“I can give you a hundred bucks,” he said, and Logan cringed.
“That's a two-thousand-dollar ring,” Kass said. Her voice was steady, never cowering. She was an excellent negotiator, better than he would have been.
“Okay,” he said. “Five hundred.”
“I won't take less than fifteen hundred for it,” said Kass, and Logan wanted to plug his ears so he wouldn't hear any more. Five hundred bucks wasn't much, but it would get them where they were going.
“Seven hundred,” the guy handed the engagement ring back to her and shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”
“Eight,” Kass said. She slipped the ring back onto her finger—her right finger, he noticed—and turned away. “Otherwise, thanks for your time.”
Logan watched, shocked, as Kass made her way towards the door. He was about to follow when the big guy called for her.
“Fine,” he said. “I can give you eight hundred.”
Logan watched her stroll confidently back to the counter. Her shoulders were back, lips set in a stern line. They were lovely lips, he noticed, and not for the first time.
Kissable lips.
“Deal,” Kass said, and she shook his hand. They made the transaction, and she handed over her ring, showing no emotion as she did. He had to hand it to her—she did well at hiding certain emotions. It could never really matter how shitty a relationship was; pawning your engagement ring to get extra money for the man who took you hostage had to be weird, if not painful. But of course, it had been her idea, at least he could rest easy knowing that.
“Let's go,” Kass said, stuffing the money into her pocket. He was pleasantly surprised when she grabbed his hand and pulled him with her out the door. Her skin was warm; such a pleasant change from the icy cold it had been. He preferred it warm.
They got back into the car, silent, and Logan pulled onto the freeway, sneaking a glance as Kass every few minutes to see if she had broken down in sobs yet. She hadn't, not that he should have been surprised. Every time he was confident he knew all there was to know about her, she proved him wrong yet again.
“Are you okay?” he said finally. “That must have been hard.”
“No,” she said. Her voice was blank. Emotionless. He found that when she hid her emotions, it was always something greater. “I'm fine. It was fine.”
Okay, so he didn't know her well, but he knew her enough to know that she was so full of shit it was coming out her ears.
“You don't have to hide anything, Kass,” Logan said. “You don't have to hide your emotions. Not from me.”
“I'm not sure if I can be clearer,” she said. He watched her spin to face him. “I am fine.”
“You can talk to me.”
“Shut the fuck up, Logan.”
“For Christ’s sake,” he snapped. He slammed his fist on the wheel, feeling the anger exploding from his chest. “Can't you ever just—let go?”
She looked at him then, shocked, her mouth slightly agape and her lovely gray-blue eyes wide. She stared, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke. Logan felt himself about to speak, to apologize, but it was only a few more seconds before he finally saw her eyes brimming with tears. The color of her eyes became vivid then, and Logan felt the relief flood through him. She needed to show emotion. She couldn't always be angry or upset—everyone was sad sometimes, especially her. And on top of everything, he wanted her to be comfortable enough to do it. He wanted her to cry in front of him. No, to him. That's all he wanted.
“I always knew something was wrong,” Kass said. She was facing forward now, the tears streaming silently down her crimson-colored cheeks. “We dated a long time, and I always knew something like this would happen, way back in the corner of my mind.”
“Fine,” he said. At least she was talking. “Then why didn't you end it before it came to this?”
She hesitated as if trying not to break down further, and he wondered if he should quit while he was ahead.
“He was all I knew,” she said. “From high school and on, Ryan was it, Logan. He was…it.”
“I don't get it.”
“No,” agreed Kass. “I don't expect you to.”
Logan sighed, overwhelmed. He shouldn't expect her to talk to him about things like that. He was the bad guy here; he had taken her at gunpoint and been mean and angry and pushy the whole time. She didn't have to tell him anything. She didn't have to tell him anything.
But he wanted her to.
“It seems to me if you know a person is like that from the start, why would you stay with him?”
Now he was poking a sleeping bear, and he knew it, but he couldn't bring himself to quit. Logan wanted to know Kass, he wanted to feel what she was feeling, and he wanted to sympathize with her. From what he could see, she rarely got an opportunity to be the one in pain; the one cared for by another being who gave enough of a shit to wrap their arms around her and allow her to just—be.
Kass sighed, looking like she would be content to punch him in the face, but that was something he had come to accept.
“Sometimes people turn out to mean more to you than you ever expected,” she said finally. “You share moments, good and bad—and suddenly they're a big part of your life, and it would kill you to lose them. You live for half of your life without knowing that person existed, and then suddenly they become a part of you. A piece that was missing.”
“I see,” Logan said. He turned his attention back to the road, wondering—somewhere down in his heart—if they were still talking about Ryan.
Chapter Seventeen
Nevada was an ugly state. Dry, hot, and barren. Miles and miles of desert and red rock laid out in front of them. On all sides, it was sand and cactus. No water. No ocean. Just desert. Logan didn't like the desert, and he especially didn't like the heat. He enjoyed the rain. He enjoyed the snow. He did not enjoy Goddamn Nevada.
“I couldn't imagine living in a place like this,” Kass mused, staring out the window. “It's so—” she hesitated, searching for the right word.
