Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, dagnabit.

Sidenote: I'm not a doctor of any sort, so if some of this isn't really true, just go with it, it is fiction after all. Enjoy the chapter!

Dr. Grey called and set up an appointment for me with Dr. Shabo two days later. I wanted Logan in there with me, but he couldn't be. He just gave me a kiss before I went in.

I sat in a room that looked as if it had been decorated to try to give off a comfortable, casual feel, forcibly so. It looked like a study, with leather chairs and a wall covered with a floor to ceiling bookshelf filled with books. There was an oak desk a few feet away from where I was sitting in one of the leather chairs, but still I knew that it was a doctor's office, an unconventional one, but still, it belonged to a doctor.

I didn't sit very long before Dr. Shabo, clad in slacks, a polo shirt and cardigan sweater, came into the room.

"Good morning Miss Jameson, I'm Dr. Shabo," he said.

"Good morning," I replied with a forced smile.

"Nervous?" he asked, sitting down in the chair opposite of mine.

"Yeah, a little bit,"

"Want to tell me why?"

"I just really need this to work; I need you to help me,"

"I'll tell you what, I'll do the best I can," he said with a kind smile. "Dr. Grey has filled me in on pretty much the whole of your situation, but I would just like to go over it with you to make sure I have it all correct, is that okay?"

I nodded my head. "Yeah, okay,"

"I understand that you are a mutant," he said and I sucked in a sharp breath; I didn't know that Jean had told him everything. "It's okay; you're in good company here,"

I let out the breath I had just taken in and tried to relax a little more. "Yes, I'm a mutant,"

"How does that fare with your family?"

"It doesn't, not really, they all know but it's not something they're exactly proud of,"

"Have you always been honest with them about it?"

"Well, with my immediate family I was, but I went back for Thanksgiving last year and ended up telling other members of my family as well. They were…far from understand, to say the least,"

"Which was after you started hearing voices, correct?"

"Yes, that's correct, but they've gotten considerably worse since then,"

"Which has been a little over six months?"

"Yeah,"

"That's quite a fast development for Schizophrenia,"

"Is it?"

"Yes, it usually takes years to advance as far as Dr. Grey has told me yours has,"

"Do you think that my mutation might have something to do with it going as fast as it has?"

"I'm not entirely convinced that what you have is Schizophrenia, actually,"

"Really, what do you think it is, then?"

"I'd rather not say until I've asked you a few more questions,"

I nodded my head. "Okay,"

"Now, I've been told that you are currently in a relationship with a man whose estimated age is considerably older than yours, is that also true?"

"Uh…yeah, what does that have to do with anything, though?"

"I was just wondering if perhaps there was a specific reason as to why you were attracted to someone so much older than you,"

"Well, as you said; only his estimated age is that much older than mine, he doesn't look that old. I think he's an attractive, nice, strong guy and I don't think there's any other reason for me to be attracted to him,"

"How was your relationship with your father growing up?"

"Are you insinuating that I had a bad relationship with my father and so because of that I'm dating an older man to compensate for the attention I didn't get as a child?"

"It's not uncommon for that to happen, if that is, in fact, the situation,"

"Well, I mean, yeah…I didn't have a great relationship with my father, he worked a lot and went away on business trips all the time, then when I was fourteen I moved to Westchester County and I guess we were never really as close and he and my older sister were growing up. I wanted him to love me like he did her, but I guess my being a mutant scared him maybe, or something, I don't know,"

"And the man that you're dating, he's a mutant too?"

"Yeah,"

"Do you think that maybe you were attracted to him because he was an older man, a father figure type, who was accepting of your mutation?"

"Logan's not really what I would call a 'father figure' per say, not to me anyway,"

"Why not?"

"Because he swears, drinks whiskey, smokes cigars and is the only man I have ever met who is somehow both arrogant and unconfident in himself all at the same time,"

"They why are you going out with him?"

"Well, because he's a good guy, he's nice to me, he takes care of me, he makes me feel good about myself. Everyone that I've ever dated before not only didn't know about my mutation, but none of them agreed with my occupation as an RN, he's not only okay with both, but he's so supportive of them. He's funny, sometimes he doesn't mean to be, but he lets me laugh at him anyway. He's done a lot over his lifetime, I've learned from him, and I do everyday still. He taught me to be myself and how to be comfortable with being me. There's not a lot of people that I like and feel comfortable around and he's one of them,"

"So he's your caregiver, your teacher and someone who you believe to love you unconditionally, is that not what a father or a father figure does?"

