Saturday, June 20

6:00pm

Veronica

L.A., Oceanside, San Diego on September 23, Santa Ana the 25th, back in L.A through March. Then, Veronica checks the email again and her fingers follow the map on a slow trajectory north, Glendale. Last time in Santa Maria April 5th, when the trail goes cold.

Hopefully, the information will net something since she burned through a long-held chit to acquire it. County workers are more stringent in confidentiality than any doctor or lawyer she'd met, but Sheila, a client from her PI days, more than came through. With a simple list of Daniel Reitman's EBT card Food Stamp activity for the past year, Veronica can track his whereabouts from when he was in San Diego the day Sam died, until two months ago, when his benefits ran out and he was a no-show to his annual renewal appointment.

A four-hour drive to Santa Maria, ask at the shelters and soup kitchens until—. The house shakes, the slam of the front door breaking both the quiet and Veronica's concentration. Gai slams his bedroom door shortly after.

She's surprised to notice it's after six, when he said he'd be home an hour ago. Veronica shuts down the computer, promising herself tonight she'll make him stay home. It feels like all she gets of him lately is glimpses since he's always running off to see Steph or one of his other friends, and she's buried in Sam's case. Every little bit she learns brings events around Sam's death into better focus and, she's sure, if she pushes hard for just a little longer, it'll all fall together.

She shuts the office door with a little force of her own, as if to remind herself to keep it that way for the night.

The quiet house and Gai's closed door work their way through the fog of Sam's case and Veronica, for one second, allows herself to admit to a loneliness so yawning, it might swallow her whole.

Then Gai's stereo comes to life in a cacophony of different instruments, out of step with each other for a long moment until they fall into synchronicity. A voice she doesn't recognize screams about... oh, who the hell knows. His musical interests have expanded lately, beyond what Sam or Lois introduced him to, and she doesn't know half the bands playing behind his door. Or like them.

A wet nose presses into her palm and Veronica smiles down at Keller, scratching her behind the ear where she likes it best. "Dinner time, girl?"

Keller's whine emphasizes that yes, it is dinner time, thank you very much. She follows Veronica to the kitchen and lays down to eat over a bowl set before her. Veronica scratches her head then goes down the hall to Gai's room, knocks, and waits a beat while he turns down the music and opens the door a crack. "Yeah?"

"I'm thinking of ordering in, maybe we can watch a movie?"

His long pause and stare unsettle her. Before she can wonder why, his eyes slide behind her to the closed office door. "I ate at Cam's. Steph's dad's dropping her off soon, so I'm going back."

"Sorry kiddo, I'm invoking family night. You can see Steph tomorrow."

"No, I can't. Her dad's taking a load up to Seattle and she's going with him."

Veronica frowns. She doesn't want to wait, but also doesn't want to spend the night with a sullen, resentful tween. "Steph can join us."

Gai's eyes roll. "We don't want to sit around here all night."

"As opposed to?" The doorbell rings, interrupting them. She holds up a finger, indicating Gai to wait. "We're not done."

His door snicks shut behind her as she moves through the living room, and opens the front door to find Char and Mac on the porch. They're both dressed up, Char in a designer dress and heels, Mac in fitted trousers and a tight waistcoat, no blouse underneath. They both sport fresh makeup and dangling earrings. "Hi?"

"Hi." Mac walks in, with Char right behind her. "Guess what?"

"I'll bite." Veronica stands there, holding open the door in hopes this is a quick drop-by. "What?"

"We're going out tonight." Char says. "Seven course meal, the works. The guys are at Logan's getting ready."

Mac smiles, but there's something feral about it. "And we're here to get you ready."

Veronica frowns. "I can't go out. I have Gai—,"

Her dad walks in the open door, a paper bag full of what smells like Thai food clutched in his arm. "Nope, I have Gai."

She turns back to Mac and Char. "It's not a good night."

"Veronica." Mac's eyes narrow. "This is happening. Either you can go willingly, or I'll dig Mr. Sparky out of your bag and take you by force."

She turns to Keith for help, who only spreads his hands wide. "I already offered to loan them my handcuffs."

"Why does this feel like an intervention?"

"If it is," Char reaches out and fingers Veronica's loose t-shirt critically. "It's a fashion one. Where did you buy this?"

"Costco." When Char's eyes go wide in horror, Veronica rolls her own eyes. "What? It was on sale."

