by A. J. Wynter
Logan stepped to the stage and grabbed Stacy by her arm. She stiffened, turned aggressively to pull away until she saw whose hand held her. Logan smiled widely and drew her in close. She reeked like cigarette smoke, “Why don’t we catch up outside?” he whispered into her ear.
He heard the crowd cheer as the winner of the draw made her way to the stage. Stacy smiled, lipstick on her yellowed teeth, and let Logan guide her through the crowd by the hand. Logan looked back to the stage and saw Freddie salute him and mouth, “Thank you.”
LAUREN STEPPED ON THE stage and wrapped her arm around Charlotte’s shoulders. “You okay?” she whispered.
“Fuck,” Charlotte replied. “That was way worse than anything I had pictured in my head.”
“Me too,” Lauren agreed.
Megan rushed to the stage and hugged Charlotte. “Are you okay? Who was that piece of...”?
“Trash?” Lauren interjected.
“I was going to say shit,” Megan replied.
“That...” Charlotte replied, her heart still hammering in her chest, “was the most popular girl in Chance Rapids, circa 2004. And she hasn’t changed one bit.”
Freddie jumped off the stage. “I’m so sorry about that, Charlotte.”
“It’s okay, Freddie.”
Charlotte turned to Megan, “Now do you see why I didn’t want to get recognized here?”
“Wow,” Megan replied. “I can’t believe that just happened.”
“I wouldn’t be too worried about it,” Freddie smiled at Charlotte. “Stacy has turned into the town drunk. What you saw tonight was mild.”
“It’s like we just went back in time fifteen years,” Charlotte replied.
“Don’t let her ruin your night.” Josh came up behind Megan. “We’ve asked her and her friends to leave. They’re always getting kicked out of the Last Chance, so they were ready to go.”
“I think I’m ready to go,” Charlotte replied.
“Oh, come on. Please stay. I haven’t had the chance to hang out with you at all,” Megan pleaded.
“I feel like everyone is looking at me.” She could feel the stares, the sideways glances from everyone in the bar, including the band.
“They are,” Megan smiled. “But it’s because you’re the most glamorous woman to ever step foot in this bar. Now, pull up your socks, put on that million-dollar smile, and don’t let that piece of trash ruin your night.”
Just last year, Charlotte had given Megan a similar kick in the pants speech when she was having her own pity party. She hugged her friend then stood up tall and strong with her shoulders back. The band counted in and started into a very convincing cover of an AC/DC song.
Freddie howled and jumped onto the dance floor in a fury of air guitar and frantic kicking that Charlotte supposed was dancing.
Charlotte squeezed her hands open and closed, trying to rid the tension from her body. “Let’s go dance, or whatever it is that Freddie is doing.” She grabbed Lauren’s hand and joined Freddie on the dance floor and Megan and Josh followed behind them. Charlotte and everyone else in the bar seemed much more relaxed now that the toxic blonde had left. More and more people crammed onto the dance floor, the air alive with raucous music and drunken Rapidians.
She hooked her elbow around Megan’s neck, pulling her ear a fraction away from her lips. “Do you think Logan went home with Stacy?”
Megan pulled back from the half nelson arm hook and shook her head. “Not a chance in hell,” she replied and then turned her to face the door. “See?”
Logan had stepped back into the bar and his eyes were trained on the dance floor.
On her.
Charlotte felt a hot rush surge through her body.
“One of us has to be the grown-up,” Charlotte muttered. She strode toward the door and smiled at Logan. He looked behind him before smiling back, as if to ensure that someone else wasn’t the intended recipient.
“Hi,” she shouted and extended her hand.
“Hi.” He engulfed her hand with his catcher’s mitt fingers.
Charlotte glanced at the door, half expecting Stacy to walk in and fly off the handle.
“She won’t be back. At least, not tonight.” Logan followed her gaze without releasing her hand. “Did you recognize her?”
“I didn’t at first,” Charlotte replied. “It has been a long time.” She realized her hand was still in his and pulled her fingers from his grip.
