Page 59 of Keeping Kasey (Love and Blood #3)

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Kasey

I cling to sleep with bloody knuckles.

A persistent stinging calls me toward consciousness, but every time I wander close, excruciating pain reverberates through me and I rush back to the darkness.

I wish it would stop completely. I just want to sleep.

Mutterings and short gasps are barely registered by my brain, and that’s fine by me. I don’t try to make out the shaky, pleading words. If I do, it’ll only drag me closer to the pain I’m so desperately trying to flee.

Despite my efforts, the soft rumbling of an apology seeps through my consciousness just before a sudden burn jolts up my shoulder.

My eyes pop open, and a cry breaks past my cracked and bloody lips. Agony explodes through every inch of my body, but I still bring my hands up to protect my face as I frantically search for Rex’s mangy features.

Tears fill my eyes the second they lock on Logan’s.

“You’re okay, beautiful. Everything is okay,” he says, and steady hands coax my arms down.

He came.

My throat is bone-dry, but I force the raspy words out. “What are you doing here?”

Logan kneels beside the couch—his expression a mix of concern, fear, and affection—and I notice for the first time the absence of Leon Diaz and his men.

“I thought we deserved a weekend away,” he says with a weak smile and a gesture around the cabin. “What do you think?”

Wind howls from the violent storm outside, shaking the small house, and even without hearing what I’ve missed, our dire situation isn’t lost on me.

Still, even if only to see his smile grow, I play along.

“Wow,” I say with a shaky breath that causes a deep ache in my ribs. “You really splurged on the place.”

“Costs approximately your salary, so it’s the most expensive vacation we’ll ever take.”

“You can top it,” I assure him. “I’ve always wanted a private island.”

Logan leans in close, and I suspect the only reason he doesn’t rest his forehead on mine is because it, too, is covered in bruises.

“If you want an island, I will buy you an island.”

It’s the husky desperation in his tone that sends my heart plummeting to the pit of my stomach.

“Here,” he says, digging into his pocket and pulling out a pill bottle. He pours four into his hand and holds them out to me. “It’s not much, but it’ll help.”

He places the pills in my mouth and lifts a glass of water to my lips. I swallow the pills and chug the entire glass.

I clear my throat and ask again, “What are you doing here?”

Logan’s eyes narrow, and it takes me longer than it should to realize he’s genuinely confused by the question. “You thought I wouldn’t come?”

A thick lump clogs my throat, and my gaze drops to my abdomen.

“There is no baby,” I tell him in a broken whisper.

I can’t bring myself to look at him as the tears fill my eyes. Dealing with my own sorrow has been hard enough, but inflicting it on Logan is crueler than Rex’s beating.

A gentle finger under my chin lifts my gaze to his. My head throbs from the motion, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

“I know.”

He knows?

“I heard you on the phone,” he explains. “What I don’t understand is why Diaz thought he needed to make up a pregnancy to get me here. We’re lucky he only wanted a few traitors. I would’ve given him anything to get you back.”

My breath catches, and it takes a moment for his words to process—to really sink in.

I would’ve given him anything to get you back.

It’s every assurance I have ever needed from Logan. He didn’t come here because of Leon’s deception. He came for me .

As lovely as the realization is, it’s smothered by a dread so strong it temporarily dulls the physical pain—because I can’t keep the truth from Logan any longer.

“He didn’t make it up.”

I’m not sure if it’s the words or watching the anguish they cause me, but the light slowly drains from Logan’s eyes.

“What do you mean?” His question is quiet, like he’s afraid of the answer.

“There’s no baby,” I tell him, “but there was.”

My voice breaks on the last word, and Logan’s head drops.

I can’t see his face, but I don’t need to.

Grief emanates from him, mirroring my own, and it’s comforting in a sick, twisted way to know he feels this loss, too. That’s how it always should’ve been—a weight we carried together.

I’ve been letting it crush me for months.

When Logan lifts his head, the despair in his eyes brings tears to mine. “The ultrasound?”

“That was our baby,” I confirm.

Logan’s hand finds mine, and after a long moment, he asks, “What happened?”

Through the haze of darkness and mourning, his touch is a beacon of life—a peace that gives me the strength to relive the best and worst days of my life.

