Indulge

  Indulge

  Logan’s Novella

  Angela Graham

  Copyright 2014*, Angela Graham.

  This book is intended for mature audiences only and contains content that may be upsetting to some readers.

  Reader discretion advised.

  Editor—Jennifer Juneau

  Cover Design—Sommer Stein @ Perfect Pear Creative Cover

  Book Designer—E.E. Long, Biblio/Tech

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book may not be reproduced in any form, in whole or in part, without written permission from the author.

  To my rock, Tommy You’ll always be the man I adore, man I cherish, man I dream of at night. No matter how quickly time passes, jeans will always be in.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue—Cleanse

  Chapter 1—Alarmed

  Chapter 2—Futile

  Chapter 3—Brethren

  Chapter 4—Significance

  Chapter 5—Angelic

  Chapter 6—Games

  Chapter 7—Isolation

  Chapter 8—Fate

  Prologue

  Cleanse

  “She’s gone.”

  The words were meant for no one—they simply spilled out as the realization sunk in. There was no hiding from the anguish crushing my chest, but it wasn’t for me or the love I believed I held for her. No, it was for our son, Oliver.

  There, perched on the edge of the bed, was the mirrored jewelry box that once housed the diamonds and pearls I’d showered her with. It was open and empty. I’d known what that meant the moment I’d walked into the room after returning home from work.

  My disbelief was short-lived as I moved the box to the side table, my muscles already sore from tension, and sat on the bed with Oliver in my lap. He was so little—not even a year old, with only a few days left until his birthday—and already the one other person who was supposed to take care of him and love him as much as I did had let him down.

  He squirmed in my lap, raspy bubbles on his lips as he fought against my arms that held him close. I clung to him, not ready to let go. The fear of losing him settled over me, deepening the wound.

  She hadn’t taken him with her, but she could have. Instead, she’d left him with the nannies I’d fought so hard not to hire. I closed my eyes, inhaling his innocence. The thought of her leaving him alone in the house had the nannies not been there erased the gaping hole in my heart, replacing it with anger and rage.

  “Dada!” Oliver cried out. I opened my arms reluctantly and watched him scoot off me, crawling over to the pillows. He rested his head there, kicking his feet above him.

  I lay down beside him and wondered how I’d let things go on for so long. If I’d allowed myself to really see, I’d have taken him and left weeks ago. I’d foolishly held out hope that things would turn around—convinced myself the phone calls she received late in the evening were only from her family, like she said, and that every dinner she missed was excusable.

  My eyes closed briefly as I accepted the truth. I’d known it was coming—known I was losing her—but there was nothing I could’ve done. I’d given her everything I had without a single complaint.

  I fell hard the moment I met her. She was beautiful, adventurous, and everything I’d ever wanted. Steadfast in my belief she was created to be my other half, I did everything in my power to be hers as well.

  The moment she learned she was pregnant, I gave her my full support. I dropped out of college and crawled to my unsympathetic father, leaving my pride at the door to ask him for a job. I never regretted those decisions.

  That was less than two years ago; I was barely a man at twenty-one. Yet I stepped up, cleared out my savings, and gave her everything she asked for. But it wasn’t enough. The lifestyle I provided for her was becoming harder to maintain, and I refused to work around the clock and leave my son with strangers. The moment I told her we’d have to cut back on a few extravagances a month ago was when I saw the first real crack I couldn’t rationalize away.

  I’d made enough money to sustain the lifestyle she required, but still she refused to listen or cut back in any way, and tried to persuade me to work harder—to take on risky ventures outside my father’s business. It was becoming clear that I couldn’t keep her happy, and as much as it hurt to admit even to myself, I knew Oliver couldn’t either.

  So it was for the best that she’d left. He didn’t need her—didn’t need to know his mother preferred shopping over bonding, and manicures over rocking him to sleep.

  I’d spare him that agony. No matter what it took, I’d protect him.

  “Mr. West, you called?”

