Logan Paul Quotes

1/3 of men under 30 haven’t had sex in the last year. People don’t realize why that’s actually one of the biggest issues we face today. It means the foundation of our society is deteriorating.

I made a severe and continuous lapse in my judgement and I don’t expect to be forgiven.

I jumped off a bridge in Italy, is that culturally insensitive? Is saying 'mamma mia' culturally insensitive?

Logan turns to Emily. She’s actually holding it together a lot better than the men in the room. I blow my nose into a tissue as he tells her, “Talk to me, Em. Say something.” She reaches out and cups the side of his face. “Oh, Logan,” she says. And a tear finally falls over her lashes and down her cheek. “I love you so much.” “I love you too,” he says back. And finally, he drops his head into his hands and cries. Paul

She’d been so enthralled with Hamilton’s story that, after seeing the musical in London, she went on an audiobook spree starting with the Ron Chernow book that inspired the musical, followed by Jon Meacham’s Thomas Jefferson: The Art of Power, James Thomas Flexner’s Washington: The Indispensable Man, David McCullough’s John Adams, Walter Stahr’s John Jay: Founding Father, Paul Staiti’s Of Arms and Artists: The American Revolution through Painters’ Eyes, and finished with Walter Isaacson’s Benjamin Franklin: An American Life.

He takes my hand and pulls me out onto the floor. He smiles down at me. “I can’t feel the beat to this kind of music.” He looks around at the other couples. I see my dad step onto the floor with the model who approached Logan, and I roll my eyes. Logan takes me in his arms, his hand holding mine. He pulls me close to him, just a breath away, not touching, and my heart starts to flutter. Will I ever get used to being with this man who makes me feel so perfect? He picks up the rhythm of the music by watching the other dancers. “You’re pretty good at this,” I say. He just smiles and shrugs. “Mom made us all take dance lessons when we were young. Paul did a year of ballet before he grew enough balls to tell her he wouldn’t do it anymore.” He chuckles. I’ll never enjoy a sound more than that of his laughter. When we first met, he didn’t speak at all. He started talking again for me, and it took him even longer to learn to laugh. Sometimes he can’t tell how loud he is, and he doesn’t alter his voice well enough for the situation. This is one of those times. My dad shoots me a glare. I look up at Logan and just smile. “What’s bothering you?” he asks. “Not a thing,” I say. And it’s not. I’d trade my right arm for his voice, if someone told me I had to choose between the two. Hearing his words, his laughter and his thoughts means the world to me.

when the if and of the when and of and when and the of and you and then and if

Think about every behavior you have, and where they come from. You'll realize that most of what you do is to appease other people. Let that part of you go, it is very freeing. It becomes easy to say, 'no' or that you don't like something. Live your own life.

Father Paul told us that everyone who lives long enough to love will experience a great loss sometime in their life. But you can’t let fear of losing again take away the joy of living.

You should have seen your dad’s face the minute you started to sing. He had no idea you had that in you. And then he realized the words were about him. He sobbed through the whole performance.” “I did not sob,” my dad complains, his voice gruff but playful. “Cried?” Paul suggests. “Boohooed?” Matt tosses in. “Wailed like an infant?” Sam says. My dad huffs, but he’s not angry. “I’m just so proud of her!” My heart expands in my chest at his words. Logan drops an arm around my shoulders. “So am I.” Paul yells, “I think that’s pretty much unanimous!

He can go fuck himself,” I say. “I’m sleeping on the couch.” “Shit, man, what did you do?” Matt asks. Logan signs something quickly. “Damn. You should make Paul sleep on the couch.” He chuckles. “Seems like he deserves it.” Logan stalks back into his room, and Matt looks at me, grinning. “You’re turning him inside out,” he says. Apparently not. He didn’t even look at me when I was naked. “What are your intentions with Logan?” he asks. His voice is quiet. He’s not threatening me. I think he’s genuinely curious. “I don’t have any intentions. He tossed me over his shoulder both times I’ve been here. It’s not like I had much choice in the matter.” “You could have said no,” Matt clarifies. He holds up a hand to stop me when I open my mouth to talk. “Paul was just trying to protect him. He’s never brought a girl home before. Not one he really likes.” “I’m the first one he won’t sleep with, I guess,” I murmur, more to myself than to him. Matt nods. “Yes, you are. That means you’re special.” He tweaks my nose as he walks by, and I make a face at him. He has cancer. I can’t be mad at him. Particularly not when he’s being so sweet. He turns back to face me. “He’s never wanted something real with a girl. Give him time to explore it before you start expecting more from him.” “That’s just it,” I argue. “I don’t expect anything.” “Yes, you do.” He looks sorry for me, and it pisses me off. “Apparently, I’m the only girl in the city of New York that he won’t sleep with.” I harrumph like a two-year-old who just dropped her ice cream. “I can’t believe I’m discussing my brother’s lack of sexual appetite with his girlfriend,” Matt mutters. “I’m not his girlfriend.” “Oh, honey,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re his first girlfriend.” I turn to look toward Logan’s room. I don’t know what to do. “Don’t fuck with him,” Matt warns. He’s suddenly very direct, and the intensity in his face is almost scary. “And don’t break his heart.” “He’d have to love me for that to be an issue.” Matt snorts. “You’re clueless, aren’t you?” he asks. “Apparently,” I say. Matt wraps my head in his arm and squeezes me against him, rubbing my head playfully with his knuckles. He stops and sniffs me. “You smell good,” he says. He laughs. “We don’t have much around here that smells good.” “Thank you,” I grumble. He pops me on the rear and points me toward Logan’s room. “Go talk to him,” he says. I yelp and look back at him over my shoulder. I can’t believe he just did that. “That was a ‘get your ass in the game’ smack. Not an ‘I want to see you naked’ smack,” he warns. I didn’t doubt what he meant. “I don’t mess with Logan’s women,” he says. He told me that the first night. “It’s a brother thing,” we both say at the same time. Matt grins. “Exactly,” he says.

