Page 27 of Forget Me Not

“Anything.” She pauses, thinking about what exactly she wants to ask. “You and Demi, why are you just now getting close?”

“You go straight for the hard-hitting questions, don’t you?”

She shrugs.

“My father, if you can call him that, wasn’t a good guy to me or my mom, but specifically to my mom.” I pause, thinking about how much I’m willing to share. It seems unfair for me to hide anything at all, considering I, unknown to her, know all of the skeletons in her closet. Yet I still can’t force myself to share some of the darker secrets of the way I grew up. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“My mom was already going through a difficult time of her own when he started cheating on her. Demi’s mom ended up getting pregnant and he took that as his second chance at the perfect family. He left us for them and rarely kept in contact. I knew about Demi growing up, but a part of me resented her for having the life I thought should’ve been mine at the time.” I look up to see Logan paying close attention to my every word. “I know now that I was wrong, and I regret not reaching out to her sooner, but I can’t change the past.”

She nods, understanding.

“Your dad sounds like a dick,” she says, and I laugh at the sound of the words coming out of her mouth.

“Yeah, he is,” I reply.

“But I think you have the wrong idea of how Demi grew up.” I sit up straighter, concern evident. My father is not a good man, but there was a catalyst behind his behavior with me and my mother. I didn’t think there was anything that would make him act in a similar manner toward Demi, and now with a simple sentence, Logan has me questioning everything I’ve ever thought.

“I don’t know all the details. Demi doesn’t talk about her family much. But I’ve just gotten the impression that it wasn’t all rainbows, butterflies, and happy families. I’m pretty sure she’s not your dad’s biggest fan either.” Her response calms me slightly. Demi not liking Alexander Rhodes isn’t the same thing as living the childhood I did.

“Alexander Rhodes is an easy person to hate,” I say.

“What about your mom?” she asks. “I’m assuming it’s her last name you took.”

“Yeah, I changed it once I was old enough.” I nod, confirming her theory. “My mom tried her best.” I end the discussion there, not willing to dive deeper into my mother and her struggles. She doesn’t push me further, looking down at her menu while I do the same.

The waitress comes and goes, taking our orders and bringing out food. There’s silence between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. I’ve never necessarily found silence uncomfortable, always preferring it over mindless words. Yet I find myself wanting to hear more of what Logan has to say. Even if just to hear how the words sound coming out of her mouth.

Everything I find out about Logan Hart draws me to her more. It’s like my head knew to stay away from her right from the start because, with every moment I spend in her presence, I want to spend another. She’s endlessly intriguing to me.

“I like it here.” She looks back out to the ocean as we wait for the check. “I don’t know why you brought me here though.”

“What do you mean?” I ask although I’m pretty sure I already know where she’s going with the question.

“The whole purpose of this date was supposed to be that Kayla would see us together, or someone who knows her would. I don’t think that’s happening here.” She gestures to the crowd around us, mostly filled with families and older couples.

I know that she’s right. The purpose of our going out was for Kayla to see us, confirming that I’ve moved on. But that’s not my purpose anymore. Any care I have about Kayla and her constant annoyances seems insignificant in the presence of Logan. It’s hard to focus on the past when it feels like my entire future is sitting directly across from me.

“We can go somewhere after this where I’ve seen her friends hanging out,” I say, knowing if I push too hard that I’ll scare Logan away. “I just wanted you all for myself first.”

Her cheeks pink up and I realize that making her blush is quickly becoming one of my favorite things. The waitress comes with the check and Logan reaches for the small purse at her side.

“Don’t even think about it.” I leave no room for argument in my tone.

“It’s not even a real date, Kade. I can pay for myself,” she ignores me.

“Real date or not, I was the one who asked you here, I’m the one paying. And everything about tonight has been real, and you know it, Logan. Put your fucking money away.” She stays quiet after that, setting down her purse and waiting as I pay the bill.

I place my hand on her lower back as I guide her out of the restaurant and back toward my bike. The sports bar is the last place I want to go right now, not wanting to share my time with her for a minute. But with every second that passes, the struggle to not bend her over my bike and see if she wants me as desperately as I want her grows. Being alone with her is probably the best and worst possible case scenario right now.

“You ever been to The Alley?” I ask her as I fasten the helmet back onto her head. I bought the second helmet specifically for her yesterday since I normally don’t have anyone on my bike with me. For some reason, riding with her just seemed right. The idea of forcing her to be closer to me may have also passed through my head a time or two. The helmet is smaller than minebut still comically big on her, highlighting just how petite she is. It makes her look cute.

“No, but I’ve heard of it. Isn’t that the sports bar with all the pool tables in the back?” she asks, her voice slightly muffled beneath the helmet.

“Yeah, it’s right next to the tattoo shop I work at. Are you good with going there?” I fasten my own helmet onto my head before settling myself onto the bike.

“Sure, sounds fun.” She grabs my hand to help herself up behind me. Her body forms against my own. She wraps her hands around my center and my dick twitches from the simple touch.Not fucking now,I curse myself internally.

I start the engine and kick off before accelerating onto the open road. Logan doesn’t have the same death grip on me as she did on the way here, but she still holds on tight. Having her this close to me feels intoxicating. It’s a slow torture that I never want to end.

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