"Well, uh…I've honestly never thought of it like that before," I said, shifting in my seat uncomfortably. Logan as my father was not a thought that I wanted in my head. "All do respect Dr. Shabo, as insightful as this all is, what does it have to do with my illness?"

"Dr. Grey told me that your older brother passed away recently," he said, skimming over my question.

"It's been over a year, but yeah, he died,"

"She also said that you were there when he passed, is that correct?"

I shifted more in my seat. Talking about Ben's death was one thing, talking about it with a man whom I had only just met was another.

"Yeah, that's right, I was,"

"Were you close to him?"

I let out a long breath that I hadn't realized I had been holding in. "Uh, yeah, we were. There was only a little over a year between us so we pretty much grew up right with each other. We planned out what were going to do when we grew up, we were going to travel all over the world together and do something different with out lives. He was the only one in my family who didn't make me feel as if I were an outcast; he actually made me feel like I was normal. I think at times he actually thought it was kind of cool,"

"So while growing up, he took over the role that your father couldn't play in your life because of work, right?"

I thought for a moment. "Well, I guess so,"

"And so when he passed, your boyfriend took over that role your brother could no longer play in your life for you, correct?"

"I guess," I said. "But again, what does all of this have to do with me being sick?"

"Do you ever have nightmares about your brother dying?"

I was beginning to get agitated by him ignoring my questions and continuing with his own. I let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah, I do,"

"Do you have them often?"

"If I slept long enough, then I would probably have them every night, I guess,"

"How much sleep do you usually get at night?"

"About three or four hours, probably, maybe five on a good night,"

"Do you ever have the nightmares when you do only get the three or four hours of sleep at night?"

"Well, since I was in the hospital, my boyfriend rarely leave me alone and over the past week or so he's spent every night in my room with me to make sure that I don't do anything to myself…while he's there with me, I don't have them. However, when he's not there, then yeah, I do have them occasionally,"

"Do they affect your sleep pattern?"

"Yeah, I learned to wake up before they happen so that I don't have to watch it,"

"Is there a certain time that you wake up to keep them from happening?"

"Right around one in the morning, just before, usually,"

"Do you take naps during the day to keep yourself going?"

"No, I just drink a lot of coffee to keep me awake,"

"And how is that working for you?"

"The caffeine's starting to destroy my nervous system, so not too well," I said with a small smile and a sigh. "I'm sorry sir, but I don't understand what dating my boyfriend, not having a good relationship with my father, my brother dying and my sleeping habits have to do with anything pertaining to my sickness, so could you please explain to me why I'm having to answer all of these questions?"

"When you're brother died, you not only lost a brother and a friend, but you also lost your father figure. Since you were there with him when he died, it created a great sense of guilt depression and loneliness for you. You then moved here to New York after only five months and began dating your now boyfriend, who filled the role that your brother left open in the wake of his death. Did you go to his funeral?"

"What?" I asked confused. He was in the middle of rehashing what we had just talked about and then he stopped to ask me a seemingly random question.

"Did you attend your brother's funeral?"

"No, I didn't go to his funeral, why does that matter?"

"Whenever someone witness a death, if you're not prepared for it, it can scar that person. Now you not only witnessed a death, but one of that of your family, the person you were closest to. I believe that by not going to his funeral, you haven't fully dealt with his death and that that combined with your being there when it happened has created what we call Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. It's not unlike Schizophrenia, but it's brought on by a stressful, traumatic event and exhaustion. Do you remember what time it was when your brother died?"

"Well, when he stopped breathing I looked up at the clock and it said twenty till one, he died about five or seven minutes later, so about fifteen minutes away from one in the morning,"

"Which is around the same time you wake up every morning," he said. "Although most people who are diagnosed with this have to spend time in a hospital dedicated to mental illnesses in order to get better, Dr. Grey has informed me that you are well taken care of and looked after there at the school. I don't believe that you are so bad yet that you need to be admitted to a hospital. I think that with an anti-depression medication and perhaps a sleeping aid, you can get through this by the end of the year, or even sooner. I do encourage you though to perhaps seek out consoling by a professional or even with someone that you feel comfortable speaking candidly and to do whatever is takes for you to deal with your brother's death."