“I thought I had a stomach bug or the flu, so I went to a clinic. They ran bloodwork and… I was six weeks along,” I whisper, a faint smile touching my lips as I remember how it felt to get the results.

I was in a haze of pure joy when they offered to take me for an ultrasound to verify how far along I was.

“You need to know that I wanted our baby more than I have ever wanted anything in my life. It didn’t make any sense after everything we’d said and done, but I was so excited to tell you. Then, right as I was about to leave the clinic, I saw my motel on the news…”

“And it was up in flames,” he finishes on a ragged breath.

“I knew you’d never hurt us,” I assure him, because it’s true. “But I also knew that you would only take me back for the sake of our child, and I didn’t want a baby to be the only reason you wanted me.”

“That’s why you made the Seeker?”

I nod—a slight motion that makes my head pound. “I thought if I came to you with software capable of getting the list back, we could figure everything else out.”

My plan filled me with so much hope back then. I imagined a million different ways to tell him everything, and even decided which one I would go with.

I would’ve been waiting on the front steps of the manor when Logan got home from the base—having sent memos from “the boss” to the security detail to take the day off so we wouldn’t have an audience.

He would’ve pulled out a gun. I would’ve pulled out the external hard drive housing the Seeker.

He wouldn’t believe me at first when I told him what it was, but after leading me into his office to demonstrate, I would’ve explained everything that happened the day I left.

Then, when he knew the truth and believed that I was back to help him and his family, I would’ve shown him the ultrasound pictures.

“I spent six weeks working on the software and figuring out the best way to tell you everything… then I started bleeding.” My words get caught in a choke, and I can’t bring myself to explain more.

Not now, when the physical and emotional torment is so overwhelming.

I realize then that I never fully dealt with this loss. The Seeker was originally meant to be a tool to reconcile with Logan, but after I lost the baby, it became the only thing capable of distracting me.

“I’m so sorry,” Logan says in a strangled whisper as a tear slides down his cheek. It’s the most hurt I’ve ever seen him, and I hate it.

I want to erase my confession and give him back his peace of mind, but that isn’t an option.

We can’t get through a loss like this by avoiding it. I’ve been trying for weeks, but it’s only made things worse.

I can’t put the pieces of my life back together until I accept that they’ve broken.

“I never would’ve—I can’t believe I… Kasey, I’m so sorry. I’m so—” His words die as he drops his head into my hand. His tears wet my palm, wrenching my heart from my chest.

I lean up as far as my body will allow to get his attention. “I don’t blame you. I should’ve told you everything. I should’ve come back sooner. I should’ve reached out. I should’ve—”

Logan sits up, takes hold of my face between his gentle, warm hands, and guides me slowly back to the couch. His forehead hovers over mine, not quite touching, but close enough to share ragged breaths.

“Do you think you will ever be able to forgive me?” he asks.

“I’m not sure,” I tell him, and when his eyes close and his breath catches, I lean in. “Forgiveness seems a little too ‘functional’ for a couple that’s better broken.”

Logan lets out a shaky exhale and a shadow of a smile lifts his lips. When his eyes open, they’re softened with an understanding that runs deeper than words. My heart finds a steady rhythm as my fingers trace gentle lines over his hand.

The days of our fling seem like another lifetime entirely. Things were easy and careless. Logan and I didn’t have to be vulnerable. We didn’t have to trust. We didn’t have to put ourselves in a situation where we could be taken advantage of—so we didn’t.

But love isn’t forged in the easy and careless.

Being forced into this reality, cruel as it is, has made Logan and me the most real and honest versions of ourselves. Stripped of pride and the walls we built so high, nothing is left but us .

No power struggles. No metaphorical middle fingers. No witty retorts or final laugh.

Just two people who fell madly in love and had to learn the hard way what it means to give of yourself.

“I love you,” I murmur against his lips. “I think I loved you the second you yelled at that man at McDonald’s.”

Logan’s breathy laugh is a balm that soothes my body and soul.

“I’m not sure if love is what I felt in that moment,” he says through the chuckle, then meets my eyes with the purest sincerity. “But it didn’t take long, beautiful. Falling in love with you was the easiest thing I’ve ever done. I’m sorry that keeping you wasn’t.”

“I happen to like the chase.”

“Well, you’re giving me a lot of practice,” he says, but his smile falls away. “Damon told me why you left.”