"There are so many things wrong with that," Char swallows, "I can't even discuss them. Come on, the guys are waiting."

When Char pulls on her hand, Veronica resists for one second. The idea of primping, followed by hours of being social, exhausts her. But, seeing the determined look in Mac's eyes, she gives in. One night, she tells herself. One night and I'm off the hook for weeks.

The next hour takes her back to high school, when Lilly would rummage through her closet in dismay. The weight she's lost since Sam's death makes her nicer clothes hang off her, and Char declares the rest unsuitable for an adult evening. Finally, she digs out a sleeveless mint-green blouse hidden on the same hanger as an old black leather coat. The top was a favorite once upon a time, wrap-style, with a plunging neckline and sheer back.

Mac pairs the blouse with dressy, shiny black leggings Veronica once bought for Halloween, when she was Sandy from 'Grease'. They choose a silver necklace that draws the eye to Veronica's cleavage, and spend a painstaking half-hour putting beach waves in her hair and applying smokey-eye makeup.

The only time she resists is when Char holds out a pair of sky-high heels. "I draw the line at torture." They relent and allow her the compromise of low-heeled black ankle boots she once bought, then relegated to the back of her closet when she deemed them too dressy for work.

Looking in the full-length mirror, Mac and Char flank her with bright, smiling faces. Veronica forces a smile of her own when Char snaps a selfie of the three of them, understanding how much they need to see her happy.

While they think they're rescuing her, pulling her out of a self-imposed cocoon, what they don't realize is they're pushing her into another first. She hasn't gone out for the evening since Sam died—not really. She's eaten meals out, of course—at way stops and taquerias, anyway. But not this; not primping and dressing up, heading out for an evening of fun. In fact, she can't remember the last time she did that without Sam by her side, splitting appetizers and tasting each other's drinks and entrees. Not to mention capping off the evening in bed.

Veronica turns so Mac and Char can't see the tears that threaten her makeup. She pulls on the old leather jacket and transfers her wallet, cell, and taser from her usual bag to a small(ish) clutch.

Mac shakes her head and removes the wallet, dropping only Veronica's ID back in the bag. "Tonight's on us." Then, as if she understands, she puts an arm around Veronica's shoulder and whispers, "We've got you, okay?"

Char's sympathetic smile says she also understands. "Just try, please? We'll bring you back any time you want."

A tear slips through and Veronica swipes it away. She waves her hand to rid herself of the tear, and shrugs off Mac's arm. "Okay. I'll try."

Gai and her dad are sitting on the couch, poking into the white cardboard boxes with plastic forks. Her dad sees her first, and his smile breaks huge. "Wow, look at you all girled up."

She reaches over and grabs a spring roll from his container, theatrically swiping the grease from her mouth with the sleeve of her jacket after taking a bite. "Yeah, Pa, they done me up right."

"Manners and deportment are next week," Mac says, then smacks Gai lightly on the back of his head. "Speaking of, I don't get a hello?"

Gai turns and offers a desultory "Hey, Aunt Mac. Hey, Aunt Char." His eyes shift to Veronica and take in her appearance without comment.

"I'm being kidnapped," she says by explanation.

He nods. His phone buzzes, and Gai stands, putting his takeout on the coffee table. "Steph's at Cam's."

Veronica calls at his back. "Stay at Cam's or come back here and home by nine. Not a minute later, k? Don't make Grandpa break out the cell tracker."

Gai nods at Keith, shutting the door behind him.

"Remember when he'd drive us crazy, chattering like a baby monkey," Mac asks, her tone wry.

Char nods. "He was really quiet at our place last weekend."

"He's been like that since Logan decided to stay." Veronica brushes off the thought that the timing of that and Gai's mood don't quite match up, but can't think of anything else to make him so recalcitrant lately. "It's a big adjustment. Add in wanting to be with his friends and girlfriend all the time," she shrugs.

"I remember someone else at that age, mad every time I made her stay home from Lilly's," her dad says.

"Well, Lilly had a pool at her house. And boys." She sighs, making it theatrical and dreamy. "I remember this one time, we were playing post office—,"

"Weren't you leaving?" Dad says, his voice mock-stern.

"That's right, the boys are waiting!" Veronica leans down and kisses his cheek. "Wait up, I won't be late."

Mac drives them the short distance to Logan's, and they all pile into his SUV. The "boys" are spit-polished, too, dressed in slacks and sports jackets. Veronica sits in the passenger seat, listening to the happy chatter from the backseat and ignoring the woodsy scent of Logan's cologne.

