by Lila Kane
I can hear the urgency in his voice. He’s trying not to make the nurse suspicious, but I can tell he wants out of here. Fast.
“If she’s feeling like she’s going to faint,” the nurse warns him, “she should stay here. Just in case.”
I shake my head at her. “No, I’m fine. Thank you. I’ll be back to check on her later.”
Once we’re out of the room, Logan picks up his pace. He’s going so fast, I’m stumbling over my feet trying to keep up.
“Shit,” Logan says. “Are you sure he was here?”
“He was standing in the doorway. He talked to me.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he was checking in‒what does that mean? And he wanted to know if my mom was awake.”
I stop in the middle of the hall, my heart leaping into my throat. “What if he was here for her? What if he tries to hurt her? Logan‒”
“No, we’re not going back.” His fingers curl around my arm and he urges me to the exit. “We need to get you home.”
“We have to keep watch,” I say decisively. “Stay here and make sure nothing happens. Logan‒you’re hurting me.”
He cringes and loosens his hold. “Sorry‒shit, I’m sorry. Willow, I can’t‒please, just come with me. We’ll figure it out.”
“But‒”
He stops just in front of the exit and swivels to face me. He cups my cheeks between his hands and looks at me earnestly, no trace of the influence he once used on me to get me to leave the hospital.
“I promise, Willow. I promise we’ll figure this out. I’ll fix this if you just let me get you somewhere safe.” He leans his forehead against mine, an ache in his voice I can feel all the way to my heart. “Please.”
I capture his hands in my own. “Okay. Let’s go home.”
Logan’s been quiet since we returned to my house. He won’t talk to me about what’s bothering him, but I can tell it’s more than Kane. I use the time to finish my article, and when I’m done, he’s still thoughtful and quiet.
When Myra arrives with a few bottles of wine and a duffel bag, I’m so happy for the company, I overlook the fact Logan probably called her to stay over for a while. Probably for back-up. To babysit.
I’ve never seen him this worried about anything. Myra, on the other hand, isn’t letting it bother her.
“You don’t travel light,” I tell her when I let her in the front door.
She flashes a grin. “There’s more in the car.”
“How long are you staying?”
She shrugs. “Logan asked if I wouldn’t mind coming over tonight and staying tomorrow. I have the feeling he plans on it being a more permanent arrangement, though.”
“It’d be better if we could stay at your house. More room.”
She walks straight to the kitchen and considers it, head tilting. “It’ll do.”
“Why does it matter if my kitchen will do or not?”
Settling the bottles on the counter, she says, “Because you’re going to help me bake. And we’re going to test my menu items on everyone.”
“Everyone?”
“Sure. I called Cheyenne because she already knows about the stores I want to look at and she said she’d call Ryan.”
I don’t miss the flicker in her eyes when she says his name. What’s that about?
Before I can say anything, she continues, “Besides, we need a plan.” She lowers her voice and glances to the hallway. Logan’s still in my room. “I know Logan’s suffocating sometimes, but he means well. I think it’ll help him to know we’re all working together to solve this.”
“You’re right.”
She straightens when Logan joins us. He’s putting his phone in his pocket and I wonder who he was talking to.
“Thanks for coming,” he says to Myra.
“Sure. This is where all the fun is, right?”
He scowls at her and goes to the cupboard for a glass.
“Cheyenne and Ryan are coming, too,” I say.
He makes a noise in his throat but doesn’t comment.
“Logan?”
He doesn’t turn. “Yeah?”
I sigh, meeting Myra’s gaze. “Never mind.”
Cheyenne arrives shortly, carrying her own bags, and Ryan’s just behind her to help bring them in. What are they planning? A weekend campout?
“How come you guys brought so much stuff?” I ask, dumping bags on the kitchen table.
“Because it’s best if you stay in,” Cheyenne says. “And the more goodies we bring, the less reason you have to leave.”
