Текст книги "Moonlight on Nightingale Way"

Автор книги: Samantha Young

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“Logan,” I pleaded.

His right hand left my wrist to draw down his zipper. He shoved his jeans low enough to release his erection and then returned his hand to my wrist to pin me to the bed.

Logan slammed inside me before I could draw another breath. I cried out at the pleasure-pain that surged through me.

My legs parted, urging him to go deeper. He did. He pulled back out only to thrust in even harder.

His rhythm was fast. It was rough. It was molten.

It was unlike any sex I’d ever had before.

I gasped for more as Logan pounded into me, his features fierce and taut with lust.

The headboard rattled against the wall as Logan fucked me toward climax. As the orgasm tore through me, I cried out his name so loudly, I was sure the whole building heard me.

Lost in some lust-fogged hyperspace, I distantly felt Logan still. And then he shuddered on a throaty groan that made my inner muscles clench around him. He threw his head back as he came, and I watched him in awe. Finally, he finished and his head lowered.

Violet eyes pierced right through me, and he gave me this mocking, calculated smile. “I told you all you needed was to get laid.”

My eyes flew open, and I couldn’t see anything or hear anything but the rushing waves of blood in my ears.

I launched myself across my bed and fumbled for the light switch on my bedside lamp. Soft light flooded the room, and I gazed around.

I was alone.

I was also covered in sweat.

My body was lit with arousal.

I flopped back against my pillow, my cheeks inflamed and the erotic dream burned into my brain.

I’d had a sex dream about Logan MacLeod.

With a moan of absolute mortification, I covered my eyes with my arm as if somehow I could block out the memory of the dream.

But I couldn’t.

I’d had a sex dream about that grumpy, irritating, arrogant, inconsiderate ruffian of a man! How was it possible? He wasn’t even my type! No.

No.

NO!

“Oh God,” I groaned as I thought of something even worse.

How on earth was I ever going to face him again?

CHAP TER 5

H is considerate streak was over.

I glowered at my reflection in the gilded silver mirror in my bedroom.

The person looking back at me was unrecognizable.

I looked like hell.

Because of him.

Only hours after I was jolted awake by the dream I needed to stop acknowledging ever happened, I was awoken by the noise coming from Logan’s bedroom. Loud – extremely loud – sex.

“THAT’S RIGHT. RIGHT THERE. OH BOY. RIGHT THERE. OH, LOGAN. OH, LOGAN. OH, LOGAN… AHHHHHHH!”

And she was American. He was obviously branching out.

Not that I cared. Nope.

I was, however, surprised and outraged when the next night I got even less sleep because the American was back, and she and Logan went three rounds of “RIGHT THERE.”

And she returned last night for more rounds of it.

Seventy-two hours of no sleep.

It did not look good on me.

If he bloody well returned with the American again, I was going to… “What, Grace?” I curled my lip at my exhausted reflection. “Shout at him? Let him have it? Scold him? Because you’ve done so well at it in the past.”

What if the American did make a fourth appearance? I lowered my gaze, unable to look at myself anymore as I stood there with my messy hair, wearing sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt because I was too tired to iron something decent.

Was Logan MacLeod finally settling in to become a one-woman man?

I turned around and strode out of my bedroom, my mood darkening to the black-hole level.

Marching through my flat, I snatched up my purse. I needed chocolate and coffee. There was no way I was getting through the day without either one of those.

Locking the door behind me, my shoulders instantly hunched up around my ears at the familiar sound of Logan’s door opening.

Oh God, was life really this unfair?

Feeling my cheeks bloom with heat at the thought of Logan seeing me so disheveled, I turned slowly around.

He was staring over at me as he locked up. “Grace.”

“Mr. MacLeod.” I glanced away, willing the memory of that bloody dream away.

“You all right? You look like shit.”

And that was it.

The straw that broke the back of that damn camel everyone was always piling straw on top of!

Looking at him, seeing him standing there, well rested despite his sexual gymnastics at the crack of bloody dawn, I saw red.

