by Jayne Frost
“Logan?”
“Logan?”
Overwhelmed by images, flashing lights, and voices I couldn’t place, I snapped my gaze to Patel.
“I can’t.” My voice was small. Insignificant. And I hated it. I hated her. Why the fuck wouldn’t she stop with the tapping?
Patel’s brows drew together and for the first time I noted pity in her eyes. She replaced the card on the stack, drew in a breath, then stood. “That’s enough of that for a moment.” She motioned to a sitting area. “Let’s move over here and talk a bit.”
Since I’d do anything to put some distance between her and the cards, I took a seat on the sofa while Patel opted for the chair.
“You have primary dyslexia, to be sure,” she began, “but that isn’t the reason you can’t read.”
I sank against the cushions. “What is it then?”
She sighed, shaking her head. “If I had to venture a guess, I’d say it’s trauma related.”
“But you said—”
“Not the kind of trauma resulting from an injury. Emotional trauma.”
My skin prickled, all the warmth leeching from my pores.
Regarding me with a soft smile that offered no reassurance, Patel picked up a notepad from the table.
“Perhaps it’s time we talk about your mother.”
61
Ten days after I’d arrived in Los Angeles, and only seven days after my near breakdown in Patel’s office, I got off a plane at Austin Bergstrom.
Everything looked different. Bigger. Scarier. Intimidating as fuck.
As I rode the escalator to baggage claim, I thought about turning around. Buying a ticket and skulking back to LA to my little hotel room across from the medical center.
But that would only undo the few steps I’d taken on the long road to wherever it was I’d end up.
God, I sounded like … someone other than me.
Since I wasn’t sure who me was, that was okay.
At this point, I was flying blind. I’d been doing it for years, only now I was aware.
According to Patel, I’d reduced my world to something manageable a long time ago. Street signs, billboards, books, and even people were all just props. Things to be pushed aside and ignored when I couldn’t figure them out.
But Tori had changed all that. She’d crashed into my life, a broken girl I wanted to resurrect. But instead, she was the one who’d opened my eyes. Revived me. She’d ripped back the filter on the world, and all the beauty and all the pain, the magic and the mayhem, it all flowed through her.
She was my conduit.
I dug my fingers into my tired eyes as I waited next to the belt for my luggage. Jerking when I felt something wrap around my leg, I looked down into the most beautiful little face.
“Unc Lo! You home!”
Scooping Willow up with one arm, I breathed in her baby scent. “Willow-baby. I missed you.”
From a few feet away, Sean regarded me with narrowed eyes, blue like his daughter’s, but not nearly as warm.
“Hey, bro,” I said with a tip of my chin and a smile.
He shook his head, let out a sigh, and then strolled up like he couldn’t believe he was here.
Despite his surly disposition, I pulled him in for a hug. “Thanks for coming to get me.”
His back stiffened, but then he gave in and returned the embrace. “Shit, man. You had me worried. You haven’t answered your phone in a week.”
Releasing him, I lifted a shoulder, a little embarrassed. “I couldn’t. Doctor’s orders.”
Sean’s face fell. With his family history of losing loved ones to cancer, I should’ve been more sensitive, because he immediately went there. And in that moment, I knew how much he cared.
“Not that kind of doctor,” I assured. “Patel deals with other stuff.”
I tapped my temple and saw the understanding creep over Sean’s features. And also a bit of surprise. I’d always subscribed to the notion that therapy was for those without the stones to deal with their own shit, and Sean knew it.
Surprisingly, he just smiled. “That’s good. I hope it helped.”
With a loud thump, the first bag tumbled off the chute and landed on the belt, precluding any further conversation. Which was a good thing since Sean looked a little overwhelmed by the new me.
Not that a person can change much in ten days, but my metamorphosis had started much earlier. With Tori.
The usual wave of emotions slammed into me as I thought of her. And I made no move to push them away, just let the tide roll over me and carry me out to sea.
