Disclaimer: I don't any rights to anything...quite literally. In some of the reviews from my previous stories some people said that Logan was too soft. I tried to toughen him up a bit in this story, so I hope it worked out well. I'm just a sucker for him as a softie, though,I can't help it. Please enjoy.

"No wonder you got money; you don't stay in hotels and from the looks of it, you don't eat either," Logan said.

We were in his motel room. I had just taken a long, hot shower and was eating the leftovers from the dinner he had had earlier. It was a few ribs, and I was tearing them apart, trying to get every bite I could get out of them.

"Well I told you before; I was saving it for you."

"Yeah, well, forget about that. You better save it. When I go back south you're gonna' have to figure out what you're gonna' do, you'll need it."

"Where from the south do you live?"

"What, haven't you seen where I live, too?" he asked sarcastically.

"No, I mostly see the more dramatic things that you've gone though, or emotional at least. Nothing about where you live."

"I'm in between here and New York for the most part."

"Do you like it there?"

"It's alright, I guess," he said. "You like it here?"

"Yeah, I just wish it would stop raining."

"You miss your family?"

I shrugged as I wiped my hands on a napkin. "A little bit, I guess. Do you miss yours?"

He looked at me from where he was proper against the headboard of his bed. "No. I don't have one."

"What about that girl, Marie, isn't she your family?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well…do you miss her?"

He let out a deep breath and continued to flip through the channels on the TV. "A little, I guess," he answered reluctantly.

"She said you could call, have you?"

"No."

"Have you written her?"

"No."

I let out a small laugh. "Well if you miss her and she obviously misses you, than why haven't you contacted her yet?"

He stopped his channel surfing and looked at me. "What do you mean, she obviously misses me?"

"Well, she didn't want you to leave to begin with, so I'm just assuming that if she didn't want you to leave that badly, she must, obviously, miss you quite badly, too."

"She only says she doesn't want me to leave 'cause she thinks she has to."

"Are you serious? She's completely…taken with you."

His eyes flashed suddenly and his grip tightened on the remote. He swallowed hard. "We're just friends," he muttered, turning off the TV. "You okay with sleepin' on the couch for tonight?"

His change in attitude caught me off guard and I wondered if I had said something to offend him.

"Uh…yeah, it's fine."

"Good. When we stop in the next town we'll get a room with two beds," he said, standing from the bed and turning off the overhead light. "You better get some sleep, we gotta' lot of drivin' to do tomorrow."

I left the table and went over to the fold out couch. Logan had unfolded and made it while I had been in the shower, so all I had to do was climb under the covers.

I lay there for a few minutes, trying to get my head around what was going on. But the couch was more comfortable than any of the beds that I had been sleeping on and sleep was beckoning me, leaving me little time to think.

"What made you change your mind?" I asked, nearly gone with sleep.

"There's something about you that's familiar. Don't know what it is, but I figured while you're tryin' to get your stuff sorted out, I might as well, too."

"When we met before, you thought my scent was familiar, is that what it is still?"

"No, it's something about you. Now stop talkin' and go to sleep."

"Night."

"Night."

I curled up and began rocking myself back and forth, humming a song I didn't know the words or name to, as I did every night. I had been rocking and humming myself to sleep for as long as I could remember. It was always the same song, one that my mother had sang to me when I had belonged to her, but no one ever knew what it was. I didn't either. I didn't care. The melody soothed me and carried me away in its lullaby until I had fallen asleep. It was always as if while I was humming it, I kept what was left of my mother inside of me alive. It was as if she were there, holding me, and rocking me. With that being my last thought, I could always sleep. No matter where I was.

"Did you move my stuff?" I asked Logan, coming out of our motel bathroom.

"Yeah," he said, pulling on his boots.

"Why?"

"'Cause I had to shave and it was in my way."

"Well where is it?"

"Your bag."

I had been gone for over a month and with Logan for a little over two weeks. Although we had been with each other for a short period, all I had managed to get from our time together was some relief from my visions. While I was with him, they had gone back to almost being normal, Well, that wasn't all I had gotten from him; I realized that we shared a lot of the same attitudes and ideas. That was new to me. Every time I had ever expressed my views or opinions to my family, they had always been shot down. Apparently, they were 'far fetched', 'pessimistic', or 'depressing' even. But Logan seemed to get me and I have to admit, after years of never knowing what if felt like, there were moments where I felt high from the feeling of a connection with someone.

