Keeping Count of Broken Promises, part 3/3

By: Madame Librarian

Pairings/Characters: Logan/Veronica. Includes mention of Veronica/Piz, Veronica/OC, Logan/OC

Rating/Warnings: R-NC-17-ish for sex, language

Word Count: 13,700

Spoilers: Future fic, spoilers through 3.03 “Wichita Linebacker”, written initially because I was so disheartened by the lack of affection I saw between them during the first half of the season. An unintentional epic.

A/N: This chapter written to meet the requirements of my own vm_library Someone's Watching smutathon. This is Part Three, and the end of the epic. And I really, really have to credit kimikochan in a way, for Sins of the Father, her excellent fucking fic. Every time I felt uninspired, every time I thought I just *couldn't* muster up any more angst for this monster, I would re-read parts of her fic and just swoon. Swoon, I tell you. She kilt me over and over, without breaking a sweat. *swoons some more, just for good measure*

Mad beta-thanks to: rindee, itsthedetails, havemy_heart, misspacific and lapdogdesign.

* * *

Previous Parts:

One: What happens when you keep count of all the broken promises?

Two-A: What happens when you enumerate every sin?

Two-B: Would your heart collapse under it's own weight?

* * *




Logan woke her up by placing feather-soft kisses across her nose and cheeks, and when her eyes fluttered open, he smiled at her tentatively. She smiled back, warm and happy for the first time since her plane had touched down.

She awoke to an entirely new Logan, the kind, considerate friend of her childhood. He gave her small, shy smiles as he brought her clothes to her, then called the airline to reschedule her flight while she changed back into her jeans. She didn't protest as he put the flight cancellation fee and the charge for her return ticket on his own credit card. Once she was dressed, she joined him while he finished the call, wrapping her arms around him from behind, pressing her cheek against his strong, warm back.

He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles before murmuring, “We have to hurry if we're going to get you on that plane.” She nodded her agreement, and stepped away. She filled a Thermos full of coffee while Logan loaded her luggage from the rental car into the back of his own SUV. He opened the passenger side door and offered his hand as she climbed in.

The ride to the airport was quiet. Veronica lounged in the passenger seat, angled so she could watch him while he drove. His right hand and her left were entwined over the center console, fingers lightly playing. He kissed her at the gate, then watched longingly as she boarded her flight. Though he couldn't see her, she waved at him through the tiny porthole from her window seat. She thought she saw him wave back, and she smiled.


* * *


It was the sort of warm Spring day that soccer games were made for. A brisk breeze ruffled the fresh fluttering leaves above, and the sprigs of bright green grass below. The unblemished sky was the perfect shade of moist blue, the only clouds mere wisps on the wind. The sun blazed off of shining surfaces, making spectators squint to see past the glint on car windshields and glass storefronts. Even the air smelled cleaner.

“Hurry UP, VeroniCA,” Lilly Kane hollered over the bustle of eleven ruddy-faced, dirt-caked twelve-year-old girls. Veronica gathered her water bottle and gym bag, murmured goodbyes to a couple of her team mates, and jogged over to her best friend. Lilly, at thirteen, stood arms akimbo, her demanding eyes flashing murky green.

“Did you have to slide through that mud, Veronica? I told you Duncan was bringing Logan Echolls to the game today!” Lilly complained, adjusting her silver-tinted sunglasses on her perfectly-tanned nose.

“Sorry, Lil. I had to go for it. I had to make that goal,” Veronica explained apologetically. “Besides, we won the game.” She glanced at her best friend appraisingly. “What do you care what Logan Echolls thinks of me, anyway? Isn't he your boyfriend?”

“No, he's not my boyfriend,” Lilly rolled her eyes in exasperation. “We're just talking.”

“What does that mean? Talking?” Veronica skipped to keep up with Lilly's long strides as they headed back to the bleachers.

“It means he tries to flirt with me, and I occasionally give him something to nibble at.” Lilly grinned deviously and ran a hand down her breastbone, over her already-stacked chest, and then lightly across her belly.

Veronica flushed hotly. “Lilly!” she hissed, scandalized. There wasn't time for more commentary, because Duncan and his friend were approaching from the opposite direction, amused smiles playing on both their faces.

Duncan spoke first. “Hi, Veronica,” he mumbled shyly, digging the toe of his sneaker into the soft earth. She regarded his chubby face kindly, as she always did.

“Hi Duncan!”

Though Lilly had been building up the introduction to Logan Echolls to near-mythic proportions, Veronica wasn’t the least bit intimidated by the tall, lanky adolescent, nor did she get the impression that he expected her to be. She wiped her grimy palm on the slippery polyester material of her soccer shorts before offering her hand.

“I’m—”

“Veronica,” he cut in smoothly, offering his own hand. “I know.” His grin was playful as he cocked a thumb in Lilly’s direction. “Lil here talks about you non-stop. When she’s not talking about herself, that is.”

Lilly rolled her eyes behind her chic shades, clearly put upon.

“Likewise,” Veronica giggled, swiping at a stray hair that had escaped from her ponytail.

