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CHAPTER 36

SLOANE

W e were sitting on the couch the next night, the TV playing in the background, but his attention was entirely on me.

Like usual.

Logan’s hand brushed against mine, his thumb tracing circles on my skin.

“Have you ever thought about having kids?” His voice was casual, like it didn’t matter to him either way, but the question felt like a dagger to my heart.

I blinked, trying to find the right words for how I felt about this particular subject. This wasn’t something I wanted to talk about. Ever.

“No,” I said quickly, the words bursting out of me. I stared at the TV as if the rerun of The Office was the most enthralling thing I’d ever seen. But I could still feel his gaze, burning against my skin.

“After what I experienced with my mother,” I softly added, “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just let the words hang in the air between us.

“You’ve mentioned a few things about your mom…but can you tell me more?” he finally pressed, and I sighed as he scooped me into his lap.

I frowned at him, and he huffed and pressed a soft kiss on the tip of my nose that for some reason had me feeling a lot better than I had before. An image of my mom’s face right before she died popped into my brain, though, skeletal and almost gray-looking—and the good feelings went away.

“She was addicted to prescription painkillers for most of my life,” I began softly, a myriad of memories filling my head. “And then when she finally got sober, and was acting like a mom for the first time in my life, she got sick—and got addicted again.” I bit down on my lip, wishing there was a way to reach into your brain and pull out all the memories you didn’t want.

Of course with my life experience, there wouldn’t be much of my brain left.

I laid my head on his shoulder, allowing myself to soak up the good feelings I only seemed to get around him and his friends. “What was your mom like?” I hesitantly asked. I usually had a don’t ask personal questions rule, but evidently I was blowing that off today.

“She died too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, feeling callous that I’d been over here sulking and feeling sorry for myself, and he’d had loss too. “I know it was you and your dad growing up…but I’d thought she’d left—not that it’s any different!”

Logan was the one staring at the screen now, his fingers absentmindedly stroking across my skin. “She was beautiful and sad. I think my dad first brought another woman home when I was like three?”

“He brought her to your house?” I asked, my mouth falling open in shock.

He laughed, the sound harsh and disgusted and…wrong.

“Grant York doesn’t care about a thing like decency or having respect for the mother of his child. Why should he? He’s a football star. Everyone loves him,” he said mockingly.

He shook his head. “I don’t know if she ever loved him…but she did love his money. So she stayed for a while. She stayed when he fucked her sister in the closet while she was taking a nap in the same room. She stayed when he brought one of his mistresses to a Super Bowl party she was also at. She stayed…until I was six, and I’d started all-day school. And I guess that was what finally drove her to leave—all that alone time.”

“She left without you?” I asked carefully.

“Who knows if she did it willingly or if he paid her off? Either way, she left. She died a few years ago in a car accident. My dad didn’t even tell me until after the funeral.”

I bit down on my lip, my heart aching for him. I wasn’t sure what to say. I’d never been good at this sort of thing—being real with someone.

“So, what makes you believe that just because your mom sucked, you would suck too?” he finally asked calmly.

My mouth opened and closed.

“You’re not scared that maybe you would end up like your dad?” I asked hesitantly.

He huffed and raised an eyebrow. “First of all, I could be blacked out, and my dick would still know the only thing it wanted was you.”

I snorted, a rush of warmth floating through me…because I kind of believed him.

“But also, having a father like that—it makes you want to be the exact opposite. It makes you want to be better.” He shook his head. “I’m not worried in the least bit,” he said confidently. “And you shouldn’t be either…”

I bit down on my lip at that comment, wishing we could have just stopped there. The silence stretched on, though, and something inside me finally snapped.

“It doesn’t matter either way,” I murmured, swallowing hard, a familiar lump forming in my throat. “I can’t have them.”

Logan's hands slid soothingly up my sides, like the news wasn’t shocking at all…like it didn’t make a difference to him either way. “What do you mean?” he asked gently, his voice soft, careful.

I took a deep breath, my chest tightening as the memories I tried to bury resurfaced. “There was a…surgery,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “It didn’t go well. Too much scar tissue. I can’t…I can’t have kids.”

There was a long pause, the weight of my words sinking in. I still couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I didn’t want to see the pity or the disappointment or whatever else he might be feeling. I didn’t want to face it.

“It’s fine,” I added quickly, forcing a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “I’ve made peace with it.”

Logan didn’t say anything. Not at first.

Instead, he shifted closer, pulling me into his chest. His embrace was warm, solid, comforting…safe.

He finally grabbed my chin, tilting it up so I was forced to look into his soft, green gaze. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Red,” he said, his thumb stroking my cheek.

I leaned into his palm, my lip quivering as he continued to hold my eyes.

He leaned forward and brushed a heartbreakingly sweet kiss across my lips.

“Doesn’t make a difference to me,” he told me. The fierceness and sincerity in his voice caught me off guard.

I studied him, trying to find the lie.

But it didn’t seem to exist.

“You actually mean that,” I whispered, my voice and my chest and my soul full of wonder.

“I don’t need kids to have a life with you, Sloane. I just need you .”

He pressed another soft kiss on my face, this time on my forehead, and then let me bury my head once again on his chest.

“I love you.”

The words burst out of me, soft and shaky.

But it wasn’t those words that had me terrified. It was that I realized then I was finally ready…to tell Everett I was done.

Somehow, Logan had gotten what he was after.

My heart.

Logan stiffened slightly, and then his arms tightened around me like a vise, pulling me closer, like he never wanted to let me go. I could feel his heartbeat against my cheek, steady and strong, a contrast to the wild rhythm of my own pulse.

“Sloane, I love you so much,” he said roughly, his body shaking as he held me. “You’re everything to me, baby.”

We stayed there in the quiet.

And unlike in the past when I would normally be thinking of the million reasons why I shouldn’t be with him, for the first time…I couldn’t think of any.