Elizabeth Finn - Brother’s Keeper

Looking nervously to his eyes, I see he is smirking down at me. He’s enjoying himself. I can’t help but smile back at him. He’s just so beautiful, and I wish again that I was one of the beautiful ones, too. Just once.

I manage to get them through dinner without dropping anything or humiliating myself further, though I can feel Logan’s eyes on me as I move through the restaurant tending to other tables. I’m sure he’s thinking, “This little girl is hardly worth my trouble.” And I can’t help but feel ashamed that he knows so many awful things about me. When they finally leave, I’m relieved to see them go. It is the first time my body hasn’t stood at attention since catching sight of him. My shoulders instantly slump, I stop sticking my pathetic mosquito bites out trying to pretend I have breasts, and I let my body relax. How pathetic am I? The rest of the evening is a blur, and I’m glad when ten o’clock finally rolls around. We finish up quickly, and I head for the door.

As I enter the back parking lot through the employee entrance door, I immediately notice my bike is not leaned up against the dumpster where I left it. I then become aware of Logan’s Cherokee parked by the other employees’ cars. He’s standing leaning against the hood of his Jeep, talking on his cell phone. When he looks up and sees me approaching, he wraps up his call.

“You ready to go?”

“Go where? I thought you were on a date.” I suddenly have posture and boobs again by the time I reach him.

“I decided to make it an early night. Besides, I felt bad about what Amy said to you earlier. She doesn’t always understand the meaning of tact, and you didn’t deserve to be put on the spot that way. Get in.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Where are we going?”

“To get you an overnight bag from your house. You’re not staying there tonight.”

“Oh, I’m not? Logan, I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“Look, I’ll make you a deal. If you want my silence, then here’s the way it’s going to be. Any night, regardless of what night of the week it may be, that your father goes to the bar, you will stay at my apartment. The only exception is when you have plans to stay with Sara. No one except for us will know about this, and that includes Sara. She can’t keep her mouth shut, and the last thing I need is my parents finding out, or worse yet, the DA’s office. I have a spare bedroom that will be yours, and you can leave anything you need there so you can come over anytime, even when you can’t get home for your stuff.”

He grabs my hand without taking his eyes from mine, unfolds my fingers gently with his own, and places a key in my outstretched palm. And while I’m stunned to the point of being shocked at what he’s saying, I still note the shiver that runs through my body at his lingering touch on my skin.

“This is yours in case you are unable to get hold of me and need to get into the apartment. Oh, and here.” He hands me a cell phone. “It’s a prepaid phone, and my home and cell numbers are already programmed in. I don’t care who you give the number to, but I want you to use it anytime you need to reach me. No more payphones in the middle of the night. I’ll take care of adding minutes when you need them.”

I’m sure my mouth is gaping as he’s speaking, but this is unreal, and more than that, unacceptable. As if it’s not bad enough I’ve allowed myself to be supported by his parents, now I have Logan managing my life.

I start to protest he is doing too much when he cuts me off. “I’m sure you think this is open to negotiation, but I assure you it’s not. I’ve been considering this since you left today, and I will accept nothing else. If I’m going to risk your safety and my ethical conscience by keeping your secret, you will give me the assurances I want.” He pauses, staring at me for some seconds before continuing. “Do we have a deal?”

What reasonable choice do I have? I fumble and stutter to get the words out. “Yes. Yes … But … but I feel bad that you are doing so much. I can’t…”

“Why don’t you just say ‘thanks’ and leave it at that? Okay?” He smiles a gentle and reassuring smile at my concern.

“Thank you. I mean it, Logan. I really appreciate you doing this.”

“I know you do. Of course, I have a contract you’ll be required to sign.” He raises a brow as he rounds the front of the Jeep to the driver’s door. There, he stops and watches my slack-jawed expression with amusement before letting me off the hook. “Relax. I’m just kidding. Now get in. I’d like to be in and out of your house before he gets home.”

We head toward the Elm Crest Trailer Park and my trailer. The house is dark when we arrive, and my father’s car is missing. I’m embarrassed to let Logan see the inside of our old, dilapidated, ugly trailer, and I try to get him to wait in the car while I run in. He refuses. Awesome. We enter and go straight to my room. I collect a couple pairs of pajamas, the ones that aren’t too ugly and tattered for him to see, and clothes for the next day. He stands by looking around at the wood paneled walls, disgusting dirty carpet, and outdated decor. I can tell he’s not impressed with our decorating sense.