I went back into the bathroom, picked up my bag and began rummaging through it until I found my hairbrush, toothbrush and makeup bag.

"Couldn't you have just moved it over a little; did you really need to shove it all in my bag?" I yelled out.

"No, I don't like for there to be crap everywhere while I'm tryin' to shave."

"Well, you're not on your own anymore, you've got a teenage girl with you now, so you'll have to get used to it."

"I'm payin', I don't have to get used to anything," he said. "Why do you need that stuff right now anyway; you're just stayin' in."

"Actually, I've decided to go out to get dinner tonight. I'm a little tired of staying in."

"You think that's a good idea?" he asked, appearing in the doorway, dressed and ready to leave.

"Yeah, I've been keeping up with the news. There's not been anything mentioned about me for about three weeks. Besides, I want to check everything out while it's not raining too badly, I don't know how much longer it'll stay like this," I told him, brushing through my hair. "Do you want me to bring you back some dinner since I'll be out?"

"No, I'll get something when I'm done."

"What time do you think you'll be back?"

"I don't know. Probably around three."

"Well, I hope you have fun beating drunken Canadians and taking their money."

He made a lot grunting sound that was meant to be a laugh. "I'm sure I will, I always do."

I smiled at him in the mirror. "Have you ever thought about getting a real job?"

"Like what?"

I shrugged as I moved to putting on makeup. "I don't know, but I'm just thinking that since you have such a time having to track down bars that host cage fighting, it might be a bit easier if you could work out of one place at a time?"

"No fun in stayin' in one place all the time."

"All the time, no, but what about a week or two? Don't you get tired from all of the driving? That's pretty much all you do. Drive, fight, eat, sleep, then get up and drive some more."

"Hey, we've been here for three days."

I rolled my eyes. "Alright, but when are we leaving?"

"Tomorrow."

"See? Why don't you want to stay put for any longer than that? Who are you trying to run away from?"

His form visibly tenses as I watched him through the mirror. "No one," he said. "I've gotta' go, the fights start soon. Do me a favor and don't get in any trouble tonight, 'cause I ain't gonna' get you out of it."

I shook my head. "I wasn't planning on it, but since I know you won't help me out of it, I'll be sure to be on my best behavior," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"Remember kid; stay away from strangers," he said, winking at me in the mirror.

I stopped, turned around and looked at him. "You're a stranger and I'm living with you."

"And you probably should've stayed away from me."

"Probably so," I said before he turned and left the bathroom. As I heard him open the motel door, I turned and watched him from the doorway. "Hey, you know that you can call me by my real name, right?"

He looked at me. "I know, and I will when you tell me the name of the other Stooge."

I laughed. "Are you still on about that? I thought you would have remembered it by now."

"I would, but there wasn't another one."

"So basically what you're saying is that you're never going to call me by my real name?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he said with a bit of a smirk. "See you in the mornin'."

"Alright, be careful," I said.

He grunted out a reply before walking out the door, and like every night before, I was by myself.

It was ten o'clock that night by the time I had gotten dinner. As I was leaving the restaurant, walking back to the motel, I spotted a phone booth on the sidewalk. It had been over two weeks since I had last called home and I felt an overwhelming amount of guilt that I hadn't spoken to them since then. I entered the booth, knowing that it wouldn't matter if they knew where I was calling from; we were leaving again the next morning.

I picked up the phone, inserted the proper change and dialed my old home phone number. Five rings and then an answer.

"Hello?" my mother answered.

"Hey, it's me."

"Jayden? Honey, are you okay?"

"I'm find mom, I just wanted to call and talk to you."

"Where are you, why don't you come home? Your dad and I are so worried about you and we miss you so much, sweetheart."

"I miss you guys too, mom," I lied. "I told dad why I can't come home. I wish I could, but I've have a lot of stuff that I have to figure out before I can even think about it. Everything's really confusing right now and I need some space and time to think. I don't want you two to worry about me, I'm doing good, I'm being taken care of."

"By who?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know who they are?"

"We're working on it."

"Are you staying with them, is that where you're living right now? Did they let you use their phone?"

"Yeah, I'm staying with him, but I'm not using his phone. I'm calling from a pay phone."

