Chapter Seven

2014

"A whole drawer just for me!?"

Rory smiled as she threw her right hand over her chest in a gesture of pure flattery as her left ran over the edge of Logan's dresser reverently. Sure enough, the entire second drawer had been cleared of the t-shirts, polos, and golf shirts that had been thrown in there haphazardly on her last visit. It was now completely empty, save for a couple flecks of dust and a single white sock that had mysteriously found its way into the back corner.

"Don't sound so surprised," Logan replied over his shoulder from his seat on the couch. He had a smile on his face as he turned away from his tablet and looked over at her while she unpacked. "I always make space for you."

A warm feeling started fluttering in her chest at the sound of his response. She felt as if she might burst from happiness from something so simple as an empty drawer and some carved out closet space for her things. She wasn't even going to be here for very long, and he was still taking efforts to make her feel welcome here. To make his apartment feel like it was her home away from home.

"You do," she said, affectionately. "But, I'm only going to be here for a couple weeks. You didn't have to rearrange things for me. I could have just lived out of my suitcase."

"Absolutely not," Logan said with a small grunt as he threw his tablet down on the cushion next to him and stood up from the couch. "I know better than to let a Gilmore's clothes wrinkle."

"You make me sound high maintenance…" Rory said as she felt Logan slide up behind her and wrap his arms around her waist.

"Hmmm… never…"

Rory feigned indignation at the teasing barb. She knew he wasn't serious. She knew that she was far less maintenance than many of the other girls he'd dated in his lifetime, but she was having a little too much fun with the game that they were playing.

"I am not high maintenance," she said. "If I was high maintenance, I would remind you that you gave me three drawers when we moved in together."

"You had a lot more clothes with you when we moved in together," said Logan, placing a light kiss on her neck.

"And you still owe me those Ginsu knives."

"Have a lot of pennies you need to cut through, Ace?"

"That's Cutco," said Rory.

"Oh. How silly of me," Logan said with a laugh.

Rory turned in his arms so that they were standing face to face. His hands settled on her hips and she threw her arms around his neck, using them to pull him down toward her and place a kiss on his lips.

"Thank you," she said as she pulled away, looking sweetly into his eyes.

"You're welcome," he said, giving her one more squeeze before pulling away from her and walking back over to his tablet on the couch. Rory returned her attention to her bags, unpacking a pile of shirts and blouses and placing them into the empty drawer in front of her.

"I think I'm going to go ahead and order dinner," said Logan as he started flicking through his device. "Sound good?"

"Yes, I'm starving," Rory answered.

She pulled a navy blue floral wrap dress out of her bag, noting that it was already slightly wrinkled and would likely need a steam before she could wear it. She also wondered if it might be something that she could feasibly wear to the party Logan had told her about on the way home. Though, at the moment, she wasn't sure if it was too casual. Or too nice. Or too… anything.

"So this party tomorrow…" she said, prompting Logan to throw her a glance over his shoulder as he pulled up the information for the restaurant.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Is this like… a work thing? Or… just a friend thing?"

"Um… both?" said Logan. "You remember Bobbie, right?"

An instant feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach at the sound of the name. Years had passed since the last time she'd had to think about Logan's leggy model-like colleague, and yet she was still reduced into a pile of nerves at the mere mention of her. If anything, it was worse now than it had been before. At least before she knew all there was to know about their relationship. Now, there were years of unknowable circumstances between the two of them. And the not knowing was allowing her mind to fill with too many possible scenarios for her sanity to handle.

"Uh. Yeah…" she replied, trying to sound as aloof as possible. "I remember."

"It's her husband's fortieth birthday."

"Oh!" she said. "Her husband. That's nice."

It was hard to disguise her enthusiasm at hearing that little detail, and Logan picked up on it right away. He threw an amused look in her direction, but she still tried to maintain an unfazed demeanor - even though she had already lost the effort. And they both knew she had already lost the effort.

"Anyway…" said Logan. "He works for me too. And most of her friends work for me. So… it's a friend thing. But… also a work thing since I'm like… the boss guy."

