7.

LOGAN

A great family dinner has three stages. The intro where everyone pretends to feel great about having to spend hours sitting across from blood relatives when they'd much rather be doing something else.

Smiles. Hand me a napkin. Hitting the fork against the plate which my dad hates. I do that a lot as you've guessed. Awkward conversation with obvious answers like how was your weekend?

Tell me about it. On a scale of one to ten, how inappropriate do you think an admission to eating a girl out for dinner on Saturday night would be?

Too much for appetizers? You're probably right.

There's stage two. The awkward silence. Everyone realizes no one wants to communicate and by the former, I meant my mother.

I like stage two. Looking up to catch their irritated faces is the highlight of my day.

And finally, stage three. Desert and more attempts at bonding.

With enough food in my stomach, my family turns into what it's always been. Destructive.

Nick tries to prove the better son, my dad applauds his achievements with the condensing contrast at mine. Mother doesn't know which side to take so she sits in the corner, indifferent.

Fun times. Tonight, however, I add one stage. Stage Logan.

I can tell you're considering adding narcissism to the adjectives used to describe me. I can't disagree.

Tonight, it was all about me. So many surprises in store for the night. Like opera but without the off-key singing.

****

"My boys! We should take a family picture."

"No."

Nick and I chorused. I mean I was going to say no but why was he saying no?

The petty urge to retract and agree to a photo burns at the back of my throat, but I refrain from it. Not a hint of suspicion.

"And you dare accuse us of never agreeing on anything. I'll take a picture of you. Dashing as ever."

I kissed her temple, pulling my phone out of my back pocket.

"You're using one of those manipulation tactics on me."

I cackled because she called me out spot on.

"I'll take a picture of both of you."

Nick offers, I turn around and smile.

"All yours."

I pass my phone onto his palm, taking a stance beside my mother, my jaw struggling not to tighten as were my fists.

His presence lets my anger fuel me ten times. Miscommunication has never been my forte, so truly I'd never let my anger be based on something which is without confirmation, but we're getting to that part.

"You look great."

He complimented me, patting my shoulder as he handed the phone over.

"I know."

Again, I bite it back mumbling a thank you instead.

I do look great in that photo.

****

"Your father's here!"

She squealed, taking the lids off each plate. I can't help but straighten my back, clutching the edge of my seat in a way no one could see.

"Full house tonight."

I snorted. Loudly. Everyone turned. Nick glared, and Mom seemed to plead with her eyes.

I could not help it. Who says something so cringe as that? Tony Jackson.

He walked in with a briefcase, still dressed from the office judging by the suit.

"Hello, Father."

I stepped on the ice. "Logan. It's good to see you're back in the city."

"Where you belong."

I mumble under my breath, but his words echo for the whole room to hear. Always so predictable. How boring.

"I got an internship. I couldn't pass it off."

If it were any other father, I'd slip in how the hospital is top five in the country, or how I got numerous acceptances with the potential to make it permanent after graduation, but to my father those were all consolation prices to what I could have gotten.

If you haven't figured it out by now, my father and I don't have the best relationship.

You'd think no matter how many times you've seen or read about it, the likelihood of occurrence would change, but no. He was pissed because I had no desire to sit in an office and talk about race cars. What a cliche.

The silly part was that I'm studying psychology because of him. I grew up around a man who was impossible to read. As a child desperate to please and feel wanted, I struggled to understand, so in high school, I'd take classes about perception and the human mind.

It was fascinating. Knowing all the ways to make a person tick.

"Congratulations, I'm pleased you took time out of your schedule to come down and visit your family."

"I just arrived in New Orleans over the weekend. I spent the day at the hospital."

This isn't me offering validation, okay maybe a little, but remember the rules? I'm headed somewhere.

"Oh really? Tell me about the hospital?"

Don't smirk. But it was too easy. He took the bait.

"Life Beyond Care. It has quite a name for itself. I'm sure you know it."

"Wait! We do."

Right on cue Mother, I love it when everyone plays out their roles perfectly. We just have one left.

"You're interning at Life Beyond Care?"

Touchdown.

"I see everyone is familiar. I'll go wash my hands while Father gets changed. The food will grow cold if we spend more time talking."

Without another word, I pulled out my chair and exited the living room.

Let the wheels turn in his head.

****

"Nick."

"Yeah?"

"Could you pass me the salt please?"

"Sure."

He opens his mouth to phrase a question, clipping it shut and passing the bottle instead.

"How was your day Nick, we already know what Logan did."

Here it comes. The inevitable shout-out to my younger brother.

"It was alright I guess."

My father beamed and I scratched my fork on the plate.

"And how's the office father?"

It was his turn to scrape the knife. What can I say I bring out the worst in people.

"Excellent. The company is doing great."

"Maybe you can give me a tour soon."