And you shouldn’t have called me your boyfriend.” He looks down at me as he opens the door of the restaurant for me. “I’m sorry,” I start. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just wanted her to go away.” And I wanted to stake my claim, even though I had no right to one. He looks down at me beneath the street light. “You shouldn’t have said it because you gave me hope,” he says. I can’t speak. I can’t utter out a sound. “Come home with me,” he says. I shake my head. He sighs heavily. “You know how this is going to end.” “I shouldn’t.” I really, really shouldn’t. “Fine,” he says, and then he bends at the waist and tosses me over his shoulder, just like the night before. Only this time, his hand is on my ass, under my skirt, instead of holding the backs of my legs. It’s hot pressed against my panties. I can’t say a word to him because he wouldn’t hear me. So, I just hang there, all the way to his building and up the four flights of stairs. He opens the door and walks inside. His brothers are there, and they look up. Sam and Pete snicker, and Paul shoots them a look. Matthew is on the sofa, and he shakes his head. Logan puts me down. Apparently, I’m not a sideshow attraction tonight. “Hi,” I say tentatively to them all. “Hi,” they call back. They don’t get up and rush over to me, not even when he sets me on my feet. “You’re back,” Matthew says as he walks to the fridge. He looks better tonight. Not quite as green. Sam walks to the kitchen, and Paul snaps at him when he reaches for a beer. He takes a soda, instead, grumbling to himself. Logan signs something to them. Pete tells him the name of the movie they’re watching, and it’s one I haven’t heard of. Logan points to the TV and then to me asking me if I’ve seen it. I shake my head. He sets my bag and my guitar on the floor and laces his fingers with mine. He tugs me gently toward the couch. Logan bumps Sam’s and Pete’s knees until they scoot over. There’s barely enough space for him, much less for me. “I’m going to go take a shower,” I say. But he sits down and pulls me into his side, his arm around my shoulders. Matt gives me a look I don’t understand. He doesn’t seem completely pleased by my being there. Did I do something to offend him? But Logan looks down at me and smiles, and then he places his lips against my forehead. Matt gets up and goes to his room but not before shooting me a glance that I couldn’t help but take as a warning.

What the fuck do you want?” he asks. “And whose phone are you calling from?” He’s signing while he talks out loud. Logan laughs and pulls me into the frame. “It’s Sean’s.” “What up, Sean?” Paul asks. I wave. “You got any cash?” Logan asks. Paul’s eyes narrow. “Why?” “Sean needs to buy a kiss from his girl.” Paul’s brow rises. “You paying for sex now, dude?” he asks. He holds up his hands when I start to protest. “Not that I think that’s a bad idea or anything. Man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.” I laugh. I can’t help it. “I can’t ask you for money, man. Don’t worry about it. Logan shouldn’t have called you.” But Logan rushes on. “So, you got any money?” he asks. Paul heaves a sigh and empties his pockets. I see a few dollars float around. He yells toward the back of his apartment. “Sam! Matt!” Both brothers walk into the room. “You bellowed?” Matt says. “Asswipe there needs some cash so he can buy a hooker.” He points toward me. “She’s not a hooker,” I protest. But Logan’s laughing like hell by now. And Matt and Sam look amused, too. “Cash?” Logan asks. “Some,” Paul says. “Can you bring it?” “Where?” “To school. To the kissing booth. In the quad.” Paul heaves a sigh. “I’ll be there.” The phone goes dead. “Do you think we’ll have enough?” I’m getting anxious now. “You’ll have more than you thought you did.” Logan claps a hand onto my shoulder and squeezes. God,

Logan throws up a hand to get my attention. You’re playing with fire, he warns. He jerks his thumb toward the curtain. He’s pissed. He must not want Paul to hear him or he would be talking instead of signing. I wave a breezy hand at him. He’ll have to get over it. He looks toward the curtain. You should go talk to him. Why? Because he still has a client out here, and he had to leave because you were sucking face with the other guy. Crap. Paul walked away with a client in his chair. With a half-finished tat. He has no right to be angry. Logan’s brow arches, and he shakes his head. Well, he doesn’t. Quit being a baby, he signs. He jerks his thumb toward the curtain again. Go talk to him. I heave a sigh and go to get Paul out of his snit.

Logan had fixed the tattoo that day, and she’d started working for me. That was four years ago. Four fucking years of looking at her beautiful legs and red lips. Every. Single. Day. Four years of watching her and wanting her. Four years of lusting over Friday. Four years with her busting my chops.

Hell, you knew she had baggage. Layers. You told me you wanted to find out everything about her. Find out why she doesn’t have a family. Find out why she’s all alone in New York. Find out why she’s living in Pete’s spare room until tomorrow.” I spin to face him. “She’s living with Pete and Reagan?” I didn’t know about that. “Why?” He shrugs. “She had to move out of the dorm after graduation. They had an empty room. But Reagan’s parents are coming to stay for two weeks, so she’s going somewhere else.” “Where?” I ask quickly. He shrugs. “Does it matter?” But he’s grinning. Fuck yeah, it matters. “Is she going to stay with one of the douchebags?” “What douchebags?” Matt scratches his head. “Never mind,” I say. Hope swells within me. I shouldn’t let it, but it does. I get out a piece of paper and write on it in magic marker: ROOM FOR RENT PRICE NEGOTIABLE ONLY BEAUTIFUL LITTLE BOMBSHELLS NEED APPLY PREFERABLY ONES NAMED FRIDAY I walk out of the back room and go to the bulletin board. I stick a thumbtack in the “advertisement” and walk away. I hear a snicker from behind me and turn to grin at Logan. You’re a d-o-o-f-u-s, he signs, fingerspelling the last word because there’s no sign for something so stupid. I know, I sign back. He looks a little worried for me, but I don’t care. I can’t get where I want to go if I don’t take a first step. Regardless of whether or not she’s pregnant, she needs a place to stay and I have two empty rooms. And she’s family, for Christ’s sake. I’ve never wanted to eat out a member of my family, though. I scratch my head. I should probably stop thinking like that. I whistle to myself as I walk to my office. I have some paperwork to do before my first appointment arrives. And I need to give Friday time to find my ad.