“Pigtails, Veronica?” Lilly asked derisively. “Are you five?”

Duncan shot Lilly a glare, while Veronica shrugged. “Keeps my head cool when I play.”

Logan reached out to tug gently on one of the bundles of tawny hair. “I think they’re cute,” he ordained, smirking. Veronica answered with a hot flush.

“Me too,” Duncan added quickly, and Veronica afforded him a small sideways glance before focusing on Logan once again. His dark eyes were full of mirth, his face kind.

Lilly huffed, exasperated. “C’mon, Veronica!” she demanded. “Your dad's waiting for us.” She grabbed her best friend’s hand and pulled her away from the two boys. Glancing backwards over her shoulder, Veronica stuck her tongue out at Logan. He waved, biting his bottom lip between his teeth to hide his own answering grin.

The next morning, when Lilly called to boast that she’d given Logan his first blowjob the night before, Veronica made her excuses and quietly hung up. She stared at the picture of Duncan and Lilly taped to her vanity mirror as small, silent tears traced delicate trails down her cheeks.


* * *


The door to Mars Investigation had gained a dangling ribbon of jingle bells since the last time she’d seen it, and the temp behind the desk—a perky redhead—already had a nameplate on the edge of the desk introducing her as ‘Thelma’.

“Hi! Welcome to Mars Investiga—well! You must be Veronica!” she chirped. She bustled around the wide desk and completely disregarded the handshake Veronica offered, going straight for an effusive hug. “Welcome home, honey! Your father made a quick run to the bank, but he should be back any minute. You want to sit down?” Thelma giggled. “But I guess you’ve been sitting for a while though, huh? You want to do some jumping jacks?”

Veronica chuckled despite herself and shook her head. “No, thank you. I’ll just wait for my dad…in here.” She gestured towards his empty office.

“Sure thing, sweetie! You want a coffee? A soda?”

“No thanks!” Veronica called back over her shoulder, mesmerized by the site of her father’s inner sanctum, transformed. His desk was clean and orderly, no files or folders were stacked awaiting his attention. A large potted ivy sat on the sideboard, along with some tasteful glass paperweights in the shape of fish. His bulletin board was neat and clear of outdated warrants, wanted posters, and errant notes. The filing cabinets had all been neatly labeled, and, if Veronica had to guess, organized. A white ruffled curtain hung above the window; a framed poster of an Art Noveau Absinthe advert hung on the opposite wall.

Veronica gingerly took a seat in her father’s desk chair, the leather of which had been polished to a high shine. Several minutes later, the jangle of the bells disrupted her investigation of Keith’s desk drawers, and through the frosted glass, she could see her father’s familiar silhouette meet with Thelma’s, her bouncy coif raised in a hello kiss. She recoiled in distaste just as her father twisted the door knob.

“Oh, you have a client waiting in your office,” Thelma giggled belatedly. Keith’s eyebrows rose to meet his non-existent hairline until he saw his daughter, then his wary expression melted into a happy grin.

“Oh, my child. How long has it been? Two years? Four?” He closed the door behind him, setting his briefcase in one of the guest chairs.

“One month and two days. And since when are you and Shari Lewis making a go of it? Have you got Lamb Chop bound and gagged in the closet?” she sniped conversationally.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Thelma is a delightful woman,” he informed her matter-of-factly. He eyed her speculatively. “Are you back for good?”

Veronica took a deep breath. “Actually, no,” she laughed nervously. “I’m moving. To North Carolina. …To be with Logan.”

Keith closed his eyes, as if debating the wisdom of an honest reply.

“I know …that you’re not happy about it…”

“That wasn’t what I was going to say.” Keith eased into the remaining guest chair and steepled his fingers. “Veronica…Logan is…was…a troubled young man.”

“That’s just it, Dad. He was troubled. I won’t say he’s perfect now, because God knows neither of us are…but he’s…straightened himself out,” Veronica shrugged, biting her lower lip. “He’s got a steady job—he owns a restaurant—he’s got his own house, a dog, friends. He found his grandmother and grandfather, he visits them several times a week. I haven’t gotten to meet them yet, but Logan promised I would, when I came back.”

“And you’re sure this is what you want, Veronica? I know that in the heat of passion, it can seem like a good idea—”

“It’s not about passion, Dad,” Veronica argued, then blushed hotly. “It is and it isn’t. I love him. And I believe he still loves me, too. And we’re trying to make it work.”

Her father’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, you believe he still loves you?”

“He won’t say it,” Veronica admitted baldly. “But I can hardly expect him to.” She ducked her head in shame, her cheeks coloring again. “I’m lucky he still talks to me.”

“Just remember he wasn’t exactly a saint, either. As I recall, you two had your ups and downs like any other couple.”

Veronica bit her lower lip and took a deep breath. “In three years, I never once told him I loved him,” she confessed, her voice thick. “I hurt him for so long.”

Keith opened his mouth to protest, but Veronica stopped him. “Don’t be on my side, Dad. Believe me when I tell you I’m not proud of the way I treated him. I was wrong. …And now I've got a chance to make it right. That's what I'm going to do.”