I sat there just short of being stunned, so many questions were running through my mind, but only one would form in my mouth. "I can get over this?" I asked.

"I believe so,"

Tears slid down my cheeks. "Thank you," I said.

"It's not problem, I'm just glad that I could help,"

We spoke for a few minutes longer before he wrote me two prescriptions; one for an anti-depressant and another for a sleep aid, and then we were through.

I met Logan back out in the lobby and when we got to the car, I proceeded to shriek with happiness before telling him the news. I don't know what he actually thought about the whole matter, because instead of talking, he pulled me to him and kissed me.

"I'm going to get better," I breathed against his lips. "You're going to get me back,"

He brushed his lips against mine. "I never lost you darlin', I kept you right here with me so I wouldn't,"

"Well thank you for keeping hold of me, I would have been far too gone without you,"

"You would've found your way back to me,"

"I can't wait to actually hear your voice again, where it's not loud, no one else, just you,"

He brushed the hair away from my face and pressed his mouth to my ear. "I love you baby, you're mine and I'm never gonna' let anyone take you away from me, do you hear me? You're mine,"

The words didn't sound possessive and cocky, instead, they sounded comforting and loving. Logan wasn't exactly elegant with words, he didn't always know how or feel comfortable with expressing himself and when he did, in his own way, it meant a lot. For once, in over a year, there was a break, there was a small light, there was hope and knowing that Logan was there with me to share in my joy, meant so much to me. But knowing that he had stuck it out through all of the bad, through all of my terrible mood swings and through all of my crazy thoughts, that meant the world to me. We had gone through so much and yet he still wanted me.

"You can always have me, I'm always yours," I whispered, tears brimming my eyes. "Always."

Although my medication was meant to help me, they, like my other, had side effects. The sleeping aid worked fantastic; I would take one and be out like a light. However, that was also a problem as I began to sleep well into the afternoon, missing breakfast and often lunch. The anti-depression medication, although it had begun to help some after a month of taking, its side effects were much worse than any of the other medicine I had taken. I was told that thoughts of suicide or even wanting to kill others would be normal. Now, it could just be me, but aren't those thoughts just slightly on the depressing side? Because of the side effects, Logan had taken up permanent residence in my room. I had offered to move into his, but he had insisted that I would be more comfortable in my own and that he had 'less crap to move' than I did. And really, how can you argue with that?

It soon began to feel as if we were married; we shared a bed, a bathroom and suddenly I didn't care if he saw me drooling and heard me snoring while I slept, saw my hair when it was all jacked up when I would wake or even that my pajamas were usually made up of track pants and too large T-shirt that had various holes and pant splatters on them. He didn't care, so neither did I, and I'm telling you; if a man can watch me drool while I'm asleep, and still want to kiss me when I wake up, that's love.

"You almost done in there darlin', I gotta' shave," Logan called to me through the bathroom door.

"Yeah, sorry," I apologized, opening the door for him. "I just have to fix my hair, can you shave while I'm doing that?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess," he said, staring at me. I was wearing a pair of black track pants with the school's logo on them and a gray wife beater. I had just taken off the towel that I had wrapped around my hair and shook my hair, letting my hair fall to its natural part. He laughed.

"What?" I asked, looking at him through my curtain of wet hair. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and laughed, thinking that I looked like Cousin It from 'The Addams Family'.

"Just wonderin' if all women get ready like you?"

I ran my fingers through my hair, detangling it and grabbing the bottle of mousse from my bathroom counter. "No, you picked a special one when you picked me," I said with a wink, scrunching the mousse into my hair. He went silent as he prepared his face to shave. "What're you thinking about?"

"The voices in your head, do you still hear 'em?"

I let out a sigh, putting more mousse in my hair. "Yeah…there's not as many of them now, but I do still here them,"

"Are they still loud?"

"A few of them are pretty loud, but for the most part; they've stopped yelling and just talk now,"

"Good," he said as he picked up his razor and began to shave.

I washed my hands then sat myself up on the bathroom counter top and watched him while he shaved, one of my favorite things to do. He was quiet again, but not his usual Logan quiet, it was the type of silence where I knew he was thinking and mulling over something.

"What are you thinking about now?" I asked.

"Is your medicine workin' for you?"