"Him? You're staying with a man? Is that what this is about; you wanted to go live with some man?"

"No mom, it's…complicating. I want to explain, but I don't know how. He knows how to help me; I just need you to believe me on that, alright?"

"How? You left without telling us, you took three hundred dollars from your father, you've called home twice and now you're telling me that you're living with some man? How am I supposed to believe that you're okay and that he's really taking care of you?"

"Because you're my mother, and that's what you're supposed to do."

"I'm not your real mother; you know I can't do that Jayden."

That stung. "Please, can you just try to believe me?"

"I want to believe that you'll come home, but every morning I wake up and you're not here, it gets harder for me. I don't know how to believe you."

"I've never done anything, you and dad know that. I've always been a good kid; I've never done anything wrong. I've never caused any problems…ever. I know that this is hard, I know that I shouldn't have left without telling you or took dad's money, but I…" I paused and looked around me.

Up and down the street, there were neon lights and signs. Some broken. Some flashing. Others were just being turned off, leaving their patch of the street without light. I felt like running to the darkened spots and hiding. Living in the shadows where no one could find me and I didn't have to deal with all of the things that I hated. I hated that I was always so perfect. I hated that I never broke the rules. I hated that I felt guilty for trying to help myself rather than just going along with what everyone else wanted. I hated that I was making excused for what I had done, when I didn't need to be making them.

"Mom, I'm sorry that I took the money from you and dad. I promise that when I can, I'll pay you back. But other than that, I'm not sorry for what I've done. Maybe running away wasn't the right thing to do. Maybe it was. I don't know yet, but I know that this is what I had to do. When I'm done, if you and dad don't want me to come back home, then I don't have to. You know I love you guys, you've raised me, you've been my parents since I was four. I barely remember anything before you. You've always done everything you could to get me the best education, you've taken care of me, you've given me everything that I've ever wanted. But this, this is something I need and if you guys really love me then you'll believe me and support me. Either way, this is what I'm doing. I don't know how long this is going to take, I don't know that I'll ever have it figured out, really, but I'm willing to devote my time to it because I am not crazy. And I'm sorry that you guys don't understand it, but neither do I. I just know that I have to do this. I hope that you can believe that. Goodbye mom."

While I had been speaking to my mother, a thought had come to me. One that I needed to talk out with someone. Someone that I could trust and knew but that didn't have invested interest in me. I needed to talk to Logan.

"And why was he the first person you thought of to talk to about this idea you had?" Dr. Lewis asked; peering at me from behind the glasses that sat perched on the end of his nose.

I let out a deep sigh and pulled my cardigan closer to me. I didn't like him interrupting my story. "He was the only person I knew who would give me his honest opinion. Out of the entire time that I knew him, he had been nothing but honest with me, even brutally so, and I knew that he would tell me what he really thought without worrying about giving me false hope or hurting my feelings. There was no one else that I knew of that could do that for me."

"No one? No one that you or your family knew that you could have called?"

I shook my head, causing strands of hair to fall lose from behind my ears and into my eyes. "No, he was the only one I trusted."

"But you barely knew him. How could you trust him?"

"I don't usually trust anyone. They use you, they hurt you, they leave you. I can't say why, because I don't know why, but I've never trusted anyone more than I trusted him. There was just something about him that when I saw him for the first time, it was like…" I stopped and shook my head, thinking.

"It was like what?" he asked curiously.

"I don't know. I just trusted him. I did from the moment I met him, or otherwise things wouldn't have gone the way they did when we first met."

"So what was this thought, or idea, that you needed to speak with him about?"

After hanging up with my mother, I walked to the bar where Logan was fighting. It took a good thirty minutes to get there, and by the time I reached the bar, there were already people falling over as they exited, having filled up and left early. A man stopped me at the door.

"You twenty-one?" he asked.

"Yeah," I lied. He stared at me. "Dude, if you want proof, I'll show you proof, but if not, do you mind letting me in?"

He stared at me for a moment longer before he moved out of the way and let me enter the bar. I let out a small sigh of relief that he hadn't called my bluff and was little proud of myself that I had been able to bluff so well. However, in another way, I figured he probably knew I wasn't old enough but didn't care. Either way, I was just glad that he had let me in.