She tenses when Logan starts the car, then relaxes when he switches it from Fish's punk station and aught-era pop music pours from the speakers—something Sam would never willingly listen to. He could be such a snob that way. Halfway to the restaurant, Christina Aguilera's "Dirty" comes on and Dick and Logan sing along, able to remember all the words. And why wouldn't they? It was Lilly's anthem, back in the day.

Logan throws a worried glance her way when she doesn't join in. Already her plastered smiles are giving her a headache. She forces one more and mouths along.

Veronica remembers how Lilly would always push and goad her into their more wild escapades. Maybe it's a sign? Something to say tonight is happening, so she may as well give herself over to it, try to have a little fun. She leans over and cranks the volume.

Over dinner, she comes to realize the four of them have been hanging out a lot, as well as Logan and Mac alone. Instead of resentment, though, she feels relief. No wonder they've been so accommodating with her continued absence from their lives.

Dinner, she tells herself again. You just have to get through dinner.

The server brings dessert menus and Dick waves her away. "I called ahead and had something special delivered."

She returns and sets a large, covered platter in front of them. Char takes Dick's hand and smiles at Veronica. "Ronnie, we made you come tonight, because you're the reason Dick and I met. You're the one who convinced me to give him a chance, and it was you and Mac who stood up with us when we got married eight years ago."

Veronica's stomach plummets. She'd never forgotten their anniversary before. But, her mind spins, searching for the date, that's not today?

"And," Char continues, "we're counting on the three of you to be there for our next adventure."

Dick reaches over and lifts the stainless steel cover, revealing a fondant cake the shape and size of a newborn baby sleeping on its stomach. It's so realistic that Veronica holds her breath, waiting for it to move.

"Dick," Char half laughs, stunned, staring at the cake. "That's not what I meant."

Mac pushes back her chair and runs around the table, throwing her arm around them both. "You're pregnant!?"

The pieces fall in together and Veronica looks from the cake to them. "A baby?" she asks. She and Logan move around the table his hearty "Congrats, man!" overpowering her much quieter, "You guys!"

She and Char pull back from their hug and Veronica looks down at her flat stomach. "How far along?"

"Six weeks. I just found out. I mean, we didn't plan it—,"

Dick, standing behind Char, wraps an arm around her waist and winks at Veronica and Logan. "You guys get it."

"Classy, dude."

"Always am. Now let's dig into this cake because we're about to be parents. Tonight's a last throw down before shit gets real."

Veronica smiles and kisses them congratulations again. She's happy for them, she is, but inside she wants to scream.

While the server brings them a slicer and a stack of plates, she settles into her chair, smile painted on while they all bicker about the best way to cut into the cake. All she can see is the motel room, the last time she and Sam shared it.

"Can you still call it a nooner if it's after three?" Veronica asked.

Sam's fingers continued to run up and down her spine, but he stayed quiet. She lifted her head from his chest and looked at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing. You're lying in bed with your very hot wife after some mind blowing sex, and can't even indulge in a little banter. Where's my after play?"

His smile was fleeting. "Sorry. I was just thinking."

"So much for mind blowing." Veronica scooted up to sit beside him. "Work? Lay out your case for me. I'll solve it."

"Will you?"

"I am the brains of the family."

"It's not work." He fixed her with a look. "Fine, I'm just going to say it."

"Okay…?"

"Every time we have sex lately, I hope you catch pregnant."

"We use protection."

"So what? You were on the pill when you got pregnant with Gai, too."

"I forgot to take one," she snapped. Veronica slipped out of bed and pulled on his shirt, because it was closest.

"Babe, you can't run away from this conversation. I know where you live."

Veronica returned with a full water glass, handing it to him after she took a drink. "I don't run away. I haven't for a long time."

"You're right, I'm sorry. I'm just… I've been thinking about it a lot lately." He set the glass on the table and pulled her down so they were eye to eye. "You kept saying wait, so I stopped asking. Now, I guess, I'm just hoping fate will take over. You don't regret Gai, do you?"

"That's a shitty question, Sam."

"You know what I mean. But, hell, I'm thirty-seven. Gai starts middle school next year, we're both settled in our careers and we can afford it. Plus, and I'm throwing this in as just a P.S., we love the hell out of each other. What are we waiting for?"