"Yeah, like I just said, there aren't as many voices and they're not as loud anymore, so it's definitely working some, I just don't know how long it's going to take for me to fully get better,"

"I know but they said you might…think about things," he said as he wiped the excess shaving cream from his face with a towel, done with his shaving.

"You mean about hurting myself or other people?"

"Yeah," he said, turning towards me.

"Well," I said, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him in front of me. I let my hands rest on his chest. "To be honest with you, I think that ever since I tried it once and nearly drowned in here in the bathroom, suicide hasn't been far from my mind, the thought's always there and haunting me. However, and this is the important part, I do not see myself ever again attempting to hurt myself in any way, I have no need to and hope that no matter what goes on inside my head, that I will always see that. I have my life to look forward to, all of my friends and family here, I'll be getting my job back soon and then…there's you. I love you and I know that you love me and just thinking about you, never mind actually being with you, is enough to keep me here. I want to stay with you, you mean everything to me and there is nothing in the world that would be as bad as not getting to be with you. And as far as wanting to hurt other people, that thought is completely foreign and I cannot see myself ever…I don't know, thinking that about anyone. I mean, I know Bobby can get on my nerves at times but killing him or hurting him is…crazy,"

He nodded his head. "Good,"

"Why, you're not afraid that I'll set you on fire while you're asleep, or anything, are you?"

He held my face in his hands. "No, I don't think you're gonna' do anything like that to me, I just want you to be okay," he said, leaning in and placing his forehead against mine. "Besides, you can't hurt me like that darlin', I recover fast,"

"I don't like that thought in my head though,"

"I'm sorry,"

"It's not your fault; I'm the one who said it,"

"But I brought it up,"

"You were concerned, that doesn't merit an apology," I said and he let out an unsure growl, making me smile. "I will accept a kiss, though,"

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "Really?"

"Oh yeah, kisses make the best payments," I smiled.

"Well, if that's really what you want, I guess-" he said, stopping mid-sentence.

"What is it?" I asked.

He strained to hear and sniffed the air. "Your father's here,"

"What?" I asked confused as Logan moved and allowed me to hop down from the counter. "Where is he?"

"Comin' down the hall with Scooter,"

"Why?"

"I don't know,"

I walked to my door, opened it and looked down the hall. Sure enough, there was Scott and my father.

"Well Layla, your new room's a lot further away than your old one used to be," he said to me with a small smile.

"Uh, yeah, this is the staff hall," I said as Logan come from my room and propped his forearm against the doorframe. "Daddy, what are you doing here?"

"I thought we might be able to talk?"

"Uh…" I said, looking over my shoulder at Logan.

"It's up to you," he said. "We can go out tomorrow or later tonight,"

I bit my bottom lip and let out a sigh. "Okay, let's go to the kitchen and talk,"

Together we walked downstairs to the kitchen. Rogue was there getting a bottle for Joey.

"Hey," she smiled at us as we walked in.

"Hey, Rogue this is my daddy, daddy, this is my friend Marie and that adorable baby is her little girl Joey,"

"Hi, it's nice to meet you," my father said.

"You too, sorry I can't stay but we both need naps," she said, walking to the doorway off the side of the kitchen. "Bye,"

"All right, bye," I told her as she left. "Do you want something to drink?"

"No, I'm fine,"

"Okay…do you want to sit, then?"

"Yeah," he said, pulling out a stool and sitting at the island in the middle of the room.

There was silence; my father and I were never too good at holding a conversation with one another, we were just too different.

"Where's momma?" I asked, sitting down across from him.

"She's at home, your sister's coming home for the fourth and she's getting ready to have a big cookout. She's got enough food to feed the whole neighborhood, and I don't even think more than ten people will be there,"

I laughed. "She's always prepared, you've got to give her that much at least,"

"Yeah…why don't you come home with me, you haven't spent the fourth of July at home since-"

"Last year," I said, cutting him off. "Everyone came, Uncle Rodney knocked Goldie in the head with a Frisbee and momma spent most of the day after that inside, crying,"

"It'll be better this year, I promise,"

"If Thanksgiving was any indication as to how holidays are going to be, I'd rather stay here and hang out,"

Storm and Jean then walked into the room, both carrying large watermelons and Jean levitating two more in front of her.

"Hey Layla, is there anyway that you could talk Logan into cutting these? I think he could do it much faster than either of the two of us," Storm asked, sitting her watermelon on one of the counter tops.