"I'm sure you're more than just the boss guy," said Rory as she pulled a hanger down from his closet and slipped underneath the shoulders of her dress. Logan only shrugged half-heartedly in response. "There have to be some people there that you don't work with. Just friends or...whatever..."

She'd expected Logan to shrug off that statement, or to simply not even respond to it at all. It was meant to be entirely innocuous, a benign gesture of reassurance. She hadn't expected Logan's shoulders to visibly tense at the statement, or a nervous look to fall across his face. Nerves settled in her own gut again at the sight of it, and while she had no idea what was coming, she was pretty sure that she wasn't going to like whatever it was.

"Yeah… about that…" he said, putting his tablet down to give him her full attention. "We might need to talk…"

She hoped that he would start. Because at that moment, she wasn't sure she was able to muster any words. All she could do was try to control the tsunami of dread rising within her, to hide the panic that had quickly wiped away all the happiness and joy she'd felt moments before at seeing the empty drawer in front of her. She swallowed and nodded, and she reached out her arm to place her dress on the rack before bracing herself for whatever was coming.

She had a feeling it wasn't going to be good.

2036

Even the hangers in this house were luxurious.

When Riley walked into the spacious closet tucked into the wall across from her bed, her eyes had landed on a cluster of solid wood hangers dangling from the silver pole suspended between two built in shelving units. All of them uniform, all of them completely unscratched, all of them the same white oak finish. It was a far cry from her closet at home, a quarter of the size and packed full to the brim with a random assortment of wire and plastic hangers of different shapes, sizes, and colors. This closet looked like it could be on the cover of an organizational magazine.

The whole house looked like it could be on the cover of a magazine, and she was finding it difficult to get used to the place. She was finding it difficult to get used to this room. Her room.

When they had arrived home after retrieving her belongings and taking a roundabout route through the city back to the house, Logan climbed out of the car and told her that he would take her bags upstairs to her room. Where she could put things away in her closet. And her dresser. And her bathroom.

But nothing about this room felt like it was hers.

Her room was tiny. Her room was tucked away in the dormer window in the attic of her mother's modest cottage style house in Woodbridge, Connecticut. Her room had sloped ceilings and a tiny twin sized bed with painted wood plank flooring covered in mismatched brightly colored rugs. It had strings of twinkle lights hanging from the painted rafters. It looked out over a quiet suburban street lined with homes similar to hers. It didn't have a massive king sized bed. Or an ensuite bathroom. Or a fireplace. And it definitely didn't have a small walk-in closet half filled with garment bags containing gowns that were probably worth more than her mother's car.

She'd noticed them mere seconds after walking into the space, and as soon as she had, her own dresses were almost entirely forgotten. She haphazardly hung the copper colored H&M jersey dress onto the pole in front of her, not even noticing that one of the sleeves had popped off the side of the hanger in the process. Her eyes were too focused on the yellow lace gown hanging inside a clear bag on the other side of the closet, as if pulled to it by a mysterious force.

Riley bit her lip as she stared at it for a few seconds, feeling anxious yet unable to stop herself from reaching out toward it with her hands. She threw a look over her shoulder, making sure that there was no one standing behind her in the bedroom, and then lifted her fingers to the white zipper down the center of the bag. As she pulled it down, it felt as if the sound generated from the interlocking hooks being pulled apart might as well have been the rumbling of an earthquake. She paused again once the zipper was open, looking over her shoulder one more time before taking the garment out of the bag with almost shaking hands.

Yet, as soon as her hands ran over the fabric of the gown, her nerves all but disappeared. Instead, she was entirely distracted by the feel of the delicate fabric under her fingertips and the weight of the dress in her hands. She ran her fingers lightly over the lace and beads covering the boned satin bodice, and her heart almost stopped at the sight of the name 'Oscar de la Renta' written across the tag in a flowing cursive script.

Had she not been utterly terrified of damaging it, she probably would have dropped the garment to the ground that instant as if it was burning her with it's sheer grandiosity. Instead, however, she gripped it even tighter, her eyes growing wide and her skin slightly pale.