“I look like shit?” I took a bristling step toward him.

Logan raised an eyebrow at my tone.

“Do you know why I look like shit?”

“No, but I suddenly have a feeling I’m to blame.” He crossed his arms over his chest, clearly not amused.

“Yes.” I nodded frantically, the lack of sleep making me frenzied in my anger. “You are to blame!”

My voice echoed off the concrete walls of our stairwell, but I was past caring. “Seventy-two hours.

Seventy-bleeding-two hours I have been awake.”

“That’s not my problem, and frankly, I’m not in the mood to deal with this… hysteria.” He walked toward the stairs, dismissing me.

“Don’t you walk away from me.”

He stopped. Turned. He raised an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to be frightened? Christ, Grace, it’s like getting bitten by a butterfly.”

I huffed, furious that he was making fun of me when my standing up to him was a momentous accomplishment. “How dare you! For the last three nights I’ve had to put up with the constant loud sex from you and your bloody American. I just want peace and quiet! I want some bloody goddamn fucking sleep!”

My words seemed to soak into the coldness of the stairwell, ringing against the walls, stunning Logan.

After a moment’s silence, during which I at once berated myself for losing my ladylike cool and mentally shook my hand for taking a stance, Logan cleared his throat.

“Have you got a glass up against the wall?”

“Excuse me?” I shook my head, confused.

“How did you know I’ve been fucking an American?”

My mouth dropped open at his obtuseness. “Because. I. Can. Hear. Every. Word. She. Says.”

“Och, no. You must be straining to listen.”

My anger reignited. “Are you mad? Why on earth would I be straining to listen?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

“Are you always this deliberately irritating?” I huffed, mirroring his stance by crossing my arms over my chest.

To my surprise, this caused Logan’s lips to twitch, and his eyes started dancing with humor. “I only seem to irritate you.” He cocked his head to the side. “I wonder why that is.”

“Because,” I whined, my head lolling with exasperation and tiredness, “I’m sleep deprived, and it’s all your fault, you bloody wretched manwhore.”

“Well, this is a whole other side to you. It’s quite unpleasant. I may have to speak to the landlord about it. I can’t take this kind of abuse.”

My head jerked upright and I glowered at him. “I swear if you don’t start taking this seriously I will push you down those stairs.”

“Now you’re threatening my life.” He tsk ed. “That won’t do at all.”

“Now!” I yelled. “Now you decide you have a sense of humor?”

“Uh, excuse me.” A soft, young voice interrupted our argument.

Standing a few steps down from our landing was a girl. A very pretty girl with dark hair and olive skin. She was dressed in a school uniform, and she looked a little pale – when she swallowed hard, I realized she was nervous.

I glanced at my watch. The girl should be in school. Concerned, I took a step toward her, but she was staring up at Logan in scared awe. “Can we help?”

Instead of answering me, she took a shaky step up toward us and light flooded over her face. I drew in a gasp. Behind her glasses, she had the most beautiful eyes. Violet eyes surrounded by thick black lashes.

My gaze jerked to Logan, who was staring at the girl in stupefied confusion.

“My name is…” She gulped, her chest rising and falling in shallow, fast movements. “I – I’m Maia.” Maia licked her lips and clutched tighter to the strap of her shoulder bag. “You’re Logan MacLeod, right?”

He nodded dumbly.

“Well, I think… I think I – I’m your kid. I’m your daughter.”

I sucked in a gasp, never taking my eyes off Logan. His expression shuttered.

“I don’t have a kid.” But he sounded uncertain.

Agog that in seconds my argument with him had turned into a life-altering revelation for him, I took a moment to shake off my curious stupor. I was intruding on an incredibly private situation and I needed to leave. “I should leave you to talk.”

Logan’s hand wrapped around my upper arm, drawing me to an abrupt halt. “Grace. Stay.”

Since there was really nothing else I could do, considering he was holding me physically hostage, I nodded and tried to relax so he’d let me go. He didn’t.

