26. Logan

26

Logan

I scribble the words down on the note and set it on the nightstand beside Crew's head. He looks so peaceful, curled up on his side with his arm beneath the pillow and strands of short blonde hair sticking in every direction. I sneak from the room, body sore and mind lingering on the events of that night but the world is a little easier to carry this morning.

The crushing weight of worry has been lifted.

We've spent the last few days hunkered in this trailer. Crew teaching Ash how to make his famous pancakes and me figuring out how to tell him his father is gone. How I'm going to explain to him that he doesn't have to be scared anymore. It should be easier than it feels. On one hand, I have my son. He's safe and it's because of the man who hasn't left my side and the men who run Whiskey River.

On the other hand, it's not lost on me that Ash has had to go through a standoff of his own. Mine haunts me in the form of bullet holes. I just pray his haunts him in the form of Crew. His protector, his safe haven when I can't be.

I find Ash sitting on the carpet struggling to tie his shoes but trying nonetheless to figure it out. The urge to help is there but I give him a moment to do it on his own. We have the time now. There is nothing chasing us in the dark.

It's just us.

And him.

"Here, baby," I say, snapping from my thoughts and sinking to my knees on the carpet in front of him. I show him a few times the motions of tying his shoes and after about twenty minutes of frustrated fidgeting he manages to get one done up.

Once he's finished I help him into his jacket and we get out the door.

"Where are we going?" He asks as I buckle him into his seat.

"We're just going," I say with a smile. Nowhere special, nowhere fast. I just want to spend some time with him today that isn't rushed or filled with me looking over my shoulder.

Town isn't too busy, everyone important is preparing for the festival up at the ranch.

A festival I was never allowed to attend.

Or maybe I was and I just never had the courage to go.

But the silly thought of dancing with Crew under the flickering bulbs of the big tent spread a comforting warmth over me and I knew that I absolutely wanted to go. But we all needed something to wear.

The fancy clothing shop in town is daunting but with some newly found bravery and Ash's hand tucked into mine I pull open the door and lead us inside. The girl at the counter looks barely eighteen but she greets us with a bright smile and a good morning.

For a moment I hold my breath, waiting for her to realize who I am or to turn my back and for her to start gossiping, but she closes her book and rounds the corner.

"Is there anything I can help with?" She asks and scrunches her nose up at Ash.

"No," I say with a clipped tone, not realizing it's a hostile programmed response but I didn't feel angry, or threatened. I just felt out of place. "Actually, I'm sorry," I say and smile at her. "I'm a little overwhelmed," I say instead. "We're looking for outfits for the festival."

She sighs lightly with a smile on her face, "the Whiskey River Ranch festival?"

I nod.

"They have the best caramel apples." she winks at Ash, "I have the perfect thing for you. "

She wiggles her fingers to Ash and leads him back through the shop toward the kids section and pulls down a navy blue riding shirt that has silver stitching and pretty silver star buttons. She holds it up to Ash's chest and nods in approval. "That's the one," she says, "look," she points him toward the mirror, "it matches your eyes!"

Ash beams proudly and his shoulders square out as his confidence blossoms. The young woman is right, it does match his eyes. He looks over his shoulder at me with the biggest smile and for the first time in forever, I'm not sad. A lightness filled my chest like someone had turned on the sun, it crept into all the darkest corners of my body illuminating all those tiny parts of me that Tommy had the audacity to dampen with his shadows.

"Why don't you go try this on?" She says to him, helping him from his sweater.

"Ash don't run in the store!" I call out to him as he takes off toward the changing rooms.

"There's a rack," she pauses and turns, slowly walking backward to follow where Ash had run with a massive smile on her face. "To your left. You'll find something you like there."

"Thank you," I say as she points.

The rack is full of delicate chiffon maxi dresses in all different flowery patterns. Fluffy sleeves and scoop neck collars. They're things I would never wear even if I had the money to spend on them. I rub the fabric between my fingertips and try to imagine spinning in circles under the tent with Crew holding my hand.

"How do I look Mom?" Ash stands a little straighter when he slides to a stop and the cashier comes up behind him with a satisfied nod.

"Handsome as ever." I brush a hand over his cheek.

"That one," she says pointing to the one I'm holding.

I look back at the soft crème fabric, patterned with delicate lavender flowers and pale green leaves. It's beautiful but I shake my head.

"Try it on!" Ash yells and the cashier nods in agreement.

"It can't hurt," she smiles at me. "What's the worst that can happen? You don't like it and we find something else."

A dress not being the perfect fit seems so trivial on the grand scale of what has happened as of late but she's right. It can't hurt and the little girl that has been hidden for so long is begging to feel pretty.

I slip into the changing room and pull the dress over my hips and chest. The straps fit like they are made for me, resting gently against my shoulders. They scoop down into a rounded collar that shows the perfect amount of cleavage and the fabric feels so soft against my skin.

The purple flowers cascade down over the dress in random swirls of color against the flowy fabric and it makes me feel prettier than I have ever before.

