“What?!” I spat.
No one said a word, they just turned around and carried on with their lives. Fuck, I needed to get out of here. I needed room to breathe. I forced myself into another run, it’s going to hurt like hell in the morning but I deserved the pain. I left the woman I love in a fucking hospital bed, battered and bruised after being attacked only twenty-four hours ago. What the fuck.
I ran hard, hard enough to make me sweat and my legs burn. I didn’t know where I was running to, but where ever it was I just hoped it helps me breathe. The lump permanently lodged in my throat was restricting the air I so desperately needed.
Three miles, six hundred and thirty-three steps, one broken fucking heart. I ran three miles to just try and breathe, and before I knew it, I’m at my mom’s house. It’s the same porch, the same white house, the same memories.
I registered opening the door with my key, walking in and falling to my knees in the hallway. And I still couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t I breathe? I suddenly hear footsteps running towards me, but I couldn't muster the energy to look up.
“Logan? Logan. Oh, baby boy, what’s wrong?”
“Mom?” I whispered.
She wasn't supposed to be here, she's been on a business trip for the last three months. Why is she here? Oh god, I can’t fucking breathe!
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” she asked softly, crouching down beside me and pulling me to her.
“I … I, left her,” I stuttered.
Only she would understand just how hard those three words were for me to speak. I made a promise a long time ago. To protect my family, my friends, my love. Just so they weren't torn apart the way my dad had done to my mother, like what that motherfucker did to Neva's family. I swore blind I would protect them. Now I was on my knees on the floor of my mom's hallway, not keeping my promise. But running away from it.
Her palms rested on my cheeks as she pulled my face up so I could see her. Her brown and green eyes held the resemblance to my own. There were tears in her eyes, but I didn’t have the energy to wipe away the tears that had already fallen onto her face.
“Oh, darlin’. Come on, let’s get you onto the sofa,” said softly.
“I don’t think I can move,” I whispered.
My muscles were starting to seize, I had thrown myself straight into a run and stopped without warming down. My heartbeat pounded so damn fast that I was sure my heart was going to jump out of my freaking throat.
“Come on, sweetie.”
She gently placed my arm over her shoulder and holds my weight as if I were a child again, walking me over to the sofa and gently laying me down. She lingered for a moment before draping an old blanket over my body. Giving me a small smile, she turned out the light and quietly left the room.
She didn't ask me if I was okay. I am glad she didn't. She knew as well as I did that I will never be okay when Neva is hurting.
Exhaustion took me quickly, my muscles screamed out in agony as I tried to let my weight fall into the sofa. I didn't remember falling asleep, but the memory of what I had done was forever imprinted into my mind.
The sun peered through the curtains, waking me from my restless sleep. I had tossed and turned all night, thinking about her and letting my subconscious drift back to the day I took her, in every way. The way she came apart in my hands. The soft moans that passed her bruised lips, lips I bruised with kisses. I loved every single inch of her that night, including the broken parts.
I wasn't a saint, I'd slept with half of the women on campus. It was mindless sex, another way for me to try and rid her from my mind. But nothing and no one compared to how I felt when she was in my arms. Dammit, I could still feel her. Everywhere. Her lips against my skin, her nails in my back, her thighs around my hips. But the place where I could feel her most was the place that had been filled with a mind-numbing ache ever since she left me the morning after. My heart.
The sound of plates clattering in the kitchen suddenly pulled me out of my self-induced misery. I winced as I sat up on the sofa. My muscles had completely seized from my own stupidity. I needed to move. I slowly stood up and made my way to the kitchen, stopping stock still when I saw my mom making pancakes.
"Mom?" I whispered from my spot just outside the kitchen door.
She quickly whipped her head around to me, flashing me a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She was putting on a brave face for me.
"Come on, sweetie. I made you breakfast," she said in a sing-song voice.
I tentatively walked into the large kitchen and took a seat at the table, the smell of pancakes made my mouth water. Mom silently placed a plate stacked full of pancakes in front of me and took the seat opposite. She sat quietly as I dove into my pancakes.