Maia appeared near tears, but I watched her throw her shoulders back despite her fear. Her voice trembled. “Maybe we should go inside to talk.”

I didn’t even know the girl, but for some reason I felt a surge of pride toward her for her bravery.

A sense of kinship, actually. “I think that’s a good idea.” I pressed against Logan until he looked down at me. “Let’s take this inside. Or do you want every one of your neighbors to know your business?”

As he continued to just stare at me, I knew he was in shock.

“Come on, Logan,” I joked, trying to draw him out of it. “If we stay out here, I’ll start to feel less special about being the only neighbor to be a part of this.”

He blinked out of his daze and nodded. He pulled me with him to the door as he opened his flat and nudged me inside first, releasing my arm only once I was in.

I glanced over my shoulder to see him gesture to Maia. The girl strode inside still wearing bravado as a mask. Not a very good mask, but I admired her all the same for trying. I gave her a reassuring smile. “Would you like a cup of tea?” I offered, not even sure if Logan had tea.

“Um…” She licked her lips nervously. “Water, please.”

“I’ll get it,” Logan said immediately. “Grace?”

“Oh, I’ll have a coffee if you’ve got it. Milk, one sugar.”

He nodded and waved a hand at us. “Living room is straight ahead.”

Turned out Logan’s flat was a mirror image of mine, which would explain why his bedroom wall abutted mine. There were still boxes lying unpacked. There was nothing on the walls, and the only major piece of furniture in the sitting room was a massive L-shaped black sofa.

“It’ll be okay,” I said to Maia as she stared around the room, looking terrified. “We’ll get this all sorted.”

“Um… who are you?”

I sat on the sofa and waited for her to join me. She did so slowly, staring at me with those wide, beautiful eyes of hers. Her glasses were a little too big for her delicate features. I swore I could see Logan’s sister Shannon in her face though. “I’m Logan’s next-door neighbor. Grace.”

She frowned. “I thought you were his girlfriend.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why would you think that?”

She shrugged. “You seem close.”

Now it was my turn to frown.

“Here we go,” Logan said as he came into the room carrying two mugs and a glass of water. He handed the water to Maia, giving her a kind smile.

It occurred to me what a sweet thing that was. This girl had just arrived on his doorstep, announced herself as his daughter; he was in shock, probably petrified, and yet still he was trying to reassure the girl.

Inwardly I grumbled as I took the coffee from him. He was such a complicated bugger. “Thank you,” I muttered.

Logan sat down on a large box across from us and sipped at his coffee. An awkward silence fell between us.

“Maia,” I said, “who is your mother?”

Logan tensed at the question as Maia turned to him to answer. “Maryanne Lewis.”

The way he jerked back at the news suggested he knew exactly who Maryanne Lewis was. “No,”

he muttered, seeming to shake his head in disbelief. “Maryanne… Yeah, she got pregnant, but she told me she didn’t want to keep it, that I had no choice. She was getting an abortion. She disappeared. I never saw her again!”

Maia’s mouth trembled, and I instinctively reached for her hand. “How old are you, Maia?”

“Fifteen.”

“Logan?”

He nodded at me slowly, his eyes bleak. “It was almost sixteen years ago. We were only seventeen.” He stood up suddenly. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Maia leaned in to me, looking frightened, and I put an arm around her. “It’s okay. It’s just a shock for him.”

Logan glowered at the wall, and I watched him take slow, even breaths as he tried to calm himself.

“How could she do that to me? How could anyone do that?”

“She told me she lied to you.” Maia pulled gently away from me, and Logan looked at her sharply.

“We’ve been living in Glasgow all this time, but I can’t stay with her anymore.” Desperation suddenly bled into her words. “I can’t! She saw you in the paper, and that’s when she told me who you were.

They said you were put in prison for attacking your sister ’s boyfriend because he beat her up and tried to rape her.”

I sucked in a huge breath, and Logan’s eyes flew to me. We stared at each other as I processed this.

