Inspired

by Jessica Florence

  I’d dressed in the outfit he’d sent me while I was in New York. The pink and blue floral skirt flowing with every sway of my hips as I walked into the bar. Logan’s Jeep wasn’t here, but I went inside anyway, figuring I’d just hang out with Tink while I waited.

  “There’s my girl,” Tate hollered.

  Callum’s head popped out from beside him.

  “You guys here every night? Don’t you two have fantastic lives to get to?” I teased and sat down next to them on the wooden stool.

  They would keep my mind off life until Logan showed up, hopefully with good news about his program.

  “We always celebrate a new Inspired client here. I’ve only got an hour before I have to head out, but it’s a tradition we try to keep as best as we can.” Callum raised his beer to his lips, looking at me with a smile before taking a sip.

  Not a bad tradition, and I loved their brotherly camaraderie.

  Tink came over with a large plate full of buffalo wings, mozzarella sticks, and fried pickles.

  “Hey, Tink.” I waved hello.

  She gave me a wink before walking back to take care of the customers sitting at the bar. The place was pretty busy tonight, and I understood why. The atmosphere was calming and judge-free. No one cared what the person around them was doing unlike some bars where everyone loved to be in each other’s business. Here, you could be yourself, drink, have fun, and no one paid attention.

  Ten minutes later, Logan still hadn’t shown up. I anxiously glanced at my phone, hoping that he was okay. I’d only known him for seven weeks, but being late was not really something he did. Even his two friends were constantly looking at me while talking and then glancing at the door and down to their watches.

  I pushed away the uneasy feelings attempting to weigh down in my gut like a stone in the water. Everything was fine. He probably just hit that glorious Tampa traffic. At seven thirty in the evening. Totally normal.

  Another twenty minutes passed, and the two men in front of me were shifting in their seats, fidgeting with their food, eyes moving from the clock on the wall to the door.

  “Something isn’t right,” I voiced, the first of us to say something about Logan’s strange absence.

  “He normally texts if he is late by some chance. But we haven’t gotten anything. Have you?” Tate’s casual smile and humor were gone. Concern was clear in his tight jaw and narrowing eyes at the door.

  “No, I’ve been checking but nothing. I hope he’s okay. This doesn’t really seem like him.” Especially not after all the time we’d been spending together lately.

  A ding echoed inside the bar, and we three all checked our phones to see if Logan had texted us. But it wasn’t our phones that notified of a text.

  A gasp, followed by a glass shattering against the concrete floor, had our gazes shifting to Tink behind the bar. Her hand was covering her mouth while her focus was completely on the phone in her other hand.

  “Tink, what’s wrong?” Callum was up and moving to her.

  Tate and I joined him. Ready to assist if we needed to.

  She tried to speak, her mouth opening and then shutting, like she was struggling to say the words. Her hand gently set the phone on the bar and slid it in our direction. We all peered at the screen at the same time. A shiver of unease slid over my skin for what I was about to see. But never would I have thought I’d see the words before me.

  Logan: Mom killed herself. I’ve left for Utah. Tell them, please.

  Oh God.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Logan

  I felt low and spiraling even further than I had in years.

  Deep down, I knew I’d done everything I could for Mom. What she had done was her choice. It wasn’t like I’d forced all those pills down her throat and then made her drink the whole bottle of vodka afterward. I knew this. I knew all this.

  But it didn’t matter right now. I was fucked up in the head, and my mental state was shit. I felt like the worst human being to walk the planet.

  My mom had committed suicide because she felt lonely and wanted my dad.

  She’d fucking still had me, and I wasn’t enough for her to want to live.

  I knew that. God, how I knew I wasn’t enough. But her actually leaving this life with me still breathing in it hurt. It hurt so much that I didn’t know where the pain began inside me and where it ended.

  I was worthless, and she’d proven it.

  Parts of me tried to remember my training—that I was enough, that I wasn’t worthless. But I gave those parts the middle finger and kept on falling down into the rabbit hole.

  The drink in front of me did little to calm my thoughts, as did the people around me, saying their condolences about my mother and father, having been so close in deaths.

  I tried to smile, to offer them some kindness that the sun would shine again, but I kept drinking instead and wandered off where hopefully no one would talk to the piece of shit that nobody loved.

  “Not true. Your friends and Mia love you,” I said aloud as if talking to another of myself.

  “Love is complicated, Logan. Take a fucking look around at what love did to this family. She loved him so much that she killed herself and left you. You aren’t fucking lovable.” I sneered at the words that had come out of my own mouth. They tasted worse than the liquor. So, I washed the flavor away with more from my glass.

  “Logan?”

  Well, this was going to be great.

  Insert sarcasm here.

  “What are you doing here, Mia?”

  I turned to see the goddess behind me, wearing a modest black dress and matching shoes. She was staring at me, absorbing my current state with an expression of concern.

  “I wanted to be here for you. Callum and Tate are here, too.”

  My friends were dicks, bringing her here, into this shithole of an existence.

  “I’ve got it under control.” I lifted my glass and walked past her into the living room of my dead mother’s house to find my so-called friends.