I searched the bar until I saw a small room off to the right side and could hear loud cheering coming from it as well. I decided that it must be where the cage was and walked straight to it. I was right. There was a small cage in the middle of the room and bleachers all around, making it look like an arena with two fighters on display. I watched as the fight ended with Logan kneeing a man in the stomach, causing him to fall face down on the mat.

I walked up to the corner of the cage where he was standing.

"What're you doin' here?" he growled at me.

"I need to talk to you."

"It can wait 'til I get back to the motel, I'm workin' now."

"Don't you take breaks or anything?"

He stared at me as he propped his arms against the cage above his head. He was as I had seen him every time when in a cage fighting; wearing nothing but his blue jeans. His hair looked messier than usual, and there was sweat dripping from his forehead into his eyes. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.

"Yeah, I get one in about an hour and a half, two hours, but it doesn't matter; I don't want you here. Go back to the motel."

"I'm not going to get into any trouble, but I really need to talk to you about something," I said. "It'll only take a few minutes away from your break and then I'll leave. Alright?"

"No, go back to motel now and we'll talk about it when I get done or in the mornin'."

The urgency of the topic had been so overwhelming from the time I had first thought of it. I was afraid that if I didn't talk about it right then, I would lose my nerve about it.

"What's wrong? Havin' a fight with the old lady? You're holdin' up the fights!" the fight announcer asked, stepping over towards Logan in the cage.

He turned his head around and bared his teeth, letting out a small growl. "Gimme' a second." He turned back to me. "Go back to the motel; we'll talk about it later."

"Alright, fine," I said, and then turned to leave.

I was anxious and thought that the walking might help, but as I walked out of the bar and got out on the street, the bottom dropped out and the rain began to pour. I looked up and saw lightening streak across the sky. Thunder rolled overhead and I felt it vibrate through the sidewalk.

"Freakin' great," I muttered to myself sarcastically and turned sharply on my heels to go back to the bar.

It would take me almost an hour to get to the hotel and if the weather intended to continue how it had been for the past few weeks, it wasn't going to let up any time soon. There was no way I was going to walk all the way back in that kind of weather, not without getting sick anyway. And so I went back. Even though Logan had told me to go to the motel, I figured that he would understand.

I ran back into the bar, passing by the exact same bouncer as before, who let me go right on through. Since I hadn't thought quickly enough to pull my hood up, my hair had gotten drenched and the rainwater was dripping, causing drops to go down my shirt, rolling down my back and making my whole body cold. I tried to wipe the rain from my face with the driest part of my shirtsleeve as I once again entered the room where the fighting was taking place. I stood off in a corner, trying to dry off some while also trying to stay out of Logan's sight for the time being.

"Hey, need help getting dry?" I heard a voice from behind me ask. It was low and gravely. I looked and saw some strange looking, middle-ages man standing beside me.

"No, I'm good."

"I bet you are," he said and I tired to ignore him. "Why don't we go somewhere a little more private and talk, sweetie? I guaranty it'll be worth your time."

"I some how doubt that, so no."

"I like the ones that play hard to get."

"Yeah, well, I'm not playing, so just go pester someone else. I bet the drunk chicks will love you."

"All the girls love me," he said, brushing the hair from my shoulder.

"Don't touch me," I snapped.

"Aw, come on now sweetie, it's just old Jackie Ray here, you don't have to be scared." He kept his hand at my shoulder and gripped it before he began to massage it. I felt his other hand against my back and I jerked away from him.

"I said don't touch me!"

"Come on now sweetie, it's alright," he said, grabbing my arm as he began to pull me with him, away from the crowd of people and towards a door at the back of the room.

"Dude, let go of me," I said, trying to pry his hand from my arm. But I couldn't. This was more serious than I thought. "Let go of me!" I planted both of my feet shoulder width apart and continued to try to loosen his grip from me like I had been taught when I was younger, but again to no avail. "Let go!" I yelled.

The few people who were near us and could clearly hear me, turned their heads and pretended that they couldn't. With the noise of the crowd in the background, they were the only ones who were going to be able to hear me and if they weren't going to help me, then no one was.

I took one of my feet and kicked him in the back of his knee. He swore and called me a name, then grabbed both of my arms and began shoving me towards the door.

"Let go of me!" I yelled once again. "Someone help me!"

