12. Logan

12

Logan

I curl my legs up against my body to fight off the cold that seeps through my blanket and reach out to Ash who sleeps soundly, too far away for cuddles. My head throbs in short, painful pulses and the sun that peers through the tattered blinds above my bed do nothing to help. I just want to sink back into the creek, let Crew's hands find me there in my dreams. The kiss rattles through me and I'm convinced for a split, delirious second it's why I feel so dizzy.

My phone buzzes on the table beside my head but I'm too sore to even bother with it and choose to let my eyes close over again. Falling back to sleep feels better than anything else right now but the relief is short lived when a knock from the flimsy screen door jolts me awake.

"Logan." The knocking comes again when I don't answer the door immediately.

Crew's been invading my thoughts since I left the ranch, the lingering feeling of his hands on my skin and his lips on mine make my toes curl. As I tug on a sweater I weigh the options that him at my front door is nothing more than a sick fever dream.

"Quit banging!" I swing the door open and he catches it in his hand with a dirty look on his handsome face. I blink a few times to work through the searing pain that rings in my temples from standing too fast.

"You weren't answering your phone." He looks at me for a moment longer before worry flickers across his face. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sick, what does it look like?" I sniffle and a violent shiver rolls down my spine.

"There's a first time for everything." His mouth curls at the left side and his eyes twinkle in the late morning sun in a way that makes me wanna kiss him until he begs me to stop.

"Why are you here?" I ask instead, flexing my fingers at my side to hang on to the little shred of dignity I have.

"Because you didn't show up for work." He narrows his eyes at me and, before I can say another word, the frantic pitter patter of Ash's sockless feet comes barreling down the hall toward us.

"Crew!" He screams, throwing himself in our direction.

"Hey, little man." Crew catches him before he hits the ground and hoists him up to his side. "You sick like your mama?"

"Nope," he beams at him, showing all his little teeth proudly.

"Guess we're doing your hours here today." He looks over at me with the same goofy smile that Ash is sporting.

"No." I shake my head. "Ash, why don't you go get dressed so I can talk to Mr. Cassidy."

He sets Ash down on the ground with a tiny head pat and we watch as he takes off back to my room. Crew steps up and I put my arm up to block him from entering the trailer.

"Absolutely not." I shake my head. The last thing I need is Crew Cassidy moving his extremely large, extremely attractive body around in my tiny trailer doing house work. Sick or not, that would be the death of me. "You don't have to do that."

"Court says different, criminal." He winks at me.

"Don't do that," I say, clenching my jaw to trap the butterflies that formed in my chest and throat.

"Do what?" He leans in close and the smell of spice and berries fills my nose.

"This." I wave my hand up and down in front of his face and chest.

"You're gonna have to do better than, this," he mocks me.

"Come into my house smelling as good as you do, giving me that look. "

"I smell good?" He chuckles and I wanna punch him but every muscle in my body is sore and cold.

"You smell like huckleberries," I whisper, trying to resist the urges to take what I want.

"I do?" He leans in and brushes his lips against my wrist, still propped on the door frame.

"Stop it," I say again and cross my arms just to dull the tingling feeling that forms from his touch. "I'm too sick for you today, grizzly."

"Perfect reason to let me in." He tilts his head to the side and stares at me for a moment longer. "Let me take care of you Logan. Just once."

He takes another step up and I try to breathe but I'm so congested that the inhale dies on my lips.

"Give in, Shepard." He pulls his hat off and smiles at me again.

"Fine," I say, "you're the reason we're in the mess anyways."

"Me?" He puts his hat to his chest. "How is this my fault?"

"You throwing me in that creek like the uncultured cowboy you are." I narrow my eyes at him and he doesn't back down.

"Uncultured cowboys…" he comes all the way into the trailer, ducking through the door before hovering over me, "don't know how to make pancakes." A smirk forms on his face. "Hey Ash," he calls out, not taking his eyes off me. "You want pancakes?"

"Can we have chocolate chips?" He calls out from the room.

"You bet we can." Crew steps into my space and wraps one of his large, warm hands around my head pulling me toward him as he kisses my temple. I know he feels me tense in his grasp, unsure and unaccustomed to the tenderness from another person. "Go sleep, I got him."

"I—"

"There's only one rule today," he says looking down at me when he lets me go, "no arguing."

"That's a lot to ask," I groan.

"I know, pretty girl."

I can hear Ash coming down the hallway again when Crew moves into the small kitchen. I stand there for another moment contemplating how to navigate this. There hasn't been anyone in my life who crashed in the way Crew has and he's done it in the most annoyingly graceful way. It only makes me want to punch that stupid smile he's flashing at my son off of his face.

"Can I help?" Ash asks him as Crew starts pulling things out of the tiny pantry.

