Indulge (5 page)

With my release came a heavy breath of air forced from my
lungs. The redhead turned to face me, mouth agape, ivory skin flushed.

“That was…” she panted, blinking wildly, “…hot.”

My lip curled up. I wasn’t sure I’d call it hot as much
as convenient—exactly how I preferred sex.

I removed the condom and tossed it in the trash can
beside us. I tucked myself back in, buttoning my pants as she squirmed around,
trying to situate her dress. One glance at my watch confirmed I was still on
track with time.

“Take care, beautiful,” I said, ending our short
acquaintance on friendly terms.

I crossed the room and unlocked the door, but she hurried
to me, her eyes asking one last thing that I grudgingly obliged. My hands held
her shoulders a few inches from me and I leaned forward, pressing one short,
dry kiss to her moist lips. When I released her, I offered a kind but
restrained smile, then opened the door. I headed down the hall toward the back
parking lot as I buckled my belt.

“Kali? What the fuck?” The massive roar of a furious
voice stopped me the moment my hand gripped the back doorknob.

“Go away, Marcus!” I heard the redhead plead.

I should’ve kept walking out the door, as I wasn’t one
for unnecessary drama, but the hand that slapped down over my shoulder made it
clear I wasn’t leaving yet.

I turned back, seeing two men standing there.

“Is there a problem?” I asked coolly, pushing his hand
off.

“Yeah.” The veins in his neck bulged as much as his eyes
widened. “Yeah, there’s a problem, all right. What the hell were you doing in
there with my sister?”

His sister? Shit. I scrubbed my hand over my jaw and
looked past him to the other guy, barely a man, his pants hanging to his knees.
It was clear he was itching for a fight.

“Marcus, stop. Leave him alone. It’s none of your
business what I do!” the redhead protested from behind him, but my focus shifted
back to the flared nostrils a foot from my face.

I didn’t blame him, really. If that was his sister, he
had a right to be pissed. But since Caleb had served her, I knew she was of
age. He was a stickler for checking IDs, his job or not.

“Answer me, you son of a bitch,” he growled. “What were
you doing with her?”

Caleb strolled down the hall. He appeared unaffected by
the scene, but I knew better. “Hey, everything all right back here?”

Marcus held onto his angry sneer while his young friend turned
around, blocking Caleb from intervening.

“No, no problem at all.” I held up my hands in simple defeat.
“I apologize if I offended your sister in any way.”

“You didn’t!” she called back.

I shot her a sidelong glance. She was all smiles again.

“There, you heard her. So if you’ll excuse me, I have
somewhere to be,” I said with a smirk, rattling his cage as I turned my back. I
knew his type: He wasn’t leaving without a fight, and I wasn’t one to scare
easily.

“You got a sister?”

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, fully aware of what
he was getting at. There was only one way I was leaving the bar and it wouldn’t
be quietly, so I played it up.

“I do, actually,” I said, twisting back halfway. “She’s a
real pain in the ass.”

“Bring her by. Let me fuck her in this shithole bar, and
then we’ll be even. Fair enough?”

It made sense in theory. “Unfortunately, I’ll need to
decline that well-thought-out offer.” Taking the upper hand, I whipped around
fully, my fist connecting with the side of his face. “Doesn’t work for me,” I
growled.

He stumbled back, blood gushing from the point of impact.
“You’re dead!”

He reared up and came at me. Adrenaline coursed through
my veins, readying my system. I simply waited, watching the scene play out in
slow motion. His sister bounced around in the background, her screams incoherently
hysterical. Caleb was in front of her now, holding the other guy back, his arms
locked around the guy’s neck and under his arm.

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

“
O
h 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.

Laughing, I swooped him up above me and swayed him from side
to side, aware of Lawrence’s uneasy presence when he entered the room a moment
later.

“All right, Charlie, say goodbye,” Lawrence told him. “It’s
about time for dinner.”

I squatted down to set him back on the ground. “We’ll see
you Monday morning, buddy.” He gave me a big hug, choking my neck, which only
made me grin wider.

