Page 29 of Ghost Hunted

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t know how to be my brat anymore,” I continue. “You can be my good girl instead. Or just… be. You don’t have to do a thing, Lia. I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to shower, or get dressed, or eat, or walk. I’ll wash you, I’ll dress you, I’ll feed you, I’ll carry you around. You won’t have to do a thing but breathe and let me be near you. You’re so beautiful, baby. So goddamn beautiful.”

She tries to hide her face in her hands, but I force them away. “I’m old, Logan,” she says softly. “I don’t know how it happened. One moment, I was someone else, and the next, I was waking up in this body that looks nothing like the one from my dreams. I don’t understand it, but I know I’m not the girl you loved anymore. Maybe it was only a dream, after all. A sad little dream.”

“No.” I kiss her lips, and when she doesn’t kiss me back, I press my mouth more insistently against hers. “You’re just as beautiful as you’ve always been. More beautiful even. I love every part of you, and I’m going to take care of you.”

I look around, wondering how the hell I’m supposed to do that in this place empty of everything but rocks and grass. It feels crazy to think about mundane shit after everything that’s happened. But even with my arm still throbbing and the dried blood crusted around my ear, I’m back to planning things for her like I used to all those years ago. Things like washing her and feeding her and tucking her into bed.

“When’s the last time you ate, baby?”

“I don’t...” She blinks her eyes. “I don’t know.”

It’s good for me to move; I feel the haziness fading from my vision as I grab one of the backpacks Quill brought in from the car. It’s the one with the loaf of sliced white bread and the cans of meat and beans. Despite Piper insisting that Ireland does have supermarkets, I’ve been in enough shit over the years to know you have to go in prepared.

Relieved to find that some of the food is gone—it means Quill didn’t forget about feeding Piper—I open a can of beans and let the contents fall on a few slices of bread I’ve placed on paper plates.

Lia watches me with a slight grimace on her face, but doesn’t make a comment when I pass her a plate.

“You’re allowed to complain,” I tease her, my heart twisting at this new proof of how much she’s changed.

“Thank you, Logan,” she murmurs, bringing the plate up to her face. Her hands shake so much she nearly lets it fall.

“Baby.” Gently, I pull her toward me, taking the plate from her. “Don’t be so nervous. I’m not going to hurt you. I want you to complain. Okay? I know it’s not Michelin fare. Go on—bite my head off.”

She lets out a small laugh. “I guess it doesn’t really look... that appetizing.”

“But you’re going to be a good girl and eat it, aren’t you?” I pause. “I guess I could heat it up at least. But I’m a little too out of it to do that.”

She glances up at me. “Oh, Logan... does it hurt a lot?”

“No,” I lie. “No, it’s fine. I mean, I’m tired. And you are too. So let’s eat this horrendous shit and then I’ll do my best to tuck you into some sort of bed.” I bring the slice of bean-loaded bread to her lips, and she opens her mouth, dutifully chewing it all down.

“It won’t always be this gross. I promise. As soon as I take you back to Devil Tower...”

“Devil Tower?” she questions.

“Mhm hmm. I have a whole lot of things to tell you about. And... so do you.” I pause again, the memory of that word—children—making my stomach twist. “Do you have anything to tell me, baby?”

“I don’t... I mean...” She blinks her cloudy eyes at me, and just like I once did when every fact seemed to point to her rape by Carmelo, I decide to ignore the painful suspicion worming its way into my heart.

If she really has another child, she couldn’t have consented to it. Not if her father had been drugging her. And if that child isn’t with her now... what could have happened to it? I just can’t bring it up. Not right now. I’m already at the limit of what I can handle. And, more importantly, she is too.

“Do you still love bagels with cream cheese and salmon?” I ask instead. “Just wait till you get back home. You’re going to be drowning in bagels.”

She smiles but doesn’t answer.

“But maybe you’re sick of them. Have you eaten a lot of bagels in Ireland? Is that even a thing here?”

She blinks again. “I’m not really sure. No, I don’t think so. I don’t think I’ve had a bagel in a long time.”

“What’ve you been eating, then? What’s your favorite food? I could make it for you, when we’re home.”

“Logan, I...” She blinks again, and I start to wonder if it’s only from exhaustion. “I don’t really know. I wish you would do what you said and tuck me into bed.” She gives me another wry smile.

“Okay, baby. Sure.”

I crush the now empty plate into a ball, grab some clothes from the suitcase, and try to form a makeshift mattress. Then I lay her gently down on it.

“What about you, Logan?” she murmurs. “Aren’t you hungry?”