Friday, June 12

6:30pm

Logan

Instead of Veronica's meat special, Logan pays for a creation of cauliflower crust and Daiya cheese that melts, but doesn't brown and bubble property. The thing shouldn't have the right to call itself a pizza.

"Hey," he says, carrying it at arms-length. The cardboard box that will probably taste better than the food it houses. "Dinner's here."

Mac, ass in the air as she works under his desk, wiggles backward and sits up, resting on her haunches. "Perfect timing."

"I could have done that part."

Logan reaches out a hand and Mac grabs it, pulling herself up. "No," she shakes her head. "I like knowing it's done right. Saves me time troubleshooting later. Just don't mess with it."

"No promises." he says, standing with his backside against the desk as she settles into the executive-style computer chair and reaches for the pizza box. With an eyebrow wiggle he asks, "So, how'd it go with Casey the other night?"

"Caught that, did ya?"

"Hard to miss when you leave here so close on his tail."

"And you care about my dating life because?"

"Just making conversation."

"Uh, huh."

"Going to see him again?"

"I don't know. Wanna talk about it over s'mores at our slumber party?"

Logan takes an experimental bite of the pizza and puts it down, contenting himself with picking off the mushrooms instead. "So what's his name?"

"Who's name?"

"The asshole you're trying to get over."

Mac turns her back to him and types one-handed while still eating her pizza. "Jerkface. And I am over him."

"Uh, huh."

"Okay." She sets down her phone and turns around, her hand out. "I need your phone for one last thing."

Logan unlocks his phone and hands it over. He crosses his arms and waits while she presumably does her tech magic.

After several minutes she tosses it back to him. "There, now you can worry about your own sex life."

The screen is open to a Tinder profile of him. The picture she took on the sly is in shadow, obscuring the finer points of his face but, vanity aside, the white t-shirt and crossed arms do a pretty good job of showing off his years of hard labor on the ship. The tattoo adds an interesting focal point, with its broken heart.

Logan (45) I'm an excellent surfer but my diving skills are a little rusty. Looking for a partner to help me practice. Swipe right to apply.

"Forty-five?"

"Yeah. Then you get both the twenty-year-olds with daddy issues, and compliments on how good you look for your age. Win-win."

"Nice."

His phone chimes and Logan looks down, seeing he has matches. "What is happening?"

"You've got matches."

"But I didn't swipe on anybody."

"I did. Just a few to get you started."

"Thanks," he drolls, the word dripping with sarcasm, and lays the phone on the desk. "I'm not exactly ready to date yet."

Mac grins, extracting a mushroom from her slice of pizza and sliding it into her mouth. "Pretty sure, with that profile, you aren't being asked out for dinner and a movie."

"More power to you, and no judgement, but I'm not really into one-night stands."

"Right. We went to the same high school, remember? Guys aren't the only ones who talk in the locker room."

"Well, things change."

"Since when?"

"Since before I left, when Veronica broke up with me over Madison."

Mac rolls her eyes. "I guess that's why you slept your way through Europe. You know, after leaving your girlfriend up the duff."

Logan winced. "Ouch."

"Just stating the facts."

"Well, if we're talking facts, I didn't sleep with anybody. Not until Eva."

"But Keith—,"

"Followed me, right. Well, unless he followed me into hotel rooms, he missed a lot. I didn't sleep with anybody." His phone chimes with another match and Logan hands it back to Mac. "Delete this, please."

"Does Veronica know that?"

"Does it matter?"

"I guess not." Mac shrugs and takes the phone from him, her fingers flying over the screen. "Not anymore. But you weren't there when she got those pictures. It mattered a lot, then."

Piano wire, Logan thinks, remembering the vindictive reach of Veronica's jealousy. "Just be safe out there, will you? Men are assholes."

"I know. I think I've met half of them. They come across as sweet and sane on text but," she shudders. "It's why I only go to places that have valet. Some of these guys, you don't want to be walking alone to your car after you turn them down."

"You shouldn't be meeting up with them alone."

""Is that an offer to be my pimp, or my wingman?"

"I guess that depends if you're charging." Logan winks and shakes his head. "Call me if you want backup, but I'm also good for a hang if you just want to get out of the house without all," he wrinkles his nose at the phone, "that."

Mac picks up her pizza and takes another bite, while also rolling the chair to position herself at his workstation. The move is fluid, like one she's done hundreds of times. "This isn't one of those pacts, is it? If we're both not married by the time we're forty, blah blah."