Eventually, her eyes drifted away from the gown, landing on her reflection in the floor length mirror hung against the back wall of the closet. She stared at herself for a moment, still dressed in her ripped jeans and t-shirt, holding a dress that belonged on the red carpet at The Oscars rather than in her dry unmanicured hands. Though, as she stood there recovering from the shock of what she was holding, she couldn't help but surrender to the curiosity that had driven her to take it out of the bag in the first place.

She held the dress up to her body, throwing the hanger over her neck so that it hung down her front. The train pooled around her feet, and she pulled the waist closer to her own so that she could picture how it might fit her own curves and imaging how it would rest against her skin rather than the heather grey of her t-shirt. She tilted her head slightly to the side as she examined herself, and she boosted herself up on her tiptoes as if wearing a pair of imaginary heels.

"You really shouldn't wear that shade of yellow with that hair color and your skin tone."

Riley jumped at the sound of the voice. She turned in a slight panic, once again feeling like she had been caught red-handed messing with the belongings of her father's late wife without the reverence or permission they deserved. Her heart beat wildly in her chest, and her eyes landed on the last person she wanted to see.

Standing in the doorway was Alex. He was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest as he looked at her with a twitched eyebrow. To his credit, it looked like he had actually showered in the time that she and Logan had been gone, and he had replaced the pajama bottoms with a pair of actual pants. Sweatpants, but pants nonetheless.

"You just look like... an ear of corn," he continued as he lifted his hand into the air and waved his palm around her in a kind of circular motion.

Her mouth popped open at the comment. She didn't know whether or not to be offended. He didn't seem nearly as angry as he had been earlier in the morning when she'd been caught touching the keys on his mother's piano. But, his tone of voice still wasn't exactly kind, and it wasn't often that she was insulted about her appearance. It wasn't ever that she was insulted about her appearance in all honesty. She'd always been considered a relatively pretty girl.

"I'm sorry…" she said, hoping that apologizing for going through the closet might curb some sort of angry outburst. "I was just…"

She trailed off, not really knowing what else to say. 'I was just going through your deceased mother's clothes and trying them on in the mirror like a four year old playing dress up?' Alex, however, didn't seem to be bothered by her inability to form a complete sentence. He simply walked into the room and started confidently swiping through garment bags until he landed on a black bag with a plastic window next to the zipper and the words Neiman Marcus written on the side in white script. He pulled it off the hanger, and Riley was once again at a loss for words when he handed it to her.

"This is probably better for you."

It was a toga style dress, a metallic toga style dress in a sparkling silver and graphite ombre. It had a halter neckline with a wide and plunging keyhole in the center of the chest and a long slit coming almost all the way up the left leg. It was sexier than anything Riley had ever worn in her life, a far cry from the pink tea length tulle dress that her grandmother had made her for her prom. And even though Riley was hardly an innocent blushing little schoolgirl, she still felt her face flush at the idea of wearing something like that. That was a dress for a woman. A dignified, cultured, elegant woman. One who'd had sex with more than one boy in her life and didn't still live in her mother's attic. Or play dress up in closets that didn't belong to her, afraid of being caught.

"Oh I don't…" she said. "I don't want one. I was just… admiring them."

"You might as well take one," Alex said with a shrug. "They're just going to get donated."

"I don't want your mother's dress…" Riley insisted.

"Why? Feel weird wearing a dead woman's clothes?" Alex countered, glibly.

Riley was once again at a loss of how to respond. His tone was angry - it seemed to be perpetually angry. But the anger didn't seem to be directed at her. It just seemed to exist around her, as if it didn't have any particular target. The only target she'd really seen it aimed at was Logan. Though, he didn't seem to be even the slightest bit bothered by it. He took the blows without comment. He even made excuses and apologized for him. Protected him. Let him be as angry as he needed to be. Perhaps that was the best way to handle it.

"It's not that," said Riley, deciding to ignore his tone and yet still answer his question in good faith. "They're just… they're too nice. I wouldn't feel right…"

Alex narrowed his eyes at her. His arms crossed over his chest again and he looked her up and down in the appraising way that he was so oft to do.

