I’d just hung up the phone when I heard the sound of the front door being unlocked before Logan’s heavy steps entered the house. “J?” he called out.
“Up here!” I said and began draining the water from the tub, wrapping a towel around me and stepping out onto the tile floor.
Logan appeared in the doorway a minute later wearing exhaustion and his leather jacket, hair disheveled. “Well, don’t you look nice.”
I smiled and tilted my chin up as he leaned down for a kiss, cupping my face in his hands as he slanted his mouth over mine.
“I was hoping to catch you up here naked. I’m pretty sure I left that in the note.”
“Oh, you did and, fortunately for you, all I’m wearing is this towel.”
His fingers hooked into the place where I’d knotted the material over my breast and he tugged, letting it pool at my feet. I watched as he took a step back, his eyes raking over my naked, flushed body.
When he tiled his head back and groaned, I laughed. “You know, you are allowed to touch me.”
Logan’s heated gaze traveled down my body and back up again before landing on my face. “I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of the day touching and licking every inch of you. But I, uh, I brought my work home with me.”
My eyes nearly bugged out of my head as I leaned down and grabbed my towel, holding it against my chest. I reached out and smacked Logan on the arm. “What the hell? Why would you take my towel off if there’s someone here?”
“Because I like you naked,” Logan responded, as if it were obvious. “Get dressed and come downstairs, okay? I need your help.”
My ears perked at that and I followed him into the bedroom where I quickly shimmied into a pair of leggings and a thermal. “You need my help? With what?”
Logan shrugged and threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know, chick stuff. The girl wigged out halfway here and I can’t find anything to talk about. We’re bringing her to Woodstock in a bit and from there my friend will put her in rehab. Out of state. Away from her sister.”
I was asking rapid fire questions as I watched him pull a wad of cash out of his jacket pocket before going over to his closet. There was a safe in there- I saw it when I snooped- and he quickly unlocked it before tossing the money inside. “Woodstock? As in, we’re driving her to Vermont? Her sister got her hooked on drugs? How much money was that?”
I didn’t mean to ask that last question, but so what? If I was going to be taking a three hour drive to Vermont, Logan was going to answer me.
I gritted my teeth as he rolled his eyes before coming to stand in front of me, his hands on my shoulders. “Yes, Vermont. Yes, her sister is a piece of work. Started off as a dealer and got hooked fast before pushing it onto Melanie. That was two grand. Her parents will pay me the other half after I get her out of the state and away from her sister.”
“You get paid four thousand dollars for one job?”
He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug and guided me into the hallway with a hand on the small of my back. “I could get myself killed doing some of this shit, of course I have a high fee.”
Killed. I paused and looked at him, silent as the blood rushed in my ears and a tingle shot down my spine. I’d always believed that what Logan did for a living was admirable and sweet, but I never truly thought of how dangerous it was. He himself just revealed that he could get himself killed doing this and I never even considered that. I never considered what would happen if he got hurt. Or worse.
“Hey, hey,” he said and leaned in, cupping the back of my neck and bending so we were eye level with each other. “It’s a figure of speech, J. I’m not going to die.”
I crossed my arms and glared. “Are you lying?”
Logan scrubbed a hand over his face and then scratched his chin, clearly not impressed with my lack of hustle to get downstairs. I watched as he placed his hands on his hips, a stern look on his face. “Yes. I could get hurt doing this. Just like you could get hurt doing your job.”
“I couldn’t-”
Logan held up a hand. “Bullshit. You could get bit by a dog, or a horse. Or one of those girls you work with could run you over because you breathed the wrong way. But you do your job because you love what you do. So do I, and I do it as safely as possible. Now, will you please march your ass downstairs and argue with me later?”
My spine was straight and it was clear we were both angry. Maybe he was a little more angry than me. “This isn’t over,” I said and then turned on my heel and marched downstairs with my hands balled into fists.
“Really looking forward to the rest of my fucking night,” he mumbled.
