Irreplaceable (Harmony)

by Angela Graham

  I said nothing, eyes on the flickering screen.

  “He’s just wants to help,” she added, her voice raising a pitch.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  She sat down and leaned forward, elbows resting on her thighs, waiting for me to explain myself. “He cares about you. You should have seen him the night of the accident. He was wrecked. I’ve never seen a grown man so broken. Maybe you should give him a chance.”

  I looked up at her, exasperated. “A chance to what? Completely incinerate what’s left of my shattered heart? No thanks.”

  Her posture resigned, shoulders slumping forward. “Whatever happened between you guys, he’s trying. He cares about you. He won’t tell me or even Caleb what he did, but whatever it was, he hates himself for it. That has to be worth something.”

  No, it wasn’t. I shot her a look that told her to drop it. If only she knew. As much as I wanted to tell her, I couldn’t stomach the idea of repeating that night out loud.

  I hit the channel button again and again before landing on a rerun of Sex and the City. Perfect. More women examining how much men sucked.

  “Look, I’m not saying give him a chance romantically, Cassandra. Just maybe…I don’t know, try being nice, or at least civil. What happened to my sweet best friend who never had a mean bone in her body?”

  With my eyes trained on the television, I answered, “He broke her.”

  It was just past four when I persuaded Hilary to leave, and I knew it would be at least another hour or two before Logan came back with dinner.

  I was finally alone in my own house. All I wanted to do was crank up the stereo and dance around half naked, but I was stuck on the couch, drained from pain meds. There was, however, one thing I was dying to do so badly that I wasn’t going to let anything stop me.

  With a wholehearted grin in place, I wobbled around the house collecting candles, a lighter, and my cell phone, then stood in the opening to my small bathroom. The sun was shining brightly through the clouds, but with one tug of the blinds I was cast in a peaceful aura of darkness. I was absolutely giddy at the idea of taking a nice, relaxing bath…alone.

  As I eased down onto the linoleum beside the tub, taking gentle care when I bent forward to plug the drain and run the hot water, I began lighting the candles that lay scattered around me.

  I positioned them around the room, my limbs growing heavier with each passing minute as the pain meds began to take full effect. The scent of lavender filled my nostrils, and with the flow of water filling the tub, a calmness settled over me.

  Once I slinked out of my clothes, sealed a clear waterproof bandage over my thigh, and poured some sweet vanilla bubbles into the tub, I was ready to climb in.

  With a nauseated groan, I nearly bit through my bottom lip as I maneuvered into the bath, being careful not to slip. I propped my foot up on the side; even with the bandage covering the stitches, the less water around it, the better. The last thing I needed was an infection. Once I was settled and comfortable, I rested my head against the cool porcelain.

  For once, I could just lie back and let the warm water soothe my sore muscles. There was no rush to clean and go, or a nurse bathing me with basin of water and sponge, or my mother sitting on the toilet talking to me as I sat on the handicap chair in the shower.

  I was home, in my bathtub, with no one to interrupt. It was the one thing I’d been secretly craving since I was released from ICU into a regular room. I sank further into the billowing bubbles, a smile on my face. The fact that Logan was a constant in my life the past few days had been taking its toll. His image assaulted my dreams every sleeping moment. Even if they were better than the nightmares, he was always there, waiting to torment me with the feelings for him I couldn’t dispel.

  Logan had charmed his way into my life, into my heart, as a dear friend. And by taking it to the next level, I lost that. I lost him. I knew the man he was when it came to women, and I was a fool, like always, to believe I was the one he’d change for.

  A tear escaped from my eye and slid down my cheek. I didn’t bother to wipe it away; instead, I allowed it to slide to my chin and fall into the water around me. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes, hoping to escape from the pressure of the outside world surrounding me.

  I awoke with a stir, splashing water around me, jerking up at the realization that I was sinking under the water. I was still in the tub. The muscles in my leg that had been resting on the edge were now rigid and sore. I choked back a yelp as I allowed it to fall into the water, aching from the discomfort it had endured during my little nap.