"Absolutely. Give me one of those Twizzlers, I'll make a ring out of it."

Mac snorts and shoots him a look over her shoulder. "Movie tomorrow?"

7:00pm

Gai

It's been more than a week since Gai saw those pictures of Dad and they still won't leave his head. Neither will the fog that mutes everything around him. The only time he feels like himself is when Steph is around. He looks both ways on the street before ducking behind the bushes next to Cam's house. She's already there, waiting for him.

"Hey," he says, sinking down next to her and laying one on her, right there. Licking his lips,Gai asks, "Dr. Pepper lip gloss?"

Steph nods. "What are you doing here? I thought you had dinner with your grandma on Tuesdays?"

"Her church had a thing. She plays the organ for them."

"Did she teach you any new songs?"

"Not today." He puts his palm against hers, his mood lifted when she entwines their fingers. "But do you know that Beastie Boys one, Brass Monkey?"

"Um, no?"

"Old, white boy rap. Good stuff. Anyway, she had a break between lessons. I started goofing around with my sax, playing it. Grandma jumped in, and it turns out she knew all the words. Has all their first LP, even."

Steph's eyes get wide, her smile big. "Your grandma raps?"

"Not usually, but she's cool, in an uptight way."

Gai can't stop looking at her, the black outlined lids and heavily mascaraed lashes resting on her cheeks off setting the deep blue of her eyes. She's wearing the green v-neck tee again, with the black lace bra that just peeks over the edge of her shirt. It makes her seem vulnerable. It makes him feel other things, too, no lie, but with them is a strange surge of protectiveness. When she drops her head, Gai lays a small kiss at her hairline.

Steph tilts her head back to look up at him. Her eyes lock on his and the new kind of tension they've been having all week builds between them. All the dark thoughts blank out, leaving a delicious mindlessness behind. Gai lowers his mouth to hers, closing his eyes a second before they meet.

His lips open in response, the pressure of his mouth on hers urging Steph's to do the same. Dr. Pepper lip gloss swims between them. Long before he's ready, Steph pulls back. "Can we get out of here? Go do something fun?"

"This is fun."

"Something else fun."

An uncertainty fills him. He thought they were doing okay, but she's older than him. Maybe she knows more, or wants something he's not bringing? But he needs her. Kissing Steph made all that crap in his head clear away for one second, and he wants more.

Steph stands up, dragging him with her. "Come on, Shaggy Boy."

7:00pm

Veronica

Hearing a knock at the front door irritates her. Gai is barely out the door and she'd just settled into the office, expecting no interruptions until he was due home at nine.

Logan stands on her porch, an agitated energy rolling off of him. Dispensing with any small talk, he walks right into the living room and says, "We have to talk."

"Hey. Gai—,"

"I saw him up the street, headed the other way. This'll be quick—I need you to know something."

Veronica pushes the door shut and leans against it.. "Okay, what?"

He plants a hand on his hip and points a finger in the air, his voice lower but adamant. "Your dad. He followed me after I took off and showed you some pictures of me, right? With another woman?"

"I—," Veronica pulls in a breath and nods, not sure why an ancient dalliance after he left is suddenly so urgent. "Yeah, so?"

"So, I didn't sleep with her."

The nineteen-year-old inside her, knocked-up and still scorned, wants every detail. The thirty-two-year-old widow wins out. "Logan, it was a long time ago. I don't care."

"I do. I can't rewrite our history but I will set it straight."

Veronica shakes her head. She launches off the door to walk past him and motions for him to follow. Once in her bedroom she opens Sam's closet, retrieving the black banker's box she took from her dad's and taking out the large manilla envelope on top.

Once she hands it to him, Logan quickly flips through until he gets to one of him making out with a busty brunette. He nods his head. "I remember this one. She shrugged it off as whisky-dick and let me sleep it off in her room. But Portugal?" Tapping the scar by his eye, he winces. "I was half sober. She had a huge ring, a mean left hook, and wasn't so understanding."

"What are you talking about?"

"When I left you. I didn't sleep with anybody else, not until Eva." He looks down at her, imploring with his eyes for her to understand. "I tried, no lie there, but couldn't, and I'm sorry you thought I did."

A small, lingering well of anger she's been carrying around for so long she didn't even know it was still there, dissipates. "Really?"

"Really."

She shoves her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and rocks on her heels. A smile threatens, and she bites it back. "Okay."

"Okay."