"Heck yeah, you can," Crew smiles. "Your first job is to get your mama some water."

I make my way towards them as Ash carefully gets a bottle of water from the fridge and runs it over to me. Even though my body hurts I squat in front of him.

"Here you go mama." He smiles and hands it to me.

"Thanks, bug," I rasp and push back his long hair from his face. "I'm going to go lay down, so I need you to listen to whatever Mr. Cassidy asks you to do. Can you do that for me?"

Ash's brows furrow and his little hands come up to cup my cheeks. "Are you sick?" He asks, looking me over like he's inspecting me for injuries.

"Just a little." I smile at him.

He nods. "I'll listen to Mr. Cassidy."

"Good boy." I stand and he wraps his arms around me, giving me a quick hug before he runs back to Crew.

When I look up Crew is watching me and I can't help but wrap my arms around myself underneath his gaze. He's not scrutinizing me but there's a warmth in his features that makes the wall I've built around myself crumble brick by brick the longer I stand here.

"Drink that," he says softly as he takes another step towards me and nods to the bottle in my hand.

"I will," I reply, moving around him before he can wrap his arms around me again because if he did I don't think I'd make it out of this trailer alive tomorrow.

I make it to the bedroom and down half the water before curling on my side and burying myself beneath all of the blankets on my bed. My chills have subsided for now but I can still feel every ache in my bones while my body settles into the lumpy mattress. The sounds of Crew and Ash laughing as they make breakfast have me feeling like, for once, everything is going to be okay.

When I wake the sun is no longer threatening my eyes through the shades. My body still aches but the throb in my head has dulled down to the point where I don't feel like death trying to sit up.

The trailer is eerily quiet but even through my stuffy nose I can smell something delicious. Easing my way out of the bed I head out into the main part of the trailer. I glance into Ash's tiny room but it's empty so I continue through until I see the back of Crew's head resting on the couch, watching the tv with sound on low. It's not very big to begin with but, with his massive frame settled onto the sofa, it looks tiny.

"Hi," I rasp, my voice still thick with sleep.

His head tilts back to look at me and my heart almost stops. Crew smiles and it's as warm as the trailer feels right now. He's got a fire going in the old pellet stove that I never use. Mainly because I'm too scared I'll burn the trailer down.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better. Where's Ash?" I take a step towards the couch and that's when I see him. My boy is curled up in Crew's side, sound asleep.

"He fell asleep about an hour ago," he says softly, running his large hand over my son's head. "I wanted to wait until you woke up before I took him to bed."

Our eyes meet and I have to wrap my arms around myself again. "What time is it?"

"A little after nine."

"I slept all day?"

I glance around the trailer and notice that it's clean. Like, really clean. Ash's clothes are folded and stacked on the dinette table. The dishes are put away and there's a pot sitting on the stove. If I was a betting woman I'd guess that's where the insanely good smell is coming from.

"You cleaned."

"I did," he says, turning his attention back to the tv.

"Why?" I ask.

"Because you're sick." Crew glances at me like his answer is the most obvious thing in the world. He starts to shift out from underneath Ash's tiny body. As soon as he's free Crew leans down and picks Ash up. His movements are so gentle and calculated that Ash doesn't even stir. "Sit," he says nodding towards the couch.

"Crew, you don't–"

"No arguing, remember?" He smirks, walking towards me. "Your bed or his?"

"Mine," I say, reaching for Ash, but he shakes his head.

"Sit down, Logan. I got him."

I scowl at him. It does nothing to stop him from moving around me and walking down the tight hallway towards my bedroom.

"You're being bossy again," I tell him while plopping down on the couch, which now smells like him. I want to hate it, I want to hate that he spent all day taking care of my son and me but deep down, I can't. I haven't hated Crew for a while.

"You're doing a good job biting your tongue,"" Crew chuckles as he makes his way back into the living room. "Little man sleeps hard."

"Not usually." I glance up at him over the back of the couch. He leans down and presses his lips to my forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back.

"Fever's gone," he says softly, staring at me for a moment. "He doesn't usually sleep well?"

Crew turns from me, oblivious to the fact that I'm currently melting into a puddle on this dingy couch. He moves to the kitchen, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard, maneuvering around like he's lived here for years.

"Not usually. He's a karate master in his sleep but since everything happened he tends to wake up every couple of hours." I admit.

Guilt thrashes around my heart again because I know I'm part of the reason my son can't sleep through the night anymore. Tommy did his damage, but me? I took part in it too.

He sits down next to me, our thighs brushing against the other, and hands me the bowl. I look down at it, chicken noodle soup.

My brows furrow as I look up at him.

"It's soup, Shepard."

"I know what it is," I whisper, "How did you even make this?"

"Well, it's pretty simple… I chopped some vegetables, some chicken, threw it it in a pot—"

"No, how did you make this without the ingredients?" I know I had some groceries in the fridge, but I didn't have any vegetables, or chicken for that matter.