He continued to move me to the back of the room as I continued to fight him. Even as I continued to yell for him to let go and for help, no one could hear me and I knew it. In the matter of seconds, I was filled with sickness of fear and dread. A sickness that began to fight its way to the surface the longer I fought with him, but knew that he was too much stronger than I was. A sickness that I couldn't control and so as he pushed me, I began vomiting. I had been scared to the point of losing control of my own bodily functions.

"Hey, what's your problem? Watch the shoes!" he said.

I heard the crowd irrupt into a round of boos and within seconds, I felt his hold on me go as someone pulled him from me. I was bent over, still sick, when I saw that Logan had the man, Jackie Ray, up against the wall, punching him in the stomach. He kneed him in the groin before pushing him onto the floor. I heard his nose break as he shoved his face into my vomit, holding his head in place with his foot. I heard him begin to sob slightly as he struggled with his own new sickness from being hit in the gut and groin as well as the taste of his blood and my vomit. Logan then moved his foot, bent down and grabbed a handful of his hair, pulled his head up.

"Please, I didn't mean to hurt her, I just wanted to have some fun," he cried as he chocked and sputtered from the tastes in his mouth.

"Well, ain't that funny 'cause that's exactly what I'm doin'," Logan said, banging his head into the concrete floor. When he pulled him back up again, he spit, causing blood and two teeth to pour from his mouth. "You scared? Hm? You know how she feels now?" he asked, shoving his face into the floor once again and I heard more sounds of bones or teeth breaking. I had since stopped throwing up and was watching, shaking, from where I stood. Few times had I seen Logan with this much intense rage and anger, but never had I witnessed it first hand. His eyes looked as if they had gone black as his whole body shook and radiated pure anger. He lifted the man's head up once again. "You better start bein' careful who you're messing with, 'cause you see that girl? She's mine. She's with me and you screw with her, then you screw with me. And let me tell you something, this ain't nothing. I could kill you pretty easy and I'm thinkin' awful hard about it. So, you got anything to say that might change my mind?"

"I'm sorry. I wasn't going to hurt her; I just wanted to have some fun. That's all I wanted. I didn't know she was yours. I'm sorry, please don't kill me," he cried.

"Sorry bub, ain't buyin' it," Logan said. "Close your eyes kid."

I did as he said and heard a 'snikt' sound before the one of flesh being impaled that followed. I covered my ears to try to drown out the screams of the man whom Logan was stabbing with his claws.

I'm sure that there were other sounds at that time, but all I could hear was the man's screams of pain and Logan's grunts as he continued to stab, extract his claws and then stab him once again. All I could hear was the last gasping breaths that left him and the sick sound of his body smacking again the floor, wet with his own blood.

Then it stopped. I couldn't hear anything. And the silence was so overwhelming and loud that it made my ears ring with pain. But I didn't dare move my hands or open my eyes, for fear of what I might see. Then I felt a hand on my arm.

"Keep your eyes close and hold on to me. I'm gonna' get us outta' here," Logan told me.

I did as he said and held on tightly to his hand with one of mine and his upper arm with the other. I kept my eyes closed until I felt the violent pounding of the rain coming down on me once again. At that time, I opened my eyes, but still held tightly to Logan. I followed behind him, shaking in part by the cold rain and in part by how scared I still was.

He led me to the side of the bar where the parking lot was. When we reached his truck, he unlocked my door and directed me into the seat, slamming the door shut. My teeth chattered together as I continued to shake. He barely had enough time to close his door before he had the engine started and was speeding out of the lot.

"What were you doin' there? I told you to go back to the motel. Why didn't you listen to me?" he growled out.

"I'm sorry. It was storming when I left and I didn't want to walk back to the motel in the rain. I thought it would be okay if I just stayed there until it lightened up a bit. I didn't think you would mind. I thought it would be okay, I thought I would be okay. I'm sorry," I said, too shocked to even cry. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He shook his head, a scowl still spread across his face. He let out a string of swearwords, muttering under his breath. We had been driving for a while before I even looked over at him. He had blood on his hands and blue jeans. I didn't know how much was his and how much was the other man's.

"You killed him, didn't you?" I asked, only just realizing it.

He kept his eyes on the road. "Yeah."

"Why?"

He turned his head and glanced at me quickly. "Why? Do you know what he was gonna' do to you?" he asked, his voice rising. I didn't say anything. "Do you?" he yelled. "He wasn't gonna' just take you back and talk to you. He didn't wanna' have a nice little chat with you, kid."