Weren’t you fucking somebody else last week, Friday?” I blurt out. I want to take it back immediately because it hangs there in the air between us like a bomb about to explode. “What?” she asks, and her voice goes soft. “Last week it was a different guy who took you to lunch.” I grumble to myself and get up, pretending to clean the counter. She thinks it over. “You mean Cody?” “How many are there?” She blinks hard. What the fuck? Friday never cries. Ever. I take a step toward her, and she steps back, putting her hand up like she’s going to push the air around me back. “How dare you?” she breathes. A tear falls over her lashes, and she swipes it away and then looks down at the back of her wet hand like she doesn’t know what the fuck a tear is. “Friday,” I say. I step toward her again. I soften my voice because I have no idea what to do. I have never seen this Friday before. I have only seen the one who can eat my balls for lunch. Hell, she’ll feed my balls to me if I piss her off enough. And make me like it. Four years and I have never seen her shed a tear. She turns around and runs into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. I lean my ear against the door and listen, but I can’t hear anything over the sound of the fan. I knock. She doesn’t answer. “Dammit,” I swear. I lean my forehead against the door. “Leave her alone,” I hear from behind me. I turn around because Logan is talking. “I can’t,” I say to him. I knock again, but she doesn’t answer. “Just leave her the fuck alone,” he says again. He’s pissed, I can tell. “You have a client.” He waves toward my customer like he’s Vanna Fucking White. “Work to do. So, you might want to get to it.” I heave a sigh and look at my client. “Just a moment,” I say. “Take your time,” he says with a grin. He’s loving the show, apparently. I pull my keys from my pocket and fit the key in the lock. I hesitate long enough for Logan to notice. “You shouldn’t,” he warns. I know I shouldn’t, but I am. I turn the key and let myself into the room. I find Friday washing her face. “What the fuck, Paul!” she cries. She turns back to the mirror and dabs beneath her eyes. She looks at me in the mirror. “Get out.” I close the door behind me and lean against it. “Why are you crying?” “I don’t know,” she bites out. But another tear slides down her cheek. “Fucking hormones,” she says as she swipes it away. All this because she has her period? I know better than to say that out loud. “Oh,” I say instead. She turns to face me, hitching her hip against the sink. She crosses her arms beneath her breasts, which pushes them up and makes little pillows over the top of that low-cut dress she’s wearing. My God. I look up at her face. She smirks at me. I like a smirking Friday a lot better than one who’s crying because I don’t know what do with tears. Not from her. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” I blurt out when she just glares at me. “Yes, you did.” “No, I didn’t.” “Yes, you did.

Let me guess. Reagan’s pregnant and you’re scared shitless,” he deadpans. All the blood drains from Pete’s face. “What? Reagan’s pregnant?” He looks at each of us in turn. “Oh, fuck,” Paul says. “You didn’t know.” “How the fuck did you know and I didn’t?” Pete says, his voice rising. “We didn’t know,” Matt says. “He was just guessing, because all of us, aside from Sam, came to him when we had one on the way.” Matt glares at Paul. “Why did you have to go and ruin it?” “Hell, I thought everyone knew. She’s been sick for the past week.” “Bad shrimp,” Pete says. “Bad shrimp wouldn’t make her throw up every morning,” Logan chimes in. He can speak when he wants to. “She’s knocked up.” Pete sinks down in a chair like his legs have turned to noodles. Logan raises his hand. “When I suspected Em was pregnant and I came to spill my guts to Paul, it was because Em’s boobs were getting bigger.” “Sky’s did too,” Matt chimes in. Paul nods. “Same here.” Pete looks around the room. “Reagan’s boobs are bigger, and she’s sick every morning. And afternoon. Hell, even in the evening.” He smiles, and I imagine I can see stars floating in the air around his head. “I’m going to be a dad?” “Sorry we ruined the surprise. We’ve had bets going for a whole week to find out if you’d realize it before Reagan does.” Matt shrugs. “One of you could have told me!” Pete cries. But he’s grinning like a damn fool. He points around the room at each of us. “So, which of you bet Reagan would know first?” I raise my hand. I figured she’s the one with the uterus, so she’d realize it before Pete did. “You lost, little brother,” Paul says. He walks by me and squeezes my shoulder. “Doesn’t count if you tell him,” I complain. Paul wraps his beefy arm around Pete’s head and gives him a noogie. Pete’s still in la-la land though, so he doesn’t even struggle. “Stop and get a test on the way home,” Matt tells him. “Okay.” Pete’s still star-struck. “Wait,” I say. “If you didn’t want to tell us Reagan’s pregnant, what did you call me here for?” Pete throws up his hands. “Hell, I can’t remember.

His brothers rush at me. Sam and Pete, the youngest brothers in the family, get to me first. The twins attack me from both sides, squishing me between them like I’m the filling of a sandwich. They squeeze me, and they press their lips against each of my cheeks. “If you lick me,” I warn. Sam already has his tongue out, but he sucks it back in really quickly and grins at me. “Welcome home,” Sam says. He steps back, and Pete’s arms fall around me. He squeezes me tightly, clutching my head against his chest as his hands tumble through my hair. “Would you cut it out?” I grouse, trying to flatten my hair back down. Pete laughs and steps to the side. “Welcome home,” Paul says before wrapping me up in his arms. He really is a big guy, even bigger than Logan, and I think he could wrap around me twice. “Thanks,” I murmur against his chest. I can barely breathe, but it’s worth it. Then there’s Matt. He leans against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He doesn’t smile. His eyes are wet, and he blinks really quickly. “Come here, big guy,” I say, making a come hither motion with my fingers. He pushes off the counter and starts toward me. “I’m going to kiss your girl, Logan,” he warns. Logan’s eyebrows shoot up, but he doesn’t complain. He smiles and shrugs his shoulders. Matt stops in front of me and tips my face up to his. He looks directly into my eyes and holds my gaze. “Thank you,” he says. I gulp past the lump that’s suddenly in my throat and try to sound flippant. “For what?” I ask with a breezy wave. He won’t let me look away though. He holds my face between his palms and stares into my eyes. “For saving my fucking life,” he says. “Thank you.” He leans down and kisses me on the cheek with a loud smack. “Oh, I didn’t do anything,” I start. He looks down at me, and his gaze is so serious that my insides quiver. “Yes, you did,” he says. “I’ll never forget it.” He looks over at Logan. “I’m not the only one you saved,” he whispers to me. That lump in my throat grows ten times its size. “You ever need anything at all, you come to me, all right? I’d do anything for you.

Logan pulls out a chair at the table and motions for me to sit. But I suddenly feel little fingers tugging on the legs of my jeans. I look down at Hayley, who blinks her pretty blue eyes at me. Hayley is three, and we spent some time together when I was here before. “Welcome home,” she says. I set my pizza on the counter and reach for her. “Oh my goodness,” I breathe as I bend down and pick her up. She wraps herself around me and holds me close. She lets me go and whispers in my ear. “Are you staying for good?” She chews on her finger as she waits. “I’m staying forever and ever.” I am. I’m never leaving again, no matter what. Anything else we need, we can work out as a family. This ragtag bunch of boys and Hayley are as much a family to me as my parents are right now—they’re home. I set Hayley on the edge of the counter and cut a piece of cake for her. Her eyes gleam, and she smiles sheepishly at her father. “Food first,” Paul warns. I stick a fork in the cake and take a big bite, and then hold a smaller forkful out for her. Paul scrunches his brow and says, “Fine. One bite.” He holds up a finger in warning. Hayley grins, and I feed her the cake.