When I glare at her, she blows me a kiss. “Just saying‒you’re a target.”
Ryan lifts an eyebrow at her before turning his attention to me. “What is she talking about?”
“Kane.” Logan perches his hip against the counter and drinks from his glass of water. “First, one of his shifters showed up at the hotel, and then he came to the hospital when we were visiting Willow’s mom.”
Ryan scratches his chin. “He’s working with a shifter.”
“You knew this,” I tell him.
“And you’re working with us,” Myra points out.
Ryan meets her eyes briefly, and then busies himself with the bags on the table, refusing to look up. Yeah, something is definitely going on there. They way Myra’s looking at him right now, I think she can feel it, too.
Cheyenne reaches in a cupboard and pulls out a plate and a bowl. She sets out vegetables and dip, and, following her lead, Myra digs in one of her bags and adds some of the same muffins she shared with me this morning.
“I think we all agree it’s best Willow stays in,” Logan says, staring at his shoes. “We don’t know exactly what Kane is up to, but he’s dangerous. He’s already proven that. And he’s not leaving her alone.”
I cross my arms. “Are you serious?”
He glances up just briefly. “Yes.”
“We talked about this.”
Ryan presses his lips together, looking like he’d rather avoid the conversation altogether.
“I’ll stay with you,” Myra tells me. “It’s fine. We’ll bake and research and figure this out.”
“Why was Kane at the hospital?” Cheyenne asks.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. He said he was checking in.”
“What the hell does that mean?” She consults her watch. “God, it’s too early for wine.”
“I don’t know, but I was worried about my mom.”
“How’s she doing?” Ryan asks, taking a seat at the table.
“The nurse said there’s been no change, but I swear she was talking to me.”
Myra gives me an uneasy glance. “Like…another Selena thing?”
Cheyenne reaches for the bottles on the counter. “Okay, maybe not too early for wine if we’re going to be talking about ghosts and vampires.”
I join Ryan at the table, purposefully keeping my eyes from Logan. Something’s going on with him and I’m going to figure out what it is. But now’s not the time. Not to mention he keeps stepping on my toes and I’m getting pretty angry about it.
“Not like a Selena thing,” I say. “I don’t know what it was. I was telling Logan I could try to heal her with fire. To at least try. And it’s like…I don’t know…” I cover my face with my hands.
Ryan touches my shoulder. Gives it a squeeze. I offer a thankful smile. What I need most right now is understanding‒not someone trying to block me from taking care of things.
When I look up again, Logan’s jaw is tight. His eyes are guarded. “She was adamant against the fire,” he says quietly.
I nod, my stomach twisting. “She kept saying ‘no fire, no fire,’ but she wasn’t awake. She was still in a coma. And then Kane showed up and she stopped. When the nurse came in, she said nothing had changed. Why wouldn’t she want me to use the fire? What if it helps her? And how could she hear me anyway?”
Cheyenne deposits a glass of wine on the table in front of me and offers more glasses around the
room before pursing her lips. She’s wearing her scholarly librarian glasses and I realize suddenly how grateful I am to have met her. And Myra. And even Ryan and Logan right now. I can’t deal with this on my own.
“Maybe something inside of her recognizes what’s going on. Maybe she knows something about the fire,” Cheyenne says.
I sip my wine. “What? It helped Myra. It’s helped me before. Why would it be bad? The worse that could happen is that it doesn’t work.”
“Or that it does,” Myra murmurs.
My head jerks up. “What?”
“I’m just saying, if the fire has been helpful in the past, it stands to reason it might be now. If the fire works, and it heals her, what happens?”
“She wakes up,” Ryan answers. “That’s what we want.”
“But maybe it isn’t what she wants.”
I squeeze the base of my wineglass. “Why wouldn’t she want to wake up?”
Myra takes a sip of her own wine. “Maybe she’s more involved in this than we thought.”
