Because of Logan

by Erica Alexander

  I grab my jacket and make my way to Skye. I hope she’s awake. I texted her hours ago, letting her know it would take all day to process the scene and I still had to work my full shift anyway.

  The door opens before I have a chance to knock and Skye wraps herself around me. Her small body presses into mine, her cheek flat on my chest. She hugs me like she’s trying to get under my skin. I hug her back, tuck her head under my chin, one hand into her hair, the other across her back. I feel like I can breathe again. I felt uneasy for the entire day after I let her go. I had no choice in the matter. I had to go back to work. I can relax now.

  That something I couldn’t identify before? I know what it is now. This is it. Skye in my arms. I missed her, but it was more than that. Having to let her go right after such a traumatic experience took a part of me away.

  Today, I learned that my need to be in control and follow the rules does not guarantee safety. The illusion of safety was shattered by the shooter. Life can change in a second. All we have is this moment. Right now. I make a decision, a decision I now realize has been in the making for a while.

  I can’t move forward while holding onto the past.

  I have to let go of my anger. I have to let go of my need to control. I have to allow myself to trust, be open, take risks, and allow life to unfold itself. Trust it will take me where I need to go rather than try to force my way into it. And I have to forgive my parents. Not forget. But forgive. It doesn’t mean I have to comply with my father’s wishes. I can forgive him and still be me and not the person he tried to make me into.

  We stay locked with each other until River comes to the door and gets our attention.

  “That’s cute and all, but my skinny ass is freezing. So maybe come in and close that door?”

  You can always count on River to add a good dose of reality. We walk in, and Skye tugs me to the kitchen and motions for me to sit in one of the stools by the counter.

  “I cooked. And baked. I do that when I get stressed. I hope you’re hungry.”

  “I’m starving, actually. Haven’t had a chance to eat anything since this morning.”

  We don’t need to go into details of why I didn’t eat. But River is not letting that go. She sits next to me as Skye moves about the kitchen and grabs a plate and silverware.

  “So, the bastard is dead. What now?”

  “River! I told you not to ask him anything.”

  “And I didn’t listen. You got lucky, Skye. You got so lucky today. And thank God I called Mom and Dad so they found out what happened from me and not the news. I can only imagine how they would’ve been if they happened to be home and with the TV on this morning.”

  Skye turns, an apologetic expression on her face.

  “I’m not sure I have much more to say in addition to what you’ve already seen on TV or heard from Riggins,” Logan adds.

  River looks pensive.

  “The university contacted me. Offered counseling. Said there will be several counselors available to anyone who wants to talk to one. I’m still processing everything that happened. Not sure what they could say that would make a difference,” Skye says.

  “Talking to someone can help, Skye. Even if you don’t think you’ll get anything out of it. Sometimes, just venting, letting it all out with a stranger helps. Even more so than talking to someone you know.”

  River’s voice is softer when she replies to Skye.

  “I really think you should go. It can’t hurt.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Skye places a plate in front of me and a glass of water. This is what one would call a man’s meal. Beef stew, potatoes, carrots, and . . .

  “Is that homemade bread?”

  “Yeah. I couldn’t help myself.”

  I dunk a chunk of the bread into the rich wine-colored sauce on my plate and moan with the first bite.

  “This is amazing. Thank you.”

  River is silent, but I can tell she wants to talk. Skye is glaring at her in an obvious keep quiet warning.

  I take three huge bites before turning to River.

  “Spill it. What do you want to know?”

  “I don’t want any of the gory details,” she says, and I let out a breath of relief. I wouldn’t say anything anyway, but I’m glad that’s not what she’s after.

  “What I want to know is, what can someone in this situation do to make sure they survive it? We’re all very lucky this guy only wanted his wife and shot no one he crossed paths with. I heard from several people that he walked into the building with a gun in his hand. He could have—”

  Her voice falters.

  “He could have killed a dozen people if he wanted.”

  I take a deep breath and answer her.

  “In training, they say you should run, hide, fight. In that order. If you can run, do it. If you can’t make it to a door and you’re in a room with windows, lock the door and try to get out of a window if you can. Don’t waste time. Don’t go back for anything.”

  “And if I can’t run?”

  “Then you hide. Lock the door and turn off the lights. Push anything you can against the door. Stay out of sight and stay quiet. Turn your phone to silent mode and turn off vibrate. You want to stay as quiet as possible and hope the shooter thinks the room is empty and bypasses it.”

  She looks at me and waits for the next step. Fight.

  “If you’re trapped and can’t run or hide and the shooter is coming into the space or room you’re at, find something to fight back with. Anything you can put your hands on and use as a weapon. Be it a chair, a keyboard, anything. You fight back.”

  “How come no one ever told us that before?” She looks at Skye.

  “Probably because it’s the kind of thing no one wants to believe could happen to them. There are videos on YouTube. Search how to survive an active shooter.”

  “There are? I gotta check this out.”

  River leaves to go look for videos.

  It’s just Skye and me now. I finish my plate in silence. We look at each other. The silence is heavy and loaded with unsaid words.