“So you're just going to up and move to North Carolina?” he asked dubiously.

“Would it make you feel better to know the local sheriff doesn't even carry a gun?” she offered with a charming grin.

Keith palmed his own forehead dramatically.


* * *


“Look what I've got!” Logan crowed as he burst through Veronica's bedroom door. She quickly shut the brocade cover of the book he recognized as her diary, and smoothly slid it between the mattress and the headboard. She rose to her knees on the mattress and watched as he ceremoniously presented a plain black DVD case to her.

“You brought me...porn?” she asked impishly, screwing one eye shut in contemplation.

Logan playfully tugged one of her braids. “No, Half-Pint, but you're close. Put it in the player,” he urged eagerly, flopping on her bed. Veronica hurried to comply, not noticing the hungry way Logan observed her movements from his prone position on the bed. As the familiar theme music wafted from the speakers, Veronica's jaw dropped in shock.

“No. WAY!” she protested incredulously.

Logan couldn't help the smug grin that toyed with the corners of his mouth.

“How?” Veronica turned to him in stupefaction. “I've been checking the website for months, there's no release date.”

“Well, you know my dad...he knows a guy that knows a guy that knows a guy...but now they all think I'm a fag,” Logan groused good-naturedly. “So just don't ask for any Barbie dolls or those gay little ponies any time soon.”

Somewhat subdued, Veronica snorted and settled beside Logan on the edge of the bed. “Is this...a whole season?” she asked as She-Ra lifted her sword and began to chant her mantra.

“Just the “Best of” episodes,” Logan shrugged. “That'll be the first thing to come out. They're going to put Season One of He-Man out first.”

Veronica squealed and threw her arms around Logan's shoulders in manic joy. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She placed a small, sweet kiss against his cheek, then fussily wiped her lipgloss off his skin.

“It was my pleasure,” he assured lightly, reaching out again to play with the wispy ends of her braids.

“Are you coming to Lilly’s birthday party?” Veronica asked hesitantly, rocking backwards to sit on her heels.

“I dunno,” Logan shrugged, as if it didn’t matter.

“She’ll be pissed if you aren’t there,” Veronica commented idly.

Logan snorted. “She dumped me, remember?”

Veronica nodded. As if she could forget.

Lilly had accused Logan of getting too friendly with Crystal Kelly during the Homecoming Pep Rally, while Logan contended he had merely helped Crystal up after she slipped and almost fell outside the doors of the gymnasium.

Lilly vacillated between insisting Crystal had staged the fall in order to get Logan’s attention and insisting Logan had tripped Crystal in order to have the opportunity to help her up. Regardless, half of the Freshman class had seen Logan’s hand on Crystal’s right buttcheek, and no amount of excuses were going to cut it. This week, at least.

Personally, Veronica thought Lilly was being too hard on Logan...not that she would dare tell Lilly—she'd never hear the end of it. 'You like Logan more than you like me.'; 'Why doesn't Logan be your BFF, if he's so perfect?'; 'Figures, I'd get stood up for a boy'.

“Why don't you come anyway? You can hang out with Dick; you probably won't even have to talk to her...” Veronica wheedled, giving him her most adorable pout.

Logan rolled his eyes, but gave her an affectionate smile. “Fine, fine. I'll think about it. Now, I didn't come over to talk about Lilly, okay? Just give me one Lilly-free day, please.” The undercurrent of need beneath the lightly-spoken words resonated deeply with Veronica.

“No Lilly,” she agreed solemnly, crawling over to where he sat, lounged against a mountain of stuffed animals. She laid back against her pillows, curling into Logan's side, and they watched cartoons for the rest of the afternoon.


* * *


Veronica pushed open the bathroom door, intent on doing nothing more than letting Logan know she was back. When she'd first come in almost fifteen minutes before, she'd heard the pipes moaning as water gushed torrentially through them. She'd unpacked her suitcases, took Bendy out for a short walk, and was starting to wonder if Logan had fallen and hit his head while bathing.

But no. Logan was turned into the corner of the shower, his forehead pressed to the steam-slick tile. Even over the rushing of water on fiberglass, she could hear the rhythmic whimper of her own name, interspersed between fucks and oh Gods. Slyly, she bit her lower lip and considered the best way to intrude on his private moment. Quickly shedding the jeans and sweater she'd traveled in, she divested herself of every stitch of clothing within fifteen seconds. The plastic rings made nary a whisper on the metal rod as she slid the sheer curtain back gently, just enough for her to slip in behind him.

He moaned brokenly when she wrapped her arms around him from behind. Veronica grasped his throbbing cock in her small hand, her cool skin meeting his hot, flushed flesh with a dizzying rush.

“Come on, baby, I'm here,” she urged, jerking him in a steady rhythm. “I'm home.” She nipped his shoulder blade, hard, and his ragged groan echoed between the cool tile and the transparent curtain.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pumping his hips unsteadily, his fingers futilely grasping at the wall. Veronica used her body weight to spin him around until he faced her. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, breathtakingly sexy. Veronica eased down onto her knees and took Logan's cock in her mouth. Her hands came up to cup his ass, to assist with the jerking of his hips.