  My head fell to the side to find Gillian, the weekday nanny, standing in the doorway. She regarded me with an unusually soft but cautious look.

  “When did she leave?” I asked, looking back at Oliver beside me as he sat up and propped his back against my stomach.

  “Around nine, sir.”

  I scoffed, shaking my head. I’d left for work at eight thirty, and there’d been no hint that it was going to be that day. I closed my eyes to recall the kiss we’d shared after breakfast. It had been passionate and overly tender; it was her goodbye kiss. I hadn’t realized the significance in the moment. Was I really that blind?

  “Huhp, huhp,” Oliver demanded, grabbing my hands so I’d lift him in the air. I did so instantly, his giggles wild as he flew above me in my outstretched arms.

  “Is there anything else I should know?” I asked, my focus never straying from Oliver’s grin.

  “She said to tell you goodbye.”

  Goodbye? That was it? “Any words for Oliver?” I asked quickly.

  There was a long pause before she answered. “No, I’m sorry.” Her meek voice barely broke through the rumbling fury consuming me, but still I tried to focus on my son. I needed to control my emotions, for his sake.

  “Did she spend time with him before she left?”

  Another pause filled the space between us, aggravating me further. I wanted answers—needed them. My hard scowl trained on her, threatening.

  She paused, shaking her head slowly before speaking. “No.”

  I placed Oliver back down beside me and sat up, leaning back against the headboard. My fingers raked over my scalp, locking behind my head. I didn’t think or wonder. I just sat there, letting my emotions simmer.

  When I glanced back at Oliver, his little fist was in his mouth and he was chewing on it.

  “What you got there?” I asked, carefully pulling his drool-soaked hand free and unclenching his fingers to reveal a single pearl earring.

  Shit! He must have found it on the bed.

  “Can I have that?” I asked, taking it from him. Not only was it a choking hazard, it was hers: Natasha’s. She must’ve been in a real hurry.

  His bottom lip shot out, his chin quivered, and I knew what was coming. I pulled my keys from my pocket and handed them to him in exchange. His sullen expression jumped to one of excitement immediately.

  “Thank you,” I said, kissing his head before peering over at Gillian. “I need this room cleared of her belongings tonight, then the rest of the house tomorrow. I want everything of hers gone.”

  “Yes, sir. Where would you like me to have it stored?”

  My brows furrowed. “Don’t store it—just get rid of it. Donate it or something, I don’t care. I just want it gone. And make any photos she’s in disappear.”

  I helped Oliver down from the bed and stood. “Also, after tomorrow, I won’t be in need of your services any longer. Please let Maria know as well. No more nannies for my son. I’ll make sure you each have excellent references for future employers, as well as a small severance.”

  Oliver waddled over to Gillian, falling dow
n once before quickly pulling himself back to his feet and taking her hand.

  “Huhp,” he said, his head tilting back to look up at the woman who’d been more of a mother to him than his own.

  “I appreciate how much you have cared for him. He adores you, but from now on it’s just him and me.”

  Despite a solid attempt at composure, her expression wavered. “I understand, sir. I’ll take care of everything. Thank you.”

  I walked to the door and scooped Oliver into my arms, carrying him down the hall.

  “How about we paint?” I suggested, smiling at the enthusiasm his eyes held. “And then I think we need a trip. Can you say ‘trip’?”

  Oliver’s grin only brightened; he had no interest in learning new words. It was something he and I would work on together. I didn’t need anyone else, and neither did he.

  ***

  [With no one to answer to, Oliver and I sneaked away for our first father-son vacation. We escaped to the lake house I grew up in. It was the one place I truly felt a sense of peace. We spent the days sailing, painting, and reading while building the beginning of Oliver’s vocabulary. There was no cell phone, no internet, and no cable—just me, my boy, and nature.

  By the time we returned home, I knew what would be waiting. I’d been dreading it the final week we were away and the entire flight home. There was no escaping it, but facing it less than two hours after our return? I was impressed, but even more than that, I was annoyed. My sister was a persistent little thing.