Someone tried to rape Shannon? Attacked her? I was horrified.

“You were a hero. Protecting her like that. And you got punished for it. My mum puts me in harm’s way all the time, and no one gives a damn. You could look after me better than her.”

Logan’s attention was forced from me at this unwelcome information. He stared hard at Maia.

“What do you mean ‘harm’s way’?”

Maia ducked her head, threading her fingers together anxiously. “Mum’s a junkie.”

I closed my eyes. This was getting more melodramatic by the second.

“What do you mean ‘a junkie’?” Logan asked quietly, danger in his words.

“Heroin.”

“Oh God.” I felt sick.

“I can’t live with it anymore.” Tears started to fall down her pretty cheeks, and I felt a coldness creep into my bones at the expression in her eyes. Such despair for such a young girl.

“Logan,” I whispered, looking up at him, pleading, though I didn’t know why.

He looked trapped. Terrified. I could tell he wanted to escape.

It was frightening to see. He was usually so together, so in control.

“What can I do?” he snapped at us. “I admit the eyes… You look like…”

“Shannon,” I offered helpfully. He glared at me. Clearly it was not helpful.

“Your sister?” Maia said, her eyes brightening with curiosity.

Logan groaned and rubbed his hand over his short hair. “I don’t know for certain if you’re my kid.”

I just managed to contain my snort, but he shot me a dirty look anyway, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

“How did this happen? Two minutes ago I was just… You can’t stay here, Maia. I have to take you back to your mum, and then I’ll have to talk to her about all of this.”

Maia stood up. “Please. I don’t want to go back. That’s why I’m here. You don’t know what it’s like there.”

Faced with her fear, Logan could only stare at her helplessly.

When the silence stretched between them, turning physically painful to be around, I stood up.

“Maia, you can’t stay here with Logan. It isn’t right. He could get in trouble. He’ll have to take you home until this can all be sorted out.”

She bowed her head, her dark hair falling like a curtain and hiding her face. But we both heard her quiet sniffles.

Logan gave me a look as if to say, What the hell else can I do?

I gave him a bolstering smile.

And for my troubles… “You’re coming with us,” Logan said to me.

Oh no. “To Glasgow?” I squeaked. No. Absolutely not. I was exhausted. I did not need to witness an emotional roller coaster on top of my exhaustion.

“Yes.”

“No. I…” My refusal trailed off when Maia abruptly looked up at me, her watery eyes begging me.

They both needed a buffer.

Great.

“Okay.” I reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m coming with you.”

You know in those old Western movies when they shot scenes of bales of hay blowing down empty main streets of small towns? The wind would whistle in exaggeration, the only sound to break through the silence…

Let’s just say it came to mind as Logan drove us to Glasgow. I didn’t even know he had a car. I didn’t know enough about cars to know exactly what it was. I just knew it was some kind of Volkswagen and it was at least five years old. It was dusty from disuse.

We were twenty minutes into the journey and Logan had informed me it would take about an hour and twenty minutes to get to Maia’s council estate. Someone had to talk. The silence was becoming unbearable.

“You know, I’ve only ever been to Glasgow city center. For shopping. At Christmas. Oh, and I’ve been to the theater and out for drinks. There’s so much going on in the city center, you just forget how big the rest of the city is.”

I got nothing.

“Did you know it used to be the fourth-largest city in Europe?” I rambled on. “That was quite a feat, considering how tiny we are as an island. I think it was the largest after London, Paris, and Berlin, and it was also called the ‘Second City in the British Empire’ in the Victorian era, and of course it’s Scotland’s largest city and the third largest in Britain, so it’s really no wonder I haven’t seen much of it, I suppose, although I lived in London and managed to see quite a bit of that growing up. I could ha—”

“Grace,” Logan interrupted. His eyes were still focused on the road in front of him, but I could see he was struggling not to smile. “We’ve got it. Glasgow’s big.”

