Page 46 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

“Then... why?”

“Why what?” he asks, amused.

“Well, you clearly turn your nose up at luxury,” I point out. “But you’re staying at the Plaza now. Why?”

“Well, after this summer’s tour, we could afford it,” he says as we walk. “The girls wanted to have some fun and treat themselves for Halloween, and I am utterly incapable of denying them whatever they want, so...” He shrugs, his hands tied.

I smile. “You really care about them.”

“They’re my girls,” he answers. “The only family I’ve got. I’d do anything for them.”

I study his profile, sensing no lies. Only truth. Only an extreme loyalty that comes with relying on the same people for so long. It reminds me of Knox and the others, of everything we’ve done for each other throughout the years.

If my brother knew I was here with Logan freakin’ Shock right now...

Dead Katrina walking.

I shake it off, looking up as we enter an empty crosswalk. Across the street, behind a chain-link fence, sits an old wooden playground with a large castle-like structure in the middle. Rope ladders and a rickety bridge. Swings and stationary horses. Memories instantly rise to the surface, spurred by the smell of woodchips and fresh cut grass.

“What?” Logan asks beside me.

I whip my head toward him. “What?”

“You just started smiling all of a sudden.”

“Oh.” I exhale softly, feeling it on my lips. “I was just... thinking about the other reason I live in this neighborhood.” I gesture across the street toward the park. “They built that when I was little. Seven, eight years old, maybe. I’ll never forget the first time I saw it. My mother brought me with her to go to the farmer’s market one day. There were kids everywhere, running up and down the ladders, across the bridge, and it looked like the funnest thing in the world, but...” I sigh. “Mom said no. Little girls aren’t supposed to run around and play like that.”

Logan halts on the sidewalk.“What?”

I stop, my stomach curling when I realize what I said was extremely not normal. “Oh. Right.” I flash a smile. “So, I was raised in a cult.”

Logan blinks.

“Nothing too weird or crazy. Well, maybe a little. Mostly, it was one of those hyper-religious communes cut off from the world in the middle of the desert sorts of things. My parents ran it, along with a few other... families...” I let the words fall off as I gauge Logan’s reaction; a mix of bewildered confusing and surprise. “Is that too weird? Sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything?—”

“No, no,” he says. “I’m just still a little hung up on the little girls aren’t meant to run and play part, if you could back up to that bit.”

I nod, taking a breath before explaining. “Girls are—were—meant for the home,” I say. “We don’t run. We don’t play. We tend to our chores and we do as we’re told.”

Logan hums. “And what do boys do?”

“Pretty much whatever they want.” I shrug. “When my mother and I returned home that day, I told Knox about the playground I saw.”

I cast a glance at it behind the fence, the sight of it still making me smile even given the years of neglect and disrepair.

“He told me not to mention it to anyone else,” I say. “I thought he was going to get me in trouble or something, but then one night he came into my room. Told me to grab my jacket and shoes. We sneaked out of the house and there was this BMX bike—I still have no idea where he got it from, but it was there.”

I smile, Logan hanging on every word I’m saying.

“I remember being so scared, but Knox told me it would be okay. Just hold on. Don’t let go. He peddled us all the way into the city, to here.” I gesture at the playground again. “It was the first time I’d ever...played. That I can remember, anyway. I ran back and forth across the bridge for what felt like hours until my lungs felt like they were going to burst out of my chest. It was... the best night of my life. Then, our parents came, and they took us back home. I was locked in my room. Knox was punished. And... I didn’t see him again for six months.”

I study Logan once again, wondering what he’s thinking. Wondering what the hellI’mthinking in telling him about this.

“Sorry,” I say. “I know you didn’t ask for the parade of baggage that is my former life.”

“I did, actually,” Logan says, stone-faced.

“Still.” I exhale hard. “Anyway, that’s why I live here. Knox has the high rise, though.”

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