Chapter 10

The seventeen-hour drive from New York to Meridian, Mississippi, seemed never-ending to the brooding feral at the wheel. His calloused hands steadily guided the SUV along the last leg of the journey, and he glanced at the sleeping Rogue. They had driven through Virginia and Tennessee in silence, and he welcomed the quiet time to think. When they crossed the state lines into a rain shower, he grimaced at the sky again. This weather seemed to have the same disorder as Rogue — never fully committed to a way of life but always ready to cause trouble.

The rain stuttered, stopped, and hail lashed down. Rogue stirred and gazed tiredly at the weather outside. She watched the hailstones bounce off the hood and smiled as a rainbow spread across the road ahead. "That's a sign of good luck," she promised Logan softly.

With a grunt, Logan's eyes narrowed at the bolt of lightning and rumble of thunder that followed her words. "Whatever you say, kid."

The silence set in between them again, and Rogue opened a bag of snacks. She offered him a piece of beef jerky, and he shook his head. As she reached for another teen magazine in the footwell, she heard him growl at her. Sighing, she sat up again and read the list of ingredients on the back of the packet instead. The hours crawled by sluggishly, and as her boredom flatlined, her imagination expanded. She soon saw a road sign and smiled at the name of Birmingham, Alabama.

"Can you imagine someone faking their own kidnapping? Think of a lady with a nice car and a good family. She dials 911 and lies about seeing a baby on the side of the road. When the police come, she's already disappeared into the night with her bag of Target snacks," she said, gazing out the window. "Maybe she did it for attention, but some say she did it because of a boy."

Logan listened, his eyes slowly narrowing again. He looked at her and shook his head. "Put that idea back in a box and stay away from the Ice Prick, kid. He'll be six feet under, and you'll wish someone had kidnapped you if I ever catch you faking something like that."

Rogue smiled at his grumpiness and searched through her Target bag for more snacks. "It's a silly story I made up, Logan," she said. "It isn't real."

"It better stay that way," he muttered and checked his shirt pocket for a cigar and lighter.

When they reached the outskirts of Meridian, Mississippi, Rogue seemed to change. The smile on her face faded, and she felt like the whole weight of the world balanced on her shoulders. She gave Loga directions, and when they arrived, he parked on a street opposite a house. Rogue would never describe it as anything but a street where a house lived. They were other houses, of course, lining the street with other cars, but she didn't care for them.

After a while, Logan nudged her out of her thoughts with his elbow. "How you holding up?" he asked her, his tone steady and carved with some care.

Rogue dragged her gaze from her tennis shoes and finally glanced across the familiar road. "It's just a street where a house lives."

He nodded and looked over at the house. As he wound down his window and smoked, he casually wondered if he had been involved with abandoning her on the doorstep. Every shred of his instincts told him it was impossible, and he sighed and caught hold of her gloved hand.

Rogue had made a rushed movement to leave. She wanted to sprint across the street and bang on the front door of her mama and daddy's house. Without making much of a fuss, she planned to maybe holler a little, but answers would come quick if she made a scene in front of the neighbours. All the memories in her mind from Mystique suddenly rose until she pushed them away and gazed at Logan.

He held onto her hand and shook his head at her. "It's not a good idea," he warned gruffly.

She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed in the scent of his cigar smoke. Now his memories refocused in her mind. With a grimace, she shook her own head and fixed him with a disapproving look. "You shouldn't sleep with another man's wife."

With a frustrated scowl, Logan tugged her forward by her hand until her face was inches from his. "Leave it alone, kid," he growled to her and kept her motionless until he was certain she got the message.

She gazed into his eyes and gave a small nod to show she understood. He released his grip, and she settled on her seat. "Why does every guy I meet have to use aggression and intimidation on me?" she asked sadly, not talking to any particular person because she hated him again.

Logan sighed and drove away in search of a hotel. "I wasn't being aggressive or intimidating you."

"Liar," she whispered in response as she gazed over her shoulder, watching her family home vanish behind hedgerows, walls and other houses.

Eventually, they found a Holiday Inn on the side of a busy central Meridian street. Restaurants, banks, and stores were dotted about, and Logan figured it seemed a safe enough area. He shouldered his rucksack and looked at the kid. She hadn't spoken to him since calling him a liar.

A fiercely determined Rogue carried her heavy duffle bag into the hotel and dragged it up to the reception desk. She took her own money out of her coat pocket and counted it several times. "I'd like to check in, please. Can I have my own double room as far away from him as possible?" she asked politely.

The woman behind the desk looked away from the computer screen. "As far away from who?" she questioned in confusion as she checked the room availability.