When she was quiet, he refocused his eyes on the wall behind her, as if afraid of her answer. "Did you change your mind? About having more?"

I don't know."

"Veronica." He pulled his eyes to her again. "You're enough. You and Gai are more than I ever thought I'd get. You say no and the conversation is closed. But talk to me."

"I," she wracked her brain, reaching for a quip that wouldn't come. Finally, she couldn't hide from the truth anymore. "I'm afraid."

"Of what?"

When she didn't answer, he pulled her down to sit facing him on the bed and pressed his forehead to hers. "Of what?" he whispered.

She closed her eyes, the truth so hard to say. "Losing you, having to do it alone again. I know it doesn't make sense. It's silly superstition but—,"

"No. It's trauma hangover. But I'm not him. I'm here. I've been here since the day I first saw your gorgeous face. You're not gonna lose me."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

" Then I promise to think about it."

Turned out the joke was on her, since she lost him anyway.

What if she'd said yes? If she'd thrown all their precautions in the trash right then and spent the next three weeks screwing his brains out. Would she maybe have that piece of him left behind?

"Red velvet?" Char's voice is so shocked, it pulls Veronica out of her own head.

"It's your favorite," Dick says explaining the monstrosity now lying sliced open in front of them.

Char covers her mouth. "I'm going to be sick."

"There's a Solomon joke in there," Mac says, pointing at the cake, "but I'm too grossed out to think of it."

Logan shakes his head. "Jonathan Swift."

A giggle escapes Veronica and, because she feels on the verge of hysteria, she can't hold back another one. Mac snickers beside her, setting off Char, and then Logan. Each time one of them catches each other's eye, they go off again.

Dick looks at all of them, then at the cake, and puts his head in his hands. "Fuck, I am going to make the worst dad."

"Nooo," Char says, leaning over to comfort him but still laughing. "It's just a cake."

"Dick," Veronica sobers only slightly, careful not to catch Logan's or Mac's eyes lest she go off again. When Dick doesn't look up, she repeats his name, firmer this time. Finally, he raises his head. "I know you're going to make a great dad. You wanna know how I know?"

"How?"

"Because you already were one. Just ask Gai."

Beside her, Logan sobers, but she doesn't look his way. For all her fears, and how abandoned she felt she hadn't been alone, not really. Logan will just have to deal with his own feelings—she owes Dick this, at the least. Dick nods his head, looking somewhat mollified, and pats Char's hand. "Thanks, Ronnie."

Char looks across the table at the three of them with such warmth and excitement in her eyes Veronica realizes she can't go home, not when they so clearly want to share that excitement. Veronica waves her hand at the table, forcing a gaiety into her voice she absolutely does not feel. "So, you mentioned a throw down. Are we going to sit here and look at this all night, or are we celebrating?"

The club is large, with a vast dance floor surrounded by tables, and a second level that looks down on the stage. The floor and walls are painted black and, based on the crowd, the band is popular. From what Veronica can see with the house lights on, the place will look much better when the lights dim. Right now everyone is milling around, getting drinks and getting loud before a live band starts their set.

Dick had thought ahead, for once, and tipped a waitress outrageously to reserve a table near the stage for them. They all slide in, Logan and Char make their teetotaler order, while everyone else requests more adult drinks. Veronica indulges in a rare rum and Coke in an attempt to push herself into a better mood.

She ends up squeezed in between Mac and Logan; the guys flanking the booth-ends. While Mac, Dick, and Char talk baby, Logan leans down and whispers to her, "You okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Dick and Char's news seemed to rock you a bit."

"I think that was the cake."

He smiles down at her, much too close in the small booth. "I know you a little better than that."

"I'm fine."

Logan's expansive nod says he doesn't believe the lie but agrees not to push it.

"Hey," Dick yells at them across the table. "No serious talk. Tonight we get turnt!"

Logan rolls his eyes. "No one's been turnt since 2007, Dick."

"Whatever, celebrating only. I want everyone's ass on that dance floor tonight."

A group of guys walk onstage carting instruments, and there's the predictable sound of setting up, with the clatter of drums and feedback from an amp. How many club nights had she gone to with Sam, to listen to a band or to watch his? Veronica tightens her hand around her drink and throws it back.

"Careful," Logan warns, watching her.

She shakes her head. "Just following orders."