Moments later, he was coming, a primal cry torn from his throat, his body shuddering uncontrollably. She continued to suck on his cock, though with considerably less vigor; his thumbs gently stroked her cheeks. When he was too sensitive to withstand another second, she released him on a sigh. He cupped her face in his palms, urging her to stand. As she did so, he pulled her to his chest, his lips covering hers possessively. He suckled at her mouth, his tongue twining around hers, devouring her taste.

He pulled away, gasping, and pressed his forehead against hers. “Missed you,” he murmured, his fingers lightly caressing her cheeks.

“You did?” she asked hopefully. He grinned, giddy as he nodded. “Me too,” she whispered back, before took her mouth again, his lips and tongue caressing so intimately. Veronica wrapped her hands around his forearms, moaning as she lifted onto her tiptoes, her swollen nipples erect and pressing into the crisp softness of his chest hair. His fingers ghosted from her cheeks, down her ribs to her bottom, which he cupped in his palms, then hoisted her up, eliciting a startled yelp. Veronica grinned as he clambered out of the bathtub, now lugging waterlogged blond baggage, her legs clamped tightly around his hips.

He staggered through the doorway of the bathroom and over to the king-sized bed, lowering her until she was less than a foot from the surface of the mattress, then unceremoniously dropped her, grinning as her body bounced. She rolled her eyes, but behind it was a playful smile. Logan prowled up between her legs, spreading her thighs and diving between them, kissing every inch of skin he could. He lavished wet, sucking swirls against the delicate skin on the insides of her thighs.

“Mmmm, so good,” Veronica murmured dreamily, easing her legs wider to accommodate his broad shoulders. Logan tenderly spread her open and began to suckle and lap at her moist heat, dipping and darting his tongue deep inside her, stoking her desire to almost unbearable levels. His fingers entered her just as his tongue wrapped around her clit and sucked voraciously. Veronica cried out his name in wanton abandon, bucking against his face, gasping for breath.

She clenched her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, wanting to pull him inside her.

“You like that, Sexy?” he chuckled, the rumble of his voice reverberating across his lips, directly into her nerve endings.

“Fuck, please, fuck,” Veronica chanted as Logan flickered his tongue across her clit. The delicious suction of his luscious mouth and the curving of his large, warm fingers had her riding up onto his hand in passionate ecstasy. Her muscles clenched around him as she came, gasping for breath.

He kissed a path up her belly to her breasts, which he tongued and fondled for several minutes before rising up to take her mouth again. Logan reached out to fumble around in the nightstand before extracting a condom and ripping it open with one hand. He rolled it down his cock and within seconds, surged into her body in one swift movement. Her back bowed in pleasure. Their fucking was fast, desperate, and several minutes later, they were kissing frantically as they came again.

Logan collapsed on top of her body, and she shivered as she wrapped her legs around his waist and held him close. A long minute later, he kissed the side of her face, and whispered, “You have to let me go, or this,” and he gestured down to where their bodies were still joined, “is about to get messy.”

She nodded, but didn't release him from her hold. Their eyes met and held, and he rubbed the tip of his nose across hers in a sweet Eskimo kiss. “I'll be right back, I promise,” he whispered, and grudgingly, she let her legs fall back against the bed. He kissed her again before rising to his knees, groaning as he did so. As he sauntered into the bathroom, she lifted on to her elbow to admire the view.



“You know,” Logan said casually, later, as they were wrapped in each other's arms, “you don't have to get your own place. I have the spare room...you could just...stay here.”

Despite the breeziness of his comment, Veronica felt him carefully watching her out of the corner of his eye. She rolled over onto her stomach so she could face him, careful not to move away from his warm body. She entwined their fingers. “I think I have to, Logan,” she admitted reluctantly. She hurried to reassure him, “Not because I don't want to be with you...but because I do.” She very gently stroked his cheek with her free hand. “Because I want it to work this time. I don't want to rush into anything, and I don't want us pretending things are perfect if they're not.”

“So...you're moving out because you want to move in?”

“Yes,” she beamed, relieved he seemed to understand her meandering trail of breadcrumbs.

He chuckled, shaking his head in bemusement. “I swear... If I ever figure you out, it'll be a miracle.”

She rolled her eyes, so put-upon, even as she shoved into his shoulder playfully. “It's not like I won't be over all the time, anyway.” When she stuck her tongue out at him, he darted forward to catch it between his lips, and any words between them quickly became unintelligible.


* * *


The summer night was muggy, the humidity steamed the evening air, suffocating. Logan had pulled Veronica into the backseat of the X-Terra after the stroll down the beach to Miller’s Cove, and had the air-conditioner running full blast. The beach was deserted at this hour, the sky an inky blanket that shadowed the rustic wooden signs and trashcans. They usually didn't come here this late, but their movie had run long.

