“Um, no, I want pancakes.”

So here it was: the moment I had to be the bad guy. I could either cater to his every whim, which would only end badly in the long run, or make it clear that as much as I adored him, I wasn’t a pushover.

“How about scrambled eggs and toast?” I suggested, hoping he’d make it easy for me.

“Pancakes! I like your pancakes.”

“Oliver.”

It was Logan’s voice that interrupted, but I who took Oliver’s hand and, with nothing but kind sincerity, told him, “I’m not making pancakes. This weekend we can have them, but not on a school day. The other day was a special treat. So what do you normally eat before school?”

He understood and even smiled, despite a small twitch to his lips. It was more of an ‘Oh well, I tried’ expression than an actual frown.

“I like oatmeal. With apples cut real tiny.”

“I can do that.” I drew him in for a quick hug and whispered, “Sorry I didn’t say goodnight last night.”

“It’s okay.” He leaned back and swung his legs off the bed, knocking over a giant T-rex in the process.

“You gonna introduce me to these dinosaur friends of yours this weekend?” I asked, standing.

Oliver jumped up, excitement bright in his eyes. “Will you play with me?”

“Of course, but right now you need to get ready for school.”

He leapt up, grabbed a stack of clothing sitting on his dresser, and headed into the bathroom.

“Brush your teeth,” Logan called out to him just before he shut the door.

When I finally looked his way, Logan was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed. It wasn’t a smile that greeted me—more a thoughtful stare.

I walked over to him. “I’ll go start chopping apples.” I lifted myself up on my toes and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you.” He took my hand and brought it to his lips. “You’re too good to be true.” After a kiss to my knuckles, he walked past me toward Oliver’s bathroom door.

I left them to their morning routine, a peaceful calm settling into a place in my heart I never knew existed before that moment.

I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect morning. Once my boys were out the front door, all smiles, I crawled into Logan’s bed that had been neglected overnight and fell quickly into a slumber. With no alarm set to wake me since I was still out of work for a while longer, I could’ve napped the day away if not for the piercing scream that bounced off every wall in the house and smacked me square in the head.

My body shot up, and on pure instinct I whipped the blanket off and leapt up. There was no time to think or process—only to react. Adrenaline roared through my system, fueling my movements as I scurried out the bedroom door in nothing but a long button-up of Logan’s.

Once in the hall, I followed the sobs and curdling blubbers until I found myself outside Jax’s bedroom door. The cries quieted and I took a moment to catch my breath. After I took a fretful look at the knob, my brain fired to life, processing that something was very wrong on the other side of that door.

My pulse quickened as realization sank in. I knew opening the door could lead me to see something I’d rather not if on the other side of it lay some sordid roleplaying episode, but the next words that rang through the door left me no choice.

“Stop! Please stop!”

My head spun as I flung open the door to find a gangly teen boy broken down in tears, laid out on a folding massage table. Jax sat over him, a tattoo needle in his hand.

It wasn’t what I’d expected—at all. Guess Jax isn’t playing for both teams after all.

“Ah, shit!” Jax grumbled, switching off the needle and placing it on a tray beside him.

The boy sat up with a wince. “I’m sorry. You’re gonna finish, right? You can’t leave it like this!” he bellowed, staring down at his side where the word ‘Jam’ was etched.

“‘Jam’?” I asked, more so reading it aloud than asking. I poked my head closer, tilting it to the side for a better look. The script was perfect—Jax had talent—but ‘Jam’?

“Jamie! It’s Jamie. I just…I need a break, okay?” the kid explained, breathing hard.

Jax looked annoyed and unimpressed. “I’ll give you ten minutes. Then either pull it together or I’m rescheduling you to finish it. Last thing I need is you passing out.” Jax stood, pulled off his gloves and threw them in the trash, then stalked toward me. A dipped brow framed his heavy scowl.

On instinct, I stepped back into the hall, my eyes on him. I waited as he closed the door, giving the kid some privacy.

As soon as the latch sounded, I screeched, “How old is he!?”

“Eighteen,” Jax replied with easy confidence.

“Are you sure? Did you see his ID?” My face screwed up as I began pacing the hall, questions firing rapidly through my mind. Is this legal? Could the kid’s parents sue Logan, since it was his house? How many times has Jax done tattoos here? Is it even hygienic?

Jax chuckled. “Calm down. I check every ID. Caleb even taught me how to spot a fake. The kid in there’s a freshman on campus—just a pussy, that’s all. I get them from time to time.”

I wrenched to a halt and snapped my head his way. “Time to time? Meaning you do this often?” I gaped at him. “And Caleb knows? Does Logan?” My chest burned with my held breath as I waited for his answers.

“Yes, Caleb knows—and he agrees Logan doesn’t need to know.”

“What!? It’s his house, Jax!”

I was stunned to hear Caleb was okay with keeping a secret from Logan. But then again, I had hidden my own secret from him.

After a pause, my head dropped and I released a sigh. “That’s what you were hiding the other day—your tattoo equipment?” Shaking my head slowly, I smiled to myself, remembering the pixie-haired girl who’d left his room the previous day. She hadn’t slept with him after all, which was a relief considering he’d screwed her roommates.

“Let’s just say Logan wouldn’t be pleased to know I’m doing this, whether here or elsewhere—which is why I need you to keep your yap shut.” His voice was rough, but his eyes were pleading.

With a huff of annoyance at the situation, I balked. “I won’t lie if he asks.”

“Fair enough. Just don’t bring it up. I’m doing it here to save money to open my own shop. If Logan shuts me down—or worse, kicks me out—there’s no place left for me to go. I’m enjoying my reprieve from the city, and not looking to return just yet.”

“Why not explain to Logan about your goal to open a shop? Maybe he’d help. I mean, he could partner with you or something. Isn’t that what he does—owns businesses and all?”

His face fell and his voice grew hard. “Not tattoo shops. Logan’s like my father: wants me to pay my dues and all and thinks tattoos won’t earn me a living. He won’t see that it’s the only thing that I want. It’s what I love to do.”

I felt for him. He was following his dream. How could Logan try to shut that down?

Jax continued, his eyes lighting up. “Caleb gets it, though. He knows Logan will eventually see that I can earn my way and open my own place without his help. So, seriously, can we keep this between us?”