Dread unfurls in my stomach. Maybe that’s why Kane was at the hospital. Maybe he wasn’t checking in on me at all‒especially not after Wes, his shifter, already popped in at the site of Selena’s old home.
I stand, feeling sick. I steady myself on Ryan’s shoulder and he looks up in alarm.
My worry catches to Logan. He steps forward and grips my arms. “What is it?”
“Kane.”
“What about him?” he growls.
“I think he was there because of my mom.”
Chapter 6
That night, after too many glasses of wine and endless speculating with the rest of the group, I change into shorts and a tank top and crawl into bed.
Logan’s talking with Myra in the guestroom while she settles in for who knows how long. Their voices reach me in a low murmur, but I can’t tell what they’re saying. At this point, I don’t care. I know what I need to do.
Make sure my mom is safe. Make sure I stop Kane. Figure out this spell.
I have ideas, but right now I’m too tired to argue with Logan about carrying them out. He kept quiet most of the evening, contributing to the conversation here and there but not much more than that.
I halfway expect him to sleep on the couch to give me space. Or give himself space, which is what he seems to want.
I send my article into the magazine before I lie down with a sigh. The wine is making my thoughts wander. After several minutes, I find the energy to reach up and shut off the lamp.
The murmurs stop, but I don’t hear anything else. The wind blows softly outside my window and I wonder where Kane’s shapeshifter is. I wonder how he can want to become a full shifter so badly and Ryan is so opposed to it.
When something moves the covers beside me, I yelp.
Logan holds up his hands. “Sorry,” he whispers.
I press a hand to my pounding heart. “You’re so quiet. I didn’t hear you.”
“Sorry,” he says again.
Easing back against the pillows, I follow his shadow as he unloads his pockets onto the end table.
Still hurt from his behavior earlier, and wishing he’d say something, I tell him, “You don’t have to sleep in here if you don’t want to. You can take the couch. Or I can take the couch.”
He stops with his hand on the button of his pants. Even in the dim lighting, I see the muscle flex in his jaw. He runs a hand through his hair and then props his hands on his hips. “If you don’t want me in here, I understand.”
He understands? He’ll just accept it and then go?
“It’s not that I don’t want you in here,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. Trying not to antagonize him. “It’s that I don’t feel like you want to be here.”
He closes his eyes briefly. “That’s not it, Willow.”
I sit up straighter. “Then what is it?”
I’m wide awake now. I was about to drift into a nice sleep and now adrenaline is coursing through my body. I’m ready for a fight, or a solution, or something. I’m tired of just sitting here.
“You…” He sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from me. There’s tension in his shoulders when he bows his head. “This is my fault‒all of this.”
Some of the fire fades. It’s hard to be angry with him when he’s so resigned. This doesn’t sound like Logan, the confident‒almost cocky‒man I met when I first came to Shadow Hill. I know he was just trying to get on my good side, to get me to do what he needed me to do, but he was alive. He was fighting for a cause.
Now…he sounds lost.
I can’t help but crawl over to him and loop my arms around his shoulders. I press my cheek to his back and close my eyes. “It’s not your fault.”
“It is. There’s so much wrong with this‒with everything. You shouldn’t have to be right in the middle.”
“But I am,” I whisper. And as much as I hate it, this is where I’m supposed to be. Trying to set things right.
Logan swivels and faces me, the mattress sinking under his weight. His lips are urgent when he finds mine. His hands skim my arms, my shoulders, before lifting to my face and cupping my cheeks.
“I need to make this right,” he whispers, breath warm against my lips.
“You are.”
“Willow.”
His voice is tortured. I don’t understand. I don’t know what he’s thinking or where he’s coming from‒all I know is that I want to comfort him and I want him here, in my bed.
I kiss him again, gliding my tongue over his lips. He groans softly and presses me back into the comforter.
“Stay here with me,” I say, pulling off his shirt.
I see the shadow of his nod. “Always.”