“Shit,” Sean muttered as I secured my duffel over my shoulder. “We need to get gone.”
Following his gaze to the gaggle of reporters, I cocked my head. “Are they here for us?”
He snorted. “No, dude, they’re here for you.” He gave me the oddest look. “Haven’t you been keeping up with the news at all?”
I shifted my feet, shrugging. “Not really.”
Dr. Patel had insisted I unplug while I was in LA. No distractions. So I hadn’t followed any gossip sites or kept up with my texts or emails. There were four messages I’d yet to open from Tori, and of course, her letter. I looked at the note every day, and it helped me focus on my goals. I wanted to “read” it, and to hear her voice in my head when I did. That was a long way off, though.
“This way,” Sean said, scooping Willow into his arms. Falling into step beside him, I headed for the bank of elevators that led to the parking garage. Once we were safely inside the lift, he blew out a breath, looking anywhere but at me.
With a sigh, I leaned a shoulder against the metal wall. “Tell me what I don’t know.”
He met my gaze. “We’re supposed to be doing a show in six days. I thought that’s the reason you were back. It’s going to be huge, man. Tickets went on sale last Monday and sold out in like, twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes?” I scratched the back of my head. “How big is the venue? Who’s on the bill?”
“It’s at Zilker Park. I’m not sure about the lineup.”
The door slid open, and I stepped out of the car, chuckling. “Dude, this has got to be some kind of publicity stunt. You can’t sell seventy-five-thousand tickets in twenty minutes without announcing a lineup.”
Our boots echoed off the stone walls, the only sound as Sean pondered his response. I was about to abandon my new-found Zen and shake the answer out of him when he swung his gaze in my direction.
“There’s no mistake. The minute Tori announced she was coming out of retirement for a Damaged reunion, they couldn’t print the tickets fast enough.”
While I waited in the loft above the studio for the guys to show up for the rehearsal Sean had arranged, I placed a call to Tori. Straight to voicemail. And of course, the box was full.
For the first time in ten days, I plugged in my earbuds and opened my text to speech app. It felt like a defeat. Or a surrender. A silent admission that I was broken, and it would take me years, if ever, to do the things that came naturally to others.
“Fourteen percent of the adult population can’t read, Logan. You aren’t alone.”
Patel’s voice echoed in my head, providing little comfort.
Blowing out a weary breath, I went down the list of headlines.
Tori breaks the internet! Ticketmaster site goes down amid unprecedented demand for tickets to the Damaged reunion!
Sold out! Twin Souls announces lottery for last ten thousand tickets to the Damaged reunion!
Tori Grayson in hiding after announcing her return to the stage. Is the pressure too much?
And of course, the tabloid press had to get in on the action.
Rhenn Grayson spotted in Austin! Sightings of the iconic singer lead to speculation that Damaged front man faked his own death.
Where’s Logan? Tori plans revenge concert after Caged frontman caught cheating in Berlin with supermodel.
Tori’s heartache! Logan Cage undergoes treatment at Cedars Sinai
for drug abuse. Click here for pictures!
Pictures? Of course there were pictures.
With a sigh, I hit the link and a photo of me exiting the outpatient psychology center at the hospital populated the screen. Stringy hair. Bags under my eyes. And a week’s worth of scruff lining my jaw. No wonder they thought I was on drugs.
Had Tori seen these?
Gritting my teeth, I opened my messages.
If I waited to look at the texts until I could read them they wouldn’t mean anything.
Just one.
I could listen to just one. As I glanced over the four options, I chided myself for playing these games. But then, up until a couple of weeks ago, life was a game. Now everything was real. Too real. Imposing a few rules to keep my sanity wasn’t a bad thing, was it?
You’re talking to yourself.
Jabbing the screen, I hit the last message from four days ago, and then sat back, imagining it was Tori’s voice in my head.
“I know you have to do what’s best for you. And I understand. I just wanted to say … I’m sorry for the way things—”
A loud pop sounded in my ears when I yanked the headset off.
