Twenty-Four

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~ ~ Logan ~ ~

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~ ~ Logan ~ ~

Maddy's light footsteps retreated, leaving me alone in the kitchen. I drifted to stand in front of the widow, placing my palms on top of the counter, like I needed some kind of unspoken support staring out the window. It's in those quiet moments when everything around me was still and the blue sky stretched out as far as the eye could see and my lungs inhaled the smell of food being kept warm on the stove I thought of my ma.

My ma, who's left us without an explanation or a goodbye. Just vanished.

Why was I thinking about my ma? Because my eyes didn't lie. The girl, Casey, was the spitting image of her, well from what I remember and the two photographs that my pa didn't burn.

And I wasn't sure what to feel about that... yet, or what to do with it. I had enough on my plate worrying over Jackson and hiding the secret from Maddy.

I shifted both my hands and dragged them down my face, groaning. The quiet evaporated with the clearing of a throat behind me. I turned around and forced myself to smile.

And as my eyes assessed her—hers were doing the same to me.

"I wasn't sure if I should wait by the door." She looked uneasy, stood there clutching to her chest that damn backpack which had seen better days.

"No. You're fine right where you are." She nodded her head once. "You find everything you need?" When I showed her to the bathroom, I'd told her she could wash up. And by the looks of it, she had washed her face and tidied up her ponytail. Her clothes stayed the same, her shirt was faded and her jeans were dusty and a little hole-ridden. My eyes caught the small silver cross that moved with her heaving chest. She was either breathing in all the air around her or wasn't getting enough oxygen.

My ma had one just like it.

"You said your name was Casey, right?"

Another nod as she gulped and her eyes went wide. How was it possible for a young girl to look strong and yet vulnerable at the same time? "Thank you for letting me use your restroom, Mr Reilly."

"Yeah, let's not be callin' me, Mr Reilly. That was my pa. It's Logan."

She looked surprised by that and I had this weird urge to make her feel better or try to settle those nerves saturating her small frame. I wanted to hug her, which was crazy, right? I didn't even know the girl.

Casey's eyes flicked around the kitchen, settling on the pan on the stove. We'd left some breakfast casserole for Jackson, in case he was hungry. "You hungry?"

She shrugged.

"Well? You either is or you ain't—which one is it, kid?"

Her forehead crinkled as her lip curled up in disgust. "I ain't no kid." She huffed, throwing me shade in a very teenager way. Kinda reminded me of Jackson.

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