I’m sorry,” he says when Matt looks back. Matt squeezes his shoulder and grins. “Why? Did you give me cancer? No. Cancer is the only one I blame.” He grins at me. “Now go get Emily pregnant, Logan. Hurry the hell up.” He slaps his hands together. “Chop, chop.” “You sorry fucker,” Paul says. “If I didn’t love your sorry ass so much, I’d have to hate you.” Matt looks down at his watch. “Time’s a wasting,” he warns. I laugh. I can’t help it. The look on Paul’s face is priceless.

He takes my hand and pulls me out of the room. Paul is in the lazy chair with Hayley in his lap, reading a book, and Sam and Pete are on one of the sofas. Matt is alone on the other, so I sit down beside him and lean into his shoulder. He reaches up to tousle my hair and smiles at me. “I’m glad you’re back, kid,” he says. I lean more heavily into him, and he lifts his arm to the back of the sofa so I can nestle into his side. I breathe him in. He’s so much softer than Logan. But the cancer took its toll. He’s lost weight, and he has dark shadows beneath his eyes. “You sure you’re okay?” I whisper to him. He looks down at me and tweaks my nose as Logan pulls my feet into his lap. I lay my head on Matt’s thigh and he leans down to whisper to me. “Quit worrying about me and enjoy being back.” His hand strokes absently down the length of my hair as someone presses “play” to start the movie. I love this gentle giant. The movie starts, and it’s not a thriller or a car chase. There’s no shooting. It’s a love story. My eyes well up with tears, and I scrub them on Matt’s leg. “There’s no place like home,” I say quietly.

Sam leans over and kisses her on the cheek, just as Pete kisses her other cheek. She scrunches up her face, but she doesn’t slap either of them. “I vote that we let her stay another day,” Pete says. He looks down at her naked legs. Honestly, I’ve seen women at night clubs show a lot more skin than she’s showing. “She’s cute,” he says. Then he grabs a banana off the counter and runs for the door. Sam is right behind him. He moves to close the door and then sticks his head back in. “I second that vote,” Sam says. The door slams, and they’re gone. Kit smiles and looks over my shoulder. Matt is up, and he looks like death warmed over. “I third,” he says as he sits down in a chair and puts his face in his hands. Paul shrugs. “It’s fine with me,” Paul says. “But it’s Logan’s call. It’s his bed.

This is really good,” I murmur around my cake. Pete smacks Sam on the shoulder. “See, told you she would love it,” he says. Sam blushes and says, “It’s just a cake.” I point to the cake. “You did not make this.” More pink creeps up Sam’s neck. “Sometimes I bake.” He puts his hands on his hips and balks at me. “Real men bake cakes. And pies. And cookies. And other shit.” He waves a hand through the air as he scolds me. I had no idea Sam could bake. It’s really some of the best cake I have ever eaten. “Real men with really small dicks,” Pete says, holding his fingers about an inch apart. Sam punches his shoulder. “Ask your girlfriend about my dick,” Sam tosses back. “She seemed to like it a lot last night.” “Knock it off,” Paul scolds as he takes Hayley off the counter and sets her on the floor. “There are girls in the house.” “They don’t count as girls,” Sam says around a mouthful of pizza. “Well, thanks,” I complain. “You know what I mean.” Sam is still talking with his mouth full. Logan wraps his arms around my waist and places his chin on my shoulder. “Feels like a girl to me,” he says. He growls and nibbles on the side of my neck.

Logan points to each of his brothers in turn e smiles. stumble a little as he sets me upright, when all the blood rushes back to and motions for them to talk. “Paul,” the biggest one says as he extends his hand. “I remember you,” I say. “I’ll never forget you,” he says, with a laugh as he smacks Logan on the shoulder. “And neither will his nose.” He feints as Logan makes like he’s going to punch him. But he doesn’t. He stops right before he gets to his face. The second to largest guy—and they’re all big boys—sticks out his hand and says, “Matthew.” Matthew looks tired and a little green. I look at Logan, and he nods subtly. This is the one who has cancer and is going through chemo. Paul slaps Matthew’s hand away and says, “You’re not supposed to be sharing any germs right now.” “Fuck you,” Matthew says, and then he walks toward the hallway and goes into what I guess is his bedroom and closes the door. He doesn’t look back at me, but I don’t mind. The last two brothers have to be twins. They’re younger than Logan, but not by much, and they look identical. “Sam and Pete,” Paul says. They huddle around me, and I end up sandwiched between them, which they think is hilarious. They jiggle me around for a minute until Paul barks at them. “Let her go,” he says. He pops them both on the backs of their heads and says, “They don’t know how to act when company comes over.” Company? That’s what I am? “Nice to meet you,” I say. I’m a bit overwhelmed. This is a lot of testosterone in one room.

I have a thing for you,” I admit. I wince inwardly because it sounds so lame. “A thing?” “A big thing.” Her gaze drops. “Not that thing.” Although now that she’s looking down at it, it’s ready to rise to attention. Fucking attention whore. I tip her chin up. “But,” I say. “But what?” “Then you showed up with that first douche. And then that second douche. And I had just changed my whole life for the possibility of you. But you had moved on. Quickly.” I drag my fingertips up and down her bare arms, and chill bumps rise. She shivers. “So, yeah, I’m mad. Sorry.” “You don’t sound sorry.” “I’m not.” She laughs, and the sound of it shoots straight to my heart. “Am I too late?” I ask. I wait, with my heart in my throat. She steps back from me. “Paul,” she says. Her voice cracks. “I’m so sorry.” I don’t need to hear any more. I go out and start my machine up and get back to work. I hear her move around in the shop, and I glance up at her every once in a while, but she gets busy with clients, drawing tattoos, and she ignores me. She doesn’t look in my direction. Not even once. Not for the whole rest of the night. And when it’s closing time, Logan volunteers to walk her home. I let him.

