Chapter 18

18

O ne night, halfway through the summer, Franzi's favorite word suddenly became no.

It was as if a switch had been flipped.

She went from a quiet, docile little thing with occasional streaks of stubbornness straight to an object of intense resistance.

The fried rice that she'd liked so much the night before was icky . She wouldn't eat it, or anything else except for the plain noodles that Logan finally broke down and made for her. The nightgown was itchy . Her stuffies were stupid . She wasn't going to go to bed and Uncle Logan couldn't make her.

Logan had run a lot of cons in his life, and he considered himself plenty good at getting people to do things for him. He had a cute-but-clueless act that could charm cash out of housewives at any grocery store or gas station. He'd talked his way out of more speeding tickets than he had any right to, and he could knock down a fight in a bar or start one with just a few well-chosen words, depending on how much chaos he felt like causing.

Even Clancy had been impressed by his wounded bird performance as a horse. (They'd pulled more than one hit-and-run set up.)

And Franzi completely flummoxed him.

She wouldn't accept logic. She wouldn't succumb to charm. She had no interest in his bribery.

She was simply not going to bed and when Logan tried to take her by the hand and forcibly put her there, she dropped like a stone to the floor and began screaming her head off.

Logan had no idea what to do.

"Franzi, honey, we have to go to bed. It's time for sleeping."

"NO! I WON'T GO! YOU'RE MEAN! I'M NOT SWEEPY!"

She even nailed him with the dreaded, "YOU'RE NOT MY DADDY!" and cried piteously and then screamed and kicked when Logan tried to pick her up and give her a hug.

"I know you're having big feelings," Logan said desperately, trying to dredge up anything helpful from the hundreds of contradictory webpages he'd been reading. His brain felt broken. The pitch of her voice was like mental razor wire.

"NO! YOU'RE A MEANIE! I HATE YOU!"

Every word was like a dagger to his chest and Logan tried to sort out how words with no more than two syllables apiece could have that many barbs.

"Franzi, honey…"

"NO! DON'T TOUCH ME!"

Logan tried singing the lullaby that had worked with her the first time and she screamed so loud he couldn't hear his own words.

He shouted at her, "YOU HAVE TO GO TO BED!" and she only shouted back louder, "NO! I WON'T GO TO BED!"

He couldn't just force her to do it, and every time that Logan had a glimpse of the frustration behind her fit, she would double down on her fury. "YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT ME!" Sometimes it fell away into nonsense words. "BLUE DOER ABLE MONEY!"

It went on until her voice was hoarse and Logan felt half-deaf.

Finally, desperate for a break, he went into his own room and sat down on his bed to stare sightlessly at the floor. Was this what being a parent was like? How did anyone do it?

Her shrieking stopped and Logan went out to find her fast asleep in the middle of the floor, boneless like a doll with her hands still in angry fists.

Logan left her there, tiptoeing carefully around to the little kitchen to take the whiskey out of the tall cabinet over the fridge.

He put it back without drinking any. He couldn't risk losing what was left of his shattered senses. If he had to drive her to a doctor…Logan suddenly wondered if he could even take her to a doctor if she got hurt. He didn't know anything about shifter kids. He didn't know anything about kids. Every time child services called to check in, he felt a stab of panic and unworthiness.

As much as he dreaded waking her, Logan couldn't leave her to sleep on the floor, so he gathered her up into his arms and took her to her bed. He tucked her in wearing all her clothes and unclenched her little fingers one at a time. She barely stirred as he pulled the covers up to her chin, only scrunched her eyes shut tighter and murmured a little as she snuggled down.

Logan turned on her nightlight and shut the door, then went to his room to spend a long, sleepless night wondering if he'd done anything in his life right.

He must have finally fallen asleep, because he woke when Franzi crept into his bed with a giggle. "I swept in my clothes!" she exclaimed, with no hint of her previous night's anger or upset.

Logan wrapped an arm around her and kissed her curly head, but she had no interest in snuggling and quickly squirmed out of his embrace. "I'm hungry," she said sweetly.

"Do you want fried rice?" Logan asked trepidatiously. He was out of noodles and waffles.

"I love fried rice!" Franzi said happily, and she turned to skip out of the room.

Four year olds were insane.

That's all there was to it.

She ate twice as much as she usually did and Logan wondered if this was what was hailed on the internet as a growth spurt. She didn't look any taller. Logan drank an entire pot of coffee and packed her bag for Tiny Paws.

He knew it was too good to be true when he told her to put on her shoes and she looked him in the eyes and said, "NO. I DON'T LIKE SHOES."

Logan wasn't about to argue his way through another fit and be late to work, so he just stuffed her shoes in her bag. Then he stooped and picked her up to football-carry her down the stairs and out to the truck. She giggled the whole way and let him buckle her into the car seat.