Logan headed inside and walked over to the desk. He raised an eyebrow at the kid's mini scowl and chuckled to himself over her moodiness. "I need two double rooms close to each other."

Rogue pointed a gloved finger at Logan and watched the lady tap at the keyboard. "As far away from him as possible. Please and thank you kindly."

Figuring out Rogue's plan, Logan snorted to himself. He reached over and snatched the money from her hands. As he pocketed her cash in his jacket, he eyed the beautiful woman behind the desk. "Two rooms close to each other."

The receptionist glanced between the warring pair. The girl seemed offended, while the man continued to chuckle. "Do you mind me asking if you're father and daughter?"

"What gave it away?" Logan demanded to know, his chuckle dying on his lips when Rogue's hand reached for his jacket pocket. He shoved her gently back to her duffle bag and ordered her to quit pushing her luck.

Smiling to herself, the receptionist found them the only available room. "I'm afraid all I have is a twin room on the fourth floor. Ya'll will find most hotels sold out this week because we have an exciting country music convention in town."

Logan grumbled, thinking the convention sounded like his personal version of hell. He handed over some of the cash from his winnings. "I'll take it."

"Don't you think I should get a say?" Rogue called over to him, frustrated as she picked up her heavy luggage.

"Not until you grow up," he responded with his go-to line and eyed her struggling with her bag. "You want help with that?"

Rogue glared at him for even daring to act like a nice guy in front of company. "You can go straight to the hottest seat in hell." She then turned to the receptionist, read her name badge, and smiled politely. "Thank you kindly for your help, Miss Betty-Sue."

"You enjoy your evening, sugar," the receptionist replied with the warmest of smiles. She then stared at the girl's daddy with lustful promises of southern-style hospitality in her passionate gaze. "As for you, darlin', I finish my shift in twenty minutes."

Tempted as he was by the beautiful woman's advances, Logan's mind turned to Jean. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I've got a good woman at home," he told her and followed Rogue to the elevator.

Gazing up at the out-of-order sign, an annoyed Rogue groaned. She picked up her duffle bag again and struggled to the stairs. Huffing and puffing, she made it up one full flight before she gave in and dropped the bag to her feet. Everything about today had sucked. Why did she want to visit her hometown? Even the elevators hated her.

Logan eyed her and thought she needed to improve her training. "You about done with the stubbornness?" he asked her and held out his hand to take her duffle bag.

"I don't need anyone's help. Especially when they threaten me and then pretend like it's nothing," she complained and gazed down at the duffle bag as if it was the biggest challenge of her life.

He shook his head and walked ahead of her, climbing several steps. "You'll learn the hard way, kid. Nobody cares about your feelings when you cross the line and stick your nose where it doesn't belong."

"I hate my life. I can't even sit on a stool without someone being an asshole," she complained and settled on a nearby step.

"Maybe that says more about you than you think," he told her gruffly and headed up to their room.

Sitting alone, a frustrated Rogue kicked her duffle bag. She just wanted to wander and explore without Logan sucking the fun out of everything. The longer she sat there, the more she realised the duffle bag signified something greater than too many snacks or too many books. It was her old life and her old family. All the heavy baggage she carried around with her did nothing but make her cranky with a capital fucking C.

"Wow," she whispered, smiling to herself. "Maybe I'm not as silly as I thought."

As she stood up, she stretched her aching arms and picked up her duffle bag again. She climbed each step with a determined gaze in her eyes. Plans unfolded in her mind as she finally reached the fourth floor. Tonight, she would spread her wings in her hometown and reclaim her life. It made perfect sense to her. She even planned to visit her childhood home. As she found the correct hall and the correct door, she reached for the handle.

Logan pulled the door open and looked down at her. He sighed heavily and took the duffle bag. "You always been this stubborn?" he asked her and guided her inside.

Rogue gazed around the room. There were two single beds and two bedside tables. She spotted the desk, lamp, and chair. The space was pleasant, but uninspiring. It needed an artist's touch. "Thanks, Gloria," she said out loud, smiling to herself as she turned on the TV.

"No Gloria," Logan growled as he set her duffle bag down on her bed. He looked at her and chomped on an unsmoked cigar. "Don't run up another phone bill and stay in the room. If you need food, eat some snacks, or send for room service." He snatched the menu off the desk and handed it to her.

She gazed down at the menu and wrinkled her nose. None of the items listed were Southern home-cooked meals. "Where are you going with my money?"

He smirked in amusement at her sassy attitude. "I'm keeping hold of it until your misbehaving ass is back safe at Xavier's." The more time he spent with her, he knew she would run wild across town with that money. Maybe it was Mystique's influence over her? Either way, he wanted her here penniless and safe. Kids with no funds couldn't cause trouble in small towns like this.