“Yeah, everyone looks a little different now, I guess.”
“You don’t,” Charlotte blurted out.
Logan’s lips pressed together as if holding in a smile.
“It’s nice to see you back in town, Billie Jo.”
Charlotte’s body stiffened. “Charlotte. It’s Charlotte now.”
“Right. I heard about that.”
Charlotte didn’t know what to say and they seemed at a silent impasse. “Well, I’ll see you around, Logan.” She turned to walk away, but Logan grabbed onto her elbow.
“Wait.”
Charlotte turned and met the eyes of her first love as they bored straight into her soul.
“Why?” he asked.
“Why what?” Charlotte didn’t know what the hell he was asking. SHE was the one with the questions. Why did he stand her up? Why didn’t he apologize? Why did she never hear from him again?
“Your name. Why did you change it? I liked Billie Jo.”
Logan’s hand started to feel like a vice around hers, she balled her hand into a fist, flexing the hockey player’s grip from her arm. “Well, I didn’t like it. And I don’t owe you an explanation at all.”
Logan took a deep breath and held his hands up in front of him. “You kinda do owe me an explanation though.”
Charlotte’s mouth gaped open. “That’s rich.” Her stomach knotted and she pursed her lips tightly to hold in the angry scream that was waiting behind them. However, instead of blowing up at Logan in front of the whole town, she did what she did best—ran. She turned on her heel and marched out the door of the tavern and down the street.
She heard Logan’s footsteps crunch on the icy sidewalk as he trailed behind her. “Wait, Billie Jo, wait...”
“It’s Charlotte,” she turned and screamed. “Billie Jo is gone. You made damn sure of that when you and your friends made your bet.”
“Bet?” Logan stopped dead in his tracks. “What are you talking about?”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about.” Goosebumps prickled on her arms and she crossed them tightly across her chest as she hurried away from him. She cringed at the crunch of the sidewalk salt under her feet as she walked but would happily sacrifice her boots if it meant she wouldn’t have to meet his gaze again.
“Bill—Charlotte, STOP.” She kept going. She’d be damned if she was going to turn around on command. No one, especially Logan Brush, was going to order her around. She picked up her pace and hurdled the snowbank. Her hair flew behind her as she broke into a run to clear the snowbank on the opposite side of the street. As she pushed into her leap across the snowbank her leather sole hit a patch of black ice. The streetlamp shone directly into her eyes as her feet flew up over her head, then she heard a crunching sound as her elbow broke her fall. She rolled onto her side as fiery pain seared through her arm.
In seconds, Logan was kneeling beside her on the dirty street. “Are you okay?”
Charlotte tried to push him away but yelped and gripped at her elbow. “Get out of here, Logan,” she seethed, holding in the tears that were threatening to spill down her cheeks.
“You’re bleeding.” He touched the back of her arm gently. “You need to get off the street.” He moved so he was crouched over her crumpled body. “Let me help you,” he said as he tried to pick her up by her good arm. Charlotte gasped as the pain from her elbow was surpassed by the new throbbing in her tailbone.
“I’m fine. Just leave me alone, Logan. You’re good at that.”
Logan’s grip on her arm loosened and he hung h
is head. “You need to get off the street. Let me help you and then you never have to talk to me again. I promise.”
“You promise?” she grimaced as she brought herself to a seated position. Her ass was starting to melt the ice on the street, soaking her through to her underwear.
“Promise.” Logan scooped her up in his arms and cleared the snowbank in one easy step. Charlotte gripped the back of his muscular neck and his wavy hair tickled the back of her good hand. She held her breath in an effort to avoid his scent, a heady combination of musk and cedar.
“I’m going to set you down now,” he whispered in her ear. Over his shoulder, small flakes of snow danced in the streetlamp.
Her boots brushed the sidewalk as he set her down gently. His strong arms felt supportive like steel under her knees and back.
“Can you stand?”