"How does your family know my dad again?" he asked with a questioning glance.

"They… um…" Riley swallowed. "That is my mom… He and my mom went to Yale together. They were… friends."

They were more than friends, if Riley's existence was any indication. But, Alex didn't have to know that at the moment. And, besides, even if Riley wanted to tell him more, she wouldn't know what to tell.

"Right…" he replied, skeptically, filling Riley with a sense of unease.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing. It's just…I've met my dad's friends from Yale," said Alex. "And none of them are quite so… middle class."

Riley was starting to get the impression that brutal honesty was simply a trademark of his personality. He hadn't said it to be nasty or cruel, and it didn't seem like he was judging her for her upbringing. He was merely pointing out a truth. Yet, even so, she couldn't help but feel judged hearing the words drip from his poshly accented English.

It was strange, but before starting at Yale, she'd never been made to feel like the term middle class was a bad thing. In her mind, it has always been a good thing. She and her mom had everything that they needed to live a fruitful life, plus plenty of comforts to make that life enjoyable. She'd never gone hungry or had to wear second hand clothes. She'd even considered herself privileged on more than one occasion. Yet, standing there holding a dress worth thousands of dollars and being uncomfortably confronted with just how different her life had been from her brother's…. It left her feeling disconcerted. And entirely out of her element.

"Well…" said Riley, holding her head up high. "Maybe you don't know everything about your dad."

Of course, Riley didn't know much about him either. Anything really. But, she did know that at one point he'd been with her mother, and her mother had never lived a life of abundance. She knew that he'd been kind to her since the moment she'd rung the doorbell the night before, before he even knew what their relation was. She knew that upon learning about her, he'd opened up his home without hesitation. He'd treated her like… well… like a daughter. And with all that in mind, she had a hard time believing that he was as detestable as Alex seemed to believe he was.

"Oh, I assure you..." Alex started with a scoff.

Riley prepared herself for the defensive insistence that she was sure would come. That he knew his father perfectly well, far better than she did in any regard. That he'd lived with him for his entire she had no right to say such a thing to him. But, what she received in reply turned out to be anything but.

"I know nothing about my dad."

The words landed on Riley's chest like a lead weight. Suddenly, she found herself entirely disarmed - not just by the vulnerability of the statement, but also by the sheer sadness of it all. She was the one who was meant to know nothing about her father. She was the one who was supposed to feel like a stranger in his presence. Not him. He'd known him since the day he was born. He'd been raised by him. Lived in his house for his entire life. The idea that he could stand here and claim to hardly know the man at all was incomprehensible to her.

Her heart went out to him in that moment, this teenage boy who'd just lost his mother and was left with a parent that felt like a stranger to him. A boy that - while she didn't like to make a habit of assuming - seemed to her as if he already didn't fit that effortlessly into the stuffy and most likely conservative social circle he was surrounded by.

It was no wonder he was lashing out at the world. It all had to feel so lonely…

She didn't know what she would do if she lost her mother. She knew she would be taken care of. She'd have her Nana and her Grandpas. She'd have her Aunts and her friends and even Jess… But even so, she was pretty sure she'd feel completely and utterly alone. Lost.

"I'm sure that's not true…" she said, meekly, knowing that her words were pointless.

"He hates cabbage."

Alex followed his statement up with a halfhearted shrug, as if he was sharing the most intimate and personal detail he could muster about the man. A pall of silence fell between the two of them. In that moment, Riley felt a determination to reach out to him, to forge a bond with this boy who shared half of her chromosomes and so desperately needed a friend. Yet, she couldn't think of anything to say that wouldn't sound like sheer pity, something she doubted he wanted any part of.

"Anyway, I was sent up here to tell you there's lunch downstairs if you want it," Alex continued, making his way back over to the door.

"Have you eaten?" Riley asked, hoping that he might come down with her.

"I'm not hungry," Alex replied with another shrug.

Riley watched for a moment as he made his way out of the closet. Yet, before he could turn into her room and walk out of her sight, she called out to him.

