You know those days that just feel different? Like everything’s about to change? Today is one of those days. I’m dressed in my nicest skirt and sweater and I rise to my feet when the judge enters the court room. My hands tremble at my sides and I feel Logan grab my hand and squeeze. 

I’d almost forgotten he said he was coming. And even though I hate that he’s here to witness my family’s final demise, I’m comforted by his presence all the same and thankful not to be alone. Even if things got out of hand between us last year. I try not to think about that night too often—at least not when I’m in public. Alone in my bed at night, it’s a different story. I can't escape the flash of memories, so hot and all-consuming they make me feel like I'm on fire.

I squeeze his large hand and he laces his fingers in mine. The tiniest bit of comfort envelopes me. 

My brother stands in front of the court room. Tate’s sporting a new buzz cut. He’s facing away from me, but the tension in his shoulders is obvious. His court appointed attorney leans over and whispers something in his ear and he gives a tight nod. I hate this. But he did it to himself. Maybe this is the shove he needs to clean up his act. Scared straight or whatever. He’s twenty fucking four. Time to grow up, Tate.

My mom hadn’t even bothered to show up. Hung-over, at the casino, out with her new loser boyfriend, take your pick.  I hadn’t expected Logan to be here, but then again he’s my brother’s best friend, so I guess I’m not all that surprised. He continues holding my hand even after we’re seated.

He stares straight ahead, the muscles in his jaw clenching. I’m sure he doesn’t want to be here, holding my hand after everything that went down between us, but even when my hand begins to sweat, he doesn’t let me go. Even if things are all kinds of weird between us ever since that night we shared last year, his grip on my hand is comforting, reassuring. And since I feel like I’m about to fall apart, I’m grateful for it.  

We listen in silence as the judge reads my brother’s sentence. Ninety days. He’s never done jail time, despite being in trouble with the law several times.

Ninety days to sort out all his demons. I hope like hell he can actually do it this time—get clean and sober once and for all. Addiction is a vicious disease and it’s shredded me to watch him suffer like this. I hate it.

Tate stands, and his wrists are cuffed behind his back, pulling his arms at an uncomfortable looking angle. I don’t feel anything but numb as they lead him away. It’s like if I can hold my head high and appear unaffected, I can pretend this isn’t happening. I retreat into myself, steeling my nerves and focus on just breathing. Just before he disappears behind the door with the deputy, his gaze locks on Logan’s.

Take care of her, he mouths.

Oh hell no.

I do not need taking care of.

But Logan nods tightly, squeezing my hand once for good measure.

Logan has always been doing that, in one way or another over the years. Taking care of me. I remember the time I brought home a stray dog I’d found wandering in the park. I was twelve then, so my dad still lived here. Both of my parents had forbid me from keeping the dog, but I just couldn’t stomach parting with him. He needed me. He’d be homeless without me. Logan helped me build a cardboard doghouse for him behind the apartment building we lived in and brought Puffy, that was what I named him, dog food he bought with his allowance money. After a few weeks when my parents discovered I’d kept Puffy after all, Logan talked his mom into letting the dog move in with him. I’d visited Puffy nearly every day and last year, when he could no longer walk or make it outside to use the bathroom, Logan called me and brought me to the clinic to hold Puffy while they gave him the shot that put him to rest permanently. My spine still tingles when I remember petting Puffy’s soft golden fur for the last time and looking up into Logan’s blue eyes, which were just as watery as mine. He’d held me then without a word and drove me home after, giving me a box containing Puffy’s collar and favorite toys. It’s still in the back of my closet.

On the front steps of the courthouse, Logan shifts his weight, facing me and squinting into the sunlight. “Can I drive you home?” The deep timbre of his voice rushes over me.

I nod. I hate that I always seem to need something from him, but Logan never seems to mind. And there’s no sense in trying to hide the scene that probably awaits me at home from him. He’s seen it all, and worse. I don’t feel like sitting alone on the bus right now, surrounded by crazies.