  They were talking with my cousin Leighton, their eyes widening as they saw me approach.

  “I told you I was fine, and you brought her here?”

  I wasn’t happy about this at all. Mia didn’t need to see me like this, and truthfully, after what had happened here with Mom, I wasn’t feeling right about Mia. All my relationships with love were complicated as fuck and ended in disaster to my heart.

  “You need her,” Callum was the first to answer.

  Tate was staying silent since he was the one usually known to get a rise out of me, and now wasn’t the time to do so.

  I scoffed, refusing to rely on anyone right now. Even them.

  Mia walked up behind me, her hand touching my shoulder in comfort that I didn’t want right now.

  Before the words could be sent through the should I speak or not section of my head, I was sputtering out something that should have been sorted into the not space, “I don’t need you here. This is what I meant when I said complicated. This right fucking here.”

  My heart broke further when I saw the look in her eyes.

  I was a worthless piece of shit.

  “I’m here even if you think you don’t need me.” She stood taller, that hurt turning into something worse—stubbornness.

  Not worth fighting right now. Instead of arguing with them, I left for the room I was staying in this empty house, grabbing the bottle of whiskey on my way up.

  No one would miss me. Hell, everyone blamed me, like they had when Dad died. I should have been here for my mom. I could have made her think about life in a more positive way and been here as a loving son.

  Well, I wasn’t a loving fucking son. I had flown back to Tampa and forgotten about Mom while burying myself in Mia.

  A knock against the door made me look up from the bed I was sitting on. Mia opened it, and I groaned. I did not need this right now. I was having a solo pity party that consumed me. She wasn’t welcome.

  “I don’t care that you
don’t want me here or how shitty you feel inside that head. I don’t care what you say to me. I’m not leaving you. And, before you start mouthing that love is complicated and that we should give up, know that I believe love is worth fighting for, even when it gets messy. Because that’s what we have, Logan. Love. I know you love me just as much as I love you. Real love is seeing all the ugly parts of each other and saying I’m staying anyway. You’ve seen me at my worst, and you were my peace. Now, it’s my turn to be yours. However long it takes.”

  She walked over with a fierce determination in her step, fingers gripping my tie and pulling my lips to hers.

  For a moment, I believed her. Those lips, that scent providing a sort of peace like a balm to my waning sanity.

  But then I remembered where I was by the sounds of chattering below, echoing up the stairs into the room. The feeling of peace from another person was toxic, like it was to my mother and father. Look where they’d ended up.

  “You need to go. I’m sorry, Mia, but I’m not what you need. What we had was great, but I don’t want you anymore.” My voice was cold, as was the feeling inside my chest, the chill of it settling over my skin. Breaking inside like the splintering of ice on a winter’s pond under pressure.

  “How about you let me decide what I need? I’ll see you tomorrow, Logan.”

  She kissed me again, and like the asshole I was, I closed my eyes, pressing my lips to hers in a final good-bye kiss. I wasn’t going down this path again. Love had only hurt me. My marriage had nearly destroyed me as a person, and this pain of my parents choosing life over loving me was too much for me to bear. One more shard to my chest disguised as love would be my ending. Mia would try to make me see differently; I believed that. So, I would have to make her believe me, even as my heart was breaking with every word to push her away.

  I’d given her everything she needed to move on, to find someone who deserved her. To be happy. I just didn’t think she’d be putting my words to real-life application without me by her side.

  Love was indeed complicated.

  I glanced at her one last time as our lips parted. My blue gaze meeting her determined gray focus on me.

  “You shouldn’t have fallen for me,” I told her, wishing it were true right now. My fingers gripping the bottle in my hand, as I was ready to down the rest of its contents to forget this moment and every one of them that had come before it.

  “I did, and now, you’re mine, Logan Woodland. Even the drunk asshole version of you.” She turned and left without another word.

  I couldn’t get the drink to my lips fast enough. Ready to not feel this pain in my chest—hell, this ache threatening my bones, shattering my mind into unrepairable pieces.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Mia

  Logan had fallen into a pit of despair, drinking his way through the minutes of the clicking clock on the wall. He hadn’t come down after my little chat with him, nor did he leave the room the next morning when his friends and I made him breakfast.

  “Was he like this when he got divorced?”

  Both of them shook their heads.

  Tate lifted some orange juice to his mouth, looking up in the direction of the room where Logan was passed out.

  “He’s gone somewhere deep in his mind, and feelings he’s probably repressed about his past and parents are flooding him like they happened yesterday,” Callum encouragingly gave his thoughts.

  I remembered Logan saying the same things once to me. He was in a dark place, and I had to be the beacon that reminded him that the light still shone in the night sky.

  I’d lose my voice, trying to reach him inside that head if I had to.

  “He’ll come around,” I voiced my positive thought, trying to manifest it into reality.

  Both men nodded, but it wasn’t a confident type of nod. This time was different, and they both weren’t sure what to do to help the situation.

  “Okay, well, let’s go get him up and showered. I’m sure he has stuff to do, decisions to make. He’s not gonna sit there and waste the day away.”

  He never let me sit and wallow. Even when I’d felt like giving up, when I had been falling down the depression black hole.