"Are you going to tell me what happened?" she whispered, her eyes never leaving mine.
I studied her for a minute, taking in her beauty. It was no secret that my mom was striking. The guys used to make jokes how they would love to bone my mom. That was, until I broke the nose of another quarterback who said it with a little too much enthusiasm. My mom was elegant, her blonde curls giving her a look of innocence, while her brown and green eyes showed nothing but years of pain.
She was devastated when my dad left. He had completely crumbled her spirit and left her with a toddler. He had run off with a woman half his age. His secretary. Fucking vermin. At the age of five, I vowed never to hurt my mom the way he had. I promised I would protect her from anything. But right now, I couldn't protect her from the hurt she felt for me.
"I don't think I should," I murmured.
"Logan Marcus White. You will tell me what is going on right now, or so help me God, I will shove those pancakes right down your throat," she said determinedly.
My mouth dropped open at the mention of my full name and the threat of pancakes being shoved down my throat. I snapped my mouth closed, and for the first time in months, I laughed. I laughed until tears fell from my eyes and I had to hold my stomach.
"Did you really just threaten to shove pancakes down my throat?" I asked through my uncontrollable laughter.
"Yes, I did." She smiled.
"Mom, you're so badass." I chuckled.
"Watch that mouth, young man. Otherwise it will be soap I shove down that throat, not pancakes," she said with a smile.
"Mom! Really?" I laughed.
"Logan." She sighed.
She wanted to know what was going on, and why I all but collapsed on her hallway floor last night. I sighed and took a deep breath, trying to find the courage I needed to tell her what I did.
"I don't even know where to start," I said, putting my fork on the table, running my fingers through my hair.
"How about at the beginning?"
For the next hour, I poured my heart out to the one woman who would never hurt me. The one woman who understood everything when it came to my feelings for Neva.
"So, you left?" she asked. Her eyes filled with unshed tears.
"Yeah." I sighed, putting my head into my heads.
"Logan, I know how much you love her. Never, ever doubt that. But have you ever thought that, maybe, she is just too broken? She has been through hell, sweetie. I don't know whether she'll ever come back from that."
"No," I deadpanned. "I have never thought she was too broken. I have thought that maybe I can't give her what she wants, what she needs. But I have never once thought that maybe she was too broken."
"Oh, sweetie." She sighed. "Then maybe it's time for her to heal. You have been protecting her for the best part of ten years. It's time for her to learn how to deal with this on her own."
"I know. I just don't know how."
Chapter Nine
Neva
The tears flowed from my eyes for hours, they just wouldn't stop. The sobs never came, but the tears just poured out. It was as if the dam had been broken, flooding everything within its path. My chest hurt, my heart hurt, my head hurt. Everything was beyond painful; it wasn't the ache of the shit I wen
t through in that house. It was a pain that was indescribable, as if everything inside me had shattered beyond repair.
I could see the looks of pity from my brother and my best friend, and for the first time it wasn't making me recoil back into a dark place. It was pissing me off. It was a look that said 'She's broken, again.'
"Baby girl," Tate started, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand. I didn't want to hear it, I didn't need to know how much I had screwed up. I knew it, I felt it and I hated myself for it. I could see Tate wanted to say more, to try and 'help me' but right now I wanted to be alone.
"Tate, I'm exhausted. Please, just go home," I whispered.
I could see the indecision in his eyes, he didn't want to leave me after what had just happened. He had walked in just as Logan had walked out, finding his sister silent and unmoving. Then those damn tears started, and they hadn't stopped since.
"But..." Tate started.
"Tate. Go home," I bit through clenched teeth. I didn't want sympathy, I didn't deserve it. I pushed Logan away. I broke him. I would not sit here while everyone looked at me like a lost damn dog, I was sick of it.
