Mending Hearts: Logan's Story

by Kimberly Krey

  Palm up.

  Fingers curled over a loose fist.

  An invitation.

  A hot spark flared low in his belly. The familiar longing like a freshly struck match to a heap of brittle twigs. Crossing his other arm over his lap, Logan slipped a hand over hers, gently encouraging her to accept his touch.

  Her hand flattened, and Logan traced over each slender finger with the tips of his own. Soft. Silky. And so warm. He glanced over to see that her chin was down, her eyes pasted on the action. He moved up her wrist, making small, circular patterns along the way, and thrilled at the goosebumps that rose over her skin.

  Not too fast, Logan, an inner voice spoke. An unwelcome voice. But that didn’t mean it was wrong. If he moved too quickly, Candice might back away. He’d trained years to learn just the right approach with animals from domesticated to wild. Women seemed to lie somewhere in between. Loving and loyal. Hard to predict. And bound to strike or bolt when backed against a wall.

  The slow and detailed movement, the anticipation linked to every touch, heightened each sensation as he trailed back toward her palm. At last he laced his fingers through hers, the feel of it fanning the flames in his belly. He wanted more. So much more. But he’d leave it at this. Let her make the next move.

  Yet as the movie changed from one scene to the next, the light flickering over the blessed sight of her hand in his, Candice didn’t move an inch. No problem, Logan assured himself. They’d made enough progress for one night.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “So it’s been going good?”

  Lana’s question sent waves of unwarranted guilt through Candice. She shook it off, pressed the receiver more firmly against her ear. “Yeah. A lot better than I thought it would.”

  “Hmm. You’re not breaking the rule are you?”

  “No. Of course not.” Candice said, wondering if the of course not part sounded suspicious. She’d been dreading this conversation the entire day. Could nearly hear Lana’s pressing voice in her head each time she’d thought about the hypnotic touch of Logan’s strong hands. “We’ve been eating dinner together, of course. And last night we watched a movie afterward.”

  “Lights on or off?”

  “Off.”

  “Did you cuddle?” Lana asked.

  Candice brought a hand to her mouth. Pinched her bottom lip. “We sat close.”

  “Holding hands?”

  What kind of grilling session was this? “Sort of,” Candice admitted.

  Lana puffed out an angry sounding breath.

  Candice glanced down at the carpet beneath her feet. She ran her toes over the surface, suddenly irritated with the conversation. Lana’s voice was sounding less like that of reason and more like the voice of shame. “We’re moving slowly,” she assured, “but I do think we’re heading in the right direction. I didn’t move back in here to keep stagnant in this relationship. I have to be willing to progress, you know? And I’m going to have to be my own judge of what’s right.”

  Silence. Candice could picture the sour scowl on Lana’s face. She’d nearly forgotten this side of her. It was few and far between that she went against her friend’s not-so-humble opinion. But Candice didn’t like feeling guilty for giving in to the pull she felt toward Logan. They were adults after all, as Sam Green had pointed out – not a couple of teenagers.

  “Well, I better go,” Lana finally said, her voice quiet and wounded.

  “Okay,” Candice said, a wave of relief washing over her. Not only was she ready for the conversation to end, Logan was waiting for her in the other room. “So are you still coming out this weekend?”

  “I’m not sure. Brad wants to take Kenny fishing, so I guess we’ll just have to see. I might have to wait a week or two.”

  Candice didn’t have it in her to act disappointed. She was starting to fear that having Lana in the house would be like having a queen-size Jiminy Cricket chirping in her ear nonstop. “Well, keep me posted then, alright?”

  “Yeah. I will. And just be careful, Candice. You don’t know what Logan’s capable of. I’d hate to see you get hurt again.”

  Candice pulled the phone away from her ear to glare at it. She was thinking of just what to say back when the small speaker sounded again.

  “Talk to you later.” The words were followed by a click. The screen went black. And angry heat flared up in Candice’s chest.

  It wasn’t the first time Lana had warned her in such a way. But this particular warning didn’t affect her like the others had. In fact, it only made her wonder why Lana felt the sudden need to vilify Logan at every turn. As if Logan was some abusive creep.