"So?" I heard them call from behind the curtain, "Show us!"

Ash and the young lady stand waiting for me on the other side and start clapping when they see me. I give them a twirl and pat my hands down over the fabric. "It's perfect."

"And!" She turns and pulls a hanger from the rack, "we found this."

"Oh, that's perfect," I say with excitement in my voice.

I pay for the things we bought, grab lunch and pack Ash away in the car before driving up the hill to Whiskey River. It's nearly three in the afternoon and the sun is beating down, hotter than it should be near the tail end of fall. As expected I find Huckleberry exactly where he belongs.

Crew is drenched in sweat. It drips down between his shoulder blades and soaks the hair at the base of his neck. They're working hard to set up all the bales and carts for the festival. He's clearly sore and exhausted but a smile still forms on that handsome face as we climb from the car.

"Hey, pretty girl." The sound is delicate and makes my toes tingle as I walk toward him. "Ash!" he calls him over, "go feed those ducks before Ford feeds them to Bandit."

Ash yips and goes running into the barn.

"You kept those ducks?" I shake my head.

"You mean Peter Parker and his best friend Bruce Banner?" He says it like I have a clue what's going on. "Yeah we kept them," Crew laughs, "I wasn't going to leave the boys' ducks down by the creek to die without a Mama. And they follow Ford around like he's their daddy, it's endless entertainment watching him grumble about them."

"You're too good to us," I whisper and hook my fingers into the pocket of his jeans.

"I'll be the judge of that." He nudges my chin with his dirty gloved knuckle and winks at me. "Where did you two run off to this morning? I wasn't a fan of waking up to a cold bed."

"I left a note." I shake my head and look up at him, squinting in the sun.

He cups his hand and places it to my forehead to block the sun in my eyes before he kisses me carefully, taking his time and lingering against my bottom lip before pulling away.

"You mean that scribbled garbage?" He laughs. "I thought it was a ransom note from Ash."

"It wasn't that bad." I roll my eyes at him.

"It was written in crayon, Shepard."

"We went into town," I say, nudging him. "I just…" I inhale, "needed a morning with Ash to reset everything."

"Did it work?" Crew asks.

"Yeah, everything feels different. The dark clouds are gone." I smile and he does too, lopsided and perfect.

God, I love him , more than I ever had another person in my entire life next to Ash. I love the freckles across his exposed tanned chest, the glimmer in his bright hazel eyes, the way his scruffy face tickles the inside of my neck when he kisses my shoulder. I especially love when he looks at me like the world suddenly stopped spinning and there is no one else around but us.

If there was a way to bottle the feeling that look gives me. I'd be rich.

"I can't ever repay you for all of the good things you've done for us, Crew."

"Lucky for you this isn't a business transaction," he teases and the corners of his mouth curl up before he steals another kiss.

"I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for it." I nod and he opens his mouth to argue. "Will you take us to the festival tonight?"

"You wanna go to the Whiskey River Ranch Festival? You know that means you have to come here and pretend you actually like this place?" He jokes, squeezing my chin between two fingers and kisses me like he just can't get enough.

"This place isn't so bad." I look around and find Ford, of all people, squatting down in the gravel pointing out all the important markings to Ash with a stern look on his face proving my point loud and clear.

"I'll take that as a win, Logan Shepard." Crew tangles the hand that was blocking the sun into my hair and pulls me closer to him.

"So, the festival?" I ask and bury my face into his sweaty gray shirt.

"I'll pick you up at 7, and no use in you hovering around here watching us set up." He lets me go and places a kiss on the top of my head.

He laughs when he sees I'm pouting.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just like watching you throw hay bales around. That's all," I push onto my toes and kiss his jaw before twirling out of his grasp.

"Get out of here, and take that mischievous smile with you before I put the hayloft to use," he warns and heat tickles my stomach.

"You keep threatening me with things I want, Crew Cassidy," I laugh, "only makes me wanna cause trouble."

"That's my girl." He tips his ugly baseball cap at me. "Leave Ash with me," he says when I go to call for him.

"What am I supposed to do all day then?" I lean against my car.

"I don't know, do stuff you don't get to do."

"What I want to do—" I look the massive cowboy over. His tight jeans sticking to his strong thighs, and hardened chest exposed through the three undone buttons on his Henley. "—is sending me away for the day."

There's a flicker of feral mischievousness in his eyes as he considers finding a quiet spot to make good on all his threats but Ash hollers for him and it's gone.

"Just go, Logan. We'll pick you up at 7."

Ash waves goodbye and I fish the boutique bag out from the back seat. Crew wanders over to where he sits with Ford and rubs a dirty hand through his shaggy blonde hair. It had been less than twenty four hours since Ash came home but I had never felt so sure about leaving him as I did at that moment. Safer here on this damned ranch then anywhere else in the world.

"For you," I say, setting it on the hood of his truck before climbing into the front seat of the car and leaving before he can argue with me.