When the waitress comes by, she orders a second round for the table, though nobody else has finished their first. The drinks come just as the band moves into position and the place goes dim. Veronica throws that one back, too, and pushes at Logan. "Ass on the dance floor, Echolls."

She grabs Mac's hand and pulls her with them. A club is the last place on earth she wants to be, but this is Dick and Char's night. For them, she can get through this.

The band launches into their first song and, terrible as it is, she can only be grateful it's not a cover. Dick and Char are right behind, and the five of them move together, each competing for the goofiest moves and trying to make each other laugh. The second song is just as bad, but has a good beat, at least. By now the rum has worked its way through Veronica's limbs and she's loose, the laughter coming easily enough she can at least tell herself she's having a good time.

A slower number rolls out and Mac pairs off with some guy, then Dick and Char move away, leaving her with Logan. He smiles down at her and holds out a hand. She takes it, hoping to make a lesser issue by doing so, and holds on while he spins her around the dance floor.

Veronica looks up at him, trying to remember if she's ever seen him dance. Really dance, that is.

"Eva," he says.

This close, in the warm room, she can pick up the long remembered smell of him, more than the unfamiliar aftershave. His chest fills out the slim button-down he's wearing, and Veronica can feel the hard muscles of his chest when he pulls her close. She has the maddest impulse to lay her head on that chest, to let herself be held up, for one second, by strength other than her own. She takes a step back and Logan obliges in another turn, keeping their bodies distant for the rest of the number.

She trades off dancing with Dick and Mac's new friend. By the time the opening band has finished its set and is breaking down, she's relaxed.

Veronica is just coming back from the restroom when the lead singer of the headliner steps up to the mic. In just a few minutes, the crowd seems to have doubled in both size and energy.

"Good evening, San Diego!" The audience screams in answer. "We are Tainted Love!"

It doesn't seem possible, but the noise grows, as if it's the Beatles at Shea Stadium. Veronica pauses by the bar and tries to spot a clear path back to their booth.

Within a few chords, she recognizes the Stray Cats "Rock This Town."

Fuck me, she thinks. Not just a cover band, but an 80s cover band. Sam loved 80's music, and played it on the regular, both on the stereo and on his own instruments. She has half a thought to book it for the door and Uber home, but catches sight of Dick and Char, laughing and trying badly to jitterbug.

One night. She can make it through one night.

"Rum and coke, please. Make it a double." The bartender nods and pours, slapping the drink in front of her. "Nine bucks."

"There's a tab, Casablancas."

He nods and turns away to enter the charge. Veronica swallows half the drink before attempting to wend her way through the press of bodies. She's half tempted to call the fire marshall, but a look at the upper, half empty 2nd floor tells her they aren't past capacity, just bottlenecked.

An elbow flies back and jostles her, launching half of her remaining drink on the floor. A strong hand catches her arm. "Sorry!" the man yells. Veronica looks up into the bland handsomeness of the J Crew kind, in his early thirties. His look quickly goes from apologetic to interested.

His hand is still holding onto her arm, and he leans down so she can hear him. "I'm really sorry. Can I buy you another?"

She shakes her head and leaves him there. Before moving too much farther, though, she downs the rest of her drink and puts it on a nearby table, to prevent another accident. The closer she gets to their booth, the more crowded it is.

Logan's there, arms stretched across the back of the booth like he's waiting for her. Veronica's head is light from the rum and she can't seem to look away from the shadow between his jacket and his torso.

With a turn of his head, Logan's eyes lock into hers and, just like that, the old remembered pool of heat moves low into her belly.

On the table sits a fresh round and Veronica drops into the booth, as far from Logan as she can get, and reaches for hers. The band launches into "Dancing With Myself", bringing back a memory of a moonlit room and a naked man, singing the lyrics and dancing comically.

Was it Sam or Logan? Oh god, she can't remember. But it had to be Sam, right? Logan didn't… except he did. When he was really happy, he could be the goofiest of goofs.

She gulps down half her rum and coke, hoping it will wash away the memory, whoever it was.

"Don't you think you should slow down?" Logan asks, eyeing her drink.

"Nope."

He nods and looks toward the floor. "Dance?"

"Go ahead!"

Reluctantly, he stands up and disappears into the crowd. Veronica knows she's being unkind—her emotions are on the surface and raw-edged, and none of it's his fault. But he's here while Sam's not, and she wants… oh god, what does she want?

Char is visible from where Veronica sits in the booth. She's resting her back against Dick's chest while he holds her from behind, his hands lovingly on her stomach.