Veronica had pulled her hair into a messy bun, but stray wisps were drenched in sweat and clung to the moist skin of her neck. She’d kicked off her sandals, and was somewhat-skimpily clad in a thin gray tank top, sans bra, and a short denim skirt, which exposed her beautifully tanned legs.

The night before, Veronica had allowed him to touch her through the cotton barrier of her underwear, and he’d effortlessly brought her to orgasm—her first, though she’d never admit it to him. He was in the process of inching her skirt up her thighs, and by the looks of things, was seeking a repeat performance.

She very determinedly pushed his hand back down to the relative safety of her knees. The most irksome part was that he didn’t even bat an eyelash.

“No?” he murmured, nuzzling her ear. “Kissing okay?” He nipped at her earlobe and she nodded, giggling at the sensation. Logan splayed his right hand across the whole of her lower back, sliding his fingers under the material of her tank top so that he could touch bare skin.

Despite being annoyingly, perfectly sensitive about her boundary issues, Logan kissed with his entire body. His hands roamed, cupping, caressing, tickling—breasts, thighs, hips—until she would fairly pant with pleasure. Her breasts had long ago been declared fair game, and Logan took delight in fondling her at every opportunity—so long as they were alone, and in private. He loved to whisper deliciously naughty things to her, apparently never expecting they would go through with any of them.

He may have been declared Neptune High’s Obligatory Psychotic Jackass, but he was Veronica’s Sensitive Perspicacious Boyfriend, because he never pushed, never pressured. It was starting to get on her last nerve.

“Take my panties off,” Veronica demanded in a murmur when Logan moved his mouth to suckle the crook of her neck.

“Huh?” He pulled back as if he’d been pinched. Veronica clapped her hand over his mouth.

“Don’t argue. Just do it,” Veronica whispered, kissing his face, his cheek.

“You want me to…with my fingers?” he asked breathlessly.

Veronica shook her head, her eyes demurely downcast.

“Then…”

She lifted her head, their gazes locked, the sexual energy sizzling between them.

Logan’s jaw dropped, but he didn’t protest. The week before, they’d gone to dinner, and while canoodling waiting for the hostess to seat them, he’d been the one to suggestively whisper all the wicked things he wanted to do to her once they were alone. Top of the list? Sliding between her silky thighs and licking her to the best orgasm of her life. She'd known he'd been merely teasing her, but the boy should be ready to put his money where his mouth was. In a manner of speaking.

She cupped his face in her palms. “It's past time we tried it,” she said resolutely.

Logan laughed, a little dazed, still. “It's not a race, Veronica,” he insisted.

She smirked, no actual humor underlying. “C'mon. You and I both know you're not going to be satisfied with a frigid girlfriend forever.”

Logan's jaw clenched. “Who told you that? Why would you believe that?”

“No one had to tell me, Logan. You're used to having girls jump into bed with you; I haven't. I know you're not going to wait—”

“Fuckdammit,” Logan yanked away from her gentle hands, moving to the far end of the bench seat, next to the door. He ran his fingers through his hair angrily. “Veronica, I'm responsible for the worst thing that ever happened to you, okay? I have to live with that every day. If I have to spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I will. God, I... I just...”

Veronica reached for one of this hands, tugging it from where it tangled through the short locks of his hair. “I don't hold you responsible, Logan.”

“I was the only one who could have stopped what happened that night. I was the one who had the drugs, who started the shots...I was the one who could have saved you and I didn't,” Logan reminded her, his voice wavering. “I never thought anyone would actually hurt you. I thought the worst that would happen is that you would pass out, we would get some great pictures of you, and then we could send them to your dad.”

“Well, thanks,” Veronica replied dryly.

“I mean it, Veronica. Nothing was supposed to happen to you, ever.”

Veronica decided he'd tortured himself enough for one night. She took his chin between her index finger and thumb, and pivoted his face around so she could see his eyes. “You're with a girl, Logan. A girl who wants you to kiss her, and—” she flashed him a mischievous grin, “—nibble her, and go down on her. Are you really gonna disappoint her?”

Logan gave her a shaky smile; it was enough impetus for Veronica to lean forward and kiss him. She drew him into a passionate embrace, succumbing to the pleasure as he sucked on her tongue. He brought his hands to the bottom hem of her tank top and yanked it upwards, discarding it on the padded floorboard. He cupped each of her small, tender breasts in his palms, thumbing her nipples and bowing his head to bestow a reverent kiss on the rosy peaks. He shed his own shirt quickly, taking her in his arms so she could feel his solid, reassuring presence.

He had kissed a path down her belly and his fingers were toying with the waistband of her panties when she panicked. “Logan,” Veronica protested softly, the palms of her small hands flush against his broad, tanned shoulders.

“Do you trust me, baby?” Logan asked breathlessly, keeping his elbows locked as he loomed above her.

Veronica nodded her assent without speaking, her eyes wide and not-quite-frightened.