“Ugly?” he offered.
He was taken by surprise when she smiled. “Yeah. Ugly.”
She rested her head against the window with a sigh, closing her eyes. The sun was coming in through the windshield, masking her face and skin with light. Her hair shimmered when she moved, and Logan had a sudden desire to lean over and touch it. Some of the color had returned to her face, and she was no longer so pale and sick looking. She looked almost vibrant—happy.
“I don't know about you, but this heat is making me thirsty,” Logan said. He looked over at her, gauging her reaction. “How 'bout a drink?”
Kass looked up at him, surprised. “Um. Sure.”
“Mesquite is just up ahead. We can stay there tonight and take off in the morning. Does that work?” He found that nothing satisfied him more than making her happy, even if it was with something as simple as a drink. She had a beautiful smile, and he longed to see it. When she smiled, his world lit up, and he knew that she had no fucking idea the effect she was having on him.
“Does it matter?” she asked, frowning at him. “You haven't asked my opinion yet.”
“Well,” he said. “I am now.”
She was quiet as she pondered this, as if she were searching for some underlying cruel joke—a hidden agenda, maybe. Finally, she said, “Yes. It sounds fine.”
“Good.” Logan stared at the road in front of them, one hand resting on top of the yellow dog's head. “You thirsty, dude?” he asked. “I bet you're thirsty as hell, huh?”
The dog's head lifted at the sound of his voice, and his ears cocked forward.
“Dude?” Kass repeated. “Is that what you ended up naming him?”
“I haven't named him yet,” Logan said. “This should be a mutual decision.”
She raised her eyebrows at him, looking less than enthused over the prospect of naming their four-legged companion.
“How about Rover?” she said.
Logan grimaced. “D
ear Jesus, woman.”
“Well, I don't know! God!” she flung her hands in the air, already looking overwhelmed. “He's a damn dog, Logan.”
“Don't listen to her,” Logan said to the mutt. “She's just cranky.”
“Do you have a better suggestion?”
Logan frowned, wracking his brain. Ahead of them on the road, a mileage sign popped into view. “I know,” he said. “How 'bout Vegas?”
“Vegas?” Kass repeated doubtfully. “Like Las Vegas?”
“No,” Logan said. “Like Vegas.”
“That's stupid.”
“It is not! It's better than Rover.”
“No, it's not.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Whatever.” She shook her head at him, turning away with a pointed look, her gaze out the window. On the radio, a familiar song came on, and Logan leaned down to turn it up. It was a song he had grown up with; a song his mother had played for him and Ashley on long road trips. In fact, he hadn't heard the song since her passing thirteen years ago, and a black hole of buried emotions arose suddenly as he tapped his fingers to the melody, nodding his head to the music. Kass was staring silently out the window, still, pouting, and Vegas had retreated to his spot on the seat in the back.
“When I wake up, well, I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next to you—” He saw Kass look over at him, eyebrows arched, and he caught her gaze with a smile. “When I go out, yeah, I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you—”
“If I get drunk, well I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you.” Kass finished.
Logan met her gaze again, feeling a soft flutter in his heart as he watched her sing. She was smiling, a tiny dimple appearing on her right cheek. She was cute when she smiled. She had a great smile. After the news of Ryan had battered her down to near death, and the miles had passed far behind them, she was opening again, and it made him soar with pleasure. When she was upset, he found that it affected him as much as it did her. When she was okay—he was okay.
When they were okay, the world was okay.
Logan turned back to face the road, unable to keep the grin off his face. It was such a bizarre situation they were in, and yet it felt so normal and so right, as if every moment in his life had been leading him up to this exact moment in time.
“But I would walk five hundred miles—”
“And I would walk five hundred more—”
“Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles and falls down at your door.”
The motel room wasn't glitzy, per usual, but it got the job done.
It was warm in Mesquite, so different from the rain in Washington, and Kass allowed the sun to flood her skin as they grabbed their things from the car and checked in. The sun was setting, painting the sky with an array of pastels. The purple and blue colors above embraced her in a moment of perfect contentment.
Despite the situation, despite her mood, despite everything going on in her life, Kass stopped in the parking lot, watching the sunset in the distance. She took a deep breath, feeling the fresh air fill her lungs. It was the first time she felt at peace in so long. Even with Ryan—even before Ryan--her life had been in shambles, a puzzle waiting to be put together, only half done and pushed to the side, forgotten. She had settled for what she thought she deserved—a cheating, abusive fiancé, and a bleak, boring life. But now—now, standing in the parking lot of a Nevada hotel, looking up at the brilliant, painted sky with Logan beside her, she felt wonderful.
“Is that a casino?” she asked, squinting across the parking lot. Logan laughed, stopping to wait for her, but the yellow dog—dreadfully named Vegas—tugged anxiously at the homemade leash Logan had thrown together. It dawned on Kass how much she enjoyed his laugh when he wasn't mocking her. It was a nice laugh. She liked hearing it.
“Welcome to Nevada,” he said. He picked up her bag of clothes and slung it over his shoulder, unlocking the door for them. It was chilled in the room, much more like home with the AC running. Kass kicked off her shoes and claimed one of the queen beds, realizing how bizarre it was that she was falling into this routine. She didn't even bother questioning it anymore.
