“You’re going to have dinner,” I say finally. “And then go to bed.”
“What?” She stares at me, the passiveness in her eyes giving way to anger. “You can’t talk to me like that!”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m a…” Her face flushes. “... a child!”
For the first time since I had her on my lap back at the diner, I allow my lips to relax into a smirk. “I’ll talk to you however I want. And I think it’s timesomeonetreated you like a child, since you’re clearly too immature to make good decisions.”
Fuck, it feels good to rile this girl up. Some of the heaviness in my chest dissolves when I see her open and shut her mouth in anger.
“You’re an asshole, Logan,” are the words she finally settles on.
“Uh huh.” I go over to the side table, where I’d set downthe box of leftovers. I feel guilty when I realize she hasn’t eaten anything all day. We’ve been so focused on feeding Aurora whenever she got hungry that the rest of us haven’t had a bite.
I can handle skipping meals. But Lia’s lost weight over the past month, and I should at least be making sure she eats.
“I’m going to sit you down on my lap,” I threaten, my chest even lighter at the thought of this new excuse to hold her to me, “and feed you this bacon and eggs.”
“Sure.” She crosses her arms. “You’re not such an adult yourself, Logan, or you’d know that if I ate that, I’d be having diarrhea for the next three days.”
“Huh?”
“You know, food safety? Biology 101? That stuff is supposed to be refrigerated. It’s been in a hot car all day, I bet it’s just swarming with bacteria and—”
“Okay. Okay.” My hand finds its usual place around her wrist, and I pull her out of the room. I send a quick text to Everest, telling him we’re going to get a bite to eat, then push her toward the car.
“Stop shoving me around like that!” she fumes. “Where are we going?”
“I liked it better when you weren’t talking.”
Liar. But it feels really fucking good to dominate her like this. Seeing her pissed off quiets the guilt and the incomprehensible heaviness that have been making my heart hurt, because it means she’s neither shutting me out, nor looking at me in that broken way that makes me want to cry.
And I’m far too old to cry.
I only let go of her wrist when we reach the car. Huffing out in exasperation, she buckles her seatbelt, and I turn on the ignition.
“You shouldalsobe putting on your seatbelt,” she says in that cute bossy tone that used to make my heart flutter back inhigh school. “Loser.” She marks a pause. “Sorry, Logan.”
I glance at her quickly as I pull out onto the state road. “Why sorry?”
“For, uhm… being mean.”
I swallow, my throat tight at seeing her shut down in slow motion again. Reassuring her won’t do a thing. It’ll only make her spiral harder.
Besides, anything I could say to reassure her would be a lie. Sheismean. My mean little ghost.
“Well,” I say at last, pulling into a sports bar a few minutes away, “I guess I can’t expect anything less from a little brat like you.”
“Logan!”
She’s back to being angry, daggers flying from her eyes, but I merely chuckle and park near a sports bar. Then I drag her to it. Once inside, I scan my eyes for the most private booth in the room.
Though there’s not much need for privacy since it’s after eleven and the place is empty, with just one half-awake waitress to serve us. The minute we’ve reached our table, I pull Lia down again in my lap.
“Logan! Not in public!” she hisses in my ear.
I glance around, amused at her definition of public. But I answer, “Especiallyin public.”
