I finished up my shopping and drove home, still fuming. The sky was a dark gray and I could smell the snow. It was a weird thing to say, but very true. It smelled cold, a little frigid. It was the smell that came with Christmas and the holidays and it was always something that I used to welcome. But ever since Gran had passed away I dreaded when the holidays came around. Christmas was right around the corner and I could feel a certain level of sadness trying to pierce the careful bubble I’d put around myself.
I pulled into my parking spot and got my bags out, balancing them and stumbling towards my house. The water was already getting choppy, a warning of what was to come tomorrow. After I put the groceries away I went to Logan’s, fully planning on banging on the door until he answered it. But when I approached his front door I saw that it was cracked slightly, giving me a slight glimpse into the empty living room.
Something didn’t feel right.
I pushed the door open and looked around, craning my neck painfully without stepping into the living room. There was no sign of Logan in the living room or kitchen and all was quiet aside from the faint noise of a television upstairs.
“Logan?” I called out gently and stepped over the threshold. Mac’s toys were strewn across the living room floor and his leash lay carelessly over the arm of the couch.
Dread settled in my stomach as I automatically assumed the worst. What if Conlon had gotten to him when he was least expecting it? There was no yipping from Mac and no response when I called for either one of them. It could have happened when I was out. Maybe Conlon showed up to finish what he’d started last month or maybe, as Logan previously warned me, Conlon had his buddies take care of it.
“Logan?” I called out again a little louder.
How could I have been stupid enough not to call the police the night he told me what happened?
How could I have let his words cloud my judgement?
I whipped around in a circle and looked for something, anything to defend myself with in case someone other than Logan was in the house. My eyes finally landed on a hockey stick on the floor next to the couch and I picked it up, squeezing it with a white knuckled grip before walking to the stairs. I took a deep breath and began my ascent, mentally ripping myself a new one for not just leaving and calling the cops when I felt like something was off.
When I reached the second floor, I looked down the narrow hallway and saw an open door to what I assumed was his bedroom. The sound of the tv got louder and louder as I approached the door, holding the hockey stick so tightly that my fingers hurt. But a loud groan stopped me in my tracks.
It was Logan. I knew it immediately.
He’s hurt! My brain screamed at me and I bolted forward, throwing myself into the bedroom and looking around, my eyes finally landing on the messy king sized bed and the man in it.
Logan was leaned halfway off the bed and reaching for an open bottle of pills that was scattered across the hardwood. But that wasn’t what threw me off.
It was the pained expression on his face, the fingers that were so swollen they looked almost mutated and the multiple other pill bottles on his nightstand that had me gasping in surprise.
“What the hell is going on?”
Chapter 6
“I don’t understand why you keep coming into my house uninvited,” he grumbled as he propped himself back against the pillows with the gray duvet pulled halfway up his stomach.
I tried not to get distracted by the sight of Logan’s naked chest but failed miserably. The dark ink of his tree tattoo went across the left part of his chest and onto his shoulder, branches reaching out and curving across the smooth skin of his bicep. It was intricate and the artist must have paid close attention to detail because even from across the room I could see the different shades of gray and black, where branch transformed to tree trunk. It was beautiful, delicate, and masculine all at once.
Just like the body it was placed permanently on.
“J?” he said again and I finally looked up at his face.
Something was wrong with him and I didn’t know what it was, but I wasn’t leaving until I found out. His hair was a mess and his eyes were glassy. Dark purple circles were prominent against his pale skin and he looked as though he could barely move. His chest, smooth and hard looking, heaved as he took in a deep breath.
“I ran into your sister.” was my response as I dropped the hockey stick on the edge of the bed. I was about to ask where Mac was when I saw a small lump moving under the blanket. Soon enough, his little head and floppy ears appeared next to Logan’s side and he blinked sleepily at me. I’d clearly interrupted his nap time and his owner’s… whatever. “Logan, what the hell is this?” I gestured to the floor where scattered white pills lay and the nightstand where capped bottles waited for attention.
It wasn’t any of my business. I shouldn’t have even been there but I was because…
Because I care about him. Because I care if he’s okay. The realization made me uncomfortable and I shifted from one foot to the other before bending down and picking up the open bottle and reading the label.
“What do you mean you ran into my sister? Did she- hey, put that down!” he pointed at me as I straightened with the bottle still in my hand.
Wanting to test him, I put my hand on my hip. “Why don’t you get up and make me?”
Logan clenched his jaw and leaned back against the pillows knowing that he was caught between a rock and a hard place. There was a reason why he couldn’t actually get out of bed and take the bottle from me and there was a reason why he winced every time his knuckles cracked or when he favored one leg over the other.
“What did you tell my sister?” he asked me, exhaustion evident.
I took my phone out of my pocket and started typing “Meloxicam” into the search engine before answering him. “I told her the truth, that I haven’t seen or heard from you in a few days. She’s worried about you and I’m starting to think that she has a good reason to.”
“Put your phone away.”
“Not until I know what all of this is for,” I responded and began reading through the results.