Charlotte winced as she pushed onto her feet but was able to bring her body to a standing position. As the adrenaline began to fade, she started to shake, her stoic attempt to stand was undermined by her body and she crumpled. Logan’s fingers responded and pressed into her ribcage as he held her upright. Her arm was draped over his wide shoulder, her fingers digging into the expanse of his neck. She wanted to rip her hand away and continue her I am woman, hear me roar, walk away from him, but knew that without this support of his body, she wouldn’t make it to the end of the block.
“Just give me a second,” she said quietly.
“Take all the time you need.” Logan’s exhale warmed her cheek, and she realized that he had been holding his breath too. They stood in silence as Charlotte tried to will some strength into her body. The microscopic snowflakes had grown to pellets, common for spring, and both started to accumulate crowns of white. Logan brushed the snow from Charlotte’s hair and when she started to shiver, he pulled her in tighter.
Charlotte tensed but gave in to the warmth and comfort of his body. She rested her head on his chest and allowed her body to become soft against his. Logan rubbed her uninjured arm with his hand. “You’re freezing.”
The familiarity of his arms and the fact that after all these years he still smelled the same brought Charlotte back to a time when all she wanted was to be held by Logan. Now years later, his arms were bigger and stronger, but his body still felt like home. She inhaled the memories, but with the good, came the bad, and she pushed away from him, wincing as she stood on her own two feet.
“You’re still bleeding.”
“I’ll be fine, Logan,” she said and took a step back, steam from her breath filling the gap between them. “It’s just a scratch,” she said through chattering teeth.
Logan pulled his hockey sweater over his head and before she could protest, he pulled the sweater over her head, engulfing her in its warmth. “No,” she squirmed. “I’m bleeding.”
“It’s a hockey jersey. They’re made for that,” he smiled.
Charlotte slipped her arms into the oversized sleeves and the jersey fell loosely over her body like a dress.
“Charlotte, hear me out,” he said.
Charlotte pursed her lips and looked up at Logan standing in front of her in his t-shirt. His hat was covered in an inch of snow and she noticed the goosebumps prickling up over his toned biceps.
“Logan, it was the past. We were kids,” she sighed.
“We were kids, but look at us now. I mean, we’re still acting like children.”
Charlotte knew that he was right. She was acting like a high school kid who didn’t get to borrow the family car. “It was me. You were trying to explain, and I walked away.”
“Yeah, and I should’ve been a man, but instead I spent the whole night avoiding you like we were at a school dance.”
Charlotte couldn’t help but smile. “I guess we’re both guilty then.”
“How about we help ourselves to a good old-fashioned Chance Rapids special and maybe we can clear a few things up between us? I mean, we do have to walk down the aisle together next month.”
It took Charlotte a second to compute, but then she grinned. “I haven’t had a beavertail in years. Is the G-spot still open?”
Logan looked at his watch. “Yep.”
“Deal,” Charlotte reached out her hand, an ingrained businesswoman reflex. Logan laughed and shook it.
She winced; the first step almost took her breath away. Logan reached his arm across her back and Charlotte felt a rush between her legs as his hand protectively gripped her body.
“Let me help you.”
Charlotte nodded and reached her arm behind Logan, her hand finding its place on his shoulder as they shuffled down the street in the accumulating snow, heading somewhere she never thought she’d be again, with someone she never expected to see again.
Chapter 14
THE G-SPOT HADN’T CHANGED in fifteen years. The same orange Formica tables flanked the dining area and the sign for beaver tails was still above the kitchen cut-out; although the price had been crudely crossed out a few times with a marker. In 2004, Logan and Charlotte, back when she was Billie Jo, had spent many nights at these very tables, working on the economics assignment that had brought them together. They had shared many of the G-Spot’s signature pastry, the deep-fried cinnamon goodness of the Beavertail.
“Well, how about that? As I live and breathe, Logan Brush here in my store.” Muriel, the woman who was old fifteen years ago, stood grinning, coffee pot in hand.
Muriel, do you have a first aid kit we could borrow? The ice is a little slippery tonight.
“As ice is,” she chuckled and reached behind the counter for the first aid kit. She was missing a few more teeth than in 2004, but other than that she looked exactly the same. Old. “You can clean up in the bathroom at the back of the store.”
