Page 25 of The Lost and the Found

“Apparently not,” he muttered, and I got the distinct feeling he was talking about me. Logan put the car into drive and drove away from campus. We didn’t talk. I didn’t know why I was feeling so petulant; I couldn’t help myself.

I was in a bad mood, and Logan volunteered to be my punching bag when he decided to drive me to work. It didn’t matter if that was fair or not. I didn’t care.

We drove in silence until Logan pulled into a nearby deli and drove into the drive-thru lane. “Do you know what you want or can I order for you?”

I looked down at my entwined hands. How did Logan end up making me feel like a child with those simple words? “You can order,” I said quietly.

“Hayden?”

I didn’t answer him. I didn’t need to. We were next in line, and Logan rolled down the window to put in the order: two turkey sandwiches with cranberries and two chicken noodle soups. I watched him from the corner of my eye and couldn’t help but admire his confidence, even when he was doing something as simple as ordering food at the drive-thru.

Logan pulled up, paid, and grabbed the large bag, giving it to me. I placed the bag on my lap, feeling the heat from the food while he drove to an empty spot in the parking lot. Leaving the car on, he unbuckled his seat belt and turned to me. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” That was a good question. Why wouldn’t I be okay? And why did I feel like crying all of a sudden? Was it because of the kiss that I was feeling so goddamn emotional? I didn’t know, but the thought of the kiss brought my gaze to Logan’s lips. They were as soft as they looked, I knew now, despite the rough stubble.

He licked his lips and I had to stop myself from groaning out loud. What was he doing to me?

“Let’s eat. Then I’ll drive you to work.”

I handed him the bag, and while he pulled everything out, placing the two bowls of soups carefully on the dashboard, I turned to ask him what I should have asked him the first night I found him waiting for me outside the bar.

“Why are you doing all of this for me?”

Logan didn’t stop what he was doing. If he was surprised about my question, he didn’t show it. Instead, he handed me a turkey sandwich, which he had already unwrapped. “What do you mean?” he asked, taking a large bite out of his.

“This… all of this. What are you hoping to get out of this?” There was no way he was doing something for me for the sake of being nice. There were no true acts of selflessness. Logan was not the exception to that rule.

“Why does there always have to be an ulterior motive?”

I scowled. “There’s always an ulterior motive.”

“That’s very cynical of you to say.”

“When you live on the streets for three years, you learn that being nice is not an asset, it’s a weakness. No one is nice because they’re genuinely nice,” I said, taking a bite of my sandwich. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until that first bite. It was good, and I liked that this place wasn’t too far from campus. Maybe a fifteen-minute walk.

It was on my second bite that I realized Logan hadn’t said anything in a while. I turned to him and found his eyes on me, something dangerous brewing in them. “What?”

“You lived on the streets of Chicago for three years?” His voice wasn’t higher more than a whisper.

“Yeah, when I was sixteen. My mom died and I didn’t want to be placed in foster care.” I didn’t know why I was sharing so much with him. I’d never even told Dave about my situation, and I had only been off the street for about two years when I started working for him.

Before I had signed the lease to my current apartment, I had rented a small room from an elderly woman who didn’t speak English very well. Then she decided move to Florida because she didn’t want to deal with Chicago winters anymore, and I was left scrambling to find a new place to live.

Despite not liking my apartment very much, I was grateful to have a roof over my head, considering how hard it had been for me to even the lease in the first place.

Logan swallowed a few times, and I put my turkey sandwich on my lap. “Hey, I’m fine. I didn’t tell you so you’d feel sorry for me. I survived, didn’t I?”

He nodded but didn’t say anything more. We ate our meal in silence, and it was during those moments of silence that I realized my situation in life seemed to have affected Logan more than it did me. Even while out on the street, I knew it would be temporary.

I didn’t want to let the bad hand I was dealt put me down. And making a plan for my future was my saving grace during those cold nights. But Logan didn’t see that. He saw a girl who had done such a poor job of taking care of herself that he didn’t know what to say.

I let him stew in silence.

“Are you going to eat your soup?”

I had to stop myself from grimacing. I didn’t eat chicken noodle soup. Not since my mom died. But I didn’t want to get into why, not now, and especially not with Logan.

I schooled my expression and shook my head. “You can have it.”

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