Page 40 of Ghost Hunted

Lia’s panicked cries force me out of my daze. In the cloud of dust that’s risen up around us, I can just make out Piper running and collapsing at my side.

“Logan! Papa! Are you hurt? Are you very hurt?”

Not with that word spilling out of her lips. How can I be hurt when she calls me papa?

By now, Lia’s kneeling beside me too, and I pull both of them into a bear hug.

It does hurt when I press Piper to my bad side, but it doesn’t matter. In fact the pain feels good, because it reminds me she’s here, and she called me papa. I press her to me even harder, until she lets out a gasp that tells me I need to loosen my grip.

“Oh my gosh,” she cries, touching my shirt. “You’re bleeding. Your shirt is soaked with blood!”

“It’s okay, Piper… Aurora… it’s okay…”

It probably isn’t okay. Between the shards of glass against my temple and the gunshot yesterday, and the fact that half of my torso is currently skinless, it probably isn’t okay at all. Physically, at least. Emotionally, though, I’m feeling better than I have in a very long time.

But emotions can only get you so far. I lie back down on the dusty ground, my breaths coming out in pained spurts.

“I don’t know what to do,” murmurs Lia, letting me pull her all the way down so she’s lying on the ground beside me. “Logan, I don’t know what to do. You’re hurt, and… and I don’t know how to take care of you.”

“Shh, baby. Shh… just stop… talking…”

I close my eyes, squeezing her hand. As long as I feel it in mine, I know I’m going to be okay.

My mind grows foggy again, and Quill’s low growl reaches me from far away.

“Should’ve known I couldn’t trust him with a motorbike… he’s lucky he’s your daddy, Piper, or I swear to god… you gonna hold his hand much longer?”

“Don’t be jealous! And don’t call him daddy!”

I reach out to her, trying to feel her hand in mine again, but she must have stood up to join Quill. My chest throbs, but I guess that’s how it is, isn’t it? By the time I got to know her, another man had already claimed her.

I sigh, and then stop sighing, because it fucking hurts. My insides feel like they’re burning up along with my skin.

“Look at that biker,” continues Quill, his voice even further away than before. “I just took off his mask, and his head is leaking brain.”

“Ew, Quill!”

“Are those his intestines, do you think? I’ve often thought about intestines, but I’ve never seen them before. Up close, I mean.”

“That’s so gross! I’m gonna be sick!”

“Sorry, cricket. Sorry. Please don’t be sick. I love you. It’s just intestines, though. You want to touch them?”

Those are the last words I hear before I lose consciousness once more.

10

Lia

“Is that a good idea? Are you sure about it?”

“Pretty sure.”

“Pretty sure?”

“Yeah, like, fifty percent.”

“That’s not pretty sure. That’s… passingly sure. Half-sure. You’re not closer to being sure than to not being sure.”