Logan Kade (Fallen Crest #5.5)

He shook his head. “Nope. I’m telling you. You’re going to have deal with it.”

I smiled again, and this time it didn’t fade so quickly. The more Logan talked, the more his words and voice soothed me, helping the world go away. I scooted down to rest my head in the crook of his shoulder. I felt safe there.

“This happened a long, long time ago, and it’s not a great story. It actually pretty much sucks, but for some reason I feel compelled to tell you.” He stuck out his bottom lip. “My parents got divorced when I was still pretty young. To be honest, I don’t remember a time when they were happy. I’m sure they were once. I’m sure there are memories, but I can’t remember any.”

“This is the story?”

He patted my shoulder. “Patience, Firecracker. I’m getting to it.”

Another warm sensation flooded me. “Okay.”

“So my parents divorced, but that wasn’t the part that sucked. It was the before part, when they were still together.”

My chest tightened. “Logan,” I murmured.

He ignored me and kept going. “My mom was a closet alcoholic. I think she started drinking because of my dad’s cheating, or maybe he started cheating because of her drinking. I don’t know what came first. I’m sure Mason does, but we don’t talk about those years much. Neither of us wants to remember. It sucked. It majorly sucked. It was like living in a house where you know there’s something dead.”

He looked out over the city for a moment. “We were there. It was supposed to be our home, but it was just walls. The house was huge, so we had a lot of stuff, but it was empty. I could never shake the feeling that something was wrong. Mason loved me. I knew that. But from my dad, even my mom—I never felt anything. I know now that they do love me. They’ve showed it in different ways. Like, my mom moved back to Fallen Crest, and I lived with her for a year before graduating. If we ever need her, she’ll always fly in, no questions asked. That’s nice. And my dad, he’s been trying more lately. He’s committed to Sam’s mom, so I know he loves her, and he’s helped me a few times. He bailed me out last year so I didn’t get expelled, and he’s helping with… Well, he tries to show his love, so maybe that’ll come in a few years. I don’t know. I don’t have much hope for a real relationship with my dad, you know?”

I listened to him, and the more he said, the farther my heart sank, even though Logan sounded almost cheerful.

“I remember one time when I was little,” he added, his voice wistful. “It was Christmas Day, and this was at the end so Christmas was a joke. My mom usually passed out by the afternoon. My dad was always at the office, or with some woman. And Mason was usually pissed off. I always knew he was mad at Mom and Dad, but he was mad at what they were doing to me, too. That’s the part that always gets me: He was mad because of me. He worried about me. I might not have grown up with a happy or loving mom and dad, but I grew up with him. He loved me. He was like my mom and dad all together, and he never treated me the way a regular brother might. Some older siblings don’t want shit to do with the little brother. Mason was never like that.”

He shook his head. “In some ways, I think I had it better than him. If Mom and Dad did love each other once, he experienced that. But he lost it. I never had it. I’m only a year younger, but I guess that year makes a different. I don’t know if I’m making sense. I just—I had him to raise me, and he had no one to raise him. Mason raised himself. It’s why he hates adults so much. He’s gotten less angry since Sam came into his life. She’s helped ground him, and she loves him back. They’re good for each other like that.”

He trailed off again, lost in thought. I slid my hand into his and prompted, “You started to say something about a Christmas morning?”

“Oh, yeah.” He squeezed my hand, resting his head on top of mine. “It was weird, now that I’m thinking about it, because it wasn’t normal. I was up early. My mom was sober. Mason was sleeping in. Our dad must have been already gone. But there was this peaceful feeling in the house. It was like we got a break, just for that morning. No one was mad. No one was hurting. No one was lying. There was no anger. I mean, it came in a few hours, but not that morning. I remember going to look at the presents. I sat down in front of the tree, just looking. I thought it was so pretty. I liked looking at them because it made me feel normal—like I had a normal family, a normal holiday. I knew it wasn’t real, but I liked to escape there. My mom came into the living room with me that morning. She brought hot chocolate and cookies, and she sat down with me and looked at the tree.”