  Oliver splashed happily in the tub; the little seat that held him up was a godsend. He seemed oblivious to the pounding radiating from the front door and echoing off the walls.

  “Here you go.” My lip quirked up as I handed him back the washcloth he’d splashed to the other side of the tub.

  I knew turning my phone off would lead to more issues with Julia than my business partners, but the mere sight of the phone left me craving a drink— a hard one—and that wasn’t an option.

  “I know you’re home, Logan!” Her fierce roar fell on deaf ears, though I was fairly skeptical of her accepting that.

  When the beating of her fists on the door fell in rhythm with the buzzer, I actually cracked the smallest trace of a smile that wasn’t directed at Oliver for the first time in weeks. Maybe longer…maybe even before Natasha left.

  I ran my wet hands through my hair, reminding myself not to go there. The past was the past. I wasn’t interested in spending any more time sorting out when or where things had gotten so off track. I’d put it to rest at the lake house.

  Oliver blew bubbles on the cloth as I splashed warm water gently over his back, rinsing away the suds. My boy was handsome and smart, and I’d be damned if I’d let him down by dwelling on my own baggage.

  “You can’t avoid me forever, Logan!”

  Unfortunately, I knew that was true. I stood from the floor beside the tub and grabbed a towel from the rack.

  “Open the door! I’m not leaving! You hear me?”

  I entertained the thought of appeasing her for only the briefest moment before deciding against it. She’d leave eventually if I blocked her out. It was a school night, after all, and my mother would have the entire city looking for her by nightfall. A fifteen-year-old girl out alone wouldn’t sit well with anyone, including myself. But I knew Julia, and she’d never intentionally cause our mother worry.

  I leaned down over the tub, setting the towel beside me. “Sorry, little guy, but it’s time for some food, then sleep. You ready?”

  Judging from the look he was giving me, I knew he wasn’t happy.

  “No!”

  I shook my head, chuckling.

  What sounded like a kick to the door was followed by a deafening wail. “Fine, looks like I’ll be here all night!” Julia continued. “Who knows—maybe if I’m lucky, some crazed rapist will come by!”

  She’d always had a flair for drama. I could only imagine what the neighbors thought if they heard her.

  It wasn’t even six, and I was already wishing I could skip dinner and get some sleep, but Oliver needed to eat and Julia was driving a wedge even in that plan.

  “All right, up we go,” I said, lifting Oliver. He screamed, flailing his arms and legs in protest inside the towel.

  “That’s it, I’m calling the police!”

  Oliver raised his cries an octave and jerked back in my arms, desperate for a longer bath. I left the room, a single throb infiltrating my left temple. The police? She had to be joking, but I doubted it.

  “Dow’, Dada! Wata!”

  I adjusted him higher on my shoulder, tightening the towel around him. “It’s okay. Your aunt’s crazy, that’s all.” I tried to calm his fit, but he was tuning me out—exactly as I was attempting to do to Julia.

  “HI, YES, I NEED AN OFFICER SENT TO—” she yelled through the door, and I detoured from my path to Oliver’s room straight to the foyer, ripping the door open.

  “What do you want?” I growled, watching her stand there with her phone to her ear, eyes narrowed at me until Oliver’s shrill sob drew her attention.

  Always one to bluff, she tucked her phone in her pocket. She stepped inside quickly despite me blocking the way, and I noticed Katherine, my brother Lawrence’s wife, behind her. I moved to the side, allowing her to enter with no issue, her large, protruding stomach due any day. The last thing she needed was to be hanging around with my irrational sister. She placed her hand on my elbow as she stepped in, offering a sympathetic smile, her eyes soft.

  I gave a subtle but appreciative nod. I liked Katherine, and had always told my brother he was lucky to have her.

  “Oh no, did I wake him up?” Julia asked.