"Ash and I went to the store."

"You took Ash to the store? While I was sleeping?"

I could hear the nasty rumors now, if anyone saw Crew taking care of Tommy's kid. I push down the urge to get mad at him, he's just trying but him parading around town with Ash is only going to make my life harder.

"I did. I forgot I wasn't feeding a herd of ranch hands though so I bought too much." He glances at me. "There's plenty of extra groceries in there now."

"You can take them with you when you leave," I say, sitting back on the couch. My whole body feels tense when he shoots me a glare.

"No."

"No?" I raise a brow.

"Nope. Now eat."

I listen because right now that's easier to focus on than the fact that I can feel him all around me. In everything he's done today, the way his body feels against mine squished together on this couch. Crew Cassidy has taken over not only my thoughts but now my home. The soup tastes better than anything I could have ever made. I practically inhale it until the bowl is empty and when I glance at him he's got this grin on his face as if he's won some small victory today.

I set the bowl down on the coffee table and freeze. Grabbing the corner of the table, I give it a soft shake. The creak that's been there for years is now gone and it no longer wobbles on one corner. "Did you fix this too?"

Crew's eyes land on me and he nods.

"I don't need you to take care of me."

"I know." He nods again.

"I don't want it, Crew."

Those hazel eyes find mine. "I know ."

I don't like the feeling that's blooming in my chest. He's kicked a giant Crew-shaped hole into the bricks I've built around myself and it feels strange. The disdain I thought I had for this man who, at every turn, swoops in to save the day for me, has completely disappeared. I don't know when it happened or what changed but I can't deny the fact that Crew being around makes me feel better. Makes me feel more safe than I have…ever.

He's already turned his focus back on the tv again. I don't even know what's playing at this point because my attention is being stolen by his presence.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Are you still going to ask me if I say no?" Crew glances at me with the corner of his mouth turned upwards.

"Probably and don't lie to me again," I laugh at the frown that forms in his concern and shift on the couch so I'm facing him. I bring my knees to my chest and tuck my toes under his thigh. His eyes flick down to where my feet are before they find mine. "Did you have anything to do with Carl?"

This time I feel his body tense. Crew's jaw ticks and I can tell he's debating on telling me the truth.

"Nancy said you stopped in for lunch," I admit, watching as his face remains stoic but I can see it in his eyes.

"He put his hands on you," he finally says like it's a clear cut reason, "Your co-workers are scared of him."

"Because he's an asshole."

"Who never should have put his hands on you," Crew counters.

My mouth snaps shut as we stare at each other; a pointless stand off because I know he's right.

"You should have never done that."

"I'd do it again, Logan." He's quiet for a moment before running his hand down his face like he's tired of fighting me at every turn. "I'm finding there's not a whole lot I wouldn't do for you."

"That's what I'm afraid of." I admit, picking at the lint on my leggings and avoiding his eyes.

"Me too."

I look up at him and meet his eyes. There's a lot that's left unsaid in the look we share but at the same time an understanding passes between us. I'm not easy to deal with and yet he's still here. Still trying.

"Can I ask you something?" He says and I hear the hesitation in his voice but I nod anyway. "The bullet holes, why haven't you fixed them?"

My head falls back against the top of the couch and I close my eyes. Not because I'm ashamed of keeping them but because it's a conversation that's too close to home, literally.

"Hey." His voice is soft and I feel his fingers trace my temple before they comb through my hair. I look over at him, my head rolling to the side leaning against his touch.

"They're a reminder."

"Of what?"

"Of him," I say softly. "They're the only thing I have left of him." His brows furrow but now that I've started, I can't stop. "Of all the rumors this town has said about him, only one of them has been true. That night was the angriest I've ever seen him and it was the only time he was right to be angry." His thumb runs along my cheek bone but he doesn't say anything, he just lets me talk for once. "I keep them because every other memory I have of him is tarnished by lies. This is the one memory where I can say without a doubt that I know what happened that night and no one can take that away from me."

Tommy used to tell me to get them fixed at least once a week. He'd complain about them constantly and remind me how trashy it was to keep them. But Crew? Crew is just watching me. His hazel eyes run along my features but he doesn't tell me that I'm wrong, he doesn't offer to fix them even though he knows I'd tell him no.

"Does Ash know what they are?"

I shake my head. "No, he already has two fucked up parents," I sigh, "he doesn't need to know he had two fucked up grandparents as well."

He grips my chin with his thumb and forefinger. "You aren't fucked up, Logan."

I smile because, if there's one thing I know about Crew Cassidy, he's not a liar.

"You're being sweet."

"Was that a compliment?" He grins.

I nudge his thigh with my foot. "Don't push it Cassidy."