Brother's Keeper (6 page)

Logan glances toward me as we head to his car. “You thought we were talking about you in the kitchen just now, didn’t you?”

“I thought it was a possibility. How did you know?”

“The panicked look on your face gave it away. Those big eyes of yours were practically popping out of your head. Well, you can relax. Against my better judgment, I haven’t changed my mind, and I didn’t tell them anything.”

As we drive in silence, I decide to ask the question that has been plaguing me. “Did you not want me to be there tonight? I mean… You’re probably sick of me being around, and I don’t want to be in your way. I just don’t want you to get sick of me.”

“Rowan, I haven’t gotten sick of you in the seven years I’ve known you, and I’m not sick of you now. Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t… I just thought maybe…”

“You’re being ridiculous. I didn’t decide to do any of this out of some sense of obligation. I’m helping you and letting you stay with me because I want to. Don’t ever think you’re some burden to me. You’re not, and you never will be. Okay?” At that, he reaches over and takes my hand in his, glancing at me before pulling his hand from mine and returning his eyes to the road.

I feel the same pang of guilt and embarrassment as I always have whenever his family has paid for a dance lesson, or supported me in some way I didn’t deserve. But I also feel the very unfamiliar feeling of security I’ve started getting used to this weekend. I nod my head.

He pulls up outside my house, and by the sudden drop of his face, it is clear my father’s car in the driveway has not escaped his notice. I start to open the door when he stops me. “I don’t like that he’s here.”

“Logan, if he’s here he’s not out getting drunk. He usually keeps it pretty low key on Sunday nights because he has to work early on Mondays. Please don’t worry about this. I have to see him.”

“I just don’t like it.”

“It will be okay. I promise. I know how to get hold of you, and I will call you if there is any problem.”

“Damn it. If you were at my place, I wouldn’t have to worry about this.”

“Sara is picking me up tomorrow morning for class, and I need to be here. I’ve agreed to stay with you when I need to, but I can’t just because he happens to be home. He lives here. I can’t avoid him completely. You know that.”

“Yeah, well I don’t have to like it.” He reaches up and puts a gentle hand on my cheek, running over the corner of my mouth with his fingers, his brow furrowing. “Row, just promise me. Just … say it. Don’t take any risks with him.”

“I promise.” I look at him a moment longer before hopping out of the car, and as I cut across the lot I can feel his eyes watching me; I know he is unhappy.

The rest of the evening passes without incident, and I take advantage of the quiet to catch up on homework. At ten-fifteen, the cell phone Logan gave me starts to ring. I know it must be him because I’ve not given the number to anyone yet.

I answer, and I instantly recognize the worry in his voice. “Hi. I just wanted to make sure everything was all right.”

“Everything is fine. I’m just getting ready to go to bed.”

“Okay. Call if you need anything.”

“I will. Good night.”

“Good night.”

I wish I was at his place in that nice, big, warm bed or better yet, his bed.

Chapter 5

The next weeks pass in quick succession. I begin looking forward to every minute I get to spend with Logan and find I all too desperately look forward to the nights when my father is off on a binge. When I’m with Logan at his apartment, it is comfortable yet intense. Logan loves to cook, and I’ve learned to love spending time with him in the kitchen, laughing, chatting, and debating anything and everything worth debating. Logan loves to challenge me at any chance he gets, perhaps a habit he’s picked up from law school. And I never hesitate to rise to the challenge. He is smart, and the more I talk to him, the more intelligent I realize he is.

My birthday has come with the chill of winter, and like all others before it, it did not include even the utterance of a congratulations from my father. The Harringtons, on the other hand, bought me flowers and a very generous gift card to the mall—naturally, Sara commandeered the gift card and dragged my reluctant butt with her for her very most favorite activity in the world: shopping. And when I arrived at Logan’s later that night after returning to a darkened trailer, signaling that my father was celebrating the blessed day at the bar with anyone but me, I arrived to the sweet smell of baking. A cake was laid out on the table awaiting my arrival. Logan, with a slight sheepishness to his voice, admitted he’d seen my father’s car parked at the bar on his way to the grocery store. Like everything else he cooks and, quite frankly, everything else he does, the cake was perfect. So, I guess I’m now an adult. Yet I feel just as naïve, immature, and helpless as I always have.