We had to convince these guys to perform, but they were easy to win over.” She points to the curtain, and it opens slowly. “I give you the Reeds, performing to Taylor Swift’s ‘You Belong with Me.’” The curtain opens, and Paul, Matt, Logan, Sam, and Pete are all standing in a line. They’re all dressed in jeans and sleeveless T-shirts, and you can see all their tattoos and they’re so fucking handsome that I can’t even believe they’re mine. I see Hayley, Joey, and Mellie standing on the side of the stage, all waiting anxiously to watch their daddies and uncles. Seth starts the music, and he’s underlaid some kind of hip-hop track beneath the beat, but you can still pick out the music. It’s a song about unrequited love and realizing that what you wanted was right there in front of you the whole time, but you were being too stupid to see it. It’s told from a girl’s point of view, so some of the words don’t exactly fit the boys, but it makes it all the funnier. The Reeds have moves. Serious moves. I think everyone woman in the auditorium sits forward in her seat so she doesn’t miss seeing the shaking hips and flexing muscles. Paul even picks Matt up and spins him around one time, and Sam does the same to Pete. I can’t stop laughing. Even Logan dances, and I can imagine the kind of work it took for him to learn this routine when he can’t even hear the music the same way everyone else can. He can appreciate music, just in a different way. As the song starts to close, Matt, Pete, Logan, and Paul all point out at the audience when the words, “You belong with me,” play. Matt points to Sky. Pete points to Reagan, and Logan points to Emily, who is holding the baby in her lap. And Paul points in my direction. Those four men jump off the stage and come toward us. They sing and dance all the way down the aisle. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Kelly get up to intercept Paul, but he doesn’t even notice her. He points past her, and sings out the last line, “You belong with me,” in my ear. He picks me up and spins me around, and I have never felt more happiness in my whole life. The music stops, and everyone looks to the stage. Sam has sat down on the side of it, and he looks pretty dejected. He’s holding a sign above his head that says, Available. After this, he won’t be available for long, because every woman there now has a crush on all the Reeds, and he’s the only one who isn’t taken. I love that they can be so silly, and so loving, and so…them. They don’t hide it. They don’t make a game of it. They just love. They love hard. “I love you so hard,” I say to Paul. His eyes jerk to meet mine, and he almost looks surprised. “You do?” he asks. I nod. “I do.” “Will you come home tonight?” he asks quietly. I nod. “Good. That’s where you belong.

Can one of you do a piercing?” Friday calls. Friday is really pretty in a Katy Perry kind of way. She has tattoos on her shoulders and across her back and up her legs. I know about the ones on her legs because I put them there. She has skulls and cross bones and turtles and some really weird shit. And she dresses all retro, like a pinup girl from the sixties. “What kind of piercing?” I ask. Every gaze in the place turns to the woman, and she flushes. “One of those piercings!” Friday yells dramatically. “Pete can do it,” Paul says. Reagan’s mouth falls open. She walks over close to me. “You are not doing a private piercing,” she hisses. I do them all the time, but I don’t even want to do them anymore. She cups her hand around my ear. “The only private places you’re touching are mine.” My heart swells. I like this. I like it a lot. “Sorry,” I say. “The little lady has spoken.” I lift my face, and she bends down to kiss me. Paul looks at Logan, but Emily signs something to him really quickly and he grins. He shakes his head. “Can’t do it,” he says. “Why not?” Paul blows out a heavy breath. “Because I want to have sex tonight,” Logan says. “And tomorrow night. And the night after.” Sam’s not here. He’s probably baking a cake somewhere. And we all know where Matt is. Paul throws down the pencil on the table where he was drawing a tattoo. “You guys are worthless,” he complains. “And pussy whipped.” I’m happy to be pussy whipped. Logan walks over and high-fives me, and Emily grins at Reagan. “Thanks for taking one for the team,” I say to Paul. It won’t be hard on him. The girl is gorgeous. “The things I have to do so you guys can have sex.

That drummer is hot,” Sam says. He’s still watching the footage with no sound, since we play the TV with subtitles for Logan all the time. “I would have thought you’d like the lead singer best,” Emily says, watching his face. He shakes his head. “Not my type.” “Not enough ass,” Pete tosses out. “He’s not into skinny chicks.” Pete looks over at Emily. “No offense, Em.” Emily rolls her eyes and points to her very pregnant belly. Sam shoots Pete a look and shoves Pete’s legs out of his lap. Pete makes a move like he’s grabbing and squeezing. “Sam likes a girl he can hold on to.” Sam’s face goes pink as he shrugs. “I like curves,” he says. “I can’t help it.” Pete shoves him again. “He wants tits and ass,” he says, making that squeezing motion again. “And a brain,” Sam says, holding up his finger. “And an appetite,” I add. Sam raises his brow. “I like to cook. So I like a girl who likes to eat. Go figure.” Emily laughs. Sam must feel the need to explain himself because he goes on. “I hate taking a girl to dinner and having her order a salad. Or having her tell me she can’t eat one of my famous cupcakes because she’s on a diet.” He shivers like he’s repulsed by the very idea of it. He draws an hourglass figure in the air with his hands. “I’ll take tits, ass, and thighs, please,” he says, as though he’s ordering dinner. “And, dammit, if there’s icing that can be licked off places, I want her to be able to partake without thinking about calories.” “TMI, Sam!” Emily cries, covering her ears. Sam laughs, so I throw a remote at his head. “Act like a gentleman,” I warn, because I feel like I should. But that shit’s funny as hell.

I get up, and Sky sits down in my chair. Matt sits at her feet and takes the beer that Garrett passes to him. I sit down at the end of the couch by Friday and press my shoulder against her leg. I look up at her, and she looks down, appearing somewhat startled. “You okay?” I ask quietly. She nods. As long as she’s all right, I’m all right. She’s kicked off those four-inch heels she wears, but she’s still wearing the fishnet stockings. I slide my hand around the back of her ankle and tickle the inside of it with the tips of my fingers. Her toes jerk, but she doesn’t move her foot away. She spreads her thighs about an inch and presses more tightly against my shoulder, and I can feel the air around her move as she takes in a deep breath. So that’s what it’s like… Now I get how Logan, Pete, and Matt felt when they met the women they’d spend the rest of their lives with. Because I’d rather sit here and touch her ankle than I would fuck any other woman in the world.

Logan shoulders his way past me and glares at her. “I’m not leaving again,” he says to her. She nods. “I know.” “No matter what you say,” he goes on. “I just needed to do something. I wanted it to be a surprise.” She holds her hand out to him. “I meant to do it later, but time got away from me, and then I realized that I hadn’t done it yet, and I was almost out of time. And so Friday helped me with it.” She motions for him to take her hand again. “But first we had to wash that stupid basketball off.” A grin tugs at the corners of my lips when she lifts her hospital gown and I see that the ball is gone. She’s wearing a pair of Logan’s boxer shorts for now, but her belly is huge and she looks like the timer on her chicken has popped. Across her belly are the words, “My name is Catherine. And I’m my daddy’s girl.” “You finally picked a name?” Logan asks. He puts his hand on her belly and draws out the letters. It’s made like his tattoo that says, “My name is Emily.” It’s the one he got when he found out her real name. “That name was your favorite, right?” she asks. I know it’s more than just his favorite. Catherine was our mom’s name. He nods, and I see him swallow really hard. “Kit,” he says. “Kit,” she repeats. Her voice cracks. There’s so much history between them with regard to that nickname.