"I'll ask him, but he got mad last year when I tried to get him to carve a pumpkin with his claws, he said they weren't meant to be used as kitchen knives,"

"Kindly remind him of the fact that he doesn't actually remember what they're for," Jean said.

"Yeah, I have a feeling that I'm not going to be able to convince him that he was made to be a slice-n-dice kitchen utensil, but I'll see if I can't get him to at least cut them up for ya'll,"

"I think you could convince the man that he has wings and could fly away, if you wanted," Jean said and I smiled.

"Well, if ya'll think I have that much power over him, I'm going to see if I can't try to get him to actually start picking up after himself. I love the man, but he's a slob and our room is starting to look like an animal's been let loose in it,"

"An animal has been let loose in it; Logan,"

I let out a small laugh. "That's very true,"

"Well, we'll let the two of you talk," Jean said as she and Storm turned to leave.

"Okay, I'll talk to ya'll later,"

"So, the two of you are sharing a room now?" my father asked once the two of them had left.

"Uh, yeah, ever since I fell asleep in the bathtub he's been just short of obsessed about not leaving me by myself,"

"Are the two of you…serious?"

"Well…yeah,"

"How serious?"

I smiled. "Not the way you're probably thinking, I'm sure, but ever since this whole sick thing has come out in the open, it's brought us closer and over the past couple of months, I guess we have gotten pretty serious,"

"Is he good to you?"

"Do you actually think I would be with someone who wasn't?"

"No, but I never thought you'd ever hurt yourself, either,"

"Yeah, well, that was something I didn't really want to do, I was just looking for a quick solution to my problems and doing what I was told. I won't put up with guys who treat me badly; I have too much self respect to do that,"

"You still didn't answer the question,"

"Yes daddy, Logan's good to me. He takes care of me and he helps me,"

"Helps you to what?"

"To heal, to be myself, to get through this whole ordeal, he's been there for me like no one else has and I love him,"

"I never realized how hard that would be to hear my baby say," he said with a small laugh and shook his head. "Are you happy?"

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, I know I am but I don't know how much of it's real; those anti-depressants are fantastic," I joked.

"I'm happy for you then, I just wish I could've contributed to that some. I know growing up must've been harder on you than the other two and I'm sorry about that,"

"How was growing up any harder for me?"

"You were the youngest, your momma was tired when you came along, and I had to work more when you were younger than the other two. You were always different than them, even from the time you were born. You would just sit and play by yourself, not needing anyone else to entertain you. When you told us that you were a mutant, I was scared. Not because of you but I knew that your life would be so much harder because of it, but I have to tell you sweetheart; you have made me so proud. You have really grown and taken charge of your life, even though it's been difficult over this past year. You're a nurse, a fantastic one, and even though you've had to deal with all of this medical stuff, you're coming through it. You're a lot braver than I could ever be and I have to admit Layla, I look up to you. I couldn't do this. Losing Ben was the worst thing that's ever happened in my life and I know you felt that too. Your sister envied the relationship that you had, we all knew that you depended on each other, and I'm sorry that we didn't understand that. I feel responsible for you being in the state that you are, if I had been around more, had interacted with you more, than I think that you wouldn't be hurting half as badly as you are. I miss your brother, my son, and it took me a long time to realize that even though I lost him, I still have two daughters. I want to apologize to you for not taking the time for you that I should have, for making you feel like you didn't mean as much to me as your brother and sister; I love you all so much and all the same. I know now that how I reacted to you telling us that you were a mutant was wrong. I didn't know anything about it, none of us did because no one ever spoke to us about it. You've not let any of that define you, and I'm just so completely and utterly proud of you for everything, your momma and I both are,"

"Thank you," I said. "That's all I've ever wanted; to make you proud,"

"You've done a pretty good job of it," he said, smiling at me. "Now can I get a hug or are you too old for that?"

"No, you can have one," I said, standing from my stool, walking to him and wrapping my arms around him. He held me to him, hugging me for a moment or two before I began to cry. "He's really gone isn't he? Ben's not coming back,"

"No, he's not," he said.

"I miss him so much, I just keep waiting for it to all be wrong, but it's not, is it?"

"I know it's hard sweetheart, but you're still alive, so am I, you have you mother and your friends here, we can get through this together,"

"Do you promise, daddy?"