Happy. I want to be happy for them.

Just as she's finished her drink, it's J Crew at her booth. "Hi!"

"Um, hi."

"Do you want to dance?"

She's about to tell him to take a hike when there's an opening in the press of bodies on the floor, and she sees Mac, Dick, Logan, and Char talking and looking her way, wearing concerned expressions. Suck it up Veronica. "Yes!"

J Crew leads her out, and they jump around like idiots to "What I Like About You". The buzz of alcohol leaves her brain numb and her body loose. Two songs later and J Crew (Brad, his name is Brad) has bought her another double for her trouble.

They rock the Casbah and fight for their right to party, downing another drink and stomping it out to a few others, some with Dick and Char, before Mac and Logan sidle up, as if they just happen to be dancing there. "Veronica, you okay?" Logan asks.

"Never better," she pauses, "cheddar."

Mac bites her lip and grabs Veronica's hand. "I'm thirsty. Come with me to get some water."

Veronica loses sight of J Crew, because Mac is walking, like, really really fast. Everything is jumping around like there's a lag between her vision and her brain. Mac barks at a guy to move and parks Veronica on a stool. "Don't move. Promise?"

"Yeah."

It feels good to sit. Vaguely, Veronica is aware her feet hurt, but the pain is too far away to care about it. Bored, she turns to eye the guy next to her, some skinny, long-haired kid with too-big clothes and a glassy stare that looks through her. "Hi."

Slowly, almost like you'd expect from a sloth, the greeting penetrates his brain and his mouth turns up. "Hi."

Without really understanding why, Veronica points a finger at his head and moves it incrementally toward him, fascinated by the way his eyes cross, watching it. When she reaches his forehead, she pushes ever-so-slightly.

Then he's gone. She takes a few seconds to realize he's sprawled out on the floor, laughing his ass off. The guy's friend gives him a hand up and the kid, still laughing, high-fives her. "That was awesome!"

Mac's got a stack of glasses and a pitcher of water. "Hold these," she says, thrusting the glasses at Veronica and pulling her free hand again. Veronica nods goodbye to her new friend and stumbles after Mac.

They reach their table, with Dick, Char, and Logan waiting for them. Mac sits her down next to Dick, then pours and hands out water glasses, refilling Veronica's when she's downed the first one. "Wanna go home?"

"Nope," she shakes her head "This place is dope."

Dick lopes an arm over her shoulders and kisses her head. "Rhymy rummy Ronnie! Where you been, girl?"

Logan frowns. "You're wasted."

"You should know, Logan. It used to be your slogan." She snort-laughs and ignores it when his mouth drops open, and he looks at her like he's never seen her before. Veronica climbs over him, out of the booth, and stands up. She wobbles a little and reaches out, her hand catching Logan's shoulder for balance.

"I'm fine," she says, smacking away the hand he puts out to steady her. "I want to make a toast." She lifts her glass high and waits while everyone else follows.

"Right now it's a glass we raise

to Dick and Char

but in a nine-month phase

it'll be a cigar."

Dick smiles at Char and kisses her on the nose.

"But keep this thought as comfort

On nights the crying keeps you awake

You can always open a book of desserts

And turn him into a cake."

Veronica downs the rest of her water while Mac, Dick, and Char laugh. J Crew is dancing at the edge of the floor with his friends and cocks his head at her. She's not sure if it's an invitation or a question.

Every day she spends pushing down her feelings, but tonight the rum has made her edges soft, and it's harder to hold them back. She doesn't want J Crew. Doesn't want to be here. Damn sure she doesn't want Logan, who's here and alive, and everything she remembered he was. No! What she wants is so fucking unattainable it hurts to even think of his name.

Logan takes her hand and tugs on it to get her attention. Veronica looks down at him, at his warm brown eyes filled with caring. His touch is so familiar she can feel it down to her toes, and confuses her, so mixed up with grief, with the gulch of her empty bed and empty life. She pulls her hand out of his and backs up. J. Crew catches her as her heels stumble on the edge of the floor. His arms steady her and they feel wrong. He smells wrong and sounds wrong and all she can think to do is fall into the wrong of him until something feels right.

Veronica reaches up and grabs his head, pulling it down to hers until their mouths meet. He kisses her back, his hands spread across her back so he's holding her in, but it only lasts a moment before he pulls away. When she reaches for him again, J Crew leans down so he's talking in her ear. "I really like you. Can we put on the brakes and you give me your number? I'll call you tomorrow."