My mother stared in awe and Nick's earlier shock had waved off, he was glaring. Showing interest in Formula One was one of the biggest ups he had against me. Well, not anymore.

"I'd love that."

And we're back to silence.

****

"Southern California is a bit far from Michigan. Why leave only to return two years in."

"I missed home. The University Of New Orleans is not so bad either."

"Are you thinking of transferring?"

I paused, a hand on the knob, listening to his haggard breathing. I can almost hear what's pacing through his mind now.

"I'll see how the year goes. A lot can happen. If the internship turns out great..."

"My girlfriend's dad works at the hospital."

I know "Does he know?"

"In the same department as you."

Do tell "Maybe I'll run into him although it's unlikely. The hospital is huge."

We escaped into the music room, allowing Mom and Dad to talk about us without our presence. Mostly about me.

"Logan."

He stops at the entrance while I cross my leg over the piano, dusting the keys.

"You didn't tell them."

I thump on a key, the wrong one, but it sounds dramatic so I play it off as intentional.

"No, I did not."

"Why?"

"Say I walk up to them no and randomly bring it up."

"You had two years."

"Of what use would it be little brother? I turned out just fine."

"I ruined..."

I hit the right key, the sound echoing, bouncing off the wall, and putting a halt to his next few words.

"What were you about to say?"

"Ruined my shots at going pro. Tarnished my reputation to all my potential scouts. Did I miss out on anything?"

His eyes fluttered as he tried to conceal what I already knew. I did skip one bit. The last piece of the puzzle. The one I figured out a few weeks ago.

"I never got to explain."

"It's been two years. Sure going pro for football would've been great, I'd piss Dad off and get to study psychology. But shit happens, I got one-half of it. It's in the past. No hard feelings."

No feelings at all when it comes to you.

"Girlfriend, huh?"

I began playing the rhythm to Ed Sheeran's perfect.

"Uh yeah, we've known each other since forever."

"So you have to go out."

"No. I love her."

No shit. "I'm sure she feels the same way."

"She does."

Not for long. "What's her name? Just in case I run into her at the hospital."

The hesitation brimmers in his eyes for a split second. He doesn't say a word.

"Mia Dawson."

I end on a soft note, taking my legs off the chair.

"Her father is my boss."

His jaw might as well be on the floor.

"But I haven't seen her around."

"I'm not staying the night. Have to turn it in early tomorrow. But this was good. I'll see you around."

I tighten my lips until my back is faced against him, and then I let my grin split out.

That was beautiful.

****

MIA

TUESDAY

I have a routine. Since Junior high, I developed my nothing schedule. It's never failed me because I stuck to it.

I have alarms spread out by 30 minutes, six of them, but I don't get out of bed until the second to last one, at seven-thirty in the morning.

Five minutes to make the bed spread the sheets, and put the laundry in the basket since I usually just toss them on the floor at night.

Ten minutes to shower and get dressed. Five minutes to decide what kind of makeup I'm putting on. An extra five minutes to finalize everything and pack my bags.

I've done it so frequently, it's a part of me now. Neither Gianna nor my father attempted to disturb this perfect rhythm.

Today's no different. At 7:56 I'm headed downstairs with my backpack across my shoulder.

I'm driving today. Two minutes until my alarm rings out which is extra time to stuff pastries in my mouth. I don't usually eat breakfast.

I'm halfway through the cake, checking my phone, counting down how much time I have left when a jolt in the kitchen jerks my body. I have a mouth and hand full of pastries as I turn around to check.

"Please don't stop on my account."

My first instinct is to ask what the fuck he's doing in my living room, but mouth full of treats. So, I take a few seconds to chew then slowly, dropping the remnants on the plate behind me.

"What are you doing here?"

I mouth, tasting a few particles in my mouth.

"Working."

He beckons to the papers on the desk.

Why in my house? What the fuck happened to Dad's office.

"Oh, I saw your boyfriend yesterday. I guess I should say, my brother. "

My alarm went off, the blaring sound which would usually have me dashing out of the house, yet my feet can't seem to move.

"That's great. Hope you enjoy working."

I attempted to pull my bag and leave.

"You didn't tell him what happened."

"How'd you figure?"

"He didn't punch me in the face."

My stupid ass nearly chuckled. That's not a funny joke, maybe in a different circumstance. Not this one.

"Bye."

"I want something in exchange for keeping the secret."

"Are you blackmailing me?"

He cocked his head sideways.

"No, I'm asking you to do something in exchange for keeping the secret."

"And if I don't you'll tell Nick what happened? You'll let your brother know how unintentional it was to fuck. No, my bad, almost fuck his girlfriend. Do it. I dare you."

I grabbed my bag off the counter and stormed out of the kitchen.

"Burn in hell."

I flipped him the finger, catching my keys from falling off the table.

Then I exited the house.

He's gone mad. Fucking deranged bastard.

****