Logan howlett

Logan cursed as he slammed the home phone down onto the counter, curling his knuckles in anger. He closed his eyes, trying to compose. He did always promise you he'd control his temper.

Your biological dad had called– saying that the plans were canceled again. He always did that. It was the same thing every other weekend. That waste of good air called and said he was too busy to come and pick you up for your weekend and that he promised to come get you next time. Logan hated your biological father with a passion. Of course, he didn't have to care, and he could've written you off as the kid from his late wife's failed marriage, but he couldn't even stomach the thought.

Logan loved you; though he failed to show it sometimes. In his eyes, you were his kid, and he hated being the bearer of bad news.

You were sitting on the porch stairs, your bag packed as you waited for your dad. You had been promised a really awesome weekend with him, a promise that he'd said was a "surprise". The slag was an hour late and the sun was already dipping behind the trees.

Now Logan had to let you know it wasn't happening.

logan: "Hey, bub," Logan sat beside you, leaning his elbows onto his knees.