Page 29 of A More Than Mayhem Christmas

Logan adds, still refusing to look at me, “It’s not as if we can just sign him out of the hospital and bring him home with us. I’m pretty sure we’d need to be screened by?—”

“We would,” I inform. I’ve dealt with this side of things before with clients of mine. “We’d have to qualify to be foster parents.”

“We live with my dad, Amanda. And on paper, we’re just a couple in our late twenties. We’re not married. We’re not even engaged. Those are things that could disqualify us.”

“You’ve thought about it a lot, haven’t you?”

“Of course I’ve thought about it,” he admits. “But that’s as far as I’ve gotten.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about him earlier? Why didn’t you come to me?”

“What was I supposed to say? There’s this beaten kid at the hospital and he reminds me of me, and I want to take care of him?”

“Exactly that!” I almost cry.Almost. Because I didn’t just see Micah lying in that hospital bed. I sawLogan,too.I saw them hurt andaloneand desperate for someone to love them and care for them the way they deserve. “Logan, we’re a team. What matters to you, matters to me.”

“Amanda,” he sighs, his eyes meeting mine. He’s quick to wipe the tears that cling to my lashes. “It’s a lot. We know nothing about him. What if he has developmental orbehavioralissues? The hours I’ve spent with him in the hospital might differ completely from what he’s like every day.”

“And that means he deserves less?”

“You know that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then whatareyou saying?”

It takes him a moment to answer, and when he does, the ache in my chest only amplifies. “What if we can’t fix him?”

“But what if we can?”

“I can’t be home for him twenty-four-seven,” he utters.

“But I can,” I assure, and I realize I’m pushing the subject harder than I should, especially in the state that he’s in, butI can’t seem to help it. “I’ll change the appointments for my clients when you’re home. I’ll work around your schedule. That way, he’ll have someone with him all the time. You can help him physically, and I can help him emotionally. We’reexactlywho he needs right now.” And I don’t understand how he can’t see that.

“For how long?” he’s quick to say. “And when our time’s up or they find a family member, what happens to him? Do we just let him go? Is he going to feel unwanted again? And how arewesupposed to go on being responsible for him feeling that way?”

It’s clear now that Logan hasn’t just “thought about it” in passing. He’s thought about every aspect of it. Aspects I haven’t even begun to explore. “I think…” I swallow the knot in my throat, trying to see things from his perspective, but every time I try, all I can picture is Micah in that bed. And then Micah is replaced by the many, many other kids in the same situation.

“You think what?” Logan asks.

Shaking my head, I heave out a breath. “I think this is one of those times where we need to put his safety and feelings before our fears.”

For a long moment, he does nothing but search my eyes, as if hoping to find the answers to the many unspoken questions infiltrating his mind. He starts to speak, then hesitates, before dropping his gaze between us. “I worry you would only be doing this for me,” he murmurs. “And that something might happen to make you regret this decision, and I’ll be at fault.” He holds me to him, his embrace gentle yet firm. “I don’t want to lose you, Amanda. Ican’t. Not again.”

“That won’t happen,” I try to assure, but I know it means little right now.

“You don’t know that.” His hold on me loosens, and I pull back so I can watch the million emotions cross his face. “You don’t know how messed up I was when my dad found me. You don’t know how hard he worked to get me to—” A quiet sobbreaks through his strength, and I’m quick to wrap my arms around him. He buries his face in my neck, saying, “I don’t want to do this right now.”

“Okay.” I lace my fingers through his hair, attempting to soothe the parts of him I can’t cure. Not with a Band-Aid. Not with my words. Not even with my presence. “We won’t do this now, but soon, okay?

“Okay.”

For seconds that could be minutes, or minutes that could be hours, we stay exactly how we are. I listen as his breaths slow to a calm and mine do the same, until eventually, our hearts beat as one again.

He pulls away, the back of his head hitting the seat. Then he’s searching the darkness around us. Eyes narrowed, he leans forward, looking out the window. “Dylan and Riley were still inside when we left, right?”

I tilt my head, trying to recall. “Yeah.”

“And nobody took off while we’ve been in the car?”

“No.” I look out the window, trying to see what he sees. “Why?”

---