  She shook her head while speeding down the hall. And here Logan thought she liked him, Candice mused with a laugh. Hah! Little did he know…

  She expected to see Logan sitting on the couch, ready to watch the movie they’d picked for the evening, but he was nowhere in sight.

  “Logan?”

  The back door creaked. The sound of footsteps followed. And Candice spun to look over her shoulder. “Where were you?”

  Logan held something large in his hands. It took her a moment to recognize what it was. The big glass bowl from Uncle Glen. “I was just getting this,” he said. “Thought we may as well get started on it.”

  A spark of concern flickered somewhere deep within her as she stared at the slips through the glass. “Tonight?” The single word sounded more like a squeak.

  Logan set it on the coffee table, began hovering over the bowl as he scrutinized the weathered looking cloth over the top. “Guess we’ve got to pull this thing off somehow.”

  The spark of concern doubled in size. “I thought we were going to watch a movie.”

  “We can.” A knotted strand of leather held the cloth in place. Logan began working at it with his rather large fingers. It wouldn’t do any good; Logan kept his fingernails so short they were virtually useless.

  “Let’s do one of these first,” he said, his face pinched tight as he picked at the knot. He grumbled something under his breath – something about the impossible knot he was trying to free – but Candice couldn’t focus on the words. She was too caught up in the strange fear building within her.

  Why? Why now did Candice want to run? Why was she okay to sit on the couch with him – watch a movie while they held hands and cuddled close – yet she wasn’t so willing to do a simple exercise that could directly improve their relationship? Logan had loosened the knot and was tearing the cloth off the top.

  “Jeez. Didn’t think I’d ever get that off. Do you want to pull one or should I?” He was looking up at her now, his shoulders still hunched over the object on the table. Dozens of old, weathered looking slips stood stacked in the bowl, their folded edges looking soft and harmless. Before she could stop herself, Candice reached down and ran a fingertip over the worn textured edges of each exposed fold. There were some tucked along the sides of the bowl and some that had merely sunk lower than the rest. She wondered what they could possibly say.

  “Candice?”

  “Hmm?” She turned her gaze to him. His brown eyes were wide and searching.

  “Do you want to pull a slip or should I?”

  “Um, you go ahead.”

  In went his hand as Candice watched. Without hesitation he pinned one between two fingers and pulled it out. She had noticed the one he picked. Noticed it because it stood slightly taller than the rest. She watched silently over his shoulder as he peeled back the flap. At first it looked blank. But there – in the very center she saw it – just a few small words: Make love to one another.

  ~+~

  Logan could hardly believe his eyes. Make love to one another? In what universe? There was no way Candice would go for that. Not even a chance. But that did nothing to stop the deep, flaming passion that roared low in his belly. Or the images that rushed to his mind. Her soft skin on his. The warmth of her delicate neck. The allure of her tempting kiss.

  Candice stood over his shoulder, eyes glued on the pi
ece of paper in his hand, the look of utter shock on her face. “We’re definitely not doing that.”

  Logan snapped the fold shut. “I know.”

  “So don’t even think about it.”

  “I’m not.” And it was true. He wasn’t thinking about it. Anymore. But it looked like she was. Her face had gone from pale white to a flushed tone of ruby. Her composure from calm to flustered. And her eyes had settled on some distant spot in the room.

  Logan cleared his throat. “I’ll pick a different one.”

  “No, I’ll do it this time.” Candice dangled a hand over the bowl like it was filled with sharks, a grimace on her face. In she went at last, fingers snagging one from the outer edge of the bowl. She pried open the flap.

  Logan blew out a slow breath, working to calm the rush in his pulse as he watched for her reaction. She paused at first, her gaze moving in a slow crawl across the small page. The tension drained from her face. Her cheeks were still a warm shade of pink. Her green eyes showing hints of gold as she nodded, and then read aloud at last.