I heard a small giggle from the backseat, and instead of feeling embarrassed by my nervous ramblings, I smiled. I’d gotten a giggle out of Maia. Or Logan had. Or we had. It didn’t matter who or what; it just mattered that on an exceptionally trying day, the shy little lost girl in the backseat had laughed.

I turned a little in my seat to look behind me. Maia’s sad eyes stared into mine. “Do you do well in school, Maia?”

She nodded cautiously.

I had a feeling she did. I gave her a smile of encouragement. “What subjects do you enjoy?”

“I like maths and physics. Mum doesn’t get it. She liked art at school.”

“I liked maths and physics,” Logan said quietly. “I was good at maths and physics.”

Maia stared at the back of his head and offered shyly, “I get A’s.”

I watched his face soften. “Good,” he murmured.

That awkward silence began to fall again.

“Well, I’m rubbish at maths and physics,” I said. “I had a tutor.” I made a face. “He was this horrible pretentious boy in the year above me.” I’d hated him. Lawrence Trevelyn. Sebastian had dared Lawrence to put his hand up my skirt and cop a feel during a lesson. I’d felt violated and frightened by the whole thing, and it had taken me a good while to let a boy get near me again.

I shuddered.

“You all right, Grace?” Logan suddenly asked.

I caught him glance at me quickly, his brows puckered. Surprised by his perceptiveness I couldn’t say anything for a moment.

“Grace?”

“I’m fine.” I turned to Maia and smiled again, brushing the memories off. “Do you like English?”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m not as good at it. I only get B’s.”

“Well, I’ve got a degree in it if you ever need help. I’m a freelance book editor.” I said it without thinking, and I sensed Logan tense beside me.

Maia, however, looked hopeful. “Really? That’s cool. And you’d help me, really?”

Oh bugger. I’d gone and put my foot in it now. Logan had only just met the girl. He had no idea what was going on, what the future held, and here was his silly neighbor attaching herself to his…

possible child. Feeling guilty, I had no recourse, however, but to say, “Of course. I’ll give you my number so you can give me a ring if you ever have a question.”

Some of the light dimmed in Maia’s eyes. “Right,” she muttered, and looked away.

I turned back around and caught Logan’s annoyed look. I flushed and glanced away.

Perhaps silence was best after all.

I don’t know what I’d been expecting. Rumors of the dangers of Glasgow were just that. It was like any big city. It had its crime, its good areas, and its not-so-good areas. It was often exaggerated. I was reassured about the exaggeration as we drove through the well-kept council estates of areas that had been depicted in the media as “rough.”

Even when we drew up to the high-rise flats Maia had directed Logan to, I was filled with optimism. Part of me wanted to put Maia in the “overly dramatic teenage girl” file. Was her mum really a junkie, or was she just making stuff up because she’d had an argument with her mum and was upset about finding out who her dad was at such a fragile age?

I ignored my gut, which told me Maia wasn’t that kind of teenager.

I didn’t want anything she had said to be true.

For her.

And for Logan.

There was graffiti on the walls of the high-rises, but you got graffiti in lots of places these days.

That didn’t mean anything.

When we entered one of the high-rises, the smells of garbage and urine hit my nostrils and my stomach began to sink. When we reached the first floor, I came to a complete standstill at the grim sight of the heavy-duty iron gate that had been attached over the front door of a flat.

What kind of place was this that you needed that kind of security?

Logan nudged me. “Come on.”

“Why?” I pointed at the gate before hurrying to catch up with them.

The muscle in his jaw clenched. “Either the flat of a well-known criminal, or because of their close proximity to the ground floor, they’ve suffered numerous break-ins.”

“This isn’t a nice place, is it?”

“No, it’s fucking not.” Logan’s gaze followed Maia as she led us up to the next floor, and I could see his concern mounting.

Maia stopped halfway down the long corridor of the third floor and drew in a shaky breath. “This is it.”