“I’ve got this,” Charlotte smiled and took the first aid kit.
“You’d better help your friend. She looks a little shaky on her feet,” Muriel said, pointing down at Charlotte’s feet. “Honey, no wonder you slipped, those are city girl boots.”
“I know, I know, Muriel.”
The old lady looked up abruptly in response to her name. “Oh, my word. Billi Jo, sweetheart. Is that you?” She hurried from behind the counter to embrace Charlotte. “Honey, I didn’t recognize you. Now, what have you gone and done to yourself?”
Charlotte pulled up the sleeve of Logan’s jersey to reveal the scrape from her fall. “It’s nothing. Logan is making a big deal out of a few scratches.”
“Well, you don’t need stitches, but you certainly should clean that up.”
“Is the kitchen still open?” Logan asked as he helped Charlotte through the aisles of potato chips and beef jerky.
“For you two, anything. I’ll throw in two beavertails for you right now,” Muriel yelled as she made her way into the diner.
“Can you believe she’s still alive?” Charlotte whispered as Logan helped her to the restroom.
“I know, I thought she was a hundred years old, fifteen years ago,” Logan whispered back.
Logan turned on the faucet and gently pulled the jersey over Charlotte’s head. “Stick your elbow under the faucet,” he said and pulled out a couple of antiseptic towelettes. Logan set to work cleaning Charlotte’s elbow and when he was done, he took his jersey and pulled it back over her head. She didn’t resist this time.
“Aren’t you going to be cold?” she asked.
“Well, one of us is going to be cold and at least I have sleeves,” Logan smiled. Charlotte’s fancy pantsuit looked great on her but wasn’t doing her any favors in the warmth department. “And you might be going into shock.”
Charlotte looked up at Logan and shook her head. “It’s a little scrape and a bruised tail bone, I’ll live.”
“Well, I’m not a doctor, and neither are you, so until we get confirmation that you’re not in shock, you’re stuck wearing the extra shirt. That, and it looks better on you,” Logan said and gazed at the two of them in the restroom mirror. He wasn’t lying, plenty of his model girlfrien
ds had pranced around his loft wearing his jersey, and they looked good, but with Charlotte, there was something about the tiny brunette swimming in his number eighty-eight shirt that was starting to make him hard. He shifted uncomfortably and distracted himself by packing up the first aid supplies.
The two of them made their way back to the diner side of the G-Spot. He hated to admit the disappointment he felt when Charlotte’s hand eased its grip on his shoulder, and she was able to walk on her own. She slid into the bench seat of the diner table.
“Coffee?” Muriel asked. Then she leaned in, “Or something stronger?”
Logan looked to Charlotte, she smiled and shrugged. “We’ll take two of your something stronger,” Logan said and winked at Muriel.
She winked back. “Coming right up.”
“Something stronger?” Charlotte leaned in. “Since when did the G-Spot become a speakeasy?”
“I think that we’re getting something from Muriel’s personal supply,” Logan whispered.
Muriel returned to the table with two coffee mugs filled with an amber liquid. “A little maple drink never hurt anyone.”
“And it goes well with beavertails,” Logan smiled and took a sniff of the very large mug of maple whiskey. “Thank you, Muriel.”
“I’ll leave you kids alone. Good to see you two back together.”
“Oh, we’re not...” Charlotte said, but Muriel had already walked away from the table.
“Cheers.” Logan held up his mug.
They tapped ceramic mugs, and each took a swig. “Whooo.” Charlotte scrunched her face. “That will put hair on your chest.”
Logan smiled. Seated across from him was one of the most sophisticated and gorgeous women he had ever met; but with a little small town left in her, she was a breath of fresh air. “That it will. And it’s the best painkiller around.”
“I’m already starting to feel no pain,” Charlotte said and took another sip. “Logan, does it feel weird for you to be back in town? Sometimes, it feels like I was here just yesterday, but in other ways, it doesn’t even feel like ‘that’ life ever happened to me.”