"Alex…" she said, prompting him to stop walking for a moment and turn back to look at her. "I'm really sorry about your mom."

Alex's eyes started to glass over, but he blinked back the tears. He said nothing, probably worried that his voice might betray the emotions swirling within him. He only nodded instead. He stuck his hands in his pockets and turned again on his heel, continuing his walk out of her bedroom.

She was left there standing in his wake, trying to ignore the feelings stirring in her gut. The feelings of guilt. About coming here and throwing herself into this situation. About lying to her mother. She was so lucky to have her mother, and she'd spent the last month lying to her face. She was still lying to her.

Her phone felt like an iron weight in her pocket. Logan's words from inside the car started circling in her mind. The knowledge that she was going to have to have this conversation with her mom was hanging over her head like a black cloud. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and pulled up her mother's contact information, staring at it for a moment. Yet, no matter how long she stood there she couldn't summon the courage to press the send button.

Surely it could wait until after she ate lunch?

Biting her lip, Riley slipped her phone back into her pocket, ignoring the pestering voice in the back of her mind sounding something like Jiminy Cricket with a more colorful vocabulary. She ventured out of the closest and into the hall, making her way toward the stairs.

As she reached the bottom level, she could hear some commotion coming from the kitchen. The sound of cabinet doors opening and closing filled the air. She heard some French doors opening and the voice of Miriam calling out to Beau to go outside, and Riley walked through the hall under the stairs just in time to see the patio doors close behind her and the family dog take off like a flash through the green grass. To her right, Logan was rifling through the pantry. But, the moment he saw her he smiled in her direction and closed the doors.

"Hey there," he said. "Did you get your stuff all taken care of?"

"Um…" Riley trailed off. She wasn't sure if she should let him know that she'd been distracted going through his wife's old things. "No. But… I'll get to it."

"Don't worry about it," said Logan, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "I can ask Miriam to put your things away later."

"Oh. That's okay," said Riley, uncomfortable with the idea of someone waiting on her in such a way. "I can do it myself. She doesn't have to - "

"I was thinking I could make a couple sandwiches, and maybe we could head up to The Heath. It's not far from here, and it's a great view."

Riley didn't know what 'The Heath' was, but considering he was a local, she would take his word for it. It would be nice to actually see something. So far, she'd been here over twenty-four hours, and all she'd seen of the city had been in the uber from the airport and the passenger seat from Logan's Tesla. Yet, just as she was about to answer in the affirmative, she felt a vibration in her pocket.

"Um, yeah…" she answered as she pulled her phone out. "Yeah that um…."

All the words suddenly left her head as she looked down at the device in her hand and saw her mother's picture flash across her screen. She started at it for a couple seconds, at a complete loss for what to do. In her heart she knew she should answer it. She knew that she should tell her mother the truth about what she was doing and where she was. She knew that if she didn't soon, then Logan would do it for her, and an opportunity was presenting itself now.

She was just too chicken to actually do it.

"That sounds…" she looked up at him briefly, catching his eye for just a moment before returning to her phone screen. "That sounds good."

"You can go ahead and answer that," Logan said, looking over his shoulder at her as he pulled the refrigerator doors open. "You won't offend me."

Offending him wasn't exactly what Riley was concerned about, but she didn't want to bring attention to that fact either. It was almost as if she was afraid he would just know. That by some sixth sense, he would be able to tell that she was talking to her mom without even being told.

Still, the more she ignored her mother's calls and texts, the more she might begin to suspect that something was going on, and she would really like to avoid that if at all possible. When she finally did muster up the courage to tell her mom who she was staying with, it would be nice if she was as calm and level headed as possible. It would be nice if Riley was more calm and level headed. More than she was now at any current rate.

Regardless, at this point she knew she had to answer it. If she didn't she'd either have to explain to Logan why or spend the rest of her afternoon with the harbinger of calling her mother back in a timely manner hanging over her head. Her best course of action was just to try to keep the conversation as non-descript as possible.

"Hey…" Riley threw an askance look in Logan's direction as she answered the phone. She kept her voice quiet, though in the back of her mind she knew that speaking softly would only make her look more suspicious than speaking normally.

