Perfectly Damaged
Page 60I nod.
“How much?”
“With all I have,” I admit.
He steps back to me and tilts his head lower, pursing his lips and then giving me SLKs (Special Logan Kisses). Nose. Forehead. Chin.
My body instantly relaxes and before I know it, we’re in the woods, walking down the trail. At first it’s just like any nature trail—tall trees, leaves and branches shielding the sky, a hint of sunlight beaming through.
My fingers grip Logan’s hand tight as we tread on. I look all around us: up, left, ahead, right, over my shoulder. No one is in sight. I let this roll through my mind a few times before I relax again.
We continue to walk in silence for about twenty minutes when Logan stops midstride. I look up at him. His head is tilted back, staring up as his shoulders move steadily with his breaths. “Do you see that?” he asks.
I look up, trying to figure out what he’s looking at, but I don’t see anything, well, except for the branches and leaves above us. I look back to Logan who has let go of my hand and is now bending at the knees. He lies down on his back, crosses his legs, and then folds his hands over his stomach.
I step up beside him, looking down as he smirks up at me. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“Admiring.”
“Admiring what?”
He taps the ground beside him, gesturing for me to lie next to him. I look around us. We’re in the middle of a trail with no one in sight and he just wants to lie down? It’s weird, but Logan always has a reason behind his actions, so I just shrug it off and get comfy beside him. Positioning my body the same as his, I adjust the camera on top of my chest so it doesn’t tip over to the ground.
We gaze at Mother Nature above us. The vibrant colors of tea-green leaves, lemon chiffon sun, and celestial sky blue artistically paint the perfect image. It’s soothing and perfect. I take in a deep breath and just marvel at it. I wish I could capture this and keep it forever.
Click. Click. Click.
I stop midclick, tilting my head to find Logan with a full-tooth grin, still looking up. “Why so happy?” I ask him.
“Just because.” He shrugs.
Click.
He tilts his head to look at me.
Click.
His smile weakens. “Stop snapping pictures of me!” He moans.
I giggle. He looks cute when he’s upset.
Click. Click. Click.
“I’m going to rip that camera out of your hands and return the favor.”
I stick my tongue out at him and adjust the lens to snap another shot when pink shoelaces appear in the frame right beside Logan’s head. Slowly, I lower the camera and follow the shoelaces up two little legs to a small body and curious round face.
“Momma, look!” A little girl—no older than three—points down at us. I sit up. The mother runs up and quickly grips her daughter’s hand.
Logan chuckles as he sits up. “No problem.”
“Momma, I’m big girl,” the toddler says, wrinkling her nose as she tries with all of her strength to pull her hand away from her mother’s.
“Yes, Lana, a very big girl. But big girls need to hold their mommy’s hand. Besides, I’m not ready to let you go. You think you can do that for mommy?”
“O-tay,” the little girl says, defeated. Then she jumps up and down. “But come on! We go on adtwenter.”
“Yes, Lana. Let’s go on the adventure.” The woman treads forward with her daughter, looks back at us, and mouths “sorry” one more time.
I watch as the mother and daughter walk side-by-side, the toddler’s tiny sneakers stomping and hopping around as she talks away—her words barely understandable—and the mother nodding, laughing, and just enjoying her daughter. A smile pulls at the corner of my lips. I lift the camera, zoom in on the two of them, and take the perfect shot.
“All right,” Logan announces with a single clap. “You ready to finish the rest of our adtwenter?”
Jersey Girl and I spent a little over two hours on the nature trail. At first she was a bit hesitant, but after a little push she really enjoyed herself. She took pics of everything and anything we hiked by, which is perfect for what I have planned.
When we finally arrived at the lake house, we did our usual: ate, jumped in the lake, and then showered—separately—but the thought of how Jenna would look naked, with her hair soaked underneath a showerhead, did cross my mind. Just for an instant. All right, you caught me. Who the fuck am I kidding? It was on my mind for my entire shower. The only excuse I have is that I’m a guy.
Right now, Jenna is getting dressed in her room while I’m in the kitchen, grabbing a beer. The back door swings open and Bryson steps in, his arm wrapped around his not-so-better half, Blair Mega Bitch. She slightly nods my way, flashing an arrogant smirk, and then treads her slutty, potentially disease-infected self toward the living area. Honestly, I’m shocked I haven’t heard any more stories about her cheating, yet. It’s only a matter of time, though. After all, it’s only been a couple of months since her and Bryson patched things up.
“What’s up, Bry?” I say, uncapping the beer and taking a swig.
“Nothin’ much. We’re just getting in. How long you been here?” he asks.
“The Coven trail?”
I nod.
“Damn. I haven’t been there in forever,” he quietly reminisces. “What made you go there?”
Shrugging, I say, “I wanted to show Jenna.”
“Ah.”
I pause midsip of my beer, narrowing my eyes. “What’s the dumb smirk for?”
“Nothing.” He raises his hands, palms forward. “You’re so defensive.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Bry. I know you better than anyone.”
Bryson leans against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. He still has that shit-eating grin across his face. “Well, I’m just here admiring you, my little cousin,” he says. I raise a brow. He continues in a mocking tone, “Mr. I Will Never Get Strung Out Over a Girl. Ever. But from where I’m standing—front row, I might add—you’re so fucking strung out I think you lost your balls along the way.”