  “Did. You. Wake. Him. Up?” I turned my head back to her slowly, stunned by her inability to see his wet hair and the enormous towel covering him. Was she serious? “Does it look like he was sleeping? He’s just upset his bath ended early due to a very adamant, highly infuriating aunt of his.”

  “Aw, I sowwy, did I intewwupt bath time?” she cooed, balancing up on her toes to make eye contact with him.

  His fussiness didn’t waver as tears poured out, but his struggling tantrum began to settle.

  “Your daddy always told me persistence was a virtue.”

  My scowl deepened. I turned, shaking my head, and walked down the hall to Oliver’s room, aware I was being followed. I laid him on the changing table, careful not to unwrap him until his diaper was on. My boy had good aim, and I wasn’t going to be the target again.

  “I can dress him,” Julia offered, browsing through the garments in his closet. Everything in there had been chosen by his mother—all white, which was impractical, and with not a thing suitable for the outdoors. Nothing in there was ever going on him again.

  “He doesn’t wear that shit. He’s a boy, not a doll.” With the diaper firmly in place, I squirted a pump of lotion in my hand and massaged it down his legs, bringing out his giggles when I rubbed it into his feet. I’d been changing him since he was born, and it was one of the things I’d mastered early on.

  “What can we do?” Katherine asked, handing me a navy-blue button-up sleeper she’d pulled from his dresser.

  “Thank you,” I said, avoiding her deeper meaning. It was a question I knew many would be asking, and why I’d taken Oliver and left when I did. I had no interest in sympathy.

  As I began dressing him, Katherine stood beside me, covering her eyes then surprising him with peek-a-boo: his favorite game.

  “He loves that.” I smiled softly, watching her continue.

  “Oh, you’re nice to her!” Julia complained somewhere behind me. “Just so you know, she wanted me to leave you in here alone!”

  “Another reason to be nice to her.” I shot a quick smirk to Katherine then said clearly, so they’d both understand, “And I’m not alone. I have my son.” The last button was finished, and I lifted him back in my arms, turning to face my sister’s sizzling temper.

  “Well, get it over with,” I
said, ready to listen to a rant she’d probably rehearsed and an execution I’d seen her use multiple times on others.

  “I’m sorry,” she said after a long pause, surprising me with her words. “Not because I forced you to open the door and not because Natasha left, but I am sorry you were hurt by her. I’m sorry Oliver has such a crap mother, and I’m especially sorry that I didn’t kick her ass out when she ignored my calls to plan his birthday party.”

  “Don’t go there, Julia,” I warned. I put Oliver down, and he went straight to Katherine. She took his hand and led him from the room.

  Julia placed her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “I am going there so that you remember what she was really like. She wasn’t sweet and loving, Logan. Maybe at one time to you—I never saw it, but you fell for her, so she had to have done something right. I only saw a bitch that pushed your buttons and spent more time with her friends than her own child.”

  “Watch your mouth!”

  “No! Where did you go? You just took Oliver and disappeared. We missed his birthday, and were all worried sick. Five weeks, Logan! Really? So tell me where you went.”

  “I needed time. You wouldn’t understand, and frankly, it’s not your business. I called Mom before I left; she knew exactly where I was.”

  “What?” Her brows puckered with confusion. “That explains why she wouldn’t call the police,” she grumbled.

  I stood there, watching her. There was nothing else to tell her—my mother was the first and only person I’d talked to that night after I’d dismissed the staff and realized I needed to be nothing but a father for a few weeks. I wasn’t ready to dive back into work just yet.

  Julia sighed, her shoulders slacking. She stepped closer and placed her hand on my arm. “Promise me you won’t leave again. I was worried…scared. Oliver and you deserve better than Natasha, but now that she’s gone and you’re back, what’s your plan?”

  “We’ll manage just fine.”

  “Not without help.”

  What did she know? She was fifteen, for Christ’s sake. I pinched the bridge of my nose, not ready to tackle the next steps right then. There’d be no more nannies in my house, but I’d been at a loss at what to do without one. It was what had kept me up most nights at the lake.