You did everything,” she whispers, and I feel her tears against my shirt. I hold her to me because I have a feeling this has a lot more to do with her past than Logan’s present. “You did everything they needed.” “Can I be what you need, too?” I ask. I feel her nod against my chest. And my fucking heart takes flight. She can keep her secrets if she needs to. But I’m here to take her burden if she wants that, the same way I take theirs. Because she’s family. My family.

What’s wrong?” I ask. His chest fills with air as he sighs. “I try to help her. I try to do everything for her. But she doesn’t seem to like it. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” I wait for him to continue. “And her boobs are like—” he makes a grasping motion in the air “—like huge. And I want to touch them, but she says they hurt, so I try to sleep on the other side of the bed when we do sleep. I miss her. I want to toss my leg over her naked ass and sleep wrapped around her.” “Her boobs probably do hurt.” If I remember correctly from Kelly when she had Hayley, she said the same thing. But we didn’t live together, so I didn’t get immersed in it the way Logan is. “Rub her feet or something nice. Hell, pick anything else to rub.” His face lights up. “Not that,” I say with a laugh. He waves a hand in the air like he’s dismissing me. “That’s not even the part I miss. I can do without that.” I snort. “Don’t get me wrong. I like that as much as the next guy, but I don’t have to have it. It’s her I have to have.

What the fuck are you waiting for?” he asks. He leans forward. I have all of his attention. “I’m waiting for her to commit,” I admit. He sits back. “Oh,” he says. “I’m just not sure she’s going to be here forever.” I shrug. “That’s all.” “I think you’re right.” My gaze jerks up. I didn’t expect him to agree with me. I expected him to reassure me. “What do you mean?” “What are your intentions?” he asks. “I want my fucking ring on her finger and my baby growing inside her.” Damn, I just shocked myself. And I might have to pick Logan up off the floor. He chokes on a cashew. He clears his throat and says, “Then you need to buy a fucking ring and get on one fucking knee.” “It’s too soon.” I look toward the bedroom to be sure the door is closed. “If it’s too soon for a ring, it’s too soon to fuck her.” “Says the guy who got his girlfriend pregnant.” “But we didn’t get married because we were lazy. It wasn’t because we didn’t want to be married. If Friday doesn’t want to get married, then you need to reevaluate.

You love her?” Paul asks quietly. I can’t bite back my grin. “Yeah.” “He’s got the coochie disease,” Sam says. “You know, the one where you get some and can’t stop thinking about getting some more.” I throw another pillow at his head. “We haven’t even done that,” I say quietly. I look toward the door. I don’t want her to hear me. “You haven’t?” Matt asks. He walks over and sits down on top of Emily, who’s still in Logan’s lap, and steals the nuts back from her. She squirms under him and finally gives up. He holds out a cashew for her, and she opens her mouth like a baby bird so he can pop it in. Then he climbs off her. “Nope.” God, they’re nosy. “She has an apartment across town, over near where Emily lives.” “Oh, then we can take her home,” Emily chirps. But she’s already harassing Matt for the can of nuts again. He pins her down on the couch with his elbow and eats them while refusing to let her up. “Logan!” she whines, but she’s laughing. Logan just smiles. She gets herself into these messes; she can get herself out. “I want her to stay here,” I say, shaking my head at Emily. Matt lets her up, and she leans against him with her head on his shoulder. He likes to cuddle with her. She’s like a sister to all of us, and I hope Reagan will fit in as well as Emily does one day. But I really can’t imagine her wrestling with them the way Emily does.

Can one of you do a piercing?” Friday calls. Friday is really pretty in a Katy Perry kind of way. She has tattoos on her shoulders and across her back and up her legs. I know about the ones on her legs because I put them there. She has skulls and cross bones and turtles and some really weird shit. And she dresses all retro, like a pinup girl from the sixties. “What kind of piercing?” I ask. Every gaze in the place turns to the woman, and she flushes. “One of those piercings!” Friday yells dramatically. “Pete can do it,” Paul says. Reagan’s mouth falls open. She walks over close to me. “You are not doing a private piercing,” she hisses. I do them all the time, but I don’t even want to do them anymore. She cups her hand around my ear. “The only private places you’re touching are mine.” My heart swells. I like this. I like it a lot. “Sorry,” I say. “The little lady has spoken.” I lift my face, and she bends down to kiss me. Paul looks at Logan, but Emily signs something to him really quickly and he grins. He shakes his head. “Can’t do it,” he says. “Why not?” Paul blows out a heavy breath. “Because I want to have sex tonight,” Logan says. “And tomorrow night. And the night after.” Sam’s not here. He’s probably baking a cake somewhere. And we all know where Matt is. Paul throws down the pencil on the table where he was drawing a tattoo. “You guys are worthless,” he complains. “And pussy whipped.

He watches my face closely. Paul does that a lot. You don’t have to speak for him to know how you’re feeling. I turn my back to the mirror, and I see the work of art he’s created. He drew the daisy, and he’s colored it with my colors. It’s reaching toward a shaft of sunlight from behind bars. That part is exactly what I expected. But at the base of the daisy, Maggie lays with her head balanced on the lower petals, just like she used to balance it on my knee. She’s perfect in all her black-and-white glory, and the eyes sparkle, just like hers did. A sob builds in my throat. “I love it,” I croak out. “It’s perfect.” Paul reaches for me slowly, careful not to scare me with his slow movements, and he pulls me to his chest. I wrap my arms around him, and he closes my open shirt behind me with his fingers and draws me close into him. He strokes a hand down the back of my head. “You’re welcome,” he says. I see Logan give him a thumbs-up. “Thank you, Logan,” I say. I look in the mirror again. It’s truly perfect.

Emily is sitting up in bed staring down at their daughter. Logan has his arm wrapped around them both, and he’s holding them close, talking softly to Emily. She turns and kisses his cheek. He smiles at her, and there’s so much love there that it makes me ache inside. They’re all wrapped up in one another, so I leave the room much more quietly than I arrived. But outside the door I stop and think about the way they looked together. Their family is perfect. Is it safe for me to want that, too? Or is perfect something I’ll just never have?

Logan is going to meet me there at nine to put the tattoo over my heart. Her tattoo. The broken butterfly. My broken butterfly. I’m going to brand myself with something that is all Friday.