Although it had no metal grill over the front of it, the door had been kicked in at one point. Not only were there rubber marks from the soles of shoes, but the wood had buckled and cracked near the bottom of the door. The words “hingoot,” “junkie hoor,” and “brass monkey slut,” among others, were graffitied on the door. I didn’t understand what anything but “junkie” and “slut” meant, but I could tell by the darkening of Logan’s expression that the other stuff wasn’t good.

Reluctantly, Maia took out her keys and let us into the flat.

As soon as we walked in, I was hit by the smell.

“Holy fuck,” Logan muttered, and we shared a horrified look.

It smelled of stale sweat, cigarettes, piss, and vomit.

“I try to clean.” Maia’s complexion had paled, and there were tears of shame in her eyes. “I do.

Honest.”

Tears pricked my own eyes, a lump of sympathy and anger burning in my throat. I squeezed her arm, but I had to look away from her so I could control my emotions.

“My, is that you!” a voice screeched from the back of the flat.

At that Logan stepped forward and put his hand on Maia’s shoulder. He looked like a giant next to the slender teen. I wasn’t exactly tall at five six, and she was even shorter. She was only about five three. He led her forward gently, and I followed, taking everything in.

The faded, stained carpets were so threadbare at the edges they were pulling away from the baseboard. We passed a tiny kitchen that looked like it hadn’t been modernized since the late eighties.

There were stains all over the counters and even the walls, but the surfaces were wiped clean and there were no dirty dishes in the kitchen. There was evidence that Maia was trying her best here.

There were two doors on the other side of the narrow corridor, separated by yellow-stained walls.

One door opened to a small, sparse but tidy and clean single room with posters of bands on the wall.

Maia’s room? The other door caused Logan’s brow to furrow deeply as he passed it. Curious, I took a look inside and just managed to squelch a yelp of surprise.

There was a skinny naked man sprawled on his front across a rumpled bed. Around the bed the carpet had been swallowed up by beer cans, cigarette trays, clothes, and rubbish. There was a dresser at the bottom of the bed that had seen better days, and the bedside table closest to me was missing a drawer. It was also covered in gashes and score marks.

I felt ill at the sight of the needles scattered across the top of it.

Unfortunately, we were only greeted by worse when we walked into the small sitting room.

Sprawled across what actually looked like a fairly new leather sofa was a skinny mess. The dark-haired woman was dressed in a dirty, oversized white T-shirt and skinny jeans. Her thin hair was pulled back in a disheveled ponytail. She wore no makeup, and when she opened her mouth I could see her teeth were yellow and decaying.

“My God.” Logan closed his eyes against the image of her.

Maryanne Lewis clearly no longer resembled herself. Although I had no clue what she’d looked like back when she was with Logan, I could see from her delicate features that she’d once been pretty.

But now she looked ten to fifteen years older than Logan, and her sharp cheekbones stretched out her papery skin so she looked gaunt, ill. The color of her complexion was gray. Just… wrong.

There were a couple of open bottles of vodka in the room, empty beer cans, dirty ashtrays, unwrapped food, dirty plates, and more needles.

This was bad.

Very bad.

If anything, Maia had played down her home situation.

Maryanne narrowed her eyes. “Who the fuck are you?” She stumbled up onto her feet in jerky, frenetic movements. “My, who the fuck is this?”

To my surprise, Maia stepped in to my side, almost but not quite burrowing there. Despite my discomfort and apprehension in her mother ’s presence, I put my arm around Maia, offering her support.

“Maryanne, this is my dad.”

I had to give Logan his due. He didn’t flinch at the word. “Maryanne.” He stepped toward her, and she jerked back, her eyes wide and glazed. She was agitated. Her skin looked clammy, and she was scratching at her arm constantly.

I didn’t know much about drugs, but I had a suspicion she was in withdrawal.

“Fucking bastard,” she snapped, stumbling away from him. “Logan. Logan. Oh my God, what did you bring him here for?” She glowered at Maia and then moved toward her.

As I shoved Maia behind me, Logan stepped in front of us. “Maryanne… when was your last hit?”

“Too fucking long. Too fucking long. I told that wee bitch to go and get Kells for Dom and me.