Low suddenly walked into my eye-line, her tired stare making me falter within my own thoughts. She looked like hell, her hair weren't the shiny and beautiful waves of blonde anymore and her makeup was streaked across her face. It was because of me, it was because of me why she looked like that.
"Low, I am fine. Please, I am just so tired," I mumbled, not wanting to look her in the eye.
I looked over at my brother, who was staring back at me with solemn eyes, but all I could see written on his face was the pity laced with sympathy. I didn't want it. I was angry, angry at myself for what I did, angry at Angel for deceiving me, angry at Jack for hurting me. I was angry at everyone and everything.
"Neva James?" A smooth voice I didn't recognize broke through the tension filled room.
Moving my gaze from my brother, I noticed a short portly man walk into the room, who looked to be in his fifties.
"Yes," I replied on a shaky breath. The tears had slowed their assault on the sensitive skin of my cheeks, but they hadn't stopped entirely.
"I'm Dr. West. Sorry I haven't been to see you sooner, it's been a little busy around here," he said while walking towards me. "I just need to check you over. That okay?"
I nodded slowly, careful not to move too much. The doctor checked my chest, my bruises and the ugly cut to my head. Everything he touched hurt, the pain prickled against my skin with a hum. I hadn’t even registered the cuff that had inflated around my arm.
"How do you feel? Any headaches ... nausea?" he asked while shining a light in both my eyes.
"No headaches, I feel a little sick though," I muttered. I quickly stole a glance through my lashes at my brother, who now stood in the corner of the room with his arms crossed in front of his chest. I hated seeing him upset but I was far too exhausted to deal with anyone right now.
"We can give you some more meds for the nausea. All of your tests came back clear, no broken bones, just a lot of bruising and swelling. So we will keep you in overnight and we can send you home in the morning. Sound good?" He smiled.
"Yes," I answered, not really paying attention to what he had said.
"Good, I'll drop by to see you tomorrow. Try and get some rest," he said before writing down some notes and leaving the room.
I could feel eyes on me. I looked up through my lashes once more to find Tate standing closer to my bed than before. Low was nowhere to be seen. Where had she gone?
"Baby girl, I'm so glad you're okay," he whispered before walking the distance to my bed, pulling me into a hug.
"I will be," I whispered softly, running my fingers through my brother’s hair. "Thank you for always being my rock."
"I will always be your rock for as long as you need it, baby girl," He pulled back to look me in the eye. "I love you so much, don't ever forget that."
"I know." I smiled meekly.
"Fuck me, he really did a number on that beautiful face."
My throat constricted, but this time it wasn't to stop the sobs, it was to stop ... my laughter. As I pulled out of Tate's arms I looked towards the door, standing with a huge grin on his face was Ace.
"Dude, what the hell?" Tate gritted, turning to Ace and throwing daggers at him with his eyes.
"Oh shit, elephant in the room. Got it." He winked, walking into the room and standing next to my bed. "You look sexy as always, Neva."
"Ace, how is it possible that you are checking me out when I look like I went a couple of rounds with Mike Tyson?" I smiled. It was nice to see a new face, one that didn't look at me as if I was broken.
"Sweetheart, you could be comatose and I would still check you out," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at me. Jesus, did this guy have a filter?
"You're fucking disgusting." I laughed. Visions of Ace checking me out when comatose only made me laugh harder.
"So they tell me." He winked.
Nope, no filter. At all.
"Douchebag, leave her alone," Low snapped as she walked back into the room.
Low had a cup of coffee in her hand. So that's where she went. That woman can't function without her coffee, especially with so little sleep. Not a good combination.
"What, everyone wants a piece of me. Isn't that right, Willow?" Ace taunted.
Turning his body towards Low, Ace grinded his hips and moaned. I watched as Low's eyebrows shot right up, clearly stunned. Even I was stunned, no one called her by her full name besides her mom. This could get ugly.
The room had fallen completely silent. My eyes darted between Ace and Low. Ace looked completely amused with himself, while Low looked as though she was about to kill.