The band moves into, "Melt With You," and bile rises in her throat, remembering Sam whispering along to those lyrics in the dark, quiet night, while he moved inside her, both of them laughing and loving the corny romanticism of it.

It's too much. Her mouth still tastes of a stranger and she can feel the brush of his skin on hers, all reminding her of what he isn't and what she can't have. Because it's dead and burned, like every other love she's dared attempt. Veronica pushes away from him and runs. Away from him, away from her friends, away from that damn band with their fucking stupid playlist of memories.

11:30PM

Logan

Logan sees the kiss, sees the guy say something to Veronica that has her shoving him away before she takes off. He can't resist "accidentally" pushing his shoulder into the chest of the asshole as he passes by. It takes everything he has not to punch the guy when he grabs Logan's arm and leans in and shouts, "She alright?"

Ignoring him, Logan pulls away. Off the dance floor, his shoes squelch, the soles ripping from the sticky floor with each step. The line to the women's is long, and if he knows Veronica, she'd run away from people, not toward them. Another turn and he's in a short, dimly lit hallway, a door marked OFFICE at the end and dark alcove to the side, a relic of a payphone still there, the "Out of Order" sign yellowed and curling at the edges.

Veronica's also curled up, pulled into the corner under the phone shelf, her head on her knees. He squats, not wanting contact between the seat of his jeans and the sticky floor.

"Hey."

She lifts her head and rolls her wet, mascara-smudged eyes; a disparaging chuckle works its way out of her. "Do I at least get points for trying?"

"Depends. Who's keeping score?"

Her low laugh is short-lived. Veronica's face crumples in on itself, causing Logan to decide fuck it, and plant his ass sturdily on the floor so he can wrap her in his arms, letting her cry it out.

With a text, Logan lets the others know he's taking Veronica home. By the time they make it back to her place, the mix of alcohol and emotions has Veronica zonked. Logan gives up trying to rouse her, and settles for throwing her arm around his neck and scooping her up.

She's lighter than he even remembers, though it might be compared to Eva, who has at least ten inches and three stones on the diminutive woman in his arms. As he gets to the steps, she throws the other arm around his neck for a better hold and buries her nose into the dip in his clavicle, breathing deeply.

The move brings back other times, old memories, when they'd wake to find he'd cuddled her to the edge of the bed. She'd laugh and flip over, burying her nose right there, relaxing as his arms pulled her in tight and they slept that way the rest of the night.

They've done it again tonight. She kept her distance, right to the edge, before moving in close and surrendering to him. The thought makes him pause on the top step.

A light flickers in the curtain gap, signaling a television keeping Keith company. Thinking of Gai likely asleep at this hour, Logan steps forward quietly, shifting Veronica so he can reach the doorknob.

By the door, a small, cautious chuff greets them. Logan creeps in, mindful enough of the dog not to step on her, but ignores her otherwise. His eyes are for Keith, laying on the couch with his hands tucked under his cheek and emitting a soft snore. The TV is on but the volume is so low, Logan worries his steps will rouse the former sheriff. Of all things, he doesn't want to explain the tear tracks still on Veronica's face to a man who likely still carries a weapon.

Each creak of his footsteps brings another bead of sweat out on Logan's lip, and he's grateful Veronica's door is the one of the four that's open in the hallway.

Veronica's head falls back as he slips down the covers and lowers her to the bed, and she groans when her head hits the pillow. Logan freezes, but hears nothing from the living room beyond the dog's whiney yawn. He takes off her boots as a courtesy, but feels like a creep when he slips the belt off her waist, even if it's just so the buckle won't dig into her if she flips over in her sleep.

What prompts him to do it, he doesn't know. Sympathy from earlier tonight? Tenderness for another piece of their past he'd forgotten until now? But, seeing her there, her face still and ageless in the blue light from the digital clock, compels him. He settles his lips at her brow, a gentle benediction and wishes for sweet dreams, since she's still struggling so much with her reality.

Her fingers curl into his hair. "Logan," she whispers. Her lips move to brush his jaw, his cheek.

Everything in him strains to kiss her. It doesn't matter that she's wasted, that she's reaching for him as a panacea against the loss she's feeling. Doesn't matter that they'd bring two broken hearts into it, as well as a thousand complications. It only matters that she's talking to him here, and not through him to who they were before.

