Heartbreaker (Unbreakable #1)(33)

Instead of replying, Logan leaned back and swung her legs around to the roof side of the ledge, back to safety. She stood, then walked toward me. In the dim light, I saw dried blackish tear-tracks down her face, from all the dark mascara and eyeliner she wore.

But hope shone in her eyes as she lifted her brows. “Could we go?”

I roped an arm around her neck and kissed the top of her head, grateful as hell to have her by my side, safe and sound. “Yeah, we can go.”

When I glanced toward Kiki, she stood and brushed her hands together, dusting them off.

“Thank you,” I mouthed to her.

She let out a hard breath. Then a crooked half-smile curved her lips. She mouthed back, “You’re welcome.”

“Okay, ladies. It’s cold as f*ck up here. Can we go home now?”

Logan wrapped an arm around my waist. “You’re giving me a ride home, right?”

“Damn straight, I am. With a lecture about walking this neighborhood at night.”

Or at all. But I didn’t say the last part. I got it now. Up on the roof, with Kiki to support her, Logan had shared more than she ever had with me.

And I’d thought bringing another person into the mix would be a bad thing.

Then again, Kiki wasn’t just any other person.





Kiki…

Darren and Logan didn’t live far from the apartment building we’d just come from: an eight minute truck ride. And Darren had lectured Logan about walking bad neighborhoods—at night—all the way home. Logan had answered with heavy sighs and placating Yes, D’s when he wanted her to promise not to go there alone.

I’d insisted we go to their place first–drop Logan off and get her settled before he took me home. She needed that. And curiosity had me wanting to see where they lived…where he went at night to lay his head down to sleep.

I wasn’t sure what I’d expected. But what I saw surprised me. The yard once had grass, but it had long ago died. Instead, a wasteland of dirt stretched between islands of brown matted plant-matter. Two dilapidated pots sat on the left side of each step that led to the front stoop. The cracked lower terra-cotta one had a faded garden gnome who had fallen on his back, cherub cheeks plumped into a smile. The deep blue glazed one held nothing more than dry soil. A wooden swing hung from the overhang to the right, its white paint cracking and peeling.

Logan pulled open a frayed screen door, the frame of which Darren held while she grabbed his keys from his outstretched hand. The wood door she unlocked was caked with years of dirt on its decorative trim molding. The windows were dark; cardboard secured by curling duct tape covered the bottom pane of the one behind the swing.

Once I stepped inside, my attention drifted toward the only light, where it had been left on above the stove. A white refrigerator had dozens of magnets on its side-by-side doors. A small round farmers table, with four spindled chairs tucked beneath, sat in the far corner near a large intact window.

“’Night, Kiki.” Logan’s flowery shampoo filled my next breath as she pulled me into a fierce hug, her tousled hair covering my face. “Glad I met you.”

“Me too.” I gave her a hard squeeze back.

Then she ran up a dark staircase. “’Night, D,” she called out when she reached the landing, not bothering to look back.

“G’night.” His voice was thready.

When I glanced over, he had a puzzled look on his face.

I frowned. “You okay?”

He blinked, then shook his head, his expression growing more bewildered. “Yeah.”

“Bullshit. What’s wrong?” Music suddenly blared from above, so loud it vibrated the ceiling.

“You mean, besides the fact I had to rescue her once again from a rooftop?”

“We,” I pointed out. “And your sister didn’t seem to need rescuing.”

“And yet you did. You rescued her. Me.” His eyes slowly widened as his gaze shot back up to the top of the stairs. “All this time I’d been keeping women away from here—away from her—because I thought she needed me. Thought she’d be upset or jealous of attention I paid to someone else.”

“She does need you.” I put a hand on his chest.

He tore his gaze from the staircase and stared down at me. “She needs you too.”

The solemn tone of his voice startled me. And scared me a little. I backed away, then turned to survey the rest of the room. I gave a halfhearted shrug to divert attention, lighten all the heavy. “She’s a kid. Kid’s need love. How old is she?”

“Almost sixteen.”

“She driving yet?”

“No. Hasn’t shown any interest in it. When I offered to take her to get her learner’s permit, she changed the subject.”

I walked toward the fireplace, turning on a table lamp along the way. On the mantle, tarnished silver and worn wooden frames held photos of their family. All pictured the three of them. One was taken at the park. Another had them posing next to the Hershey’s Chocolate World sign. I picked up a third that looked like it had been taken at a county fair; rides twirled in the background above their heads. Their faces? Stuck through the holes of a painted scene, attached to the caricatured bodies of farm animals—his on a big bull with a tiny head.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be that responsible yet.” I thought about how Logan had pined for family. Then I replaced the picture; I didn’t want to disturb their cherished memories more than I already had.