Veronica steps back, putting more room between them. "Logan," she says, "for future reference, it was a long time ago. Whatever happened back then, we're," she pauses, searching for a better word. "Cool."

"It's more than that. I've had offers, too, since I moved back here, but I want you to know I'm not that guy anymore."

"Your sex life is none of my business."

"No, but my character is. If Gai ever agrees to let me in his life, I want you to know he won't stumble across any strays."

Veronica's lips press together and she has to swallow down a laugh at how earnest he is. "Okay."

Logan nods, seemingly unsure what to do now that he's done his errand. For the first time Veronica takes in the complete picture of Logan, here, in her and Sam's bedroom.

She glances around, seeing the room through his eyes. Sam's things still cover the vintage furniture, the closet door hangs open, revealing full racks of his clothes and shoes. Even the bathroom holds his presence with promises not kept, with its curled linoleum, chipped formica and aging tile, and half of the countertop covered in men's toiletries. He put off the remodel more times than she could count.

Bracing herself for the lecture sure to follow, about purging Sam's things and moving on, Veronica crosses her arms and waits. Instead, Logan focuses on the black banker's box that held the manilla envelope. "Any more revisionist history in there I need to set straight?"

"Look for yourself."

Logan thumbs through the items, lifting a menu with an eyebrow raised in question. "Our first date?"

She nods. He opens a small wooden box, pulling out a white puka shell necklace. "I thought I lost this."

"It, um," heat climbs her neck. "Somehow I ended up with it."

"You stole it?"

"No. I inadvertently went home with it."

"And didn't return it. That's stealing."

The teasing glint in his eyes makes it hard not to smile. "I couldn't give it back because you might wear it again."

"Yeah, because it was mine."

Veronica snorts a laugh. "Do you remember the night you lost it?"

"Should I?"

"Back seat of your Land Rover? My jeans in a ball around one ankle, legs wrapped around your neck? I kicked so hard I broke the center console?"

"Ah," Logan clears his throat and looks far too self-satisfied for a grown man. "I guess my necklace wasn't what I remember about that night."

"Yeah, well, I'd bet my dad still does. I didn't realize the necklace had fallen into the leg of my jeans until I went home and it slithered out onto the floor right in front of him."

Logan's jaw drops open and a shocked laugh escapes him. "What did you say?"

"Nothing. Grabbed the necklace and booked it for my room. We never talked about it again. I kept the necklace so he wouldn't see you wear it and be reminded."

Veronica glances away from Logan, her eyes falling on a picture of Sam, one she'd taken so he was looking at her with an adoring expression rather than smiling at the camera.

She'd spent years perfecting the ability to keep any memory of Logan separate from Sam's presence—a much easier thing to do when he wasn't standing at the foot of their bed.

Yeah, I think Sam would mind—alone in your bedroom with Logan, reminiscing about a hip-rocking oral sex experience. How about we backtrack to summer after junior year when you dry-humped in the Xterra and came without Logan even touching you?

Veronica waves Logan's hands away from the black box and puts the lid on. "Take it with you and return it later. Gai could be back anytime."

"This is all us?"

"Yeah, I have another box, from the Lilly and Duncan years, too. You're welcome to go through it, take what you want. They're your memories, too."

Logan shakes his head. "Make you a deal. Once I'm done with my house, you bring them over and we'll do it together. Find places for some of the pictures."

"Deal. Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time you want to talk to me, can you call first?"

He nods, and she bends down to place the box back inside Sam's closet. When she stands up he's watching her. She runs a hand up to make sure her hair is covering the scratch on her ear, though it's almost healed.

Surprisingly, Veronica finds herself disappointed when he turns to leave. A part of her, she realizes, wanted him to see the injury. To call her out on the lie so she could, finally, tell the truth to someone who mattered.

She follows at his heels out of the bedroom. When Logan stops walking suddenly, she bumps into his back and has to look around him to realize Gai and Steph are in the open doorway, holding hands. Steph waves a hand. "Hey, Mrs. Mars-Zare."

"Hey, Steph."

The assumptions Gai makes seeing Logan come out of Veronica's bedroom are clear on his expression. Rather than the anger she expects, though, his eyes are flat, uninterested, and he pulls Steph toward them, intending to pass. "We'll be in my room."

Veronica is unmoored, the upper hand lost somehow, a feeling she didn't expect until Gai was at least sixteen. She puts a hand up, stopping his passing her. "Door stays open. Got it?"

