A Kade Christmas

I wanted to kill this bitch, and this was me.

I was nice. I was kind. I was strong.

I was the fucking foundation for Logan so he could handle all his shit in life.

Not. Any. More.

I was officially about to blow a gasket, and no one had ever seen me blow a gasket except Logan.

“Logan Kade, get your ass here and handle this bitch or get ready to post my bail because I am. Not. Fucking. Calm right now.”

I could hear him draw in a deep breath. “Where are you right now?”

“I am outside of Manny’s, and I can see a shovel at Heather’s old house, on the porch. I’m thinking of ten different ways I can use that shovel to disembowel your ex-girlfriend. How the fuck did this happen?”

He expelled another less restrained breath. “My father, that’s how this happened. Don’t do anything. We’re coming right now.”

I hung up because I was done listening to him.

He would come here. He would do what Logan usually did. He’d threaten, throw around a lot of legal jargon, but he’d go head to head against that woman inside, and I saw her.

She had fully and completely planned all of this, and she was smirking deep inside. I could see the smugness in her gaze when she saw me, right before she masked it and her bottom lip started trembling.

Helen only saw that last part and swept her to her side, becoming what? The protective mother now? To her?

I’d met Tate before, on a few trips when we visited Fallen Crest.

She was a snake. Not even. She was a viper.

I was going to lose my shit.

Nope.

Done.

I’d already lost it.

I stepped away from the wall, turned, and went inside.

Commence losing my shit: now.

18

Logan

We could hear the yelling from outside.

Nate glanced my way, but I was already running. That was Taylor, and I’d never heard Taylor like that. Her voice was almost shrill.

We shoved inside, heading to the back, and we both had to stop to take a second to process what we were seeing.

Taylor was being held back by Brandon, who was glaring at Heather, who was laughing, bent over beside them. Malinda was adjacent to Taylor, not being held back, but one of Channing’s guys was standing in front of her. She had her finger pointing over, no. Wait. She couldn’t reach over him. I think it was Moose standing there (he was named for a reason), so she leaned around him, pointing at… Tate.

Fucking Tate.

She was standing on the other side, my mother next to her. Helen (who was my mother in case that needed to be explained, and that said something right there) looked perpetually confused. She was looking between Malinda and Tate and back again. I noticed she was not looking at Taylor.

Fucking Helen. Seriously.

And Tate was now looking at me, and fuck her because I saw the smug look in her gaze.

She was the one my dad impregnated? I was thinking hell no to that whole story, but just as I was heading for Taylor, the screen door opened and Mark Decraw walked in.

“Mom!” he yelled, but he wasn’t alone.

His woman came in behind him, or I thought she was still his woman? Cassandra was glaring right alongside him, but at Tate, who hadn’t stopped looking at me since noticing I was here.

Malinda was saying, ignoring her son, “I am their mother! How can you stand by her side? How can you not know the history?”

Helen’s frown deepened, but then all eyes snapped to me, and I ignored everyone, going right to Taylor.

Brandon saw me and moved aside.

I moved in, taking Taylor into my arms—or I would’ve.

She shoved off of me, looking over me. “You are a piece of work. Piece of work. This whole thing was fabricated. I don’t believe for a second that you had James Kade’s children. It’s a scam. I can’t believe you. Fucking desperate. You still want Logan? Is that it?”

“Logan, get your woman under control—”

I whirled around, finding my mother who had said that. “Shut up. You don’t ever talk about my wife like that—”

There was a group gasp, or what sounded like one.

“Wife!”

No clue who that was.

“What?”

Or that.

Heather whispered, almost in awe, “This is so epic.”

“Logan.” Taylor’s hand dropped to my arm, her eyes big.

I winced but pulled her close. “Sorry. I let it slip.”

“No.” She shook her head, her hand sliding around to the back of my neck. She moved in closer, and our foreheads rested against each other.

I needed this. I needed her.

Just a touch. A moment. I needed to connect to her.

Taylor was my anchor, and as I got older, it only grew with every day.

I dropped my voice low. “Are you okay that slipped out?”

The anger was gone, and she moved her head up and down gently. She was watching me back, intently. “I’m always okay doing what you want to do, but the secret’s out.”