  Oh crap!

  Blood pounded in my ears, panic setting in as I realized a bath might not have been the best idea. As I attempted to sit up, my entire body cried out at the stiffness in my joints and distressing ache in my bruised ribs. My head throbbed and I dropped back against the tub, wanting to do nothing but cry. But no—that was the last thing I’d do.

  I propped my shriveled hands on the edges of the tub, using all my strength to lift myself. The movements triggered a sharp, excruciating stab of pain that shot through the laceration down my thigh. A gurgling scream rose from my throat.

  In a panic, I sought out my cell phone. I thought I’d brought it in with the candles, but as I looked around, I realized I’d left it on the hall table.

  This was not good. My chest began to heave, and tears stung at my eyes. What was I going to do now?

  To my relief, there was a knock on my front door only seconds later.

  Logan? I wasn’t positive, since he’d never knocked before. Worried it may be a stranger—or worse, a homicidal stranger—I tugged on the shower curtain until it fell free, the metal rod clanging to the floor.

  “Cassandra!”

  It was definitely Logan, and the knock from before was now a forceful pounding that could’ve easily busted down the door. I began pulling the clear vinyl curtain over me.

  “Logan! I need you.” I did not just say that. Today was so not my day. I should’ve stayed at the hospital.

  I waited for another loud bang at my door or the crash from him breaking it down. Instead, I heard the sound of a key in the lock, then footsteps entering.

  Logan had a key! How the hell did he get that? He’d returned the one from when I babysat Oliver before Christmas, so unless he’d made a copy…

  “Where are you?”

  The humiliation stung. What was it with Logan and bathrooms? I looked down at the clear plastic doing nothing to hide my sopping body and cringed. The fluffy towel on the rack against the far wall mocked me as I reached out in vain.

  His voice grew closer, calling my name in a panic.

  “In the bathroom,” I croaked.

  One hand covered my breasts over the sticky vinyl as I rolled slightly to my side, hiding my front as best as possible. I struggled against the tight space and cool water to press the curtain over my backside, attempting to shield the last shred of dignity I had.

  I felt him approaching before I saw him, goose bumps prickling my skin. With hesitant movements, I looked up, my breath catching. He was standing in the doorway, candlelight flickering around him. His dark, hooded eyes locked on mine, concern etched over his brow.

  “How did you get in?” I asked more softly than I meant to, swallowing the lump in my throat. It was the only thing I could think to say to break the tension, and it seemed to work.

  He tore his gaze away, stepping farther into the room and grabbing the fluffy white towel from the rack. With his back to me, I watched his shoulders rise and fall as he took a deep breath, then turned to face me. He seemed to have collected his thoughts, resuming the confident and smug Logan demeanor I remembered.

  “Your mother gave me a key for situations…” His lip quirked up just the slightest bit. “…well, like this, I assume.”

  With a scoff, my eyes rolled back. He was overly amused with my situation.

  “Just to clarify, this is not going to be a regular thing with us: you, me, bathrooms.”

>   A familiar smirk grew over his lips shamelessly. “I have to admit, I quite like this being our thing.” He kneeled down beside the tub, and I jerked back.

  “Are you hurt?” The amused expression on his face was replaced with distressing concern.

  “No, just sore.”

  “All right, let’s get you out of here and into something other than a vinyl wrap. Not that I’m complaining, sweetheart.” He frowned the instant the endearment slipped out. He looked away, eyes dipping with a sharp stare at the floor, then rising back to me. “Sorry. Force of habit around you.”

  “I’ve noticed,” I breathed.

  Our eyes locked, and it was me who broke the stare. I wasn’t going there again. It was done.

  My chin jutted out and I kept my hands placed strategically as he positioned the towel over me, rubbing the soft cotton up and down my shivering arms. I kept my eyes downcast on the metal grommets punched into the curtain when he finally reached into the chilled water and pulled out the plug near my feet. I listened as the water drained, using it as a distraction.