"Not in this fucking lifetime," Low warned, a smile taking over her lips. "Or any other."
With that, she took hold of my brother’s arm, gave me a small smile and walked right out of the room, pulling a silent Tate along with her.
Well, that was interesting.
Turning to Ace, I gave him the what-the-hell face. I had no idea what the hell that was, but judging by Ace's smug smile ... He knew exactly what that was.
"What?" Ace laughed. "What'd I do?"
He held his hands up defensively. But there was nothing innocent about Ace. From his buzz cut, to his ... choice of piercings. He was an 'alpha male.' A law student by day, an underground fighter by night, no one messed with him in a court room or in the ring.
"Oh, I think you know." I yawned. The events of the past couple of hours were starting to take their toll on my body, I was truly exhausted.
"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Ace asked, turning his gaze to me. The softness in his voice caught me off guard. This was Ace; Ace didn't do soft and sweet.
"Is the famous Ace Turner trying to be sweet?" I smiled, avoiding his question. My eyes were becoming heavier with every passing second. It was taking every ounce of energy I had left to keep my eyes open.
"Only for a select few, sweetheart. Get some sleep."
Ace’s soft voice was the last thing I remembered before sleep completely consumed me.
I awoke the next morning to an empty room. Nothing but white walls and a grey floor met me as I slowly opened my eyes. The night had been a rough one, I had woken at least eight times during the night. There were no nightmares, not my usual ones at least. I had no grasp of what they were about, but something inside me told me to wake up every time. The fear in those moments had my heart pounding and my skin twitching.
As I moved my right hand, I realized it was no longer painful. My body still ached but it was dull, nothing like the pain I had the day before. Slowly, I sat up. A jolt of pain suddenly sliced through my head, but quickly faded as I breathed in deep through my nose. When the pain had subsided, I slowly swung my legs over the edge of my bed. Counting to three in my head, I tentatively pushed myself off of the bed and bared weight on my two feet. The floor beneath my toes was cold against my skin. A shiver rolled through my legs,
from my toes and up to my kneecaps. Flexing my toes, I smiled.
My first couple of steps were shaky, my feet slowly adjusting to being back on the ground. Placing my hand on the wall, I slowly made my way to the door at the other side of the room, hoping it was the bathroom. I was desperate to pee, my bladder felt like an inflated balloon.
Once I'd done my business, I turned to the mirror above the sink. I gasped. My right eye was a mixture of blues and purples, but thankfully not painful to touch. My eyes roamed my face as I took in my injuries. The small cut on my upper lip, the gash on my forehead that was now held together with a couple of stitches. I was a mess. My hair looked as though I hadn't washed it in weeks. Blood was still congealed within clumps of my hair. I needed a shower, badly.
"Ah, you're up."
Turning towards the voice, I had to bite my lower lip to stop the sobs. The image of Jack with a knife in his hand flashed through my mind repeatedly. His demonic-like voice sent shivers down my spine. My mind was reeling. Every painful memory of that day crashed around my mind like a car wreck. Bringing every agonizing emotion right back to the surface. Pain, guilt, fear. Only this time, I couldn't swallow it back down.
"Honey, are you okay?"
I could see the nurse in front of me. I could see her scrubs, her worried look on her young face. But when I blinked the room got a little smaller, the walls slowly moving towards me. I could see his unkempt face, his uneven, repulsive teeth as the smell of his breath brought fresh tears to my eyes.
"I ... I, I ..."
I was stuttering, I had no idea what I was trying to get out. My mind was showcasing the horrors of what I did, over and over again. I had stabbed him. I had stabbed him in the leg, and the worst part of it all ... that I would do it all over again.
"Okay, sweetie. Let's get you back into bed," the nurse said in a soft voice.
It wasn't Nora, it was someone new. They must have had a shift change while I slept. The new nurse was a lot younger, maybe only a couple years older than me. Her blonde hair was tied up into a bun and her blue scrubs were clean and crisp.
Finding Me (Bad Boy #2) Page 6
