23. Logan

23

Logan

I couldn't sit in that house any longer under Dot's kind stare. I felt bad excusing myself from the plate of cookies and tea she had set out but something about having a safe space to worry about Ash didn't feel right. If he was suffering, I had to as well. I wander out into the drive and the gravel stabs at the bottom of my feet. I pace back and forth, waiting for any news over the radio.

The thought of losing Ash lingers in the back of my mind. Dixon's home is far enough away that Tommy could have taken him already and skipped town. I don't know what I would do if Crew showed back up here empty-handed, without my son.

My stomach sinks because I know I would try to blame him. That ugly monster that claws at my insides would come out and berate him for not trying harder, when this isn't anyone's fault but my own.

I should have left Tommy the first time he chose the bottle over me. Over Ash. I should have taken my son and got as far away from this shithole town as I could. Started over without the rumors, without the resentment of this ranch hanging over me like a dark cloud.

Instead, I let Tommy's apologies slide.

I let Crew's hazel eyes and ability to call me on my shit keep me here.

In doing so, I dragged the only man who truly cares about me into my messy life.

No. Tommy taking Ash had nothing to do with Crew hitting him. I did this to us and Crew Cassidy is the last person on this earth who deserves to be ruined by me.

Closing my eyes I tip my chin to the sky and inhale as much air as my lungs can take before screaming as loud as I can. I need it all out, all the worry, all the pain. I need that release and when I open them back up Cam's truck is speeding up the driveway toward me.

My heartbeat picks up again as he throws the truck in park and hops out moving around to the passenger side. When Ash hits the dirt neither of us hesitate, both running as fast as we can until he's in my arms and we're both on the ground. I can't hug him tight enough as I press his head to my shoulder and tell him how much I love him over and over.

I pull back to check his face and can tell he's been crying.

"You're okay," I whisper, holding both sides of his face. "You're home now."

I look over at Cam who looks like he's going to be sick to his stomach.

"Where's Crew?" I ask, still holding on to Ash as I rise to my feet.

"He's cleaning up," Cam answers but it's clipped. "Let's get you home, you could both use the sleep." He deflects the conversation and opens the door again. "I'll explain on the way, Logan, put Ash in the car."

My heart sinks in my chest but I do as I'm told. Cam won't lie to me but honesty doesn't make taking the truth any easier. He waits for me to buckle Ash in and it's hard to let go but I give him a kiss on the forehead and close the door behind me.

"You're a good mom, Logan," he says as I climb into the passenger side.

That was one of the only things I knew for sure. I had done a lot of wrong in my life, stole, lied, cheated but never once did I ever do anything wrong by Ash. Cam pulls from the ranch and for the first couple minutes of the drive to the trailer park he's quiet but not silent. He opens his mouth a few times to talk and then looks back at Ash and closes it again.

"It's not him you're scaring," I say finally, petrified by the unknown.

"I can't tell you for sure what happened tonight, I stayed back on the road," he says, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. "There are things that Crew does that are outside of the law. "

"Things you can't be a part of."

"I can't tell you if he's okay because I don't know. Bode brought Ash to me about half an hour after they pulled up to the cabin. I heard gunshots and Ford checked in but they've been radio silent since," Cam explains. "Whatever they're doing, they don't need a sheriff."

"They need a cowboy."

Cam nods. "What's important is that your boy is home, Logan."

"That's not the only important thing anymore."

The trailer is dark when we arrive and part of me doesn't wanna be inside without him. Without Crew. Suddenly it doesn't feel like home and the anxiety digs at my insecurities with razor sharp claws.

I can feel it roll off of Cam the same way it does me. It's been a long time since he's been down here.

"You were just a kid that day too," I say quietly.

"It was my third day on the force," he says, and then laughs softly. "The button on my holster was so tight half the time I couldn't get my side arm out."

His eyes settle on the bullet holes that trace the side of the trailer and his laughter falls away. There's nothing sweet in reminiscing about what happened back then. It had been so long and I can still feel the carnage that my daddy brought down on this town fresh in my mind like it was yesterday.

"He killed my partner that day," he says finally into the silence.

"I'm sorry," I say.

"It's never been your fault, Logan, you got nothing to apologize for," he sighs. "That day rewired who I was as a kid and as a cop. I mocked Crew the day he ran off to the military, thinking he was stupid for wanting to put himself into danger like that. Thinking I wouldn't see a dead body for at least a year after being on the force even as the blood seeped into the grass around my feet."

I stay quiet as he talks.

"Everyone lost something that day, but you lost everything ."

"I still have you," I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm proud of you," Cam says, looking away from the trailer. "After everything that happened, after what this town did to you. The rumors, the name calling. You survived."

"Barely." I shake my head.

"Logan, there are a handful of people who know what happened that day. What your Dad did, and said. You were fifteen and he took that from you. You're just as much a victim as the rest of us."

He stops and turns to look at me.

"But the town is full of hate," he says, "and hate gets us nowhere. You survived despite the town coming down on you with fifteen years of hatred. You almost died that night too, and they seemed to forget you were pulled from the trailer."

"I was fine in the closet, there wasn't a scratch on me." I smile but it doesn't reach my eyes.

"Have you ever been back in there?" He asks, confusion painted on his features as his brows knit together.

"In the closet?" I try not to laugh at his weird question, "Cam my clothes are in there, of course I have."

"No really been in there," he says. "I don't think you understand how close you were to dying that day, Logan. Someone upstairs wanted you to survive."

"Thank you," I say, looking back at Ash sleeping in the backseat. Slightly confused but grateful for our friendship. "For breaking the law for me, for bringing him home."

"I was just doing speed radar on the east highway, don't know what you're talking about." He smiles that bright Cassidy smile at me and my chest unknots a little from the warmth it causes. "Do you need me to carry him inside?" He asks.

"No, I think I got it," I say. "Thank you for the ride. Call me if you hear anything from Crew?"

"I have a feeling I won't be his first stop, Logan."

"We'll see. He might be changing his mind right now. Ford was right. I'm nothing but trouble," I say, sliding Ash from the truck.

"Ford seems to forget he was trouble long before you rolled up to Whiskey River," Cam laughs as I shut the door.

I get inside the trailer and take a second to breathe before laying Ash in my bed and pulling his shoes off. I tuck him in and turn to my closet, staring at it for a long moment before opening it and dropping to my knees inside facing the wall just as I had done that day when the screaming started. Running my hands along the wood paneling to find my space. The pads of my fingers brush over a hole just above my shoulder and then another just shy of where my head would have been.

Digging out my cellphone I pop on the flash illuminating the closet to find at least twelve more bullet holes all dug into the paneling; inches from where I had huddled. It never crossed my mind to push aside the hangers of clothes. I barely actually looked at what I was grabbing most mornings. The closet itself had become a sore spot in my memory. I hated to spend too much time in there. To know these had been here my entire life. My breath caught in my throat as I realized I had almost met the same fate as my daddy that night.

All these years determined to prove the rumors true, that I'm just as bad as him. Angry with the town and lashing out at every opportunity.

All these years in denial that I was just a victim to his anger.