He stops and looks her dead in the eye, making her realize for the first time he's reached her exact height. It doesn't take a mind reader to see the accusation on his face, as his eyes flit from Logan, to her bedroom, and back to her. Did you have the door open?

The lengthy pause before he speaks is the antithesis to his bland agreement. "Fine."

She's ready for a fight. The past week with Gai has been odd. He hasn't been contrary, per se, but cold and shut down. Tense. Veronica has been a little too immersed in the case and Gai's been away from the house too much to address it, and his blank expression and unchallenging agreement isn't about fighting

"I'm just walking Logan out, then I'll be in my office if you need anything."

The bedroom light turns on and the door almost closes until only an inch of light shines into the dark hallway. A moment later music blares at a decibel loud enough to make Keller's ears twitch, lying as she is on the bed by the front door.

"Why do I feel guilty," Logan asks, turning from Gai's door to look down at her.

"Join the club." Veronica ushers him to the door, talking low enough her voice won't carry. "Either we've entered tweendom, or that was karma biting me in the ass." Logan cocks his head in inquiry and Veronica waves it off. "Back in the day I wasn't so kind to my dad about his sex life."

"Oh, well, if you're going to do the time…" he waggles his eyebrows teasingly.

Veronica snorts and opens the door, ignoring the small flutter in her stomach. "Go."

"Do you think you're grounded?"

"I'll let you know."

After Logan leaves, she gives herself a break. In the back of the fridge is a chilled Chardonnay, left over from the dinner with Logan and Eva three, almost four weeks ago. Veronica pours herself a half-glass and nurses the cold sweetness. The weight of everything she should do about Gai, her job, and everything else in her life lays heavy tonight.

From Gai's room the music changes to something with a blaring brass section, and she can hear Gai and Steph talking. Something about the history of the album Gai's playing her, she thinks, though the words are too low to discern.

Eyeing Sam's sweater hanging on the garage door, she slips her arms into it despite the warm evening. Dumping out the last swallow of wine, she sets her phone alarm to 8:55 as a reminder to send Steph home and goes into her office, closing the door against all the other problems nipping at her.

1:56am

Gai

When Mom shifts and mumbles something, Gai thinks at first she's awake and caught him checking on her. But no, she's dreaming. Her arms wrap around the spare pillow and pull it closer while she says, "No, Sam."

He closes her door most of the way, stopping right before the catch of the latch, and paddles in socked feet back to his room. The snick of his bedroom lock sounds loud in the quiet house, but he doesn't pause before slipping on his Vans and dropping out the window. Mom's dead to the world.

The motion-sensor light floods the yard. Gai gets the BB gun from where he stashed it and shoots out the bulb. The soft ping and sound of breaking glass is quieter than he expects but still he waits, to see if Mom will react. Nothing. It only takes a minute to clean up the glass to the point she won't notice, then he's able to slip out the side gate.

This time of night the neighborhood is peaceful. Gai's come to think of it as his during these hours, so almost has a heart attack when a figure slinks out the dark and body-slams him, almost knocking them both to the ground.

"Asshole," he hisses.

"Dickhead," Cam laugh, his voice low. "Where you goin'?"

"Nowhere."

"Me too."

Gai doesn't argue as Cam falls in step beside him. They're at the elementary school in a few minutes, and Cam stays mute when Gai pulls out the lock pick set and opens a side door in minutes.

"Dude, what the fuck?"

"C'mon." Gai opens the door, waiting for Cam to go in first so he can make sure it's fully closed behind them.

"Where d'you learn to do that?"

"YouTube."

Cam snickers but backs up, obviously not wanting to risk getting caught. Gai sighs and shuts the door, letting the auto-lock do its work. "Whatever."

Instead, they head over to the playground, laying in the wet grass and ignoring the cool night breeze, his head too full of images to care about the cold.

It's only later, a few houses away from home, that he feels a chill up his back. Turning around, Gai sees Fish sitting on the curb in front of her house, across the street. He stares back, daring her to yell, or wake up his mom, or something else to out him.

She crosses the street, her voice low enough no else could hear if they tried. "Gai, what're you doing?"

"What are you doing? Your new dad's not going to be here for, what," he checks his phone. "Two more hours?"

"I saw you leave. Veronica would lose her mind if she knew you were out here."

"So tell her."

"Gai—,"

"Fish," he taunts. When she doesn't say anything, he backs up a step before turning away. She won't tell on him, he knows it down to his core. It's not who she is. "Whatever."

AN: Chapter title credit goes to "American Honey" by Lady A