I didn’t think you were coming back until later,” he says. He eyes me up and down but not in a creepy way. “Who’s your friend?” he asks. He sticks out a hand to shake, and I take it. “I’m Paul,” he says. He’s huge, and he has even more tattoos than Pete does. There’s another guy behind him. He’s thin and has long, blond hair, and it’s held back with a rubber band at the nape of his neck. “Matt,” he says as he sticks out his hand to shake. Then I notice a guy and a girl sitting on the couch. She’s the blonde I saw at the prison, and she eyes me with the gaze of an antiques dealer, as if she’s looking for all my imperfections. “Emily,” she says with a little wave. “Logan,” she says, as she pats Logan on the chest. He extends his hand, and I take it. But there’s one more, and my breath catches in my throat when he steps out from behind Logan. He looks so much like Pete. He has to be Sam. I look from Pete to Sam and back. “I’m the pretty one,” Sam says. He reaches out like he wants to hug me, but I recoil. I can’t help it. I’ve come a long way, but not that far. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says with a nod. I extend my hand, and instead of shaking it, he lifts it to his lips. His short little moustache tickles the back of my hand. I twist my fingers out of his grip, and Pete glares at him. “Keep your fucking hands off my girl,” he growls. But then he opens his arms, and Sam falls into them. They hug the way men do, with lots of backslapping and murmured words. “I’m glad you’re here,” Pete says. “You called. I came. Like a good big brother.” “Eight minutes,” Pete growls playfully. He drops an arm around my shoulders. “He was born eight minutes before me and he thinks he’s the shit because he’s older.” He coughs into his fist. “Excuse me. I am the shit.” He grins. He looks so much like Pete that it’s almost disturbing. “I think you’re both shits,” Paul says as he goes to fridge and gets a beer.

Logan is such a little fucker. He looks at the pillow shoved in my lap and grins. “When are you going home?” I grouse. He pops a nut in his mouth and talks around it. “Never.” He smiles even bigger. I throw the extra pillow at him. “Fuck you, asshole,” I say.

I would like to have somebody to take care of.” I cough into my fist. “Someday. Like Paul and Friday. And Logan and Emily. And Matt and Sky. And Pete and Reagan. I want to be a couple.” “You want kids?” She searches my face. “Yeah.” But I don’t want them tomorrow or anything. “I’m still undecided about kids,” she says quietly. I nudge her shoulder. “You like kids. I’ve seen you with PJ and Kit.” “Just because I like them doesn’t mean I could raise one.” She points to her mouth. Then to her tapping toe. “It might be difficult.” “Raising kids is always difficult,” I say with a grin. “Look at Logan and Emily. Emily was terrified one of their kids would inherit her dyslexia.” I tilt my head and study Peck. “Is stuttering hereditary?” She shrugs. “I have no idea. If so, I’m never having kids. Ever.” Note to self: research that tomorrow and never tell her the answer.

Will you let me move into your fortress with you?” I blurt out. Her brow furrows, and she looks so damn cute that I want to kiss her, but I know I can’t. “What?” she breathes out. I get up and walk to her. “That fortress where you reside? Will you let me live there with you?” “What the fuck are you talking about?” she asks. She puts her hands on her hips and glares at me. “I don’t want to blow all your walls to bits,” I say. She has a piece of hair stuck to her lips, so I pull it away and tuck it behind her ear. “I just want to live inside them with you. Fuck,” I say, throwing up my hands. “I fucking love your walls. Every single brick. But let me move in. Let me be there with you. Then you can find out if you love me, and you can invite me to stay if you find out that you do. Just let me inside.” I take a deep breath and watch her. “Did you hit your fucking head on the way to work?” she asks. I laugh and rub my forehead. “No, but Logan just slapped some sense into me.” “Then what the fuck is wrong with you?” “I’m in fucking love with you, Friday!” I cry. “I fucking love you, you irritating, obnoxious, sexy-ass woman that I can’t get out of my fucking head.” I hit myself in the head with my fists like I’m knocking. “I’m in love with you.” I drop down onto my knees in front of her, and she steps back, so I inch forward until I can pull her belly to touch my forehead. “I’m in love with you.” I look up at her. “I’m on my knees, and I’m not going to try to get you to marry me or make you do anything you don’t want to do. Just let me in, and I’ll be happy with it.” “So, you don’t want to talk me into marrying you?” I shake my head, staring up at her like a puppy. “You’re not going to hold it over my head and refuse intimacy until I cave to what you want?” “No.” “You’re not going to keep asking me again and again?” “No.” “You’re going to stop being stupid?” I grin. “I don’t know about that one.” “You have testicles,” she says, and she shrugs. “I can’t have it all, can I?” She sinks down onto her knees in front of me. She bites her lower lip and stares at me. “Say it,” I coax. She goes back to glaring at me. “Say what?” “Whatever you’re thinking.” “I’m thinking that my knees are uncomfortable on this fucking floor, and I’m wondering how long you’re going to fucking make me stay down here.” I laugh. God, she’s so contrary! She takes my face in her hands. “Tonight, can I make you dinner?” she asks. My heart does that pitter-patter thing again. “Like a date?” She rocks her head back and forth like she’s weighing her words. “I guess you could call it a date.” “Then yes, I’d love that.” Then I remember. “But I have Hayley tonight.” She brightens. “Good.” She kisses me quickly and grins. “Because that’s about as close to a threesome as you’ll ever get with me.” She points to the floor. “Can I get up now?” she asks. “Get the fuck up,” I growl. I get to my feet, too. She falls against me and wraps her arms around my waist. “So does this mean that you don’t want to marry me?” she asks, her voice muffled against my chest. Her words touch the tattoo I just got, and it stings a little. But I don’t pull back. I don’t want her to see it yet. “I didn’t say that.” “You didn’t say the opposite.” I set her back a little and look down into her upturned face. “Are you telling me you do want to marry me?” She shakes her head and jabs a finger at me. “But I want to leave the door open.” Oh, holy hell. She’s opening a fucking door and I didn’t even have to threaten her or withhold anything or torment her in any way. I might pass out. “Okay,” I say.

I see Logan reach up and high-five her. “What was that for?” she asks. Logan grins. “I got cuddled last night.” “Because I rock,” she says, and she high-fives him again. He grins at me at the back of the shop and shakes his head. He jerks his thumb toward her and signs to me, She’s a good one. I saw that! Friday signs dramatically at him. I meant for you to! he signs back with just as much force.

Logan is wearing me out,” she admits quietly. “What do you mean?” I stand up and start to actually soap myself now that most of the paint is gone. “He’s working really hard to make it easy for me, but I wish he’d just leave and go to work and let me try to do some of it. He holds her. He gets up for every feeding and sits with us. He changes all the diapers.” I stick my head out of the curtain. “Not necessarily a bad thing.” “It’s like he thinks I can’t do it. I’m capable. I’m strong. I’m not going to break.” A tear tracks down her face. “Dammit.” She swipes it away. “I can’t stop crying lately.” “Pass me a towel,” I say. I wrap it around myself and step out. “I think you have a really good thing going on,” I tell her. “But you’re tired and your hormones are going crazy and your tits are huge.” I look at her boobs and shake my head, and she laughs. At least I can do that much for her; I can make her laugh. “It’s going to get easier.” “I miss our intimacy,” she admits. “It’s like he’s afraid to wrap around me because he doesn’t want to wake me up when I do finally get to sleep.” “Did you tell him?” “I don’t want to complain. He’s trying so hard.