The first thing I noticed about Melanie was that she was shaking. Hard. Her tear streaked face looked up at me and her gaze was filled with so much sadness. She couldn’t have been older than nineteen and her thick black hair fell around her face in waves.
But the thing that really struck me as odd was the fact that Melanie was wearing designer clothes. There was a part of me that felt uppity and naive for thinking that all addicts wore ratty, ripped clothes and didn’t own a hairbrush. But how was I supposed to know? The closest thing I’d ever come to knowing someone who did drugs was Logan, and that was only a little weed when his RA kept him up.
“Who are you? Are you a doctor?” Melanie asked when she spotted me.
She was sitting directly on the edge of the couch, like she could bolt at any moment. Slowly, I moved to the opposite end of the couch and sat down, giving both Melanie and myself space while Logan watched from his place on the stairs.
“I’m Juliette. I’m Logan’s… friend.”
“You do what he does?” she asked as her teeth chattered.
I shook my head. “No, I work with animals. That one,” I pointed to Sadie, who was resting her head on her paws and watching Melanie curiously. “Is mine. Sadie, come here.”
Sadie rose and then yawned, shaking her head back and forth as her collar jingled. She walked across the living room and then stopped in front of Melanie, lifting one paw and resting it on her knee.
I watched quietly as Melanie reached out to pet the top of Sadie’s head. But soon enough she was petting her and crying all over again. Hard, body shaking sobs that she tried to hide behind her hand, but Sadie was too quick and leaned forward, licking Melanie’s tear stained face while the girl cried like tomorrow wasn’t coming.
Quickly, I made my way into the kitchen and grabbed a cold bottle of water and a bag of pretzels for Melanie. I’d never dealt with someone who was going through withdrawals, so I had no way of knowing how to care for someone who was, in fact, going through withdrawals. But everyone had to eat, right?
I went back into the living room and offered her both, but she waved off the pretzels and took the water as she sniffled and tucked her knees up to her chest.
“Do you maybe want to call your parents?” I asked softly.
Melanie shook her head. “No. No, I can’t talk to them. They must hate me so much for this. But I want to get better, I do! I’m trying.. It’s just so hard…”
Logan moved from his place on the stairs and came to stand in front of her, arms crossed over his chest. “You parents don’t hate you. They wouldn’t have asked for my help if they did and you know it.”
“Can I call them?” she asked in a voice that was so small and quiet, I barely heard her.
“After you get settled at Haven House, you can. There’s a bed waiting for you. Me and my friend,” he gave me a pointed look and my eyes shifted to my lap. “Are going to drive you most of the way there, and then we’ll meet up with my friend, Tanner, and he’ll bring you the rest of the way.”
Melanie was nodding her head, but it was clear that she wasn’t comprehending everything. Logan, thankfully, could tell and crouched down in front of her, shooing Sadie away and then giving the girl a hard look. “When was the last time you used, Mel? I need you to tell me.”
She was crying again, her face and hair a mess as she rocked back and forth
. Her hands were tucked between her knees and she didn’t respond to Logan’s question.
“Melanie,” he started again, this time his voice low and firm. “When was the last time you used?”
She sniffled three times before answering. “Last night.”
I saw him look up at the ceiling as he calculated just how long it must have been and when she started showing symptoms of withdrawal. He shook his head back and forth a few times and then stood, pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing.
“Yo,” he said as he walked into the kitchen.
“Hey,” I said and sat down on the couch again. “You aren’t looking so hot. Do you have a fever?” I placed my hand against her head and she felt sweaty. Hot.
Melanie looked unfocused as she tried to meet my eye. “Everything hurts.”
I nodded my head, not knowing what to say but feeling so awful for her. I couldn’t imagine the pain she must have felt and all I could do was put a hand on her back and rub slow circles while she cried into her open hands.
Logan appeared a few minutes later and looked between us on the couch. “We need to head out.”
