I still can’t believe it. I fucked Logan Cunningham. My mom’s ex. My ex - st epdad. Fuck, I think
I’m gonna be sick. It’s been three days since I found out who the man behind the mask really is,
and I still can’t get over it. Logan? Seriously... Logan? I just... I ’m speechless. He never gave me
weird vibes or made me uncomfortable while he and my mom were together. He was always
pretty checked out, hyper focused on his work. It’s one of the reasons my mom used to
rationalize why she started sle eping around. He was always a good guy, a kind man. H e spoiled
my mom rotten and tried to do the same for me as well. I didn’t acc ept his generosity as
willingly as my mom did. Was that his way of trying to get to me? Was he attempting to... fuck, I
honestly don’t know. The fact that he knew it was me while we were fucking, and he still k ept
going, is fucking insane. I’m still trying to process what was going on in his head. Probably the
same things that were going on in yours. Despite how horribly wrong and disgusting it was, in
the moment, it felt great. When I didn’t know who he was, it was perfect, he was perfect.
Together, we were just... Closing my eyes, I wince as I shake my head. I just need to forget it ever
happened. I’m heading up to the lake house my mom rents every spring break in the middle of
nowhere . Plenty of space to relax, de - stress and not obsess over the fact that I fucked my
goddamn ex - st epdad. And loved every second of it. I’ll definitely take that small piece of
information to my grave.
Shaking off this weird funk I’ve been in over the last few days, I decide to just let it all go. There
isn’t great cell rec eption up here, so I can avoid Cassi and Naomi’s questioning, though they
both seem to have gone radio silent lately. We all need a g irl’s day soon to catch up. After I
figure out how the hell to process what I’ve done, that is. When I turn the final corner down the
dirt road and park in front of the lake house, nostalgia hits me. We’ve been coming here for
years. It’s a home away from home. Even though it’s not ours, it feels like it. There is something
special about this place. I used to spend hours running around the woods and the dock, taking
pictures until my camera was out of storage. It’s where I truly fell in love with photograph y and
where I made the decision to major in it. As I shut off the car and st ep out, the crisp Washington
air fills my nose, and I smile. It’s been unusually nice lately. Typically, April is nothing but never -
ending rain, but we’ve lucked out with a small b reak. It’s supposed to be sunny and high 60’s to
low 70’s, which is scorching for April. Pocketing my phone, I grab my backpack filled with my
essentials for the week and walk up the grand deck. Of course, my mother would never dare be
caught dead in anyth ing less than a mansion. She’s lucky the market has picked up lately. I
wasn’t sure how she was going to maintain her high - end lifestyle when Logan left her. She got
way too used to being a millionaire’s wife. Considering her last serious relationship was with my
father, a deadbeat mechanic who couldn’t leave the state fast enough when he found out she
was pregnant, Logan was certainly a st ep up. Until she fucked everything up. Shaking my head
at my mother’s “extracurriculars,” I look up at the two - story l ake house before me. It’s huge,
with crisp white paint with black trim. It looks so out of place in such a
heavily wooded area. It belongs at the end of a long winding cul - de - sac with an HOA fee
equivalent to most people’s mortgage. Still, I have a lot of memories here, and I haven’t seen
my aunt, uncle, and cousins in a while, which is the only reason I said y es. Pushing the front
door open, I find my aunt Marissa and Uncle Tom unpacking the groceries while my younger
cousins Brady and Melanie sit on the couch watching a show. “Hi guys!” I greet. The twin
fourteen year olds turn to look at me over their shoulders, giving me ‘too coo l to be excited’
head bobs before focusing back on the
TV. It’s hard for me to remember that they aren’t the same hyperactive kids I’ve grown up with.
“Hi, sweetheart!” my aunt smiles. “Was the drive okay?” “It was fine. Tons of traffic, of course.”
“We live in Western Washington. You couldn’t es cape traffic i f you tried,” my uncle says gruffly. I
laugh at that, shrugging my shoulders in agreement. Quick footst eps echo down the stairs as my
mom pops her head around the wall, looking around the room frantically. “Is he here yet? I
haven’t finished my hair!” My a unt rolls her eyes in annoyance. “No, Kel. He’s not here yet.” The
tone of my aunt’s voice is a clear indicator that this is my mom’s fifth time asking, minimum. She
gets just as fed up with my mom’s shit as I do. Hence why she’s my favorite. I didn’t ask for her
as a mother, just like she didn’t ask for her as a big sister. We bond over our mutual irritation like
any normal family does. “Who isn’t here yet?” I ask as a heavy knock sounds at the door. “Shit!”
she hisses, rushing back upstairs to presumably finish her hair. I scoff and roll my eyes. Hi, Mom.