In addition to ushering in the celebration of my very insignificant entrance to the world, the change of the season has brought the arrival of winter, and this north country town is beautiful this time of year, blanketed in thick snow that clings to the abundant trees, creating the most beautiful, peaceful world. Life has become peaceful in and of itself by virtue of my new place in it. I’ve always known Logan to be a good person, but the more time I spend with him, the more I see what an amazing man he really is. I find myself more and more drawn to him as time goes on. Not just his looks, he’s always been handsome, but his whole persona. He’s confident, at times demanding, but kind and gentle all the same. I find myself loving his choice of music, his intelligence, his clothes, his smell. Every last thing about him arouses intimate thoughts. I could no more than hear a song on the radio I’ve heard while at his place than immediately be stuck with him in my head. I truly am a pathetic kid drooling after some popular, good-looking kid who is far out of my league.

* * * *

I join the Harringtons on their final trip to the lake house to ready it for winter. Logan decides at the last minute to join us, and I fantasize it is me that beckons his presence. I know it’s not, but what can I say; I’m a daydreamer by nature. Working around the lake house with his family is far more fun than I would have ever imagined physical labor could be. I can’t stop looking at Logan every time he’s around me and somehow manage to fall off a stepstool in the kitchen when he suddenly enters. I fall ridiculously to the floor. And as Logan pulls me to my feet, never taking his eyes off mine, I can’t help but notice that his touch lingers just slightly too long, our bodies just marginally too close, and his eyes just a bit too intense. No one else is around, and the shared look between us is palpable to my perception.

As Ronnie suddenly appears, we both find ourselves startled, and while I struggle for composure and pray for the flush of my cheeks to cool, I think I catch the same look of discomfort on Logan’s face. Ronnie, bright and carefree as usual, is caught off guard and appraises us for only a moment before she dismisses the situation and returns to her errand. She seems not to have noticed the tension in the room at all. I’m sure it was just in my head.

We return to the city on Sunday night, and as Logan drives me home, he casually, and without looking at me, asks that I spend the night at his apartment. Applying that same overly contrived casualty, I agree. We say nothing as we hike up the flight of stairs to his apartment. And when inside, he throws in a CD, one of many I now solely associate with him, and that seems to penetrate me and create my entire mood. I stand around uncomfortable for some time, still unsure why I’m here on this night. It is Sunday, and there is no good reason for me to have agreed to stay. For that matter, no good reason for Logan to have asked. He flops down on the couch, flipping through a magazine and obviously not nearly as off kilter as I. Naturally, I continue to meander about, unsure of myself.

But eventually I work up the nerve to speak. “Logan…”

He interrupts. “Given the fact you're pacing about, I’m going to hazard a guess you're wondering why I’ve asked you to stay. Am I right?” He gives me a knowing glance over the top of his magazine.

Of course he’s right. “Well, it’s not that really, just that I … um…” So much for playing it cool.

He gives me a quirky look as I attempt nonchalance. “I just wanted the company.”

“Oh. I suppose Amy had plans tonight or…”

“I wouldn’t know. I wanted your company.”

At that, he continues reading his magazine without the slightest hint of distraction. I finally sit on the opposite end of the couch and grab a random magazine off the coffee table. I’m somewhat stunned by his statement, and more than that, confused by what it means. And as I attempt to immerse myself in a golf article about the appropriate address and backswing for your iron game, I realize I may have chosen unwisely from the magazine collection. Why couldn’t there have been a
Cosmo
sitting on the table when I desperately needed something to help me play it cool? Unfortunately for me, Logan has noticed my error as well and starts chuckling in amusement. I give up trying to be casual and just give in to my awkward idiocy. Thankfully, Logan doesn’t allow my embarrassment to continue for too long before suggesting a card game instead.