What happened to your eye?” Paul asks. My eye is still a little blue from when she hit me. “Reagan hit me,” I admit. Logan grins. “Marry her,” Logan says. “Marry her right away.” I nod. “I think I might,” I say quietly. I watch their faces. They all look at me, and then Logan starts to laugh. He gets up and high-fives me. “Thank God,” he says. “I thought Emily would be the only girl around here forever.” “Emily’s not a girl,” Matt says, grimacing at the thought of it. She shoots him a heated glance. But she’s not a girl. Not to any of us. “So, you guys will be nice to her, right?” I ask. “Duh,” Sam says drolly as he walks into the kitchen and gets a beer.

Oh, it’s on now,” he growls and spins around, bending at the waist so he can toss Emily over his shoulder. Emily protests, smacking his back, but she’s suddenly serious, if the look on her face is any indication. “Put me down, Matt,” she cries. Logan jumps to his feet, and he yells for Matt to put her down, too. Matt’s still laughing, though, and he has no idea how serious they are. “Matt!” Paul yells. The room goes quiet, and Matt spins around with Emily still over his shoulder to face Paul. “Put her down before you hurt her,” he says calmly but forcefully. Logan takes Emily from Matt and lowers her to her feet. “Sorry,” Emily says sheepishly. “What’s wrong?” Matt asks. He’s suddenly serious, despite the icing that’s all over his face. Reagan is wearing some, too, and they all look ridiculous. “Did I hurt you?” he asks Emily. Emily hangs her head a little and then looks up at Logan like she’s asking for permission. She signs and talks to him at the same time. “Should we tell them?” she asks. But she’s grinning. Logan smiles, too, and nods. Emily takes a deep breath. “You’re not sick, are you?” Matt asks, and I can see the love he has for both his brothers’ girls in his eyes. And, honestly, it makes me love him even more. Emily shakes her head. She jerks a thumb toward Logan. “Your brother knocked me up,” she says. The room goes silent. Completely silent. You could have heard a pin drop. “What?” Matt asks, looking from Logan to Emily and back. He has icing all over himself, yet he’s suddenly so serious. He points to Emily’s belly. “You’re pregnant?” he whispers. Emily laughs and nods. “We’re pregnant!” she cries. “So no more tossing her over any shoulders,” Logan warns, glaring at all his brothers. They’re getting to their feet, one by one. Suddenly, Matt jerks Emily toward him and wraps his arms around her. “I’m so happy for you,” I hear him say softly as he swings her around. She giggles and holds him close to her, patting his back. Matt sets her back from him and looks down at her belly. “You’re going to be the best mom ever, Em,” he says. “I hope so,” she says quietly, laying a hand on her belly. The rest of the brothers come forward to congratulate them, and they rub Logan’s head and jab him in the side, while Emily gets lots of soft hugs. “Maybe she’ll be born perfect like her dad,” she says. She worries her lower lip. “Or fucking gifted like you,” Matt says vehemently. Emily sniffs and smiles at him, a watery grin. “There’s just one thing I want to know,” Matt says. He wraps an arm around Emily’s shoulders and looks down at her. I flinch when I see what he’s about to do, but she does kind of deserve it. His hand inches toward the countertop and he snags a cupcake. “Is the baby going to like chocolate or vanilla?” He brings it up and crams it into Emily’s startled face. She sucks in a jerky breath. “Booyah!” Matt cries, and he runs away from Emily.

God, your boobs are huge!” I say. They are. Like fucking huge. Like melon sized but with a baby attached. She laughs. “I know, right?” she says. “They’re too big. Logan likes them, though.” She smiles. “He keeps wanting to play with them.” She grimaces. “But they hurt. I think I have enough milk to feed a small nation.” I agree; she could probably start her own dairy farm, but I’m afraid to say so.

Shouldn’t you be at home letting that baby sleep or something?” Paul asks. He stalks over to the couch, flops down across from Logan, and stuffs a pillow into his lap. “That baby wakes up every two hours and can sleep just about anywhere,” Logan tells him. He glances toward the pillow Paul shoved in his lap and raises his brow. He smirks. “Did we interrupt something?” “No,” I say. Paul says, “Yes,” at the same time. Logan smirks and reaches for a can of nuts on the table. He puts his feet up and grins. “So, how was the contest?” he asks. He can barely chew around that smile. “I won!” I cry, holding my arms up. Logan and Emily both clap, but their little one startles in the car seat and lets out a cry. “Uh oh,” Logan says. “She’s awake.” “Which means she’ll want to eat,” Emily says. Logan picks her up and holds her until her face turns red and she’s screaming. “She’s definitely hungry,” Logan says, holding their daughter out to Emily. She reaches for her and turns to me. “Do you want to go in your room so I can feed her and we can talk? I still can’t get used to the whole boob-out-in-public thing.” I look at Paul, who throws up his hands and then swipes a frustrated palm down his face. Logan chuckles.

In August 2018 a drug I’d never heard of was discovered, having killed a person who overdosed near Cedar Rapids, Iowa. The drug was called isotonitazene—an opioid first synthesized in the 1950s that hits the same brain receptors as fentanyl. Iso—as it’s now known on the streets—then was found in dozens of corpses in Chicago and Milwaukee, and from there it spread to Michigan, Indiana, Tennessee, killing at least 230 people in all. Researchers believe it may be marketed by Chinese chemical labs as a replacement for fentanyl, which the Chinese government banned in 2019. In April 2020 isotonitazene seemed to fade, only to be replaced by another synthetic opioid, brorphine. Brorphine showed up in the corpses of 130 people in many of the same states. At least seventeen new synthetic drugs were identified in 2020 alone. The day I turned in my manuscript, another opioid was found on the rise, metonitazene. “It’s almost as though they’re market testing,” said Barry Logan, chief forensic scientist at NMS Labs, which does bodily fluid tests for coroners nationwide. Underground chemists seemed to be searching the chemistry literature for drugs that might be molecularly modified to be more potent. Then, like Paul Janssen did when he invented fentanyl, “they’re experimenting,” Logan said. “They’re changing the molecule’s [structure], which changes how rapidly it’s taken up into the brain. Then they put it out there on the market.