"I know; he was going to hurt me."

"It wasn't like he was gonna' smack you around a little bit, you'd be pretty freakin' lucky if that was all. He was gonna' rape you and leave you, then you'd be screwed up and all alone."

"But you killed him."

"You didn't want me to? You were scared, and I did what I had to do."

"How do you know how scared I was?" I snapped, finding that the only emotion my brain was willing to register right then was anger.

"Well for one, you were pukin' all over yourself and him. And two, I could smell it. There were over a hundred people there, all kinds of smells in the air, and I could smell your fear from the cage. Now I could be wrong but I'd say you were pretty scared."

"But you killed him," I repeated. "You didn't have to do that. You could have just beaten him up and left him, but instead now there's a dead guy lying in a bar back there and you've got his blood on your clothes."

"Yes, I had to, and you know why? 'Cause if I didn't, he wouldn't have stopped. It would have been some other girl, some other night and she wouldn't've had anyone to help her. I might do some pretty bad thing, but I don't do that and people like him deserve to die. And no one's gonna' care abut a dead guy they found in a bar, 'cause no one's gonna' be willin' to tell what happened. You think the ones who heard you yellin' for help and ignored you are gonna' be tellin' the police what really happened? 'Cause I don't. And even if they do, I don't care. We're leavin' as soon as we get to the motel. Maybe next time you'll actually listen to me when I tell you to do something and I won't have to kill anyone."

"I'm sorry, I just didn't want to walk back by myself in the rain," I muttered quietly, resting my head against the window and silently began to cry. My anger quickly dissolved, leaving me feeling scared, nervous and on edge. At that point, all I knew to do was cry. "I want my momma," I said as we pulled into the parking lot of our motel.

"You read to go home?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No."

"You want her to come get you?"

I shook my head again. "No, I want my real momma. I miss her." I sat up in my seat and dried the tears from my face.

"Where is she?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen her since I was three. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. When you needed to find those men who did all that stuff to you, how did you find them?"

He stopped the truck and pulled the keys from the ignition. "There's a guy I know, he's a professor and he owns the school I was stayin' at. He's psychic."

"Do you think…he would help me? I was just thinking think if I could find her then I might…understand some things about me. And I think that that might help me understand my powers. Maybe I could stop seeing things, that way I could leave you alone and wouldn't have to bother you anymore," I said, still wiping at the tears of my face.

"Yeah, I'll see what I can do."

"I've got to get my stuff together and then we can leave. It'll only take me a few minutes."

He let out a deep sigh. "I need a shower and you need to get out of those wet clothes so you don't get sick. We'll just go ahead and stay here for the night. We'll leave in the mornin'."

"Okay."

We both say, neither one of us moving, neither one of us speaking, for about five minutes. The rain fell hard and heavy again the hood of the truck, with the sound of thunder rolling over head and the lightening flashing high across the sky, lightening up the space around us. Sitting there, I felt as if we were the only two people alive. I wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. If it was comforting or sad. Welcomed or lonely. Living with a good family in a good neighborhood nearly all of my life, I had never truly been face with the realities of the real world. But sitting there, so far from home for so long, in a truck with a man that I didn't actually know, who had just killed another man, I felt it hit me like a tidal wave, leaving me to drown under it weight.

"Thank you," I whispered, staring straight ahead.

"For what?"

"I don't know, just everything. For saving me tonight, letting me stay with you. You were right; I was scared tonight. I was terrified, I still am. To risk sounding like a pampered brat, I've pretty much had everything taken care of for me. I never had to feel scare a day in my life with my parents, but since I left…I'm not scared when I'm with you, I don't know why, but I'm not. Just…you don't know me. I've done nothing but caused you problems since you've met me, so just…just thank you. For everything."

"Yeah, well, I guess we're even then."

I looked over at him. "What do you mean?"

"That night in the bar, when I decided to take you with me, you said that your visions of me had caused you nothing but problems," he said, looking at me. "Now we're even."

I forced a small smile and shook my head. "I didn't mean to."

"You didn't mean to what?"

"Cause you problems."

"You're just makin' the score even."

"Yeah, I guess I am."

Although my initial intention was not to make us even, I couldn't argue with the fact that I had done just that. It was only a matter of time before I knew he would get tired and leave me. I just didn't know when it would be.