When we finally reach his apartment, it is late. His apartment is a renovated old brownstone in the downtown area of our little burg. When the Harringtons bought this complex five years before, it was in desperate need of renovation. Logan spent an entire summer helping his father fix up the apartment complex every evening after Marcus finished up at the law office. Even Sara and I helped with some of the work we could do. Marcus has a huge woodworking shop at their house and loves doing this type of work. The result: a beautifully restored building that has its original character blended with a contemporary style to create one of the most sought after buildings in town.

His apartment is neat and organized; not anal retentively, but enough so you know it looks this orderly at least 90 percent of the time. The smell is not overly masculine, like cologne, but clean and inviting. His furnishings are tasteful and simple. There are exposed bricks and tall ceilings throughout, and what walls aren’t brick have been kept white. His furniture is contemporary and simple. A sectional sofa in a light-colored linen makes up his living room, with a beige rug sitting in front of the fireplace. He has natural mahogany furniture pieces his father made and black and white photography on the walls. The kitchen is contemporary but blends well with the original brick wall that runs along one side of the room. The spare room looks out over the front of the building and his room over the courtyard in back. Each of the two bedrooms has its own bathroom, and the common area has but a half bath for visiting company.

The spare room, like the rest of the apartment, is decorated simply and tastefully. The bed in the spare room has clean sheets and a green quilt folded on top, but is yet to be made. Logan helps me make the bed and then finishes giving me the tour of his apartment. His bedroom is larger than the spare and has more of his father’s pieces. His bathroom is well organized, and I can’t help but notice the extra toothbrush in the holder. A pang of jealousy hits, and I pathetically wish Amy wasn’t in the picture—as though I could ever compete. I really hope I won’t have any run-ins with the she-bitch.

Logan catches me staring at the toothbrush holder. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of keeping her out of your way.” Whatever the hell that means. Maybe he’s alluding to dumping her… I’m daydreaming. Back to reality.

After showing me around and making sure my spare key works, Logan settles in to relax and watch a movie and asks me to join him. It is late, and I fall asleep halfway through the movie. Logan wakes me when the movie is over and escorts me to my room. He follows me in and sits down on the bed. My heart is pounding—confused at why he followed me.

As is his custom, he watches me until I’m so nervous I start stammering. “Logan … thank you again for…”

“I didn’t come in here because I wanted you to keep thanking me, Rowan.” He pauses. “I know telling me about your past was really hard for you to do, but I’m glad you did. I just want you to be honest with me… I need you to be honest with me. We’ve known each other for a really long time, and I care about you. I just want to make sure you know that. You know if you need anything, you can come to me.”

“I know.” My voice is soft as my eyes flit away from him.

“I’m going to bed. If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Okay.”

As Logan stands to leave, we say good night, and I am finally alone; although, I’m not sure I really want to be. I lie there, thinking about the past twenty-four hours and how many things have changed, and I can’t help but wonder what else is in store for me.

It is unnerving knowing Rowan is sleeping in the next room. I should have left her there and gone back over to my parents’ to keep Rufus company. But I let him out and gave him his medication just before picking Rowan up, and my parents are going to be home early the next morning to help with the church rummage sale. He’ll be fine until then. Besides, I want to be here. I want to be with her. Hell, truth be told, I want her in my bed like last night. What am I saying? Rowan is not my girlfriend. She never has been and never will be. She is my sister’s best friend and nothing more. She is only seventeen, after all. She’s barely more than a child. Please. Who am I kidding?

When I was seventeen, I knew plenty of seventeen-year-old girls that were hardly naïve and innocent. What made me think she was? I wasn’t a virgin at her age. What makes me think she would be? But that thought is infuriating and brings on a sudden and intense wave of juvenile anger. The thought of some stupid kid touching her and fucking her is almost intolerable. Is it anger or jealousy I’m feeling? If I am being honest, I’d have to admit it’s jealousy. Jealous of whom? Don’t I have to be jealous of someone in order to be jealous? What the hell is wrong with me?