  I drink the water, push the plate and glass away, turn away from the counter, and stand up. I take Skye’s hand and walk to her bedroom, and she closes the door behind us.

  We’re both exhausted. We shed our clothes in silence, words unnecessary. I pull the blanket back and get in the bed first. I open my arms and Skye comes to me. Her small body fits perfectly into mine. Her back to my front, we fold into each other like matching pieces of a puzzle. A perfect fit. A better picture together than separated.

  Our bodies tell a story, our touches the narrative of what’s to come. I nuzzle into her neck and hair, inhaling her into my lungs, my skin, the very center of my being. Skye melts into me, molding herself to the shape of me. I’m the vessel and she’s water.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  We didn’t have sex last night. And yet, being together like that was more intimate than anything we’ve ever done. The walls have crumbled. Whatever reason Logan had to hold back is gone now. Whether it was the words we finally said out loud—I love you—or the scare we both went through, although from different perspectives, the last barrier, the last vestige of the fear of giving in 100 percent is gone now.

  There’s a new level of comfort and understanding between us, even though we haven’t discussed it out loud. We both know it’s different now. Up to this point, we held back a little. We enjoyed each other’s company and had tons of fun together, and we knew of each other’s affections, but I can’t say we were all in.

  That has changed. I can see in the way Logan looks at me, in the way he touches me, kisses me, holds me. There’s a new level of tenderness and vulnerability. Our chests are open, hearts exposed. And there’s no fear.

  Opening yourself to someone, letting down your guard, being vulnerable—this right here is pure and undiluted trust. I’ve earned his, and Logan has earned mine. And it’s beautiful.

  Who would’ve guessed t
hat out of something so scary and ugly, we’d find something so beautiful?

  He looks like a little boy in his sleep, the intensity and tension I so often see in him nonexistent in this moment. I love watching Logan sleep. I rarely get to watch him for more than a couple of minutes. Somehow, he always knows when I’m watching him like a creep. But not today. I’ve been watching for some thirty minutes and he’s yet to open his eyes and catch me. I relish this unguarded moment. I memorize every feature, every nuance, each breath he takes. The way his lips part on the exhale and how his long lashes cast shadows on his face. The strong jaw and the hint of whiskers. How his hair falls over his forehead. My hands itch to brush it away and touch him, but I dare not.

  “You’re watching me again.”

  His voice is no more than a whisper and his eyes are still closed.

  How does he do it?

  I blush at being caught.

  “And now you’re blushing too. God, I love the way the pink spreads down from your face to your body.”

  His eyes are still closed and there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. I consider staying silent and try to fool him into thinking I’m sleeping, but I know I can’t get away with it. He’s using his cop mojo on me. He always knows everything.

  “Yeah, you caught me. I’m being creep-tastic again.”

  “Is that a new word, Miss English major?”

  He unleashes a full smile on me now. The parts of my body covered by the sheets wake up and pay attention.

  “Yes. In fact, it is. It means being extra-creepy. In the dictionary, my picture sits right next to it. No need to look it up. Take my word for it. ”

  His eyes open and flit all over my face and bare shoulders peeking from under the covers. I’m lost in blue.

  “I’ll take anything and everything you have to offer, Skye.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  “And I’ll give it to you.”

  God, her voice is like melted chocolate.

  If I hadn’t already woken up with morning wood, her voice and her words alone would have done the job.

  I don’t make a move to touch to her. I just watch and relish her presence. Skye watches me back.

  We’re lost in each other’s gaze, and just as I’m about to pull Skye into me and kiss her, the door opens and River comes in.

  She doesn’t bother to knock.

  Hair in a mess of waves, sweats, and a tank top she clearly slept in.

  “Oh, glad you two are awake and not doing the nasty. Nobody needs that visual.”

  That visual is actually very appealing, but I don’t say it out loud.

  “Jesus, River! Ever heard of knocking? There’s a reason that door was closed.”

  River ignores Skye and lifts the cover next to her, scooting under it.

  “If you really wanted to keep me out, you would’ve locked the door. You didn’t. That means I can come in.”

  River tugs at the covers.

  I pull Skye’s body closer in an attempt to use her as a shield against her sister.

  “We are naked under the blanket, you know?”

  Maybe she’ll leave if I make her uncomfortable.

  “I do now. Thanks a bunch, Officer TMI.”

  So much for that. River’s not moving.

  Time to ante up the stakes.

  “My DNA could be all over this bed. Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “Nope. I know for a fact you two didn’t bump uglies last night, and Skye changed the bedding yesterday morning. So the sheets are clean.”

  “And how would you know?”

  She rolls her eyes at me as if the answer is obvious and I’m dumb for asking.

  “Dude, you two are not exactly quiet. I always know when you’re doing the deed. People three zip codes away know when you’re doing the horizontal mambo.”

  Skye is blushing, and I’m blushing.

  “Aww, cute. Look at the two of you. Pink and Pinker. So adorable. Too bad adorable does not fill bellies. I’m hungry. One of you has to feed me.”

