Page 204 of Keeping Kasey
Logan’s eyes narrow, and it takes me longer than it should to realize he’s genuinely confused by the question. “You thought I wouldn’t come?”
A thick lump clogs my throat, and my gaze drops to my abdomen.
“There is no baby,” I tell him in a broken whisper.
I can’t bring myself to look at him as the tears fill my eyes. Dealing with my own sorrow has been hard enough, but inflicting it on Logan is crueler than Rex’s beating.
A gentle finger under my chin lifts my gaze to his. My head throbs from the motion, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in my chest.
“I know.”
He knows?
“I heard you on the phone,” he explains. “What I don’t understand is why Diaz thought he needed to make up a pregnancy to get me here. We’re lucky he only wanted a few traitors. I would’ve given himanythingto get you back.”
My breath catches, and it takes a moment for his words to process—to really sink in.
I would’ve given himanythingto get you back.
It’s every assurance I have ever needed from Logan. He didn’t come here because of Leon’s deception. He came forme.
As lovely as the realization is, it’s smothered by a dread so strong it temporarily dulls the physical pain—because I can’t keep the truth from Logan any longer.
“He didn’t make it up.”
I’m not sure if it’s the words or watching the anguish they cause me, but the light slowly drains from Logan’s eyes.
“What do you mean?” His question is quiet, like he’s afraid of the answer.
“There’s no baby,” I tell him, “but there was.”
My voice breaks on the last word, and Logan’s head drops.
I can’t see his face, but I don’t need to.
Grief emanates from him, mirroring my own, and it’s comforting in a sick, twisted way to know he feels this loss, too. That’s how it always should’ve been—a weight we carried together.
I’ve been letting it crush me for months.
When Logan lifts his head, the despair in his eyes brings tears to mine. “The ultrasound?”
“That was our baby,” I confirm.
Logan’s hand finds mine, and after a long moment, he asks, “What happened?”
Through the haze of darkness and mourning, his touch is a beacon of life—a peace that gives me the strength to relive the best and worst days of my life.
“I thought I had a stomach bug or the flu, so I went to a clinic. They ran bloodwork and… I was six weeks along,” I whisper, a faint smile touching my lips as I remember how it felt to get the results.
I was in a haze of pure joy when they offered to take me for an ultrasound to verify how far along I was.
“You need to know that I wanted our baby more than I have ever wanted anything in my life. It didn’t make any sense after everything we’d said and done, but I was so excited to tell you. Then, right as I was about to leave the clinic, I saw my motel on the news…”
“And it was up in flames,” he finishes on a ragged breath.
“I knew you’d never hurt us,” I assure him, because it’s true. “But I also knew that you would only take me back for the sake of our child, and I didn’t want a baby to be the only reason you wanted me.”
“That’s why you made the Seeker?”
