last thing she needed was to be hanging around with my irrational sister.
She placed her hand on my elbow as she stepped in, offering a sympathetic
smile, her eyes soft.
I gave a subtle but appreciative nod. I liked Katherine, and
had always told my brother he was lucky to have her.
“Oh no, did I wake him up?” Julia asked.
“
Did. You. Wake. Him. Up
?” I turned my head back
to her slowly, stunned by her inability to see his wet hair and the enormous
towel covering him. Was she serious? “Does it
look
like he was sleeping?
He’s just upset his bath ended early due to a very adamant, highly infuriating
aunt of his.”
“Aw, I sowwy, did I intewwupt bath time?” she cooed, balancing
up on her toes to make eye contact with him.