Why I—

Isabella Romano.

The name pops into my head—accompanied by dozens of pictures of the gorgeous girl on Logan’s arm—with such clarity that I can’t believe I didn’t remember until now.

As if I needed one more reason to feel pain slicing through my core. Quite frankly, it’s getting annoying.

“The old Pac-Man program,” I tell him. “I found the deleted messages.”

Realization settles over Logan’s face. “You were never supposed to read those.”

“On the contrary, they were explicitly written to me,” I say lamely.

He shakes his head. “Maybe at first, but—I was angry. I never meant—”

“You’re going to marry her,” I say, a statement, not a question.

“The hell I will.”

“What? But Damon said just this morning you—”

“This morning, I was trying to get my siblings off my back,” he says with a shake of his head.

“I’ve been promised to Isabella for years.

My father put the timing of the proposal in my hands, and it’s a task I’ve been more than happy to neglect .

When I was just the underboss, it didn’t matter as much.

Now that I’m the boss, the expectation to have my own heirs is more pressing.

I’ve been able to use my father’s death and the search for Mason’s men to postpone it, but you left and took my only ticket out with you. ”

“The list?”

“Forget the stupid list,” he says with a soft, helpless laugh. “When you left, I lost the only woman I could ever love. Isabella was chosen for me, but you? You were made for me, Kasey. There’s nothing in this world I care about more than that.”

Tears well in my eyes, but I blink them back. There’s been enough crying today, and expressing this contentment isn’t something I’ll squander on tears.

“You’re not getting married?” I ask, desperate for him to say it out loud.

His hand gently brushes over mine, slowly caressing my ring finger.

“Not to her.”

The relief is so pure, it almost makes me forget the injuries covering most of my body.

“Kiss me,” I whisper.

Logan leans in, taking my lips in a featherlight kiss. I’m barely able to reciprocate, but that doesn’t take away from the intimacy of his lips moving against mine. His taste, his scent, his touch—everything about Logan feels like home.

I reach up, wanting as much of him as I can get, but a sharp stab in my ribs holds me down.

“Are you okay?” Logan asks, searching for the cause of my gasp.

“I was hoping you could tell me.” I look down, and from what I can tell, it doesn’t look good.

And it definitely doesn’t feel good.

“How bad is it?” I ask after a moment of his assessment.

“You’re going to be okay.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Logan swallows hard. “It’s bad, baby. Really bad.” He gestures to some bloodied rags and a bottle on the floor beside him. “Antiseptic was all I could find in this place. I tended to the few cuts and popped your shoulder back into place.”

That would explain the stinging and throbbing that woke me.

“Not as sweet as your good morning earlier today,” I note dryly.

“Sorry about that.” He leans back on his heels to look over me again.

“From what I can tell, you have a broken nose, a black eye, a lot of bruising, and I’m assuming a broken rib or two.

I haven’t looked further because I didn’t want to make it worse.

How are your legs and ankles? Do you think anything is broken? ”

I carefully flex my legs to feel for injury. My right leg is sore, and I can feel a particularly tender spot where a bruise must be. My left leg is a different story. The second I try to bend my ankle, a whimper cuts past my lips.

“Left ankle,” I grit out. “I don’t know if it’s broken, but something is wrong.”

“How did this happen? How did Leon find you?”

I tell Logan about the mystery caller, Mark showing up at the hotel, and Emilio bringing me here. He even manages to look somber when I tell him Mark lost his life on the side of the road after delivering me to Emilio.

Logan tells me everything he learned from Leon. How he manipulated so many aspects of our lives and somehow walked away unscathed—but not for long.

When Logan and I get out of this, we won’t stop until the Diaz family has crumbled to nothing.

A gust of wind rattles the bones of the cabin, and Logan pulls away to look out the window over his shoulder. I follow his gaze and can barely see the trees through the heavy snowfall.

“What are we going to do?”

When Logan looks at me, I see the concern hiding behind his smile. “If you weren’t injured, I’d have several ideas for how to stay warm.”

This time, I don’t humor him.

“Logan.” I squeeze his hand and search his gaze. “Are we going to die?”

“No,” he answers without a second of hesitation. With another quick look out the window, he drops the smile completely. “But I have no idea how we’re going to get out of this.”