I barely noticed the subtle way he jerked his chin toward the laundry room and followed him, looking over my shoulder to see the sobbing mess that was Melanie. Moving into the laundry room, I crossed my arms. “What’s wrong?”
He braced a hand on the wall above my head and leaned in. “She’s getting worse by the minute and I’m not equipped to deal with someone who’s going through serious withdrawal symptoms. My job is to pick the girls up and bring them to rehab. That’s it. I’m not a doctor and I’m not going to act like one. She’s about to dive headfirst into some nasty shit. Paranoia, anxiety, she could start having fucking seizures. It’s already going to be a three hour drive to Woodstock, so we need to go. Now.”
I could sense his urgency and I didn’t blame him. Neither of us were medical professionals and we couldn’t properly deal with someone detoxing off something as strong as heroin.
Everything moved quickly after that and my heart squeezed painfully in my chest as I watched Logan pile up blankets and pillows in the backseat of his car, a little bed for Melanie to rest in on the long drive to Vermont. She leaned against me as we walked to the car and I talked. A lot. I talked her ear off about dogs and the farm and how she was more than welcome to come visit once she was better. She didn’t seem to mind my chatty behavior, maybe because she wasn’t really listening, not that I could blame her for that. She was shaky and showing signs of having a fever, and as soon as we were all settled and on the road she began complaining of stomach cramps, making us pull over so she could throw up on the side of the highway.
Logan was tense next to me with a white knuckled grip on the wheel, his jaw clenched as the day turned into night and the roads began to empty. The ride was quiet for the most part, other than Melanie crying and moaning in the back with her hands over her stomach. Her shirt was stuck to her skin with how badly she was sweating and she refused to drink any of the water I offered her.
She seemed to drift in and out of consciousness and I found myself turning to check on her every few seconds, my anxiety rising.
“Is she going to be okay?” I asked after we’d crossed state lines. Logan hadn’t said more than five words for the last few hours.
He looked at me, steering with one hand and reaching out with the other, resting it on my knee. The warmth from his palm bled through my leggings and I sighed. “She should be,” he finally responded. “It’s going to take some time, and people who struggle with this kind of addiction have an eighty percent chance of relapsing. It’s ugly, babe. Hard to kick. I never touched the stuff, not even when I used to party. But Melanie has a good family that comes from a lot of money. Enough to get her the best possible treatment.”
I was silent as I looked back at her. She was curled in a ball with her black hair splayed across the pillow, her face scrunched up in agony.
“Hey,” Logan said and squeezed my knee gently. “Let’s hope for the best, okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed with a whisper.
I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep until Logan was gently stroking my neck with his fingertips and whispering in my ear. My eyelids fluttered and then opened as I took in our surroundings.
We were parked on the side of the road with dense forest lining either side. It was pitch black out and it seemed that we were the only car for miles.
I looked around with a yawn as Logan’s lips pressed against my forehead. Melanie’s sharp moan in the backseat made me turn, and I noticed that she looked worse now than before. Her hair was greasy from the way she’d been sweating and she looked gray with nausea.
“Is your friend almost here?” I whispered to him. At his nod, I turned back to Melanie. “Honey, do you want to get out and maybe get some fresh air?”
She shook her head adamantly. “S-so fucking c-cold.”
I turned to Logan and was about to tell him to just drive the whole way there when we saw headlines coming up behind us. I would have been nervous, but whoever it was flashed his lights three times and Logan took that as his cue to get out of the car.
I watched as a tall, broad shouldered man got out of the car. Sandy hair and a goatee with a jacket that was zipped up to his neck. They shook hands and were talking for a few minutes while I tried to soothe Melanie.
“I can’t do it!” she cried and started shaking her head, hysterical. “I can’t do it! I can’t! I won’t fucking go.”
When I made a move to hand her a bottle of water, she raised her fists and tried to strike me. That was all it took and then I was jumping out the passenger door and running toward Logan and his friend. “She needs to go right now, Lo. She’s freaking out.”