We settle on poker, and for nearly two hours we spend our time staring one another down and trading our fortunes away. I end up winning the whole of Logan’s student loan debt, and he somehow manages to walk away with an IOU for a quarter. We jokingly debate who came out on top—I argue in favor of my new fortune. It is late, and we finally say our good nights still laughing about our ridiculous gambling. I don’t want the night to be over, but I know I’ll have to get up early just to get home in time for Sara to pick me up.

*

I just can’t seem to get enough of her. She is driving me crazy, and all I want is to be near her. My attraction to her is insane, not to mention inappropriate. I can’t help but laugh at her silliness and shyness. She is so unsure of herself, yet she radiates with intelligence and strength that are as much a turn on as her physical appearance is to me. I like seeing her in pajamas as much as I do in jeans or, better yet, the mandatory gondolier outfit she wears to work. And I’m constantly enticed by what is under her clothes. I can hardly sit in the same room with her without imaging myself pulling off her clothes and fucking her. I can’t even think of Amy anymore with any interest. My thoughts just shift to Rowan.

I had no business asking her to spend the night, but I just couldn’t stand the idea of the weekend being over already. I’m never sure when I will see her next, and it drives me insane with wonder. I spend long hours of the day, wondering and hoping today will be the day when her father graces the pub with his presence. I wish she was here every night, and I’m overcome by ridiculous jealousy at the thought of hormonal guys from her classes even looking at her.

I know I’m pushing the limits of decency with her but just can’t seem to stop myself. I’ve always prided myself on my self-control, but it vanishes in an instant when it comes to Rowan. And it certainly hasn’t escaped my attention that she’s an adult now and more than capable of deciding who she chooses to fuck. But desire aside, I won’t cross that line with her … not her. There is truly no point. I’m moving halfway across the country in little over half a year. And I won’t take advantage of her, knowing I’ll be walking away from her. Never mind the fact my family would kill me if I ever did anything to hurt Rowan. And I’m not entirely sure I could ever forgive myself either.

I try desperately to push the thought of her out of my mind, and I vow to get control of my feelings for her before it gets out of hand. I swear to myself, lying here in my lonely bed, I won’t allow myself to indulge in her company any more than is necessary. This decision, of course, sounds more like torture than decency, but I’m resolved.

Chapter 6

Christmas is fast approaching, and the weeks have fallen away. I’ve somehow managed to keep my vow. Rowan has spent little more than the necessary time at my apartment. I still enjoy every second of my time with her but have managed to keep things as platonic as I can manage. It is a constant struggle when she is around to keep my mind on this world and not my imaginary world where she and every part of her belongs to me. But then the blizzard hits.

*

The wind is blustery cold. I keep my head down, trying to shield my face from it. I can barely see the sidewalk as the snow is still falling and drifting faster than anyone’s shovels can keep up with it. Thank God I’ve got a warm jacket and good boots. I become entranced by the sidewalk, or at least the ground where I think the sidewalk is. Suddenly, a horn honks from behind me, and I snap back to reality. As I whip my head up and around, I lose my balance and start falling. I manage to catch myself but not until I’m in a full and awkward squatting surfer position. I look up to see what asshole thought honking at me would be a good idea. It’s Logan, and he is amused. He’s smiling at me and laughing. I can’t help but smirk back at him with my best “eat shit” look. After getting myself upright and standing again, I wade through the high drifts of snow to his passenger door as he lowers the window.

“Get in.”

I open the door and climb in, thankful for the warmth of his car. “Do you always honk at young women on the street?”

“Do you always put on such a good show when you are honked at? Hell, if memory serves, it didn’t even take a horn the last time you put on a show like that.” I flush with embarrassment, remembering the stepstool incident at the lake house only a month or so ago. Damn him and his ever-quick comebacks. “Where are you going in this weather?”

“I have a dance lesson with Anthony.”

“I see, and how is it Anthony’s managed to stay open when the rest of the town is closed down?”

“He’s technically closed, but I agreed to come in anyway. It’s my weekly private lesson, and I didn’t want to miss it.”

“Huh. That’s devotion, isn’t it? I’ll take you. You shouldn’t be out walking around, even in that adorable polar bear get-up you’ve got on.”