  “He is up, and despite the headache raging on, he remembers that he told you to leave. You’re not wanted here.” Logan stumbled on the last step, his hand on his head trying to alleviate the pressure.

  “He is hurting and needs us more than ever,” I countered, which earned me a narrowed glare.

  It was better than the emptiness that lingered in the air behind him.

  “Goddamn it, Mia. Get the fuck out of my house. I don’t know how else to prove to you that we are over. You lit up on my cock and smiled your way to happiness. Good for you. Falling for me was your mistake, one I told you about. I’ve got shit to handle here and a life to get back to.”

  A life without me in it—words he’d left off.

  I couldn’t say they didn’t sting. That his words and harsh voice didn’t punch me in the gut like he’d physically hit me.

  But I saw what he was doing for what it was. He was afraid and trying to push me away for his own good.

  Tears threatened to break free, to stream down my cheeks like a river of heartbreak. But I held them back, the choking feeling in my throat making it difficult to speak.

  “I love you, Logan.”

  I would go. I would let him sort this out with his two friends there to make sure he didn’t get into trouble.

  But I wasn’t going away for good. He could be an ass all he wanted right now. I had been married to one for years. I could handle this amazing man in a devil’s mask, spewing hurt at me until he got it all out.

  I just had to stick it out, be there for him when he thought I’d leave. The smoke would settle from this fire, and beauty would come out of the ashes.

  “I’ll be at the hotel. Call if you need me.” I grabbed my purse and walked out into the dry summer air of Utah.

  My rental car was waiting for me in the driveway, and I followed the GPS back to my hotel.

  Not wanting to let Logan’s hurtful words sink lower inside me than they had, I threw myself into work. Jay had forwarded me all my missed messages, and I worked from this location as my home base instead of the Tampa one. Of course, my Utah team was helpful and loved having me. It was nice to see what all was happening here earlier than my trip planned in October.

  But, once the work was done and the hours dwindled past four in the morning, all I’d heard of Logan was Callum’s text that he was drunk but okay. I hadn’t managed to sleep one bit, and my own insecurities started to dig at my thoughts. Maybe I wasn’t what Logan needed. I was still working on myself after all. I was no therapist or healer of the mind. I had the teachings Logan had given me, and I’d try my hardest to use them. But what if I wasn’t good enough in the end?

  “Stop it.” I gritted my teeth and turned over on the mattress.

  I was enough, damn it. I’d spent years feeling inadequate in life. I’d let Wallace make me feel so small that I believed him, let myself believe that I wasn’t the amazing woman that I was today.

  Instead of worrying about what I couldn’t control in this moment, I closed my eyes and counted my breaths, feeling the movement of my chest, until I fell asleep. Knowing I needed all the strength it would take to help Logan out of the darkness trying to drag him under, like it had me.

  When I woke up a few hours later, I saw a text from Tate saying that Logan was breaking and that I needed to get over there as soon as I could. As fast as I possibly could, I got dressed, brushed my teeth, and ran out the door.

  Logan was sitting on the living room floor. Everything around him was torn in disaster. The coffee table had been flipped, the glass shattered on the blue carpet. Frames had been scattered around the room, like they’d been thrown in every direction.

  “Oh, Logan.” I wept for him, for the hurt he was suffering from.

  He didn’t turn, hearing my voice, and my gaze found
his friends. Tate was sporting a new bruise under his right eye, and Callum’s hair looked like he’d been pulling at it for hours.

  “Logan.” I slowly walked closer to his collapsed form on the ground.

  Silence answered me.

  “I’m here, baby.” I tried again. Even if he didn’t answer me, I knew he’d heard me. I just hoped it reached him beneath the quiet rage humming around him.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Logan

  I’d started sorting through what of my parents’ items in the house that I wanted to keep and what to toss.

  They didn’t keep one photo from my childhood out on display. There was a box in Mom’s closet that hosted the few pictures of my innocence.

  There was no part of me in this house. Something I never realized or thought I cared about until I was trying to find a piece of myself in their life.

  There was none. I was nothing to them.

  The first frame to smash against the wall felt good to my soul, so I just kept going. I was going to toss everything in this house anyway. The sadness and pain turned to anger. There was no ounce of remorse as I remodeled the house of the people who’d birthed me.

  Callum and Tate tried to stop me, to calm me down, but I gave Tate a warning to back off before I punched him, still boiling from that anger. I didn’t regret that either. We all had our moments where we needed to fight to get the rage out. This was my turn.

  When the anger bubbled over, I sat on the floor amid the wreckage. Attempting to let this place, these memories, and the old inhabitants go. Forgiveness was not on the horizon for now, but I knew enough to let this shit go for the moment.

  Then, I heard her voice.

  She’d come, and she could see what love did in my eyes. The pain of what I was feeling was shattered in broken pieces all over the floor.

  I didn’t have the rage left in me to tell her to go away, to make her believe I was the asshole I felt right now. So, I just shut off my mind from her touch, from her comfort. She tried to reach me, an admirable attempt, but I’d made up my mind. She was not right for me. Love wasn’t right for me. I knew her inside and out, felt her pain and fears.