In my dream, Kane is chasing me and my mom is screaming about fire. There are flames all around me, but I keep running and running, cringing every time I turn and get burned. There’s no escape.
I jerk awake, gasping and grabbing my arms where the fire trailed up my skin and to my shoulders. The room is still dark, the blinds closed and blocking out the low glow of the moon.
Heart beating hard, I turn to Logan, only to find him gone. I smooth my hands over his side of the bed. The covers are pushed aside and the sheets are cool. He’s been gone a while.
I grab a robe from the hook on the back of the door and pad down the hallway. The door to the guestroom is shut and I assume Myra’s still sleeping. When I round the corner to the kitchen, the time on the microwave reads 2:30. Where’s Logan? Why isn’t he in bed?
Then I feel the draft. Cool air comes from the open back door. I cross my arms over my chest and walk slowly to the opening. I peer outside, craning my neck to see in the darkness. Despite the light from the moon, it’s hard to make out much else besides the shadow of the lawn furniture.
I glance behind me, wondering if I should wake Myra. I start to reach for the drawer at the end of the counter for a flashlight when I hear a noise.
It sounds like a voice. Logan?
I take a few steps outside. The wind whispers against my cheeks. Swallowing hard, I start to call out for Logan, but my voice freezes in the back of my throat.
What if it’s Kane out here? What if Logan came out because there’s some sort of danger?
I creep across the slab of cement to the edge of the lawn. From here, I can barely make out the shadow of the shed at the corner of the yard. Movement catches my eye. Just a brief mass of blackness darting toward the trees.
I yank in a breath. Logan.
I can’t stand the thought of him out there hurting somewhere. With a deep breath, I step into the grass. It’s cold on my feet‒and thick. Ryan was going to come over to mow it for me.
And I have no idea why I’m thinking about mowing when Logan could be hurt.
I reach the shed and lean against it, listening for more noise. Nothing. With a few cautious steps, I walk around the corner.
Without warning, someone jerks me from my feet and slams me against the rough wood o
f the shed. My breath whooshes out and stars whirl in front of my eyes when my head hits the surface.
There’s a flash of teeth before a shocked voice says, “Willow?”
Logan’s face swirls before me. He releases me almost roughly, staring at his hands like he can’t believe what he’s just done.
I try to straighten, but my body is unsteady. My legs are wobbly and my lungs don’t want to pull in a full breath. “Logan,” I whisper.
“Willow.” He yanks me to him. “Willow‒what are you doing out here? I thought you were Kane.”
Clasping onto his forearms, I sink into his embrace. “What are you doing out here? I had a nightmare and you…”
My head feels heavy, throbbing in the back.
“Are you hurt?” he asks. I can barely make out his features in the dark of the night, but I see when he closes his eyes, breathing harsh. “I’m sorry, Willow. I’m so sorry‒what did I do to you?”
“You‒you didn’t do anything. I just…”
A snap of a twig sounds behind him and he swivels, standing directly in front of me. I curl my hand around his arm. “Is someone out there?”
He’s alert for a long moment before finally shaking his head. “No. Just an animal.”
“Was Kane here?”
“I don’t know.” His jaw his hard when he turns. “Let’s get inside.”
He supports me when we walk across the grass and to the back door. When I move to sit at the kitchen table, he shakes his head again but won’t touch me. “No. Bed.”
“Tell me why you were outside.”
“I thought I heard something. It doesn’t matter. I hurt you. You need to go to bed.”
“Logan.” I turn to him at the end of the hallway. His mouth is drawn in a frown. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Do you know what I just did out there? Don’t you care?” he snaps.
I flinch at the tone of his voice. “What do you mean?”
“I hurt you. I could’ve‒” He breaks off, dropping his chin. “I could have killed you. Don’t you get that? I’m trying to help you‒to make things right, and instead I’m making them worse.”
“I’m fine.”
“You hit your head. You‒” He breaks off again and this time doesn’t continue.