“I'm going to make you feel so good, I promise,” he vowed, coming up to kiss each of her eyelids as they fluttered closed. She nodded again, biting her bottom lip apprehensively. Logan kissed any residual hesitation from her as he made love to her mouth with his tongue. She eased backwards until she was lying on the seat, her legs bent at the knees, while Logan brushed lingering trails up and down her thighs, setting her on fire.

When he slipped between her legs a few minutes later, she began to forget the world entirely, her eyes fluttering as she alternately tried to focus her gaze on the roof, the top of Logan's head, the window.

Suddenly, she screamed, as the wide, dead eyes of Cassidy Casablancas came into focus above her head. He was standing at the rear window of the X-Terra, peering in as if he could see through the dark tint.

Logan's head flew up and he practically threw himself over her body, unsure of what had startled her. She clutched at him frantically, in horror and fear.

“He's watching us! Oh my God!”

“Who, baby? What's wrong? What happened?” Logan panted against her ear.

“Beav-Beaver...he's standing outside.”

“What the fuck?” Logan growled, reaching for his shirt. He blocked the door even as he threw it open, scrambling out to chase Beaver down the beach. The smaller boy was running scared, stumbling over the shifting sand. It didn't take Logan long to catch up.

The first punch to Beaver's face resonated with a sharp crack. Veronica yanked her clothes back on and watched Logan deliver another blow to the kid's jaw.

“Logan, stop!” she called out reluctantly. Logan stopped, mid-swing, and turned to look at her, surprised. “I think he got the message!”

Logan released Beaver's shirt collar, and abruptly let him fall backwards onto the sand. Down the beach, a bonfire flared to life, and in the faint glow, Veronica could see the shapes of revelers begin to emerge—no doubt Dick and his slimy pals.

Meanwhile, Logan was trudging back to where Veronica had slid off the seat, her bare feet flat on the concrete. He came to her, crushing her to his chest, cradling her there for a moment.

“Take me home?” she entreated softly, and he nodded.

Her father was home when she returned to the apartment, so Logan didn't dally. He left her with a kiss on her forehead and a promise to call her the next day, but the worry behind his eyes spoke volumes. She could see he would blame himself for this one for a long time to come.

She showered and lay down in bed, but couldn't sleep, unable to shake the lingering sense of déjà vu.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face.


* * *


“I can't believe you're finally letting me meet her,” Veronica whispered, panicked, squeezing Logan's hand with a death grip. “Does she know I'm coming? Did you tell her anything about me? Oh, God. You didn't tell her I broke your heart, did you? She's going to hate me!”

Logan chuckled lightly. “Relax,” he murmured, seeing his grandmother's approach through the frosted glass. “She knows you're coming, but she doesn't know anything about you, other than you are—were—my college sweetheart.”

Isabella opened the door and her face lit up in a bright smile. “Logan, Caro!” She affectionately kissed both of his cheeks, and as they embraced, Veronica discreetly dropped his hand. “And this must be Veronica!”

“Nothing slips past you, Non,” Logan teased, lightly pinching her chin. “Veronica, this is my grandmother, Isabella. Nonni, Veronica,” he turned his grandmother towards his lover, and Isabella hugged her with equal enthusiasm.

“Look at all this blond hair! Blue eyes! You don't have a drop of Italian blood in you, do you, Bella?”

Veronica gave her a wobbly smile. “I'm afraid not, ma'am. Just the name.”

“Caro, this isn't good,” Isabella warned Logan seriously as she ushered them inside. “How am I going to teach her to make all your favorites?”

“Oh, Nonni, you're barking up the wrong tree,” Logan laughed. “You'll be teaching me to make all of her favorites.”

Isabella looked startled as she turned towards Veronica. “You don't like to cook, Bella? For shame! Everyone should love to cook for the one they love.”

“Oh, I like to cook,” Veronica insisted cheerfully. “It's the...quality of the end result that is questionable.”

Logan chuckled again, kissing the top of her head. “Well put, babe. And people say you don't have any tact,” he teased.

She punched him lightly in the shoulder, unable to contain her happy grin.

“Come, Caro, your grandfather wants to see you,” Isabella prodded finally.

Veronica squeezed Logan's fingers. “Why don't you go on up? I want to look around for a minute.”

Logan shrugged, but followed his grandmother up the stairs. Veronica wriggled out of her coat, and carefully laid it across the gilded bench in the foyer. The walls were a dark cherry wood, the floors a shade lighter. As she entered the sitting room, she could see a deep burgundy carpet ran the length of the room, and considering the lived-in look, Veronica guessed Isabella spent most of her days there. Her knitting was draped over the arm of an old rocking chair, which was pulled close to the fireplace. On the hearth was a braided rug and a small padded basket, which held a sleeping dog. A low blaze burned brightly from behind the chainmail screen.

Lovely Monet prints had been framed and hung on each wall, the colors soothing mauves and lavenders. A recent black-and-white photo of Logan sat in a silver frame on the antique table next to her chair, and a similar framed picture of an older man hung nearby. Upon closer inspection, Veronica deduced the sprightly gent was probably Logan's grandfather, though his health had been in rapid decline. There were figurines scattered about made of a cloudy blue glass, Isabella's very own menagerie.