Nice to see you. Yes, it has been three months since I last saw you. Oh, yeah, school is doing
great. I missed you too. I have to have these conversations with her in my head because if I
don’t, we’d neve r have them. Wow, that sounded just as pathetic as it feels. It’s bad enough to
grow up without a dad. I really had to drive home the childhood trauma with a shallow,
complacent mother. Crossing the living room, I make my way to the door, allowing in whate ver
new infatuation she’s brought along for this family vacation. It’s like she doesn’t know how to be
alone. She has to constantly have someone smothering her with attention, or she will combust.
Poor bastard doesn’t know what he’s in for. Pulling open th e door, my attempt at a warm and
welcoming smile drops as my entire body tenses. What. The. Fuck. De ep brown eyes are staring
straight at me. Eyes I’ve been trying to permanently scrub from my mind... along with other
parts of him. What the
fuck is he doing here? He hasn’t been around my family since the divorce. I’d say myself
included in that, but... you know. “Arianna,” he says, his tone not exactly stiff but not warm
either. More like careful. I don’t respond. I’m still trying to decide what the best course of action
is. A door slammed in his face, a kick to his balls. Something. “Ari, let Logan in.” My aunt laughs.
I stay in place for several more seconds, and Logan lifts an eyebrow like he’s wordlessly checking
to see what my next move will be. His calculating gaze unnerves me, and I st ep to the side,
allowing him and his black duffel bag inside. “Why are you being so rude?” my aunt scolds,
shaking her head as she wraps her arms around Logan. “It’s been forever. How are you doing?”
Logan hug s her back before she pulls away. “I’m good. How have you guys been?” “Better than
you. You sure you’re ready to board that shit show again, my friend?” Tom snarks, gesturing
upstairs to my mom. Logan laughs, but it’s more sarcastic than amused. His large hand scrubs at
his jawline as my aunt smacks her husband’s chest. “I’m just here to hang out, decompress a
little. I love this place,” he says, his eyes pausing on me for half a second before quickly moving
back to my aunt and uncle. “That’s fine, Logan. It’s none of our business,” my aunt says, casting
a side eye to Uncle Tom, who holds up his hands in
surrender but has an amused look on his face. “Just trying to give the man one last chance to
run. She’s your sister, babe. I’ve known her for over twenty years. You got out, man, don’t look
back now.” “Tom, shut the fuck up,” my mom hisses as she glides d own the stairs, shaking her
hips like she’s a runway model and strutting through the kitchen towards Logan. Her dress,
because of course she’s wearing a dress at the lake, is low cut and revealing. It has spaghetti
straps and a lace bodice that transitions into a silk black skirt. She’s also wearing black heels
with her hair in loose, sexy curls paired with a bold red lipstick, practically pointing an arrow to
her mouth.
I can’t help but glance at Logan to see how he reacts, and to my surprise, he doesn’t. His
posture is stiff, hands curled tight into fists at his side as his eyes stay on hers. Apparently, I’m in
the way of her catwalk because when she gets near me, she sh oulder checks me out of the way.
I stumble for a moment, righting myself and seeing Logan watching me with furrowed brows.
“Logan,” she croons, wrapping her arms around his neck as she presses every inch of her body
against his. He hesitates for a moment b efore breaking our gaze and wrapping a single arm
around her, releasing her almost immediately. She doesn’t get the hint, though, and continues
to hold on like a monkey around his neck. The entire room glances at each other as an awkward
air settles around us before my mom finally pries herself off him. The entire interaction is
cringey at best, and I actually feel bad for her at Logan’s lack of attention. I mean, what did he
expect would happen showing back up here after all these years? “I have to say I’m surprised
you showed up. I wasn’t sure you’d actually come.” My mom smiles. Logan’s unwavering gaze
yet again comes to me before he speaks. “I wasn’t sure either, to be honest.” He finishes his
sentence by turning that dark gaze on my mom. “Well, we’re so happy you’re here. Are you
hungry? We could run into town and grab some lunch?” His eyes rake over her, and she preens
at the attention, but the indifferent expression on his face is, I’m sure, more than a little
disappointing for her. “I think you might be a little overdressed, Kel. Looks like there is plenty of
food here. I can cook,” he offers. My mom’s smile falls at the clear brush off, but she masks it
quickly enough. “Yeah, it was just what I had on. I was going to get changed. I’ll be right back.”
She struts back towards the stairs, albeit with a little less swagger in her hips this time. “We
were just planning on making some sandwiches for lunch if that’s okay?” my aunt asks Logan.
“Sounds great. How can I help?”