I should have known better than to stand so close to the bed. In a flash, Logan had reached out with a painful cry, snatched the pill bottle out of my hand and grabbed my wrist, tugging me down to the bed with him. Mac barked and bounded off the bed and out into the hall at the same time I shoved myself back, but not before he ripped my phone out of my hand. By the time I righted myself and reached for my phone, he had it shoved under the pillow and was breathing heavily.
It stopped me.
It took all of his strength and energy to get up and do that when it wouldn’t have even winded me. He was stiff when he moved and looked like he could barely hold his head up without grimacing.
“RA,” he said finally, leaning back and looking at me with heavy lidded eyes.
“Aren’t you a bit young to have arthritis?” I asked, confused. Thinking back on the times I saw him wince and cringe I supposed that it made perfect sense. Some of the older animals at Arden suffered from joint discomfort and it was heartbreaking because they obviously couldn’t verbally explain how they were feeling.
“Rheumatoid arthritis is an autoimmune disease. Normally, people get arthritis when they’re older because of wear and tear over the years, but that’s not how it is with me. When it hits, it hits hard. I’m on a few medications but I don’t like them so I don’t take them often. This one,” he held the empty bottle between his middle finger and thumb. “makes me nauseous and dizzy among other things. This one,” he picked up another one and shook the almost full bottle. “is a steroid, so I don’t take it, ever. When the pain gets bad, I smoke a little weed to help me sleep. I disappear for a few days until I feel better and then I’m fine.”
All of a sudden, I felt like shit. I had, essentially, broken into Logan’s home, spent months assuming he was a drug dealer and dismissed him as punk. And why? Because he smoked a little weed to take the pain
away, as if that made him some criminal. I’d been such a snob and too judgemental, a far cry from the woman Gran raised me to be.
I looked down at my hands folded in my lap. What was I supposed to say? I considered starting with an apology but what good would that do? I’d still be a snob and he’d still be in pain.
“Listen, don’t feel bad, alright? I don’t need or want anyone’s pity. I’ve been doing fine on my own.”
I glared at him and stood up from the bed before shoving my finger in his face. “You have a family that cares about you and you completely take it for granted. Your baby sister that you care so much about? She walked up to me, a virtual stranger, because she was so goddamn concerned about you. You don’t have the decency to tell her or anyone else what’s going on-”
“You don’t know shit about my family,” he snapped back at me.
“I know that you have one. One that actually wants to take care of you. I get that your mom might be a pain in the ass and you might not be your daddy’s favorite, and I’m so sorry that you’ve had to live with this pain for however long. But you are the one who decided to live with it alone. Wait until you’re forced to deal with it alone, Logan, and then tell me how much you regret it.”
I stormed to the bedroom door, fired up and angry. I felt terrible that Logan had to deal with such chronic pain but he didn’t realize how fortunate he was. I’d kill to have one more day with Gran, one day where I wasn’t completely and utterly alone. But I couldn’t have that because I didn't have parents who cared enough to stop partying and raise me.
I didn’t have anyone.
Mac followed me down the hall and I was halfway down the stairs when I heard my name being called followed by hard thump and crash from upstairs.
I turned and ran back up, jogging back into the bedroom to find Logan on the ground and gripping the side of his bed with one hand. He was grunting as he pulled himself up and before I knew it, I was in front of him, tucking one arm around his middle as he stood up straight, both of his knees cracking loudly. We were both silent as we sat down on the edge of the bed, my arm still wrapped around his back.
Logan’s skin was warm and smooth, and I couldn’t help but notice the way his abs flexed and relaxed with every breath he took. There was a smattering of hair that went from his navel down into the sweatpants that rode low on his narrow hips. I was fixated on it, trying my damndest not to stare even though I wondered what would happen if I kissed him right there, right above his waistband. Would his stomach clench? Would he tangle his fingers in my hair? Maybe he’d whisper my name…
“I don’t want my mother fussing over me,” he said finally and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
My eyes were drawn to the muscles that flexed in his shoulders as he lowered his head into his hands. “You can’t honestly expect to do this all by yourself for the rest of your life, though. Logan, they’ll find out eventually.”
He nodded his head and scrubbed his hands over his head. “I know, but if I tell her she’s going to keep me medicated and shove all this shit,” he gestured towards his small pharmacy of pills. “down my throat. Then she’ll try to host some fundraiser and everyone around town would know. It could affect my business. My sister would be here every day and my brother would be texting me until his fingers fall off. They’d smother me, and even though I know it’s because they love me, I just can’t do it. I can’t do that all the time, Juliette. The meds make me tired and unfocused, I can’t do that when I have a job to do.”
I couldn’t say that I understood exactly what Logan was going through. But I could understand his dedication and his passion, so maybe that was better. He was secretive and that put me on edge, but he was also going through something that I’d never fully understand. After doing some research, I saw that only one in over two thousand men in their twenties get RA. Feeling that alone and that betrayed by his own body was something that I couldn’t fully grasp, but I could imagine the suffering that he felt. I didn’t have to understand his pain in order to understand his reasoning. He was a good person, maybe a little rough around the edges and maybe a little guarded. But so was I.