"Hi, hun!" her mother greeted enthusiastically, no doubt having just drunk a fresh cup of coffee considering the hour back in New England and the chipperness in her voice. "I got your text. Just calling to check in. How's Old Blighty treating you? Are you having a good time?"

"It's…" Riley looked out the window, momentarily distracted as she watched Beau running circles in the backyard as Miriam called after him. "It's good. I'm fine."

"Fine?" Rory asked with a teasing lilt to her tone. "Just fine? Are you tired of London already? You know Samuel Johnson said, 'if you're tired of London, you're tired of life.' You're not tired of life at nineteen are you? Cause I've got some bad news if you are..."

"I'm not tired of life…" Riley said, a small smile creeping up on her face.

Across from her, Logan tore his attention away from the inside of the fridge and turned to look at her somewhat strangely at the sound of her response. She supposed she could understand why out of context, but she really wished he would have stayed turned away from her. The sight of him watching her as she spoke to her mother over the phone was putting her on edge, as if he would somehow know just by listening. As if he had ESP or something. Deciding she needed some privacy to continue on, she turned around and walked out of the kitchen, past the doorway leading to the backyard, and into the great room where she start pacing around as her mother continued to speak.

"Well I'm glad to hear it," said Rory. "Have you met anyone?"

Riley's head snapped in Logan's direction as he started pulling out some deli meat from the fridge and setting it on the kitchen island. He moved over to the bread box on the counter a few feet away from him and took out a loaf of pre-sliced bread. Her heart started pounding as she watched him.

"Wh...what?" she asked.

"Have you met anyone at your hostel?" Rory asked again. "Any cute boys?"

"I um…" Riley started. "I've met a couple boys, I guess."

It wasn't technically a lie. Though, she could hardly classify Logan as a boy. And neither Logan nor Alex were the kind of boys that her mother was referring to, but she didn't need to specify. She wasn't sure how long she was going to be able to get away with this, with skirting around the truth like she was, especially considering the conversation she'd just had with Logan in the car.

She was going to have to come clean eventually. She knew it would be better if the truth came from her rather than from him, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. It was an unwritten rule in their house that they didn't talk about her father. Every time the subject came up, her mother's answers would be short and clipped, and she'd usually change the subject so quickly that Riley often got whiplash. Over time, she'd learned to just stop asking.

That's what made it so difficult. She didn't know how to tell her mother that she was here, that she had lied to her. She didn't know how she would react. If she would be angry. Well... Riley knew she would be angry. But would she just be angry about the lie? Or would she be angry that she came here to meet him at all?

In her mind she knew that she was technically an adult. She didn't need her mother's permission to be here. But, as annoying as it was, there was still a part of her who felt like she did. She didn't feel like an adult, and her mother's approval meant a great deal to her. That was why she'd lied in the first place. She didn't know what she would have done if she'd heard her mother's disapproval. She might never have summoned up the courage to come here.

And she so badly wanted to come here.

"Ri, sweetheart, are you okay?" Rory asked, her cheerful tone suddenly coming down to something a bit more serious. "You seem off."

"I'm fine," she said. "I just… I didn't sleep that great last night. That's all."

"Is that all? Or - "

At that moment, her mother's voice was drowned out by the opening of the french doors to the backyard and the frantic barks of her father's energetic border collie. Beau seemed to smell the meat in the kitchen the moment he'd come bouncing through the door, and he barreled into the room after it, not letting up with his demands for a snack.

"Is that a dog?" he mother asked, her confusion utterly apparent.

"It's… um… yeah… I…"

"You don't sound like you're outside. Is there a dog at your hostel?" Rory continued.

"He's - "

"Beau! No! I have your treats here!" came the sound of Miriam's voice as she tried to pull the dog's attention away from Logan and the island and toward the pantry where the more canine oriented snacks were apparently kept.

"Who's that?" Rory asked.

