She's mine.That was the first thought that came to my mind when I held my baby in my arms at seventeen. I didn't care that my parents had already promised to give her to a wealthy family. That they were forcing me to give her away.She was mine.I ran away from that hospital, from that family, from the only life I knew. I planned to start over with what little money I had, determined to make something of myself despite the odds.Then Logan Tate came along.Gorgeous and controlling, he claimed he was trying to help me, and he didn't care that I was just another teenage pregnancy story.But I don’t trust him. I don't trust anyone. And if Logan knew the real secrets and lies I was keeping inside, he wouldn't dare try to shelter me.
Logan has the late shift again tonight, I find that these are the times when his job
is the hardest for me to accept. When he’s gone long into the early hours of the
morning and my mind runs wild wondering what he’s out there doing. I try my
hardest to get sleep in between Lily’s feedings but it’s difficult and I imagine that it
never gets any easier.
I let out a sigh of relief when I hear the front door open and close, he’s home and
I know that he’s safe. I see the light from the master bathroom flicker on, he must
have accessed it from the hallway. He normally comes in to say hello to me before
he showers but tonight he doesn’t. I toy with the idea of going in there to make sure
he’s okay but I think better of it. I push the worry out of my head and wait, wait for
him to come to me. To tell me if something is wrong even though deep down I feel
that something is definitely off.
A few minutes later Logan enters our bedroom wearing just a towel. He bypasses
the dresser where he keeps his boxer briefs and heads straight for the bed, straight
for me. He pulls the sheets back, tosses the towel to the ground and climbs into bed.
His head lands on my chest, my hands instinctively reach out for him, I gently rub
the top of his head. I don’t know why his behavior scares me, but it’s not a fear of
him hurting me, it’s a fear of him being hurt. “Logan?” I whisper softly. I don’t need
to say anything else, he can hear the question in my voice.
Alice Montalvo-Tribue lives with her husband and daughter in New Jersey. She has
a bachelors degree in communications and is currently working on her masters
degree. She spends most of her free time reading, writing, and when the weather
permits lounging out on a beach.
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