  “You know, I have to ask: why did you feel the necessity to bathe while home alone in your condition?”

  “My condition?” I hissed, pursing my lips.

  The water was draining quickly, the last of it circling the drain with a final loud gulp.

  He recoiled, his eyes soft and rueful. “I didn’t mean…” He sighed.

  “Yeah, I get it. You know what? Just hand me my cell and you can go.”

  He stood and left the room. Was he really leaving that quickly?

  He stepped back in a moment later with another towel he must’ve grabbed from the hall closet. His little house check earlier had him way too familiar with where things were.

  “I’m not leaving you here like this. You’ll freeze.” He bent down, his face inches from mine. “Your lips are nearly blue.”

  His lips were perfection. I looked away. No, not perfection—deceit.

  He held up the second towel but didn’t lay it over me. Instead, he held it up, blocking my view of him.

  What was he doing? My brows pulled in.

  “Let go of the curtain and use the towel I gave you to cover yourself,” he explained.

  Oh.

  “No peeking!”

  The towel shook in his hands as he chuckled. I released my clammy grip on the vinyl reluctantly and pushed it behind me, quickly wrapping the towel back over me.

  “Okay,” I said, nerves buzzing. Being naked that close to Logan began to stir the desire I feared I someday wouldn’t be able to push back down.

  Logan covered me with the towel in his hands and smiled. “I’m going to lift you out. Don’t be stubborn—put all your weight on me.”

  I prepared for the closeness as he slid his hand under my damp, quivering legs and behind my back.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, his rough voice barely above a whisper.

  A shiver shot through me and I nodded, thankful for the candlelight that hid my terror as the pressure of his embrace seared into my skin. It felt so…right.

  My teeth caught the inside of my bottom lip, determined to hide any revealing emotions. I interlocked my hands around his neck, his clean, familiar scent so close my head dropped of its own volition into the nook of his neck.

  I’d never been more aware of my own body as I felt his brush against mine with every step he took as he clutched me in his arms. His scorching hands imprinted into my flesh as he carried me to my bedroom without a word and sat me on the corner of my bed.

  The towel was clutched tightly in my grip against my chest as I turned away from him, desperate to hide both my nudity and the wound on my thigh. It hung open in the back, since it was draped over the front of me and my hands weren’t flexible enough to keep it closed in the back. I rushed to bring the covers up in time to cover my behind.

  Logan was standing at the edge of the bed directly behind me, and the moment I grabbed the blanket was too late. I’d been too focused on my backside that I’d let down my guard and hadn’t noticed the towel slipping away from my thigh, revealing my worst.

  I couldn’t look back up at him, feeling his intense gaze on the wound. The clear bandage I’d placed over it to protect the stitches from becoming saturated hid nothing.

  My head dropped. I’d never felt uglier.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw him hunch down and fall to his knees. I closed my eyes.

  Yes, this is what you did to me.

  It was wrong. He wasn’t solely to blame. It wasn’t him drinking and driving. It wasn’t he who flew through the red light and nearly destroyed me. It was he, however, who caused me to lose my head and get in that car without a seat belt. It was he who put me there with tears clouding my vision.

  My thoughts were interrupted by the touch of his warm palm settling on my leg beside the bandage—inspecting it, from what I caught from my sidelong glance at him. My stomach flipped, heart pounding feverishly as the nerve endings in my leg jittered and buzzed to life. My eyelids snapped shut as Logan mimicked the skillful ease of a gifted surgeon to pull the bandage away slowly. To my disbelief, I didn’t even wince; his touch was so gentle and slow.

  My eyes opened gradually and cast down, unable to look at him as he placed the soiled bandage aside. I felt the pads of his fingertips trailing along the tender stitches that ran halfway down my outer thigh. Doctors said a scar was imminent, but that plastic surgery could make it near invisible in the future. I told them no. Not that I could afford the option, anyway, but this was me now. This was the mark on my body that reminded me I took a chance and lost.