Other than her shoe-less feet, it was a normal drive to day care, and Logan simply carried her into Tiny Paws and set her down inside to scamper along the narrow entryway. "Is Tara here?" she called, clambering up over the baby gate .

Logan signed her in with Addison and then sank down to the miniature-scale bench to bury his head in his hands.

"You must be Franzi's dad."

There was a woman wearing a nurse's smock sitting on the far side of the door nursing a baby. Logan hadn't noticed them on his way in; she wasn't a shifter. Her dark-haired baby was sucking eagerly at one bare breast and Logan decided that if she wasn't embarrassed about it, he wouldn't be either.

"Uncle," he said hoarsely. "Guardian." Was it all settled? Logan was still expecting child services to swoop in and declare him unfit at any moment. Mrs. Gravis had visited Tabby's ranch a few times and seemed satisfied with his efforts, but after last night, he certainly felt unfit. "I guess." He mustered his manners. "I'm Logan Kennedy, ma'am."

"I'm Tara's mom, Vivian." She didn't have a hand free to shake, but she gave him a lift of her chin that Logan returned with a nod. "This bottomless pit is Shane. I'm guessing you had a tough morning."

"She yelled at me for an hour last night," Logan admitted. "And this morning she refused to wear shoes."

Vivian's smile was understanding. "They like to test their boundaries."

"I didn't even know she knew the word no," Logan said. "I think she's been softening me up."

"You haven't had her long?"

Logan did the math in his head. "Three weeks last Friday."

"Oh, she's starting to trust you. That's probably what this was about."

Logan stared at her. "That's trust? Screaming that she hates me is trust? "

Vivian fixed him with a direct look that was layered in understanding. "Kids are complicated and contradictory. But if you haven't had her that long, she's probably just getting to the point where she's testing to see if you'll still keep her if she's bad or things go wrong. Was she in foster care?"

"Two years," Logan said, riddled with guilt. "I didn't know ."

Vivian's smile was kind, with a flash of grief. "That was probably really hard, but you'd be amazed how resilient kids are. Tara lost her dad when she wasn't much older."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Logan said automatically. He eyed the baby, trying to figure out how the math worked before he decided it didn't matter.

"Thank you," Vivian said simply. "I'm sorry for your loss, also."

Logan started to protest that there hadn't been any loss, then snapped his mouth shut.

He'd lost a brother.

It didn't matter that they'd been estranged, or that Logan had been the one that had driven him away with his questionable morals and career choices. He was never going to see Steven again or have a chance to make things right with him. The abrupt addition of his brother's daughter to his life had been more important at the moment than taking the time to mourn, but it didn't mean that Logan didn't have his own complicated feelings to work through.

The baby popped off the nipple he'd been nursing and turned his head to stare at Logan curiously.

"All done?" Vivian covered herself up briskly and the baby gave a wail of outrage at having his meal removed, then allowed her to distract him with a jingling toy that he pulled into his mouth and grinned toothlessly around.

"We should get the girls together for a playdate sometime," Vivian offered, as she stood up and bounced Shane into her arms.

"Tara would be welcome out at our place," Logan offered, sure that Tabby wouldn't mind. "It's about five miles out of town at a ranch and she could come out for the day. We work most weekends, but maybe the Fourth? Tiny Paws is closed and I have the day off from my other job." He stood as well, out of courtesy, and also because he needed to get to said job.

"Oh, would you mind taking Tara? That would be amazing! I have to work and I wasn't sure what I was going to do with Tara all day. I can take Shane with me, but Tara gets so bored at the clinic."

That reminded Logan. "The clinic…is it a safe place to bring a…ah…?" She wasn't a shifter, and instinct wasn't giving him a single twinge of warning about her, but Logan had a lot of ingrained caution on the topic.

Vivian smiled at him as he trailed off. "There's a pediatrician at the clinic who's a shifter. My…ah…Doctor Becket. He'd be happy to see Franzi with any concerns you might have." She flushed a little and Logan guessed that her doctor was more than just a coworker. He had to wonder at the ethical implications of a relationship with her boss.

You're in love with your boss , his stallion snorted at him.

Tabby isn't my boss , Logan retorted. And I'm not in love with her.

But the idea arrested him. She was so smart and beautiful, and Logan couldn't ignore the way his heart always gave a little hiccup whenever he first saw her. He wanted to pretend that it was just a physical reaction to an attractive woman, but it was hard to deny that it felt like something more. He wanted to bask in Tabby's presence, not just nail her and not see her again .

Not my boss, Logan repeated, as much to himself as to his stallion. More importantly: Not in love. "Let's plan on the Fourth," he said firmly. "I'll give you the address and my phone number. It's a safe place for a pair of fillies to run around if you're okay with that."