Where’s my fucking money? Eh? Where is it, you wee cunt?”

“Watch it,” Logan warned, his tone dangerous, and Maia cowered against my shoulder.

“Who is Kells?” I asked Maia softly.

“Her dealer,” she whispered, and there was a rustling before I felt her press something into my hand.

I looked down at a wad of cash. “Logan,” I muttered. The idea of a mother sending her fifteen-year-old daughter to a drug dealer settled like oil in my stomach.

Logan glanced over his shoulder, and I held the money out to him. He took it, understanding what it was without my having to tell him. When he turned back to Maryanne, he said, “Is she mine? Did you lie to me?”

“I want my money!” Maryanne screeched.

“Is she mine?”

“Money!”

Logan threw it at her feet and grunted in disgust as she scrambled to pick it up.

“Give me your phone,” she begged as she stood up. “Mine needs to be charged and I can’t find my charger. Give me your phone.”

“So you can call your dealer? No way. Now, answer me.” He took a menacing step toward her, and she blinked up at him blankly. “Is Maia mine?”

“Give me your phone.” She pleaded again, scratching at her head. “Please. I’m fucked.” She stumbled over the coffee table, reaching for a bottle of vodka. “Kells said he would be here yesterday, but he never fucking came. He never fucking came.”

Logan turned to us, drawing my distraught gaze to his haggard face. “We’ll never get a straight answer out of her when she’s like this.” He looked over my shoulder to Maia. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t leave you here, but I can’t let you stay with me until we work out this paternity stuff. The only option is Social Services.”

“No.” Maia pushed away from me, backing up from us. “I’ve heard stories about it. Worse than this. Please. At least I know what to expect here.”

“Maia, it’s not all bad in foster care. It would just be temporary,” Logan tried to rationalize with her.

“No!” She covered her face, her shoulders shaking as she started to sob.

I don’t know what possessed me to speak up. Perhaps it was seeing Maia’s mother treat her as badly as my mother had treated me, but in a much worse environment. Or perhaps it was the carefully controlled mask Logan was wearing that slipped every now and then to show his fear. Or maybe it was just I was a decent person who couldn’t bear the thought of leaving a child to this. Or maybe I hadn’t slept in seventy-two hours and wasn’t thinking straight.

Maybe it was all of the above.

“I have a suggestion. Why —”

“My, where’s your phone?” Maryanne suddenly stumbled into the middle of us, reaching for Maia. She tugged at Maia’s wrists and then slapped her head before Logan could pull her off. He shoved her none-too-gently onto the sofa.

“And stay down,” he warned.

“Where’s your phone?” Maryanne screeched.

Maia wiped at her tearstained face. “I told you,” she whispered. “You smashed it a few weeks ago.”

It was time to move this along. “As I was saying, Maia, although it would seem Logan is your dad, we’re not one hundred percent sure about that. Surely you can see how inappropriate it would be for a grown man to live with a fifteen-year-old girl who isn’t family? However, I’d be happy to let you stay in my guest room until Logan can confirm the paternity.” I was shaking badly as I looked up at Logan, not sure I even really comprehended how much responsibility I was offering to take on here.

“That way she’s close by but not living with you until you have the paternity results.”

He nodded slowly. “Aye, that might be… But what about school?”

“You’ll have to get Maryanne’s permission to enroll her at school in Edinburgh until you have legal claim.”

“She won’t even know I’m gone,” Maia murmured.

We heard a groan from the nearby bedroom, and at the widening of Maia’s eyes, I said, “Look, let’s iron this all out in the car. We should get out of here.”

Seeing sense in that, a subdued Logan led us out of the flat, and we all did our best to ignore the sound of retching coming from the sitting room as we left.

CHAP TER 6

I f the silence had been awkward in the car, it was painful as we stood outside on our landing with Maia. Both she and Logan had been pensive the entire drive, internalizing whatever was going on in their heads. Me? I was trying not to have a panic attack.