  My eyes fluttered as the pads of his fingertips continued their slow descent to where the stitches ended.

  “Hideous, I know,” I breathed finally, my body tense, embarrassment raw as his touch sent me spiraling.

  Logan peered up at me, and I saw the swell of anguish in his eyes.

  “You’re beautiful, strong, and what every man could ever hope for. This,” he said, his fingers continuing back up, gaze locked with mine, “proves you’ve lived life, but unfortunately trusted an unworthy man.”

  My eyelids shut tightly again, willing the tears not to spill forth from the way his soft voice faded into a broken whisper. A beat of silence was followed by my stomach exploding with butterflies when I felt his lips cover the top of the stitches. My hands clutched the towel more tightly, using it to control my urge to reach out to him as I sucked in a ragged breath.

  With sensual tenderness surrounding his unexpected and gentle touch, I watched with half-lidded eyes as his lips pulled back, then placed another open-mouth kiss down a bit further. He kissed me over and over until his lips were halfway down my thigh and I was left with a tear-stained face and swollen heart.

  Before I could speak, Logan tilted his head to the side and stared up at me, raising his thumb and wiping away my agony. A long, content moment settled between us until he was standing up and placing the blanket over my shoulders and around my legs, wrapping me in snugly.

  Speechless, I watched as he strode over to my dresser and opened the top drawer.

  I shuddered. Not that drawer.

  With a boyish grin that lit a twinkle in his eye and a cocked, playful eyebrow, he looked back over his shoulder. He was holding a pair of yellow-and-white polka-dot panties.

  “Interesting choices you have.”

  Any sexual tension between us was instantly squashed. I rolled my eyes, sniffing once, snipping away the final thread of intimacy we’d shared seconds earlier. I fought in vain to cover the smile threatening to break out.

  Logan was trying to make it easier; I could see it in his posture as he turned back away for a moment, sifting through my unmentionables until he spoke to himself again.

  “Perfect.”

  I waited anxiously, unsure what he’d found, when he stepped closer to the door and snagged the pale pink robe from the hook beside it.

  “Do you need help?” He set the robe beside, me holding my pa
nties and a white lace bra as though he had done so a thousand times before.

  I shook my head once, too grateful for him breaking the tension that had been developing between us to be angry. Not a bit of me felt embarrassed when I held out my hand. My eyes narrowed into thin slits up at him, but not in the same way they had throughout the week. Logan had somehow managed to kiss away my anger—at least for the night.

  “No, I’ll be fine.”

  He placed the underwear in my hands with an easy smile. “I’ll be right in the kitchen if you need me. I brought over Chinese tonight. Hope you like it.”

  He didn’t already know? I wasn’t expecting the way it lightened the heaviness inside me.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Chapter Five

  Hard Truths

  I’d never have admitted it aloud, but my resolve toward Logan was already softening. Was that all it took—a few brief but incredibly intimate touches? A pleasant calmness over dinner that evening earned him an actual conversation as we sat at the table nearly an hour after the food was cleared from our plates.

  This discovery should’ve made me happy or at least content, yet I awoke the next day feeling the exact opposite. I was falling for him again, and there would be no way to stop it if he kept up the perfect man-in-love spiel. I knew what he was doing, and as much as I wanted it to work, I was terrified.

  Neighbors, I could live with, but even friends just seemed too difficult. As disheartening as it was, the notion of friendship seemed impossible with my irksome old feelings blurring the lines.

  The week lurched by, and Logan never missed a beat. He sent a good-morning text first thing when I awoke and stopped by with both breakfast and dinner. I listened as he told me about Oliver, and even interacted with him over the designs of Julia’s house.

  However, I kept myself guarded so as not to step over the substantial line I’d drawn between us. I had to make it clear there was no chance for us. I couldn’t let myself go down that road again only for him to walk away the moment things got rough—or worse, once he grew bored. And the last thing I wanted to do was lead him on. I knew how that felt, and I wouldn’t do that to him.