  “Okay, here’s what it says.” She licked her lips before starting once more. “Husbands: While seated on a sofa or bed, cradle your wife in your arms and listen as she speaks of something she regrets in the relationship. Wives, you’ll do the same, while he rests his head in your lap. Resist the urge to speak up while your partner is talking. Simply listen, learn, and love.”

  “Huh,” Logan mumbled. “You sure you don’t want to go back to the other…”

  Candice smacked him on the arm before he could finish. “Yes, I’m sure. Now are we going to do this or not?”

  “Of course. But I’d like to give it a little thought first. Mind if we take five, get ready for bed or whatever, and then meet back here?”

  She seemed to consider that. “Okay. Five minutes.”

  This was one moment Logan was glad they had separate bathrooms. While Candice did who-knew-what, he smeared toothpaste onto his toothbrush, jumped in the slow-to-warm up shower, and smothered soap on his body with one hand while brushing his teeth with the other. He’d barely rinsed off when he heard a tap on the slightly open door. Stunned, he shut off the water. “Yeah?”

  “Time’s up, Cowboy.”

  He yanked a towel off the shower door. “Do I have to be dressed for this thing?”

  She laughed, the lovely sound of it echoing into the bathroom. “It’d be kind of awkward if you weren’t.”

  “You mean you’re not naked?”

  She laughed again. “I’m wearing PJ’s.”

  “Damn,” he joked. “Well if you don’t want a show, you best step away from that door. I’m walking to my room without a scrap of clothes on in ten. Nine. Eight.” He stepped out of the shower, finished drying off as he continued to count. “Four. Three. Two.” He tossed the towel onto the hook and flung the door open, knowing Candice would be nowhere in sight.

  Since he didn’t own pajamas, Logan threw on the next best thing – some basketball shorts and a jersey.

  He was surprised to see she had dimmed the lights. Perched on the edge of the lounge chair she’d bought, Candice looked down at her bare feet. Her hair had been pulled into one of those high, messy buns, leaving just a few blonde strands to frame that lovely face. If he were hooked up to one of those monitors there’d be a visible spike in his heart rate.

  He ran a hand through his damp hair, tossed the strands a bit as he walked over to the couch. After lowering himself onto the center, he patted his lap. “Okay, love. I’m ready for you.” It had been a long time since he’d called her love, but she didn’t seem to flinch. Instead, Candice nodded.

  “Okay.” She took small, tentative steps toward him, pinching a swatch of fabric at the hem of her top. The pajamas she’d slipped into probably made her feel more comfortable, but he couldn’t say they’d done the same for him. The top was a light sort of cotton, so thin he could nearly see through it. If that wasn’t enough, there were buttons down the center. Two out of three were undone. Another sharp spike on the heart monitor. He’d be the one undone if he couldn’t stop looking. Her shorts matched the tiny pattern on the shirt, and had some sort of lace at the hem, which fell miles above her knees. So sexy and she didn’t even know it. Her eyes met his as she stood before him.

  Whoa. It was becoming a pattern – the peaks in the pace of his heart.

  “I’m just supposed to sit on your lap or what?”

  Logan smiled. “Kind of. Come here.” He gave his lap one quick pat. “C’mon, I’m not going to bite unless you ask me to.”

  She chuckled, a blush spreading over her cheeks. “Stop it.” Yet she climbed onto his lap all the same. Soft. Fragrant. And oh so warm. If he were that big yellow bear from the cartoon he’d watched as a kid, Candice was his coveted pot of honey. Whether she was nearby or oceans away, his or someone else’s, Logan would never stop wanting this woman.

  She released a shaky breath as he slipped a solid arm beneath her knees. To fully cradle her, he wrapped the other arm around her back, encouraging her to lounge into him like a small child. She did, and it warmed every part of him. The air-conditioned home had been a smack to the skin after his quick shower. But Candice remedied that with the heat of her closer-than-ever body.

  He glanced down, pulled in a shaky breath of his own as he took in the expression on her face. Vulnerable. Kind. And willing. Willing to do what the slip suggested. He could hardly wait to see what she said.