She was sorry? Sorry for what? That we’d gotten together? That she left? That she broke my fucking heart?
Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back. Even after everything, knowing how it all turned out, I wasn’t sorry. Reluctantly, I picked up my phone and, scrolling to my music file, my finger hovered over “The Dance” by Garth Brooks. The tune had always reminded me of my mama, and lazy days spent in the trailer when she’d sing to me. But the lyrics, they were all Tori. And all me. Us. Messy and tangled, full of regret and lost chances. And love. So much love.
Replacing my earbuds, I settled back in the overstuffed chair, and let the music shred what was left of my heart. And when the song was over, I did it again. And again.
Sometime later, the door to the industrial elevator slid up with a loud crash.
“Just keep an open mind,” I heard Sean hiss as I stuffed my phone into my pocket.
“The only thing I’m gonna be opening is a can of whoop ass,” Cameron replied.
“Stop,” Christian growled. “We’re settling this shit today.”
I pushed to my feet as they filed in. Before Cameron could land that punch he was itching to throw, I stepped up and enveloped him in a hug.
“I know you’re mad,” I said, close to his ear. “And I don’t blame you. If you still want to hit me after I’m through, you get a free shot.”
A beat of silence turned into two.
“Don’t flatter yourself, son,” Cameron finally grumbled, patting me on the back hard enough to knock the wind out of me. “I don’t need a free shot to knock you on your ass.”
Christian pushed Cameron out of the way. “Where’s mine?” Pulling me in for a hug that could easily shatter a rib, he whispered, “You better make this right, bro. There are some rumors going around I’d like to ignore. But taking off to Cali like that …”
He broke away and then took his place on the sofa next to Cameron and Sean. It felt like I was in front of a firing squad. Not really conducive to rolling over and showing my soft underbelly, but oh well.
I reclaimed my seat. “I’m sorry I disappeared without letting y’all know where I was going.”
“Where did you go?” Cameron asked impatiently, crossing his arms over his chest.
I guess the old me would have left it at a half-assed apology, so I couldn’t really blame him for interrupting.
“California.”
“I knew it!” Christian roared as he jumped to his feet. “You’re leaving the band!”
He paced in a circle muttering to himself while Cameron just blinked at me. Shell shocked.
“I’m not leaving the band,” I said calmly.
“Yeah?” Christian challenged, wrangling his phone from his pocket and shoving it in my face. “Did you read this? It’s in the Hollywood Reporter. Not exactly a gossip rag.”
Taking the device, I stared down at the screen. “I didn’t read it, bro.” Swallowing hard over the lump in my throat and the tears stinging the back of my eyes, I looked up. “I can’t … I mean, I couldn’t. Because …” Say it. Say it. Say it. “I can’t read. I’ve never been able to read. That’s why I was in LA.”
The boulder attached to my back, the crushing weight I’d carried all my life, broke in two and tumbled to the ground.
Shifting my focus to each of my brothers, I offered a smile that almost felt … peaceful. “This is going to take a minute to explain. Maybe y’all should grab a beer.”
62
The following morning, just after sunrise, I found myself seated at the patio table on Sean’s deck. I’d opted to take him up on his offer to spend the night, hoping the remote location and the proximity to Tori’s house might help me sleep.
It didn’t.
The back door creaked, and the birds scattered, except for one. The little dude stubbornly held his ground, eyeing me as he gathered the breadcrumbs I’d been tossing.
Anna slid a steaming mug of coffee in my direction. “You’re up early,” she said through a yawn as she took a seat across from me.
Tearing my gaze away from the bird, I smiled and picked up the cup. “I guess I’m still on European time.”
Really, I was on Tori time. She always woke with the dawn. Shifting my gaze back to the water, I followed the shoreline west to the patch of trees on the bluff. To Tori’s house. The media said she was in hiding, but I didn’t believe it. The girl didn’t run from anything.
Except you.
I frowned into my next sip of coffee.