His mouth is centered right over her pulse point, at the magic spot that, years past, drove her over every time. When her teeth nip the edge of his ear, a surge of desire goes through Logan, messing the edges of the reality he's doing his best to keep in his grasp.

No, it doesn't matter right now. But it sure as hell will matter to both of them in the morning.

"Whoa." Logan reaches up and grabs her hands, pulling them down to lay a kiss on the back of each one, and soften the rejection. "We've got enough regrets, Veronica. Let's not add one more, okay?"

She shakes her head, eyes intense in the clock's glow, belied by the slur in her words. "Just one night, Logan. Who will it hurt?"

"Me, for one, depending on how deep your dad sleeps."

Her voice becomes husky but doesn't get any quieter, her drunken attempt to match his whisper. "I forgot. Is he on the couch?"

"Sleeping, last I saw. But probably loading his gun right now."

"Cockblocker."

Logan laughs, shocked. "Veronica!"

She laughs, too. Her eyes soften, looking up at him, "I hate going to bed alone."

"Me too."

"That part was always good with us."

"Careful, you'll make me blush."

"Not that." She rolls her eyes, then grins. "Okay, that, too. I just mean—"

"I know what you mean."

Her fingers reach up and trace his eyebrow. "Thanks for coming back."

"Thanks for finding me."

Her face turns sad. "I wish I could bring Sam back."

"I know."

"Why doesn't he look at me? He never looks at me."

"Who?"

"Then he ran away." She closes her eyes. "He didn't mean to. I shouldn't have surprised him like that."

"Surprised who?"

"I can't," her voice grows thick. "I can't do this alone."

Logan pulls up the covers, understanding Veronica's entered the spiral of drunk logic, undecipherable to anyone outside her own head. "You don't have to do anything alone."

"Mmm hmm." She rolls onto her side and grabs the other pillow on the bed, and pulls it close. "Hi, Sam."

A light snore tells him she's gone. Logan brushes the hair off her neck and feels around until he finds the catch of her necklace and deposits it on her nightstand. From the living room he can hear the squeak of the couch as Keith moves, then his snoring resumes.

"Hey," Logan says, brushing Veronica's hair back behind her ear, knowing she's beyond hearing, much less remembering. "I get it, Veronica, I do. You're trying to find every way around feeling what you're feeling, because what you're feeling sucks. But the only way out is through. So break down, okay? You don't have to be so strong all the time. Let us carry you for a little while. We can handle it, I promise."

Her breathing stays steady. Logan picks up her belt and boots and deposits them on the floor by her closet. When he turns, Gai's standing in the hallway by Veronica's door. The kid turns and goes to his own room, shuts the door behind him and leaves Logan to wonder just how much he overheard.

Logan's sure whatever he heard, Gai will lay the blame at his feet, even if it's just for the hangover Veronica's sure to have tomorrow.

1:15am

Gai

From his bedroom, Gai hears the Logan dude wake up Grandpa and tell him Mom came home tired, and already went to bed. Grandpa leaves a few minutes later, after the Logan dude.

The house is quiet, but inside Gai's head it's so, so loud. His whole life, he can't remember seeing Mom drunk. I mean, she had a glass of wine or whatever sometimes, but was never drunk.

It's not like he'd never seen drunk people—Dad, a few times, at parties or camping trips. All his parents' friends had ripped it up good, too, sometimes. Usually it was funny, or lame. With Uncle Matthew, it was even scary the one time he showed up hammered and Dad made him leave.

But never Mom. She was so all over the place, being weird and flirty with the Logan dude, then talking about Dad. None of that bothers him as much as what the Logan dude said, though. Like she was ripping at the seams.

Idiot. The guy has no idea how together Mom is, sneaking around and lying to everyone. It didn't even bother her to look at those autopsy pictures of dad, to chase after his killer like she was bulletproof.

And what was the deal with telling her to break down? Mom never broke down, not even when Dad died. She cried, yeah, but she never lost it. Mom doesn't do that. She's fooling the Logan dude as much as anyone, then.

This time when Gai leaves, he doesn't bother with sneaking out the window. He walks right out the front fucking door and slams it behind him.

Fun note: the scene when Veronica pushes the guy off his stool with a finger happened to me, exactly as noted here, one very drunk night at a Tainted Love show. It still makes me laugh so had to share :-) Thanks for reading!