“I'm going to run to that gas station across the road,” Logan said. He dropped his bag to the floor and shrugged off his jacket. Under the T-shirt, his muscles rippled and tensed, and she could see the white shirt cling to his body where he was sweating in the heat. “Do you want anything?”
“No. I'm okay.” Kass watched as he gathered some change and walked out the door. She stared after him for a moment, admiring the way his ass looked in those jeans. She could hear people laughing outside; listened to the cars on the road near their room. At her feet, Vegas stared at her with big, chocolate brown eyes, begging for a scratch behind the ear. He scooted between her knees and rested his slobbery mouth on her knee, whimpering quietly.
Outside, there was more laughter. Joy. A girl shrieked playfully, yelling something indistinct at her lover. Kass thought of home, wondered if she should call Abby and tell her she was okay. Could she do that? Were the phones bugged? As Kass stared at the phone on the nightstand, debating, lyrics played in her head.
When I'm dreaming, well I know I'm gonna dream, I'm gonna dream about the time when I'm with you…
Logan tossed a wad of cash onto the counter and waved a slight goodbye to the gas-station attendant. He gathered up the six-pack of Bud and the flowers he found for Kass and made his way back over to the motel. Yes, he was giving her another out. If she were smart, she would be gone. Long gone. Would she report him? Probably. She should. He had hurt her, and he had done it more than once. Why did he assume she would still be there when he got back? Was he an idiot? He couldn't let himself grow on her. That was unfair. It was unfair to both of them, especially to her.
Kass had once been his prisoner, and yet, recently—it didn't feel like it. Seeing her smile, listening to her sing, even watching her cry had started a fire in him—had lit up emotions he hadn't even known he'd had. He'd had some girlfriends in his life, quite a few one-night-stands, and now, as he thought about it, he realized one dreadful thing: no one had made him feel the way Kass had in the last few days. No one had made him think, made him feel like she did—no one had touched his soul. But how could he expect her to feel the same way? He couldn't expect that. She was probably just playing him; looking for a way out.
Balancing the beers and bouquet under one arm, Logan pushed open the door and went inside, setting the case of beer down on the edge of the bed. He looked around. The room was empty except for his pal Vegas, who was curled up on one of the two beds. He barely lifted his head as Logan stepped into the room. Some unwarranted feeling of betrayal fell over him. He had no right; no right to feel so scorned. A part of him had known this was coming, and he had to let it go. She would be better off without him.
He would be better off without her, too; even if it hurt. No, it didn't just hurt—it was tearing him up inside, and it was fucking painful. But, yes, this was best for both of them.
He popped the cap off one of the beers and took a sip, letting the bubbles tickle his tongue. He figured he should load up his things and go, hopefully before the cops got there. Maybe he'd make it Las Vegas tonight before it got dark. Once there, he'd finally be able to abandon the car. It was Vegas, after all—the city, not the dog. He would blend in there among the rest of the freaks and criminals. He was still determined to do what he'd set out to do—with or without Kass Harding. He had planned to do it without her to begin with, and now all that had happened is that he was back on track. No more distractions.
No more Kass.
He picked up the bouquet of roses and tossed them into the trash bin near the TV. Then, still holding his beer, he gathered what he needed and dropped them into his bag. He thought he was smarter than that. He had been certain he wouldn’t let emotions get in the way. She was just a girl. Just a stupid, naïve, pain-in-the-ass—
&nbs
p; “What are you doing?” Startled, Logan spun towards the bathroom door, spilling his beer in the process. Foam poured over the top, running down his shirt and onto the floor. He set it down on the TV stand, shaking the droplets of booze from his fingers. Kass was standing in front of him, dressed in Levi's and a tank top, drying her brown hair between the folds of a towel. On her chest, where the top didn't cover her skin, she was still damp with droplets of water. At first, he didn't know what to say. He'd expected her to be long gone. And yet, here she was, standing in front of him. Still here.
And she was smiling.
“I thought you'd left,” he said. It was all he could think of to say as she dropped the towel onto the floor and ran her fingertips through her hair. Then she crossed the room, peering into the waste bin. She reached in and pulled the bouquet out.
“Who are these for?”
“Uh. I—” The words he couldn't say felt heavy on his tongue. He picked up the bottle of beer and took a swig, wishing it was a flask of whiskey instead. Some liquid courage would serve him well right about now. He turned away from her. “You, I guess.”
She said nothing, only put her nose in the buds and smelled the flowers like it was the most natural thing in the world. Logan sat down on the bed and watched her, taken by the way she moved across the room, the way her hips sashayed and her wet hair clung to her cheeks.
“Are you going to offer me a beer?” she asked. Before he could respond, she leaned over him and reached for a Bud. She smelled only of hotel shampoo and soap, but it caught him off guard, anyway. His fingers twitched as he fought the urge to reach up and touch her skin. As she straightened up, he caught sight of her cleavage peeking through the top.
“Christ.” He stood up abruptly, nearly knocking the bottle out of her hand as he did so. Kass stared at him, taken aback.
“What's wrong?” she asked.
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