  “I um,” she looked down at her shirt, toyed with one of the small, pearl buttons. “I do have something I regret. I have a few things, actually, but one in particular.”

  Logan felt as if he should take his eyes off her but he couldn’t get himself to do it. The moment had even him feeling raw and exposed. Afraid of what she might offer. Could he really keep quiet while she put blame on herself? Knowing he was the one who’d messed things up most?

  “I shut you out,” she said quietly. “In small ways at first. I knew how busy you were with work, and how upset you were that you couldn’t fix things. So I stopped talking to you about it. Kind of buried it instead.” She hadn’t taken her eyes off her fingers, where they fiddled with her top. But in that moment she gave him a quick glance. “I told myself I was protecting you.”

  Logan remained in stunned silence for a moment, taking in what she’d said. She’d been protecting him?

  “It started with me just not wanting to hurt or burden you. But once the anger kicked in – the resentment I felt for not being able to confide in you – I started holding back to punish you instead.”

  A deep ache flared at the center of Logan’s chest as she spoke, her eyes pasted back on that hem at her shirt and the tips of her fingers as they flicked it back and forth.

  “I know you don’t like Lana,” she said. “But I think a lot of that is my fault.” She shook her head, her brow furrowing for a blink or two. “See, eventually I started turning to Lana. Confiding in her. Complaining about how you weren’t there for me. In the beginning I felt guilty. I’d always hated how she used to knock on Brad all the time. But I don’t know. If you want your mind to believe something, it will. And I had myself convinced – for a while there – that you were uncaring and neglectful. Even though it was far from the truth.”

  A million questions rushed through his mind. Just when did this change of thinking take place? While they were in Colorado? While they were separated? Or did it happen within the short time since she’d arrived?

  “I’m going to tell Lana,” she said. Logan had set his gaze on something across the room. But as Candice paused in speaking, he felt the warmth of her gaze on him.

  He shifted his focus back to her face. “What was that?”

  “Lana. I’m going to set her straight. Because…” a slow smile crept over her lips. “Despite what you think, Lana doesn’t like you. And that’s my fault.”

  Logan furrowed his brow. He was caught up in thoughts of setting her straight where Lana was concerned when he noticed a silent
tear streaming down Candice’s cheek. Her lashes, dark and delicate, were wet with welled up tears.

  “What’s the matter?”

  She sniffed, wiped at her face with the back of her hand. “I wish I hadn’t done that,” she said. “I wish I hadn’t put that giant wedge between us.”

  Logan pulled his arm from beneath her knees, brought his hand up to gently cup the side of her face. He had resisted the urge to speak long enough. “You were hurting,” he murmured. “That’s not your fault.”

  “But you always tried to be there for me, Logan. Sure it was hard – all the things we were dealing with – but at least we were confiding in one another. Comforting each other through those hard times.”

  He nodded, thinking back on how close they had been. In the beginning, their struggles seemed to strengthen their relationship. Candice was right about one thing; there had been a drastic change. One that had come on strong and sudden. But he’d never believed it was her fault.

  Her eyes locked on him, the power they held gripping hold of him like a physical force. His heart thumped an extra beat, and then kept the quickened pace.

  “I’m the one who stopped confiding in you,” she said. “I’m the one who shut you out. And that was the beginning of the end. I’m sorry for that.” Her bottom lip trembled, drawing his attention to that small, worried blister she’d caused by pinching at it. He wanted to kiss her there. To kiss every bit of her doubt and pain away.

  He pulled her closer, ran a thumb along her lip, and then brought his mouth to her forehead, and planted a kiss to her there instead.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered against her skin, tortured by an urgent longing for her kiss.

  “I’m trying to let you in again,” she promised. “It’s hard. But I’m trying.” There was honesty in those words; he knew it. It was the same way he identified any obvious thing: The color of grass was green. The lamp in the corner was on. And the words pouring from Candice’s mouth were true. Sincere. It wasn’t a guarantee by any means. If anything it was concerning; as truthful as her final declaration may have been, it was laced with fear. Fear that she might not succeed.