She wandered back into the entry hall, where she followed the trail of family photographs up the curved staircase and onto the second floor landing. Veronica passed the slightly-ajar bedroom door and managed not to peek inside, despite an almost-desperate curiosity. She found herself at the opposite end of the hall, looking down a dark staircase to the faint light below.

“Hi.” Logan appeared beside her suddenly, and Veronica jumped in surprise, barely suppressing a yelp. She pressed a hand to her breast, cursing her own skittishness. “Scare you?” he smiled fondly, pressing a kiss to her temple. She nodded slightly.

“He asleep?” she asked softly.

Logan grinned. “Watching the 'Wheel'. Cranky old bastard. Wants a sandwich and a whiskey.”

Veronica snorted. “Hmmm, now who does that remind me of?”

Isabella appeared at the top of the stairs, carrying a tray with the requested items.

“You're giving him whiskey?” Veronica goggled.

Logan's grandmother chuckled. “Juice, Bella. He can't taste the difference.” She delivered Harold's dinner, then rejoined them in the hall.

“We're going down to the kitchen,” Logan said, squeezing Veronica's hand lightly.

“I'd like to look around a bit more, if that's okay?” Veronica asked.

“Sure. Bathroom's right there,” Logan offered, gesturing to one of the closed doors. “Come down whenever. Just don't get lost in this monstrosity; we don't keep a search party handy.”

Veronica laughed and gently shoved him towards the stairs as she slipped through a darkened doorway and into one of the guest bedrooms. While the interior was clean and recently dusted, the linens looked as if they'd not been slept in for some time, and even the white cotton curtains had begun to yellow. Veronica sensed Isabella was still very independent, even in her advancing years, but she clearly needed additional help. She could see that with just a little rejuvenating, the estate could be restored to all its former glory. She vowed to spearhead the project once she and Logan's grandmother had gotten to spend some time together.

She bit her lip with excitement when she imagined surprising Logan by helping Isabella throw a large house party once everything was aired and polished and gleaming. She leaned against the bay window, looking out onto the rolling hill towards the ocean. She promised herself that she would be everything Logan needed her to be now, including bringing his grandparents into her heart, which had been shuttered for far too long. She sighed before turning and closing the door softly behind her.

Her footfalls were whispers against the carpeted stairs leading down to the kitchen. She could hear the low rumble of Logan's voice echoing up through the stairwell, but she couldn't discern exactly what he was saying. His grandmother answered, and then they laughed. Veronica was silent as she came to stand on almost the last step, encapsulated in the shadows, observing Logan with one of the only two people that had truly loved him in far too long.

Isabella was cutting into a pan of brownies, and the lure of the sweet chocolately confection almost tempted Veronica out of hiding. Almost.

“This, Bello,” Isabella explained, “is a very secret recipe, passed down from your great-grandmother to me, and now...I will give it to your innamorata.” She placed a plate in front of Logan, whose head was bent, inspecting the smooth wood of her chopping block as if were most interesting thing he'd seen in days.

“About that...” he began gruffly.

“This girl...she is the one, yes? The girl in the photographs?” His grandmother asked eagerly, sipping her tea as she sat down across from Logan, her own brownie still steaming.

“Yeah, Non. She's the one,” Logan replied, exhaustion seeping through his tone, his shoulders slumped as it infected his entire body.

“When is the wedding, Bello? Before your grandfather passes, I hope,” she prodded in that officious way all grandmothers have.

Logan laughed. “Should she be pregnant already, too? Maybe we can squeeze out two or three at once so you don't have to wait for them.”

Isabella slapped lightly at his shoulder. “Jesus hates a smartass.”

Logan's face grew solemn once more. “Nonni...she is the one, but she...we're not...I can't...”

Isabella raised an inquisitive eyebrow, compelling him to continue.

“That's not....what she wants out of life,” Logan answered, stilted. He ran an idle finger along the edge of his plate.

“She's here now, isn't she?” his grandmother pointed out.

“She is,” he agreed easily, “for now.” He sighed. “Don't...get too attached to her, Non. Don't get your hopes up.”

“Why, Bello? She seems to be a very sweet girl,” Isabella asked softly, running her fingers through Logan's hair soothingly.

“She leaves,” he explained patiently. “She runs away—that's just what she does.” He shrugged, his palms up. “She'll be here as long as she's here, and then she'll be gone.”

Isabella's hand trailed down his arm, clenched his fingers. “Caro.”

Logan's voice became softer, more hurt. “She's left me twice already...and both times it nearly killed me... I'm not going to push her away faster by asking her...that.”

“Oh, Bello,” Isabella's eyes filled with tears just as Veronica lost her balance and tripped on the bottom step, stumbling into the warm, dimly-lit kitchen.

“Mrs. Lester, your home is beautiful!” she said breezily, even as she swallowed the hard lump crowding the back of her throat. Isabella discreetly wiped at her tears and Veronica came to stand next to Logan, where he was perched on a barstool. He pulled her between his knees and wrapped his arms around her from behind, nuzzling her neck. “You tired, babe?”