We climb into his pick-up truck and Logan takes the long way around town. I stare blankly out the window as we pass by cornfields and huge old oak trees. I don’t know why he took this route, but I’m thankful for the chance to breathe, to think for a minutes more before facing my mom. He maneuvers his truck behind the run down grocery store that my mom and I live above and parks behind the dumpsters. I’ve been telling myself this is only temporary—that staying with my mom is a means to an end. I have another year at the university and classes are crazy expensive.

When I open the truck door, I’m about to thank him when shouting in the distance pulls my attention away. I peer up at the small balcony and see my mom arguing with our landlord. Crap. I know we’re late on our rent again, but please, I can’t handle this drama today. And I hate that Logan has already seen too much of it. It’s harder for me to pretend like this isn’t my life with a witness to it all.

Logan gets out of the truck and stares up at the scene.

“Thanks for the ride. You can, um, go now.” Please.

He squints at me, and then looks back up at the balcony. Without answering, he walks toward the stairs.

“You don’t have to do this. Just go,” I say, following him, knowing trying to stop him will be pointless. I remember the way Tate mouthed to him to take care of me. If Logan knew that only fifteen minutes would pass before he’d be called to action, maybe he wouldn’t have been so willing. He has his own life, his own worries and I hate dumping all this on him.

Mr. Rodriguez is arguing with my mom, reverting back and forth between Spanish and English. Crap. He only speaks Spanish when he’s really pissed. When we reach the top of the stairs, I’m nearly taken out by a basket of laundry being thrown over the railing. Logan pulls me against his side, drawing me away from the path of the falling basket. Clothes flutter down around us, a pair of my panties falling at our feet. Logan frowns at them. My cheeks flood with shame. Then he jogs up the stairs, leaving me at the bottom.

When I reach the top he’s pulled Mr. Rodriguez to the side, his wallet in his hands, asking how late we are on the rent. I could die of embarrassment.

As meticulous as I was about keeping my private life from everyone, my friends, classmates, and coworkers. I hated that our dirty laundry was being aired—literally—in front of Logan. If it was anyone else, I’d die, but Logan’s hung around my brother long enough to know all the dirty bits and pieces of our family life. Still, I hate that he knows.

Mortification burns under my skin. I want to march back down to Logan’s truck and drive it away from this town without a backward glance, but I know I can’t. Two more months. That’s all I have left here.

My mom is inside, arguing with a man I’ve never seen before. She stalks into her room and begins stuffing clothes into a suitcase.

“Mom?” I swallow down a lump in my throat. I will not cry. “What’s going on?”

“Pack your stuff, baby girl. We’re getting out of this shit hole.”

“What are you talking about? Where will we go?” I can’t help the hysteria in my voice.

“BJ’s back in town. He’ll be here in twenty to pick us up. Go pack.”

My stomach instantly churns at the thought of seeing BJ again. It’s been years since he left town. He’d been my mom’s live in boyfriend when I was in high school. After what he did, there’s no way I can be around him again. My skin tingles and itches even thinking about being in the same room as him.

I go to my room to pack, my mind completely numb. I shove all the clothes I own into a duffle bag, then all my toiletries and a few books in my backpack. I don’t have many possessions. When you move as often as we do, you learn to live with just the necessities. I haul my meager belongings out to the living room.

The room is trashed, and there are two men working to remove everything from the apartment while Mr. Rodriguez supervises. I hate the way their eyes survey the room, the stained carpeting, the dirty windows and torn screen door. We are nothing to them. Pieces of trash to throw out onto the street.

My mom appears quite unconcerned with this whole thing, actually humming to herself while she moves around inside the apartment packing. She’s always believed there was no point in worrying about tomorrow, her mantra has always been that everything would turn out fine. My mom’s screwy logic had instilled in me a common sense attitude that I carried with me everywhere.

Since I was small, I’d always sort of felt more like the parent than the child in our relationship. I watched in shock in awe as my mom made bad decisions, acted immature and irresponsible, and knew that while I was powerless to stop it, I’d be picking up the pieces and consoling her once shit hit the fan. It was all I knew, yet still I knew that it wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. 

I straighten my shoulders and sigh. This is happening whether I want it to or not. There’s no way I can afford all the months of back-rent we owe. I head outside, blinking against the bright sunlight. Even the too chipper song birds are mocking me. I have no clue what’s going to happen next, but there’s one thing I’m certain of. I can’t rely on anyone but myself. 