If Rogue could read his thoughts, she would have laughed in his face. He really had no clue about anything.

"Look, keep your stubborn ass here. Watch TV, eat your snacks, and relax." Logan pointed his cigar at her one last time as he opened the door. "I mean it, kid."

Tempted to tell him to shove the cigar where the sun failed to shine, Rogue quietly watched him leave. As the door closed, she huffed to herself and walked across the room to gaze outside. Standing by the window, she gathered the curtains in her hands and peered at the setting sun. This was home, and she didn't feel like she belonged. Shaking her head, she smiled sadly. No, a home should be where her family was. "Maybe it's time to say hi?"

Some might have expected Logan to sidestep his commitment to Jean and take Betty-Sue up on her offer. But he had other thoughts on his mind. He found a bar, settled on a stool, and ordered himself a beer. As he lit a cigar, he looked around with a furrowed brow.

It lacked the usual rowdiness of his taste in bars. Families filed in and out of the attached restaurant, and he listened to the sound of kids demanding everything but the world. As the jukebox bled Tank Williams songs, he snorted to himself. His kid would love it here. He scowled at that thought. His kid? Hell no.

He drowned the last drop of beer and ordered another one. Once more, he looked around and listened to the families chatting in the restaurant. They sounded happy, not that he could tell. He didn't have a kid, anyway. Those birth certificates held no proof and he had never seen, heard, lived, or felt a shred of fucking evidence to show he'd ever bedded Mystique.

Those instincts, though, to kill to protect the kid. He heaved a sigh and eventually snuffed the cigar out on a drink's menu. Before he had even taken a mouthful from the second bottle of beer, he eyed the server. "Give me a whiskey."

While Logan explored his feelings of unplanned and unwanted fatherhood, Rogue stepped outside the hotel and gazed around. With her bearings slowly seeping into her mind, she felt cautious and uncharacteristically sure of herself. How could she feel both emotions at the same time?

"None of those voices belongs to me. None of those voices belongs to me. I'm no one else. I'm no one else. My name's Marie D'Ancanto. My name's Marie D'Ancanto." She continued to give herself a gentle pep talk, even as several passersby gave her strange looks as they hurried inside the hotel.

Eventually, feeling nothing but her own thoughts clouding her mind, she smiled gratefully. "I can't believe that worked," she murmured and weaved through the parked cars. As she faced the direction of her family home, she checked her coat pockets. All she could find was a lousy dime and it wouldn't pay for her travel expenses anywhere. Rolling her eyes, she eventually gazed down at her tennis shoes. She hoped they were as comfortable as they felt during the long drive here.

Several hours later, Logan stepped out of the bar and growled at the sky. "Fucking weather," he complained and retraced his steps to the nearby hotel in the pouring rain. By the time he reached the lobby, he was soaked. Cursing under his breath, he climbed the four flights of stairs, his healing factor slowly dealing with his drunkenness. He had chased down enough whiskey and beer to cater to the full week's crowd at the country music convention.

As he reached the hotel room, he scanned the key card and headed inside. He took his wet jacket off and tossed it over the radiator. Eyeing the TV screen, he watched the confused weather reporter attempt to explain the unexpected storm. "Good luck with that, bub," he muttered under his breath.

With a grumble and a growl, he grabbed a towel and stalked into the bathroom. Suddenly, he stopped and turned around. His healing factor continued to drain the last of the alcohol from his system. He stepped into the room again and reached for the light switch on the wall. As he flipped the switch, he expected to see Rogue in bed with her snacks and a mini scowl on her face.

The light only made Logan's mood darken. He growled and dumped the towel back on his bed. Snarling to himself, he decided he needed rational thoughts in his head before he went on a rampage. There's no Rogue. She left the TV on. There were other scents here, but none as fresh as hers. Nobody had disturbed the room. He doubted someone had kidnapped her again because who the hell would put up with her? And if she'd left the hotel, he couldn't track her scent in the rain.

Scrubbing a hand over his weary face, he shook his head. He had to talk himself off a ledge before he killed the goddamn kid. There was no blaming Mystique, Victor, the Ice Prick, Gloria, or whoever the fuck else she had absorbed. This was her all over. A pain in the ass who wanted to push her luck until he keeled over with a goddamn heart attack.

Frustrated, he changed out of his wet clothes. He wasn't about to search the streets for her. Whatever the truth between him and her, he couldn't be a father. He'd be her friend. Yeah, he was her goddamn friend. As he dressed, he pulled the chair closer to the door, sat down, and folded his arms. He would sit right here in front of the TV, watching the local news station, and impatiently wait for her goddamn return.