Young Logan Lerman Mga Nobela at Kwento

Kyle said through his teeth. “Great, I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.” Logan said proudly. “Just keep your mouth shut, Parker.” Kyle said angrily and hung up on Logan. “Oh, Kyle!” Logan laughed and retrieved a business card from his desk drawer, and then he dialled the number that was written on the card. "Sasha-Lee Van der Merwe?" He asked. “Yes, who’s this?” “Logan Parker.” He said with a smirk. “I’m hanging up!” She said angrily.

Amelie’s POV “Lumberjack?” I turned to Logan. “Yeah, that’s my nickname,” Logan said, running his hand through his hair. “I realize that, but why?” I asked. “Well, it started as Log, short for Logan. Then it turned into Wood, but then I slashed someone one time, and they said I was chopping wood. So now I’m Lumberjack,” Logan explained. “Makes sense,” I giggled. The door to Logan’s swung open, and there, standing in the hall, was an endless sea of teenagers. Ugh…teenage hormones. They are standing there like I’m their fantasy. I put my hand on my face.

"It turns out Logan and Alisson grew up in the same area." The theme for this episode was returning to the city where Logan studied. Up until now, no one had ever imagined that our paths could have crossed. In the front row, Eddie's brows furrowed as he shot me a look across the bus. "Not quite," Logan replied. "I was only there temporarily as a visiting student." It was an open secret in the industry that Logan had a rough childhood. He had a domestic abuser for a stepfather and a gambling addict for a mother. It was a history that anti-fans frequently weaponized against him.

His voice sounded menacing, even enraged. “Yes, Dad. This is Logan. He was 12 at the time of the attack and managed to help Emma and your future daughter-in-law escape with their lives. He’s spent the last dozen years a prisoner who’s been horrifically abused by his father.” I said softly, eyeing my dad closely and hoping my tone conveyed the proper warning.

I hated Logan Keller long before the accident that killed Ryan. It started the day Ryan brought me home to meet his family—me at twenty-one, fresh tattoos on my arms, heavy makeup, laugh too loud for their stuffy dinner table. Logan was twenty-eight, already the golden boy: high-powered lawyer, corner office, suits that cost more than my rent. Ryan was the younger brother, the “charming” one who partied with me, fucked me in dive bar bathrooms, promised forever while sliding into DMs behind my back.

Logan was always too quick react than he was to think first. “Can you hear yourself? You’re being dumb, Lucas!” Logan argued. “Why shouldn’t you get a message with your own instructions? We’re the same age after all, aren’t we? He’s not any older than you than he is with me. But yet we get treated like he’s decades older and we’re his minions!”

"Do you really have to be so perfect?" Logan grinned up at her. "You think I'm perfect?" Trisha sighed and rolled her eyes. "You look perfect at least, but anyone spending time with you learns that's not the case. You act like a high-schooler with his first crush." Logan pouted. "I'm not a teenager, I just really like you." He tilted his head back. "If we ever get to spend some serious time alone, I can show you how much not like a kid I am."

a faint smile spreads across my face. “How’s the family?” Lucian changes the subject, his voice gentler now. “Good." Logan’s eyes brighten. “Can you believe the twins are starting middle school next semester?” “Middle school?” My jaw drops. “Weren’t they born just the other day?” “Feels like it,” Logan laughs. “Time really is flying.” We all nod and share a few more laughs before Logan pats Lucian on the back. “I’ll let you guys get to your evening. Just wanted to bring the news personally.”

She asked with a raised eyebrow. Logan smiled. “Yeah. I'm a travel blogger. I travel to exotic places and write about them. Then people read my posts and the dollars start flowing in. Most times, I get ambassadorial deals from institutions. Either way, my bread is always buttered.” He spoke with confidence. It was evident that he was proud of his job and he had passion for it. Luna hummed in acknowledgement. “So. Luna. Artist? Huh?” Logan asked with a wriggle of his eyebrows.

1997, October. It was the beginning of a new session. Logan is twelve years old and a high school sophomore. He's seated at the edge of his bed, stuffing books into his backpack when his door cracked open and his little brother, Dylano walked in, dressed up in his tiny rusty green hoody with a denim jacket on top of it. He looked worried and Logan understood why. He was anxious and scared. Because today he was starting highschool . . . . . as a freshman.