Veronica could see Isabella was weary as well, so she nodded.

“Let's go back to the house, then.” Logan rose and kissed his grandmother goodbye. Veronica also hugged the older woman, and when their eyes met, Veronica knew Isabella was aware her conversation had been overheard. Nevertheless, she was kind as she kissed Veronica's cheeks and bade them both goodnight.

Logan and Veronica stepped out into the chilly evening, and his hand found hers. Entwining fingers, he swung their hands in wide, sweeping arcs, hopping down the front steps while humming an old Justin Timberlake song.

So. Gay.

He swept forward and opened the car door for her, then tucked her in before hurrying to the driver's side. “Brrr,” he shivered, cranking the car and turning up the heat. He scooped up her left hand and affectionately placed a kiss on her thumb. “You look really pretty tonight.”

Veronica's heart was still caught in her throat. She glanced down at her green sateen blouse, the tiny gold buttons gleaming lustrously from the light of the dashboard. He was...in pain, she'd seen it all over his face in the kitchen—but now he was pretending absolutely nothing was wrong, all because he didn't want her to leave. She pulled him close, one palm on each of his cheeks, proceeding to dust kisses across his face.

“Let's go home,” she whispered, delicately biting his lower lip between her teeth. Her sea-blue eyes met his, a maelstrom of emotion. “Let's make love all night long,” she entreated softly.

Logan moaned as their kiss deepened, tongues tangling. A moment later, he pulled back just enough to gasp for air, their hot breath mingling. “We'll have to stop in town for...uh, supplies. We're fresh out.”

Veronica kissed him again, her passion rising. “Unless... I'm on the Pill.” Her eyes met his again, then their mouths, more hungry, more urgent. “Nothing between us,” she whispered, before his tongue ravaged her neck, insatiable. His fingers worked their way under her blouse and cupped her breast, thrumming her nipple. She gasped, arching her back, exposing her throat.

“Let's go, before we give your grandmother and her housekeepers a show,” she whispered cheerfully, running her fingers through his hair.

“Mmmm,” he agreed. Logan couldn't keep his eyes off of her as he drove home. Each stop sign was an excuse to kiss; his fingers played continuously with hers, dancing up her thighs, down her arm, across her cheek.

By the time they were back to his house and in his bedroom, they were almost ravenous for one another. They twirled towards the bed, shedding clothing as rapidly as they could, until Logan was naked. Veronica pushed him down onto his back on the bed, kneeling on the edge while she unhooked her bra and shimmied out of her panties. His eyes drank in every movement.

He brought his hands to her hips and pulled her forward, running his hands up her back and up over her shoulders. He craned his neck to kiss her over and over again, cradling her body between his thighs. She sank down onto his cock, rocking forward until her breath hitched.

“Veronica,” he whispered huskily, his fingers fluttering across her cheeks gently.
She pulled him closer, tight against her breast. “I love you, Logan, I love you so much.” She was almost delirious with passion and pleasure as he continued to stroke into her. Between every thrust, she whispered her profession, over and over until it rang in his ears, his heart.

With a groan of release, he came, his fingers feverishly rubbing her clit until she clenched around his cock in orgasm. They shuddered together in ecstasy, their fingers entwining, their bodies tangling together. They came down from the high of release, giddy as they lay curled in one another's arms.

Veronica mewled out happy sighs, between brushes of tiny kisses against his chest. She sensed the moment he turned introspective with blinding acuity.

“Why did you change your name, Logan?” she asked softly, gently running her fingertip around the flat disc of his nipple.

He heaved a sigh, blowing out the breath through his nose. “The name didn't mean anything. It belonged to a man who brought nothing positive into this world and left with even less.”

“But it also belongs to you,” Veronica reminded him, her voice still husky.

Logan eased her off of his chest and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed until his back was to her. “Yeah, well, sometimes I'm not much better than him, anyway.” He repressed a shiver as he slouched, his back slumping as he reached for his wool socks on the floor.

“You're nothing like him,” she replied fiercely as she rose up onto her elbow, clutching his pale gray bedsheet to her breast.

“How was I supposed to know that? Until six weeks ago, Veronica, I didn't know you ever even thought my name, much less held me in such high esteem.”

Veronica swallowed the lump in her throat. “Well, I'm here now, and I'm telling you. And I'll tell you over and over until you believe it. Believe it, Logan.”

He snorted. “I like Lester just fine,” he finally said, “it's not a great name, but it'll do.”

“Maybe,” Veronica's voice trembled precariously. “Maybe... we could make it a great name.”

Logan's back stiffened immediately. “We?” he asked, tightly.

“Logan,” she murmured, trailing a finger teasingly down his spine. He turned to glance at her and gasped when he saw she was holding a blue velvet ringbox in her palm. He reached for it mechanically, and opened it to find a plain, masculine band inside, the gold etched with Celtic knots, the symbol of eternity. His eyes met hers in the dull darkness and what she saw there made her breathless. “Logan, will you marry me?”


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