I couldn’t hold back the small laugh that erupted from me and he turned his head, chocolate eyes searching my face. “Are you laughing at me?”
I shook my head vehemently and then laughed again. “No! No, I… I’m starting to realize that we have more in common than I thought. You’re not a bad guy,” I leaned to the side and bumped his shoulder with mine.
My skin warmed at the contact and when I went to straighten up he reached over and wrapped an arm around me, his forearm resting on the small of my back. He felt so warm and inviting that I couldn’t help but lean in slightly as his fingers stroked over my hip.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he said softly.
I nodded my head, feeling too breathy to speak.
“If you promise to keep this thing quiet for a while then I’ll let you know every time it’s starting to act up. I won’t deal with it alone and you won’t have to go ballistic and think I’m an addict.”
My jaw dropped and I shook my head. “I didn’t-”
“You did.” Logan laughed. “It’s fine. Really, I’m not offended. People have assumed shit like that for years. It didn’t bother me then and it doesn’t bother me now. Listen, J, I’ll tell my family eventually. I will. But things with Abby were crazy for a while and they’re just starting to calm down. I promise I’ll tell everyone when the time is right, but I’m coming to you as a friend and asking you to please not say anything.”
As a friend. I shouldn’t have been stuck on those three words, but I was. We were friends, buddies. Pals. Comrades. Truth be told, I knew it wasn’t a bad deal. He wouldn’t be alone, I’d be there to help him and care for him. And you won’t be lonely, the voice in my head said and I wanted to shake myself.
I didn’t have time to be lonely.
After a minute or two of making him wait, I reached out a hand for him to shake. His warm palm engulfed my hand and his fingers wrapped around it, shaking firmly. If his fingers slid just a little higher they’d be wrapped around my wrist and…
“Deal?” Logan asked, pulling me out of my sudden fantasy of him pinning me to the bed with his big hands wrapped around my delicate wrists.
“Deal.”
THE BLIZZARD HIT HARD. When I awoke the next morning on Logan’s couch- I spent the night even though he told me not to. I wasn’t going to leave him alone in his house during a snowstorm when he couldn’t get out of bed. What kind of friend would I be?- the sky was a light gray and the dark, almost black water was choppy and rough. The snow was so high that I couldn’t open the front door and poor Sadie was pissed when she realized she had to jump out the window to get outside and come back in. So far, fourteen inches of white fluff covered the south shore and it wasn’t going to stop until sometime tonight.
I had to admit that it was strange sleeping in another man’s house. I’d only ever done that once or twice and when morning came I was out of there like someone lit a fire under my ass. But sleeping at Logan’s and being surrounded by his scent and his possessions didn’t make me uncomfortable. It made me feel… safe. Content. Which wasn’t a feeling that I liked. I was content in my own house, but feeling that way at someone else’s riled me up. I couldn’t get used to that feeling, couldn’t get attached.
People leave, I reminded myself as I lounged on the couch, half asleep with a blanket wrapped around my bare legs. Since Logan was confined to his bed I slept in nothing more than a large t-shirt and a pair of underwear with my hair yanked up into a messy bun. Sadie slept on the floor and Mac was cuddled against my chest with his paws resting on my cheek. He truly was the cuddliest dog I’d ever come into contact with and I was enjoying every second of it.
Half asleep, I didn’t hear the creak on the stairs or the quick intake of breath. I did, however, hear Logan perfectly clear when he said, “Nice legs, J.”
I bolted upright
and Mac jumped off me and onto the floor, snorting once before laying down on top of Sadie. The shirt that I was wearing rode high, nearly up to my hips and revealed the navy blue boyshorts I had on. I quickly reached for the blanket but Logan was faster and snatched it off the couch, shaking a much less swollen finger in front of my face. “No way. I get to enjoy this for a minute.”
I tugged the shirt down to my knees and glared at him. “Give me the blanket.”
He crossed his arms over his bare chest and cocked his head to the side, clearly enjoying himself as he checked me out. My cheeks flamed and I wanted to go outside and bury my face in the snow. I wasn’t used to being… ogled. Logan Ashford was ogling me.
“You’d look good in one of my t-shirts,” he said casually and then tossed the blanket at me, laughing when I wrapped it around myself and pulled it up to my neck.
That was it. There was no innuendo, no hidden message. Just the small comment that I’d look good in his shirt. He wasn’t expecting anything else. It was almost nice to not have to worry about some follow up comment that my legs would look good over his shoulders or something equally crude.
Although, well, my legs would look good over his shoulders.
Get it together. What is wrong with me? I never think like this, I thought to myself before shuffling over to my bag and yanking on a pair of black leggings. Logan watched, amused, as I managed to pull them on all while not dropping the blanket from around me. Afterwards, I tossed the blanket on the couch and followed him into the kitchen, taking notice of his nice assets as he brewed a pot of coffee.
He was lean and strength radiated off of him in a subtle way. The way he moved was slow, purposeful, and it was very obvious that he liked to be in control of his life and his body. So I could only imagine how hard it was to cope with the fact that his own body was betraying and hurting him and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
Reckless and Wild: A Small Town Romantic Suspense (Port James Series Book 1) Page 4