He looked between me and the car and then moved forward. “Stay here,” he said to me and then yanked open the backseat, harshly shushing Melanie as she started screaming and crying to him.
“So you’re the one who has my boy all twisted up,” his friend said.
Regardless of the situation, I found myself laughing at the fact that he thought I had Logan all twisted up when it was the other way around. I stuck my hand out. “Juliette Foster.”
He grinned and shook my hand. “Tanner McAdams. Pleasure to meet you, Juliette.”
I could hear Logan speaking low and firm as he pointed a finger in Melanie’s face. “Listen to me, Mel. I know you’re scared, I know you feel like shit. You’re going to for a while, but- hey, you look at me when I’m talking to you. You’re going to feel like roadkill for a while, but at least you’re still feeling. You’re still alive, you have parents that are willing to go above and beyond to make sure you get the best possible help. Melanie, you have a fuckton of people in your corner. Take advantage of it. Go get better.”
Her response was too low, but then I heard him speak again and my breath caught in my throat. “I’ve been sick for a little while now, and I’ve only told one person. Because I feel weak, because I feel ashamed of myself for not being able to get better. I’ve shut out the people closest to me so that I can pretend everything is alright. But I let in one person, just one, and she’s been doing wonders. Because I don’t feel alone. Neither are you. It’s bullshit to think otherwise. Keeping secrets, lying. Sneaking around. It’s all bullshit, Melanie. And it’s so fucking hard. You don’t want to deal with this anymore, do you? No? Good, me either. Now get your ass up, get into my friend’s truck and kick your addiction’s ass.”
His response was so raw and honest that I was actually left speechless. His words were brutal, a punch to the gut. But they held meaning.
“Hey,” Tanner said and tapped me on the shoulder. “He’s a good guy. A little rough around the edges, but we all are. Guys kinda suck. He’s a good person though, and I have a feeling he’s going through some shit. Take care of him, yeah?”
I nodded my head silently and then watched as they helped transfer Melanie from Logan’s car to Tanner’s truck. His friend gave
me one last nod of recognition, a silent warning to take care of his buddy, and then he was pulling out onto the main road and his taillights disappeared into the darkness.
Logan rested his hand on the small of my back and he kissed my temple. His lips lingered there for a minute. “You heard all that?” he murmured.
I nodded my head and then turned to him, our eyes meeting. “I did.”
“And?”
And what? I didn’t have a single negative thing to say to Logan about what he’d said to Melanie. He’d been so candid with her about the fact that he was struggling too. I didn’t have a comeback for that. No sarcastic response.
“When I’m with you I don’t feel so alone.”
He smiled and pulled me close. “No room for bullshit?”
“None.”
Chapter 15
L ogan and I were laying in bed that night, my head on his chest and his arm wrapped around my back, holding me close. Our heart rates had just returned to normal and between my legs was still tingling with the aftershocks of my third orgasm of the night.
The sheets twisted around us as I hitched my leg over his hip and looked out the window. It was cold out and I could see the way the moonlight hit the ocean, the sound of the waves lapping against the side of the house lulling me. I dozed, eyelids heavy while Logan trailed his fingers up and down my spine.
“I love your hair,” he whispered softly.
My red tresses were sprawled across his chest, a stark contrast to his skin tone. “It’s getting too long,” I mumbled sleepily.
“Don’t ever cut it. I love it.”
I smiled as I felt him twirl a few thick strands around his finger. I was sleepy and content with things. It was somewhere between one and three in the morning and the world was quiet. Sleeping. The middle of the night had quickly become my favorite because it meant that I’d be in Logan’s arms, in his bed. Safe.
“Are you awake?” he whispered after a few minutes.
“No,” I whispered back, laughing.
“What’s one thing you really want out of life?”
Reckless and Wild: A Small Town Romantic Suspense (Port James Series Book 1) Page 13