"Not just a filly…" Vivian warned carefully.

A unicorn . It still seemed impossible. "It's a very private ranch," Logan promised.

"That sounds amazing. It was great to meet you, Mr. Kennedy."

"Logan is fine, ma'am," he said warmly.

"I'll call you Logan if you never call me ma'am again."

"Yes, ah, Vivian. " Some habits were hard to break.

Logan went to the auto shop with a lighter heart and set to work. Halfway through the day, he got a call from an unknown number. He stared at it suspiciously for a moment, then answered. It probably wasn't child services because Mrs. Gravis was in his contacts, but he couldn't take the chance of ignoring it. "Logan Kennedy."

"You're using your real name now, cousin?" Clancy's voice froze every ounce of relief out of Logan's chest.

"What do you want?" Logan asked cautiously as he wiped his hands on a rag and went outside. Mason shot him a look as he went, but nodded in understanding.

"It's not what I want," Clancy said with dangerous charm. "It's who wants you . Can we talk?"

This was how it always went. Logan and Clancy would split ways and just when Logan hit his most desperate, Clancy would be back with some foolproof plan that he couldn't say no to. It was always reasonable, and Logan was always weak enough to say yes.

"I've got a job now," Logan said. A minimum wage job, to be fair. "And Steven's little girl. I'm not running any more cons. "

"Steven has a kid?" Clancy sounded skeptical.

"Had," Logan said flatly. "He and his wife died in a car accident. Franzi's mine now, and I'm not going to screw this up." He wasn't going to screw any of it up.

Clancy was quiet. "Is she a shifter?"

"Yeah," Logan said reluctantly, then wished he hadn't, suddenly struck with worry. Surely Clancy wouldn't think he had some claim on her. What would he want with a little kid? But Logan had been a little kid when he and Clancy were first running cons, and he could think of a dozen ways that Clancy might try to use an adorable, innocent shifter kid like Franzi. "I'm not interested in any more deals," he said firmly. "I don't do that anymore."

"You've gone soft," Clancy said with a knowing chuckle. "But give me some credit. I know how you feel, and I'm not going to ask you to do anything technically illegal. Straight sale, no funny business. All I'd ask is a perfectly reasonable agent fee for finding him. He's just your type, too, a total douchebag who deserves to be done dirty."

Logan felt his resolve waver. As hard as he was working, it sometimes felt like he was poorer than ever. His meager savings had melted away in the face of car insurance and the price of gas and a daily commute and day care. Somehow, his food bill had doubled, even though he knew that Franzi didn't eat nearly as much as he did and he ate several meals a week with Tabby. He wasn't sure how he was going to make the next month's day care bill in advance. And he was keenly aware that Tabby was scraping the bottom of her own barrel; he couldn't possibly ask her for anything more than she'd already given him.

He's not our herd, his stallion sniffed. We drove him out. But he didn't understand money, or debt, or the fact that child services might take Franzi if he couldn't support them. The animal was convinced that everything was going to be fine and was sure that they would weather any complication.

"No, I'm done," Logan said firmly, wishing he was as confident as he sounded.

There was a slice of silence and Logan thought that Clancy had hung up until he spoke again. "I saw you tearing up the little local weekend shows with your lady friend," he said, so mildly that the hair on the back of Logan's neck stood up in warning. "Shame you two aren't going to the Grand Prix in Billings this year. You qualified."

Logan and Tabby had talked about that show, but she had shaken her head at the entry fee, despite the wistful look in her eye. "Takes money to make money," Logan said shortly, quoting Clancy's own words back at him.

"I could get you in, even cover the fee. My buyer is in that area anyway, and I'm sure he'd pay more for a prize winner."

"Why do you want me to do this so bad?" Logan asked suspiciously.

"The heat has been on," Clancy said frankly. "Your girlfriend is starting to be known in horse circles and she's got social credit I don't right now. She makes this sale, no one is sniffing the papers while they're being signed. I don't even have to come up with those papers, she's still got them from our previous sale."

"Leave Tabby out of this," Logan growled.

"She doesn't have to do anything but ride you," Clancy said, and it sounded dirty in his voice. "Are you, by the way? Riding her?"

"It's none of your business."

Clancy laughed. "The offer won't be on the table very long, cousin, and I'm guessing you don't have any better opportunities. Call me back at this number while it still works."

Logan hung up without answering and then regretted it.

Would it be so terrible to do one final grift?

He wanted to be a better person than he was. Tabby made him want to be that better person, and he was desperate to be a good dad for Franzi.

But the right thing didn't pay bills, and Clancy wasn't wrong. Logan didn't have a lot of options. He stared at his phone, and finally dialed it. "I need more information."

Wrong , his horse complained, but Logan was used to ignoring his instincts when it came to Clancy.