She waves him off. “We’ve got it handled. Ari, help Logan find a free room. Unless you’re staying
with Kelly...” “No,” he quickly intervenes. “I’d like my own room if there’s space,” he says. My
aunt gestures for me to show him the way to the stairs. Hesitantly, my feet begin moving. Not
sure why I have to show him, it’s not like he doesn’t know the house as well as I do. Not to
mention, I literally just got here. I haven’t even grabbed a room for myself yet. Grabbing my bag,
I start up the stairs, almost missing the second st ep because I can feel him closing in on me. His
heady presence is suffocating me on this staircase, and I want nothing more than to get to the
hallway already. When I finally make it to the top, I feel like I can breathe again. Well, that lasted
all of two seconds until he’s behind me once more. I glance over my shoulder at him, coming to
a stop when I see that the two empty rooms left are right beside each other. Great. Turnin g to
face him, I awkwardly point. “You can have whatever room you want.” He shrugs his shoulders.
“You pick. I’m good with whatever.” I shrug. “Me too.” We just stand there, staring at each other
for several seconds before he speaks. “That one has a bathro om attached. You take that one.”
“No, it’s fine.” “I insist,” he says.
“Why?” I question. His eyes close, and he lets out a frustrated breath. “Just take the fucking
room.” I lift my eyebrows in surprise, shaking my head and st epping into the room. Another
exasperated breath es capes him before he follows me into the room, thr owing the door shut
behind him. We stare at each other for several seconds, the silence almost deafening. “I’m
sorry. I just... why do you have to be so difficult?” he says on a heavy exhale. “Why do you think
you have any right to order me around like — ”
My words die on my tongue as Logan’s head tilts in curiosity, staring at me intently as he takes
slow, measured st eps towards me. “Like what?” he asks. For a moment, I lose my nerve. Why,
though? Rolling back my shoulders, I lift my head a little higher as I stare at those chocolate
brown eyes with enough contempt as I can muster. “Like you’re in charge, like I have to bend to
your every whim. Like...” This time, I let my words hang between us, because too many words
and thoughts are flickering through my h ead. Ones that I have no right to be thinking. Ones that
I don’t want to be thinking. “Finish that sentence. I dare you,” he challenges, a trace of mirth
swirling in his eyes. Is he enjoying this? Does he think this is cute or fun? Spoiler alert: it
defini tely isn’t. I stay silent, my eyes flicking back and forth between his for several seconds
before I lower my tone. “What are you doing here?” He lifts his shoulders. “I was invited.” I roll
my eyes, backing away from him and creating much needed distance. “Oh, please! You’ve been
invited for years. Why have you suddenly changed your mind?” Logan stares at me for several
seconds before slipping his hands into his pockets. “You’re a brilliant woman, Arianna. I think
you know.” My head rears back, completely b lown away by his audacity. “You’re... disgusting!
Are you fucking serious? You were married to my mother,” I whisper, though it’s coming out
more like a shout. “I know,” he says. “You were my st epfather.” “I know.” “You... fucked me,” I say
as I glance around li ke the walls are listening in on us. His lips mash together in a tight line as he
stares at the ground. “I didn’t know,” he says. Logan’s eyes come to meet mine as he continues.
“I would have never approached you, never touched you, never even looked at you if I knew
who you were. Then, by the time I figured it out
I...” He pauses, his head dropping in defeat. “I didn’t plan this, Arianna. I didn’t want this. I’m
not some predator that’s had my eyes on you for years.” “It sure as hell feels that way.” I laugh
bitterly. He shrugs. “You can believe what you want, but it’ s the truth. When I touched you, I
wasn’t touching my ex - st epdaughter, I was — ” “ Ew, you know what, stop. Just stop, ” I say with a
wince, shaking my hands. “ Hearing you say it out loud is so much worse. Just ... stop. It ’ s done, it
happened, and maybe one day, if we’re both lucky, we can scrub the memory from our brains.”
His eyebrows pinch together, but he doesn’t speak as I continue. “You’re here. There is no way
in hell my mom is going to let you leave now. Let’s just... k e ep our distance and get through this
week.” Turning away from him, I walk through the doorway into the bathroom, sitting on the
edge of the tub and hoping he will get the hint and leave. “Is that what you want?” he asks from
the doorway. “Hm?” I ask. He t akes a few st eps in, ke eping his tone even and emotionless as he
speaks. “You want to scrub the memory from your brain? Want to pretend it never happened?”
I frown, looking over my shoulder at him. “Of course. Don’t you?” His face is impassive and cold
as his posture stiffens. “Of course.” With that, he slips out of my room, shutting the door a little
harder than necessary. As soon as he’s gone, I can finally catch my breath. A sinking feeling
settles in my stomach immediately after, though. A foreboding fe eling from what has happened
or what’s to come? Does it really matter which?