  I see what she’s doing and I’m grateful for it. River is trying to make today as normal as possible and get Skye’s mind and my own away from what happened yesterday.

  Skye speaks up.

  “Seriously? Is that why you came in here? Because you’re hungry? Well, go feed yourself. There’s plenty of food in the fridge and pantry.”

  “But I want a breakfast burrito. And you know I’m a terrible cook. I’d make an attempt, but all I’d accomplish is wasting good food and making a mess.”

  My stomach growls in agreement with River. A breakfast burrito sounds fantastic right about now.

  Skye looks at me and I nod. Hopefully, not too eagerly. I’m starving too.

  “Okay. I’ll make breakfast. Now go, so we can get up and get dressed.”

  River gets up, a bounce in her step. When she gets to the door, she turns back to Skye.

  “Sheesh. So grumpy. Maybe you should eat something. You’ll feel better.”

  Skye tosses a pillow at her, but she’s too late. The door closes and the pillow lands on the floor with a dull thump.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  At least River set up all the ingredients on the kitchen counter. For someone who claims not to know how to cook, she sure knows everything that goes into a breakfast burrito. I narrow my eyes at her and she returns my gaze, all innocent-like.

  Tomatoes, onions, cilantro, avocado, eggs, salt, pepper, tortillas, cheese, and frozen hash browns. All set and ready to go.

  “Okay, you guys get to chopping and I’ll start with the potatoes.”

  With the three of us working together, breakfast is ready in no time. I layer the warm tortillas with the scrambled eggs, potatoes, cheese, and all the cooked chopped veggies, add several slices of avocado on top, and roll them like a pro. This is not my first burrito.

  River sets the table and Logan gets us orange juice and coffee.

  There’s a collective moan when we take the first bite. This is so good, I slow myself down to make it last longer. Logan already ate half of his and is eyeing mine. I scoot away from him.

  “Don’t even think about it, buddy.”

  He pouts. I laugh. River rolls her eyes at us.

  “You two are disgustingly cute.”

  She makes a fake gagging motion.

  “I can’t wait to see you fall in love, River.”

  She scoffs, takes another bite, and looks away. And that shadow of something I can never figure out crosses her face for a split second again. I wish she opened up. But that has never been River’s style. She’s like Fort Knox with her secrets.

  When we’re done eating, River takes our plates and brings back the coffee pot. She refills all of our mugs and sits down.

  “How are you guys, really? On the surface, you two look okay, but I can’t imagine that either of you could shake off what happened so easily.”

  I take a deep breath and glance at Logan. He’s looking down at his mug and doesn’t say anything.

  River waits. As much as she keeps all her feelings locked up tight and hates talking about herself, she’s superb at getting others to open up. After a long minute, Logan looks up and opens his mouth, but no words are said. He holds the mug with both hands as if drawing strength from it. His shoulders are tense and there’s a slight shake of his head. The internal debate is clear. I don’t want him to feel like he has to do this, and I’m about to speak up when words spill out of him in a murmur. I play the sounds over in my head again to make out what he said.

  “I was terrified.”

  He looks at me then. He’s answering River, but his eyes never leave mine. The blue is somehow more intense. I see fear in them. And love. It’s an odd combination, but I understand it all too well. In that moment, in that building, I feared for Logan too.

  “I was terrified something would happen to you. I knew you were in the building. I was sure of it. Everything in me told me you were there and your life was at risk. When the call came over the r
adio about an active shooter at Riggins, God, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I don’t even remember the ride there.”

  His eyes close and his hands tremble around the mug. I reach out to him and wrap a hand around his wrist.

  “When I got to the building, it took everything in me not to rush the place screaming for you. If it wasn’t for all the training I got and my years as a cop, I think I would have done just that.”

  Logan laces his fingers with mine and turns to completely face me.

  “When I heard the first gunshots, I think I died a little. I ran up to the third floor with the other cops. For a brief moment, I thought we’d be able to deescalate the situation. He seemed to listen to us, but then he just started shooting and we had to return fire and stop him. A man died yesterday, and I don’t know if it was my gun that killed him. Another man took a bullet that was intended for me when he stepped in my way. I’ve never had to shoot at anyone before.”

  I can feel my chest constrict.

  “I don’t know how or what I should feel right now. Part of me is sick someone had to die and for the role I played in it and that maybe . . . maybe I’m the one who delivered the fatal shot. Maybe I’m the one who killed him. But the other part, the bigger part knows if I had to do it over, I would. If I thought someone was trying to hurt you, Skye, I’d rip him to shreds, limb by limb with my bare hands. And knowing this scares the shit out of me.”

  I stand up, step between his knees, and pull him into me. His head finds the curve of my neck and his arms bring me in closer to him, and we’re pressed together when the first muffled sound of a sob breaks the silence that follows his confession.

  I look at River over his head. Quiet as a ghost, she leaves the room.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  I don’t know what the hell is going on with me. This. Breaking down like this. Being this open about how I feel is not normal behavior for me.