"Yeah, I promise you Layla, I'll help you though it,"

"Okay,"

I thought I had dealt with Ben's death. I could say he was dead and knew it was true, but there was a part of me that had verbally dealt with it, just not emotionally. Emotionally, I was too far behind, had blocked it all out until I had barely realized what had happened. I had right then and the weight of the realization seemed to crush my lungs, making it hard to breath, but I did. I kept breathing because it was the only thing I knew how to do right then.

"Is your father leavin'?" Logan asked me as I walked into our room.

"Yeah, he just came up to check on me,"

"You alright?" he asked as I sat down on the bed beside him. Some poker show was on TV and he was watched it.

I curled up next to him. "Yeah, I'm okay," I said as he wrapped his arm around me. "Are we still going out tonight?"

"If you want," he said, trailing his fingers up and down my arm.

"Yeah, I need to get out of here, just for a little bit at least. I'm going to go crazy in here if I don't get a small break," I said and then laughed. "Wait, I am crazy, that's why I've been stuck inside for so long,"

He laughed and shook his head. "Where do you wanna' go?"

"Let's go shoot pool or something, I don't care, I just want to be with you and out of the house,"

"All right," he said and we both watched the TV for a few minutes. Poker was lost on me; I didn't understand hardly any of it. It's all a game of luck rather than skill and I prefer fames where you have to think. Had I not been watching it with Logan, I would have been bored out of my mind.

"Oh, Storm and Jean wanted to know if you could cut the watermelons for the cookout tomorrow, since you can probably do it faster than them."

He growled. "I ain't a butcher knife,"

"I know, but could you please do it? I'll love you for ever and ever if you do," I said, nuzzling my nose against his neck.

"Just for cuttin' watermelons?" he asked and I could tell he was smirking.

"I'm a simple little southern girl, I only need a man to do some heavy lifting and I'm happy," I laughed.

"If that makes you happy darlin', I can do if for you,"

"Thank you," I said and he sighed as I placed a kiss on his collarbone. "I love you,"

"You too,"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah,"

"Do you ever think of me as like…your daughter?"

"Excuse me?"

I looked up at him. "Dr. Shabo said that I was attracted to you because essentially you were like a father figure to me, I thought he was crazy, but once he broke it down for me, it sort of…made sense. I mean, not in a creepy way or anything, but I got what he was saying and was wondering if maybe you, also in a non-creepy way, thought of me perhaps as slightly daughterly?"

He looked down at me and blinked. "No." I laughed. "I'm glad you find this so funny, 'cause I don't see the humor in it,"

"It was just a question Logan, don't get upset by it," I smiled and gave him a small kiss. "I love you,"

"You don't wanna' add 'daddy' to the end of that?" he remarked sarcastically.

I laughed and sat up on the bed before standing. "You're a funny little man, you know that?" I said. "I've got to get ready so we can go out,"

"What's wrong with how you are?"

"I'm in like, pajamas. Besides, wouldn't you like me to put on a little Catholic school girl uniform?" I joked.

He looked me over and smirked. "It's better than a nun," he retorted.

My mouth dropped. "Scott told you about that? I'm going to kill him!"

He moved his arms and propped his head up on them. "Wouldn't mind if you did,"

"Hardy-har-har," I said dryly, walking into the bathroom. "Mr. Jokey-Joke-Maker,"

"What?"

I popped my head out from the bathroom. "It's from 'Dodgeball'; tell me you've seen that movie,"

"Uh, no,"

"Dude, you've got to watch it. People get hit by cars, wrenches, balls, it's hilarious!"

"Did you just call me 'dude'?"

I smiled at him sheepishly. "Yes," He just shook his head at me and smiled. "You know, you think I'm cool, don't deny it,"

"I'm not goin' to,"

"Well, don't agree with me just to be condescending,"

"Are you gonna' get ready or not?" he asked and I made a sound from my chest. He raised and eyebrow. "Did you just growl at me?"

"You're not the only one in the house that can growl, you know?"

He settled down lower on the bed. "Yeah I am," he said to me with a smirk and a wink.

Logan was the only man I had ever met who could be a sarcastic jerk and instead of it being a complete deal breaker, I found it oddly…endearing. He was Logan, all the good, all the bad and some how managed to charm his way though his flaws. Now that's what I call real talent.