She sounded as if she was growing more and more confused by the second. Riley tried to move away from the noise, heading further into the large living area. She plugged her open ear with a finger as she walked to the back of the room, moving toward the pool of natural light being let in by the array of floor to ceiling windows lining the entire back wall. She stopped as she reached a glass balcony rail that looked over an open spiral staircase down to the basement, her hands wrapping around a post and squeezing as if it were a stress ball.

"That's um…." she started, pausing for a moment as she tried to think of something to say. "She works here."

"So there's a dog that lives at your hostel?" Rory asked. "That's kind of weird…"

"Not exactly…" said Riley.

"Riley, what is going on?" he mother asked, clearly growing tired of the cryptic responses. "Where are you?"

"I'm…"

Apparently satiated with his treat, the boisterous mass of fur that had triggered the turn of the conversation started walking her way, his excitement growing as his eyes landed upon her standing there. His tail started wagging wildly, more barks filled the air, and he started jumping up at her just as he had that morning in the other room.

"I'm at…" she said as she tried to push the bouncy dog away from her with one open hand all while trying her best not to actually hurt him. "I'm um…"

"Beau!"

Riley's attempts at calming the animal were cut short as the booming sound of her father's voice filled the air. By the sound of footsteps growing louder and louder, she could tell that he was getting closer to her. Though, admittedly she might be getting the sound confused with the pounding of her heart in her ears.

"Riley…" her mother's suddenly nervous voice sounded in her ear.

"Beau! Get down!"

"Riley…" her mother repeated, the tension and fear in her voice was even more apparent now than it had been before, and Riley got the distinct impression that she might be suspecting something. "Riley, who is that?"

"That's just… um… he's…"

"Stop jumping! Leave Riley alone. Come here."

The dog finally relented the moment that Logan reappeared in her vision. Her mother, however, did not.

"Who is th - " Rory interrupted herself, and Riley heard her take a deep breath, as if consciously abandoning the question. "Riley, where are you? Who are you with?"

The tone of her mother's voice was not the tone of a person who was confused. It wasn't the tone of a person who was asking questions out of genuine curiosity. It wasn't the tone of a person who was trying to get her thoughts straight. It was the tone of a person who already knew the answers to the questions she was asking. A person who had an investigative mind. A person who could easily recognize the sound of an ex-lover's voice the moment she heard it.

It was the tone of a person about to enter into a state of absolute hysteria.

Riley could relate. She could hear the pounding of her heart in her ears and feel the rush of blood spreading over her cheeks. Her hands were shaky and her palms sweaty. And the only words she could think of were curses and lamentations about why she'd been so stupid as to think that answering this call was a good idea.

"I'm… I'm with…"

She could feel her vocal cords vibrating as she attempted to form sentences, but the only sounds landing on her ears were the heavy breaths and nonsensical stammers of her own voice as she tried to muscle through a total panic attack.

But, just as she was about to completely break down, her eyes landed on an outstretched open hand in front of her. Her eyes followed the hand up toward the wrist attached to it, over the arm, around the shoulders, and finally up to the sight of Logan's face standing in front of her with a calm and knowing expression. She stood there for a moment, silently looking into his eyes as she listened to her mother continue to demand answers to her questions on the other side of the phone.

Her hand moved as if on autopilot, moving the phone away from her ear and toward the opened palm in front of her. She already knew she'd want to kick herself for this later, for being so pathetic as to not be able to speak to her own mother. But, right now, all she could see was the hand of her father - the one she'd longed for her whole life - opened right in front of her, ready to save her from a situation that she wasn't ready to handle by herself yet. Offering to make her problems go away.

In an instant, her phone was placed into his hand, and Riley watched as he took a deep breath and lifted it to his own ear.

"She's with me, Ace," he said, not even bothering to confirm his suspicions. "I think we need to talk."

TBC...

AN: Hey, guys. I'm really sorry about the delay with this chapter. As I said before, for whatever reason this one is just flowing so much slower than my other fics. Also, it was my brother's birthday this week and work has been a nightmare because we are switching to a new database and it's… such a clusterfuck. Anyway… I'm feeling off about this chapter, but hopefully I'm just in my head. Hope you all liked it.

Please review!