My mom lets out one more string of curse words directed at Mr. Rodriguez. I watch from outside as he mops his neck and forehead with a handkerchief. I shove this memory back to the farthest corner of my brain, back where I kept the broken promises from my dad, my mom showing up drunk to school functions, and the long list of other crap I didn’t care to examine too closely. I was better off alone anyway. Let mom go and live with BJ. They’re both losers. They’ll have a good life together.

I clutch the balcony railing, trying to stop the trembling in my hands. Why do I even let myself get disappointed? Mom hadn’t paid the rent in four months I overheard from Logan’s conversation with Mr. Rodriguez. Apparently the rent money I’ve been giving her every month went to something else—most likely her gambling habit.

I lean down, pressing my forehead to the railing and clench my eyes closed. When I open them, I see Logan down in the parking lot, picking up the scattered clothes littering the ground. Shit. What’s he still doing here? Why couldn’t he just leave me to my misery? 

I head inside to make sure I have all my belongings, and take my time, even though there isn’t much in this apartment I care about. Moving every few years will teach you to survive on just the essentials. I just want to make sure Logan’s gone by the time I’m through. No luck. When I walk my bags outside to the balcony, he’s there. All the clothes in the parking lot have been cleaned up and folded, and he’s sitting on the top step, his back to me. Fuck. Why hasn’t he left yet?

I take a deep breath and sit down next to him.  “So thanks for the ride.” I smile like I’m unconcerned about everything going on inside our apartment. Eviction. A dirty word that I don’t even want to repeat in my head.

He doesn’t look at me, he just picks at a piece of wood splintering at the post of the railing.

“Are you okay?” He shakes his head. “Sorry, dumb question.”

That’s the thing though. I am okay. I’m strong enough to make it through all this shit, because I know this isn’t my real life. This isn’t who I am. The only thing bothering me right now is that BJ is back in the picture. I’m torn for the first time to tell my mom the truth about why I don’t like him, but seeing as how we’d be homeless if it weren’t for him taking us in, I know I have to keep my mouth shut.

“You can go, you know.” I look out at the parking lot, watching a crow peck at a sticky stain near the dumpster.

“Do you want me to?” he asks.

Why is he asking me that? I don’t answer, I just watch the way his long fingers chip at the splinter of wood on the banister. I let myself look at him for a silent moment.

He’s beautiful. Over six feet of broad shoulders and lean, defined muscle from his chest to his toes. Dark eyes. Perfectly messy hair. Full, kissable lips.

Not that we kissed all that much the one time we hooked up. Which was probably a good thing. I could have fallen hard and fast for a guy like Logan. All that raw, masculine energy. And that dirty talk? The way he knew exactly what I needed and gave it to me that night. Over and over until I was a shuddering, trembling mess. I came repeatedly, quickly—something that had never happened to me before or since. I slam the brakes on that train of thought.

“Come on.” He stands and gathers my bags. “You shouldn’t be alone tonight.” He stands almost a foot taller than me, his voice deep and commanding.

“I won’t be alone. I’ll be with my mom.”

“Exactly.” He raises his eyebrows.

I don’t challenge him. He knows that my mom isn’t around much. “I have to do my laundry. I was going to go to the Laundromat. I’ll be fine.”

“Bring the clothes to my place. I’ll help you. Then we’ll get take out and watch a movie.”

I meet his eyes and the kindness reflected back at me is almost too much to register. I’m not used to kindness. Chaos is more my jam.

And what about all the stuff that went down that night between us last year? Are we really going to pretend like none of it happened? Maybe it didn’t mean anything to Logan. Maybe he’s already forgotten about it.

I sigh out a slow exhale, and turn to him. “Fuck it. Why not?”

“That’s the spirit.” He smirks.

Without questioning his kindness further, I get up and go inside to tell my Mom I’m going to Logan’s and she nods and waves. “Bye baby girl.”

I don’t even know where BJ lives, and I don’t care to ask. I have no plans on going there. Not now or ever. I’ll just have to figure something else out because I certaintly can't stay with Logan.