Oliver was already yelling out a quick goodbye to Charlie
and attempting to open the heavy front door, which he couldn’t budge.

I pretend to unlock the door. “Try again. It was locked.”

He pulled the handle, squeezing his eyes shut tight,
using all his strength. I wrapped my finger near the top of the long ornate
handle above his hand and pulled the door open.

“I did it!” he boasted, twisting back to make sure
everyone saw. Katherine clapped, building Oliver’s confidence. “It was easy.”

I chuckled. “Told you you were strong.”

Before we stepped outside, I zipped his coat and placed
his hat over his ears. Impatient as ever, the second I moved back, he ran right
for my car.

“See you Monday morning,” Katherine said softly.

“Thanks for everything,” I replied, glancing from her to
Lawrence, who was now holding Charlie in his arms. His expression was
thoughtful but pleasant. It told me we were good—that there were no issues
standing between us. That was the thing with my family: As quickly as an
argument arose, it was put to rest.

I walked out, and Katherine closed the door behind me.

“How about we go home, make some pasta, then hang out in
the studio tonight?” I suggested, buckling him into his booster seat.

“I want ham.”

Smiling, I agreed. My boy was like me: He knew what he
wanted, and wasn’t afraid of making it clear.

“You got it.”

I stood upright and shut his door. When I climbed in the
front seat, I glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror. “I think we
have some cupcakes left for dessert.”

“Choc’lat!?” he squealed, eyes bright.

“I believe so.”

“Hurry!”

I laughed, relieved the day was ending the way it was
supposed to: with a smile on my son’s face.

W
e spent Saturday at the local children’s museum,
Oliver enthralled with all things dinosaur. His visit to the gift shop had us
up late, transforming his bedroom floor into a rough terrain of voracious
carnivores and friendly herbivores that Oliver tried to convince me could talk
in voices that sounded a lot like dancing chipmunks. We played until he could
hardly keep his eyes open, and he dozed off soon after I’d read the first page
of his new book on fossils.

When Sunday morning rolled around, I woke early to make
breakfast only to find Oliver’s bed empty when I went to his room.

First came the tug of panic, then the racing down the
hall only to be stopped abruptly by his giggles echoing from the kitchen. They
were soon followed by the familiar hum of my sister. My rush of adrenaline
disappeared.

“See, and this is where Grandma and Grandpa used to live,”
she told him.

I stood in the doorway, watching her cook at the stove
while Oliver sat on the countertop a few feet over, looking through a small
stack of photos.

“Oh, and Grandma said this is where she used to work when
she was in high school like me.”

“And where would that be?” I asked, strolling in and plucking
Oliver from the counter before he fell.

“Hi, Daddy.” He pressed a picture to my face. “See
Gramma?”

“Hi,” I pulled my head back to focus on the photo of my mother
when she was still young, standing outside a large building with
The Harmony
Tribune
carved over the entrance. “Very nice.”

He handed the rest to me and I closed my eyes for a brief
moment. If Julia was planning a presentation about me, it was too early.

“Did Aunt Julia wake you up early?”

He shook his head, smiling. “We making toast for you.”

“French toast,” she clarified for him.

“French toast,” he mimicked.

I sat him on a dining-room chair. “I can’t wait to try it.”

I gave an easy smile despite my less-than-truthful
admission. My sister was far from even a basic cook; I always had trouble
swallowing whatever she served.

“It’s early,” I said, directing my comment at Julia as I
sat beside Oliver, waiting.

She didn’t say a word as she brought over a pitcher of
juice and three glasses.

I turned my attention to Oliver, asking how he’d slept.
He quickly explained how the penguins that play under his bed at night were up
late playing with his new dinosaurs, keeping him awake.

“Next time, just tell them to go to sleep,” Julia
advised, giggling.

“I do. They neva listen,” he pouted. I messed his hair,
chuckling.

“Here you go. Enjoy.” She marveled with pride as she set
our plates in front of us. She grabbed a knife and fork and began cutting up
Oliver’s toast before I had the chance.