“You still haven’t talked to her?” Anna asked.
Was I that easy to read? Apparently so.
“I’ve been kind of busy.”
She nodded a little too quickly, letting me off the hook. But, then isn’t that why I said it?
Back off, I’ve been through enough. My mind’s a little addled. Not quite right.
But that was a lie. I’d never been more clearheaded in my life. I knew exactly what I wanted—Tori. Any way she’d have me. But what if she wouldn’t have me at all? What then?
I was about to come clean, confess my fears. But this was Anna, and she already knew.
“If you want to be with Tori, you shouldn’t be afraid to tell her. What’s the worst that’s going to happen?”
A bitter laugh tripped from my lips. “She slams the door in my face and tells me to git.”
That wasn’t the worst. The worst would be if she told me she could never love me. But I couldn’t admit that.
Anna nodded. “What if she doesn’t, though?”
We could play this game all day. And she would, too. She’d wear me down until I admitted that I wouldn’t know until I tried. That the reward was worth the risk. That even if the worst happened, I’d be okay. Eventually.
Grabbing a handful of breadcrumbs from the plastic bag, I tossed the tidbits at the bird who was now angrily pecking at the deck. “You’re a persistent little fuck.” And fearless too. But for that trait, he was like the rest of his buddies. Plain brown. A little on the small side. Bright, ebony eyes. “What kind of bird do you think he is?”
Anna dipped her head, and when he hopped her way, she smiled. “He’s a wren.”
Sweat trickled down my back as I trudged up the hidden path behind the luxury apartments. Once I reached the bluff overlooking the red bridge spanning the Colorado River, I eased down on a patch of dried grass under the canopy of trees and spread out the old wool blanket. After unpacking the dinner I’d picked up on the way, I sat back and took in the view.
When I was young, I used to bring Laurel here in the summer whenever we needed a break from the sweltering heat in the trailer. There was just enough level space in the clearing for a couple of sleeping bags. We’d eat our gas station burritos and watch the people on the opposite shore riding their wave runners and lazing by their pools. And for a few hours, we co
uld steal a piece of their sky and pretend we were part of their world. Where everything smelled like coconut oil and sunshine instead of stale beer and desperation.
“Lo.”
Laurel hovered at the edge of the clearing, looking around with uncertain eyes. Like she was still an outsider. It didn’t matter that we’d made it. That I could buy her a place in this bright shiny world. She still carried the shame of the life we left behind. Just like me.
Pushing to my feet, I closed the distance between us and pulled her into a bear hug. “Laurel. I’m so glad you’re here.”
She tipped back, peering up at me with our mother’s eyes. “Really?”
I could tell by the way her cheeks pinked that she hadn’t meant to say it. But I’m glad she did, because I needed to hear it.
Tucking a blond curl behind her ear, I smiled. “Let’s sit down.”
Her gaze darted to the opposite shore. “What if someone sees us?”
“It’s almost dark. Nobody’s going to see us. And if they do, we wave.” I laced our fingers. “Come on, your shake’s going to melt.”
A smile broke on her face when she saw the orange and white bags stained with grease. “You brought What-A-Burger. I love What-A-Burger.”
Sinking to her knees on the blanket beside me, she tucked her hands between her thighs and looked around. “I remember when we used to come here on vacation when I was little.”
I laughed because I thought she was kidding, but when our gazes met, her blue eyes were serious. “You thought this was a vacation?”
Taking the burger I offered, she shrugged. “It was the only vacation I ever had.”
Easing onto my elbow, I toyed with the wrapper on my sandwich. “What about when you were with your foster family?”
Laurel never discussed her years in foster care. I wasn’t sure if she was sparing me or herself, so I never pushed. But I wanted her to know she could talk to me about anything.
Shifting her focus to a speedboat pulling a group of kids on a large inner tube, she frowned. “I was too old for a foster family. At first, I was in a group home. It wasn’t bad, but then I ran away …”
