by Amy Lamont
For the first time in my life I wasn’t the bold and brave one leading the charge, uncaring of what might lie ahead. Right at this moment, if I couldn’t have Logan back in our own little private bubble at the beach house, I’d settle for the option to bury my head in the sand.
I flipped the radio on. It was tuned to the 80s station and Scandal blared out at us, singing Goodbye to You.
I snorted. Perfect.
Logan reached out and with a flick of his wrist turned the volume down on the radio. I sent him a narrow-eyed look. How dare he turn down my new anthem!
“Sweet Pea…”
God, God, God. That nickname spoken in that pure gravel voice just about killed me.
“It’s okay, Logan. We don’t have to rehash the last few days.” I managed to send him a halfhearted smile. “I’m just happy you’re here, safe and sound. I don’t want anything to change between us because of what’s happened.”
My mind raced, playing over the last few days. I could remember every moment, every touch, every laugh we shared, every time Logan lost himself in my body.
I shook off the memories, realizing Logan hadn’t spoken. My heart squeezed in my chest. Did he not even want to maintain a friendship now? Had we ruined everything?
“Logan?” My voice broke on the second syllable and I snuck a glance in his direction before turning my attention back to the road.
He wore his blank face like I wore yoga pants. He was comfortable in that expression. I had the sense he wore it often these days and that it allowed him to hide a multitude of emotions.
“We’re fine, Jade.”
His even, crisp voice didn’t make it sound like we were fine. I shivered and reached to turn the air conditioning down. As if that would help the cold invading my body.
I bit my lip and fought back tears, saying a quick prayer of thanks when traffic cleared and I started seeing signs for the Midtown Tunnel.
“Are you coming back to the apartment?” I asked as we broke out of the dark tunnel and into the bright sunshine of the late June day. “Hunter and Katelyn might be there.”
I held back a sigh at my own hopeful words. Was I trying to bribe him into spending a little more time with me?
“No, I think I’m going to head to Penn. Catch a train. I’m sure my mom is getting anxious.”
I plastered a smile on my face and wondered how I was going to be able to breathe from now on. I felt like Logan was minutes away from walking away with my heart.
I stepped on the gas and slipped into the rhythm of New York City traffic, racing from one light to the next with the rest of the cars and cabs and buses and bikes.
“Jade, you don’t have to take me to Penn. Just park in your garage. I can get myself to the train.”
Yes, because you wouldn’t want to prolong your time with me for even a second.
I was such an idiot. I’d spent the last few days indulging in fantasies of the little family Logan and I would create. And the truth was he’d been counting down the minutes until he could walk away.
A voice inside me tried to remind me that wasn’t true. Logan had been right there with me for every touch and every laugh we’d shared. But I was too raw, too heartbroken to pay attention.
Instead I slid my car to a grinding stop in front of the 8th Avenue entrance of Penn Station. I stared straight out the windshield and tried to figure out how I was going to get through the next two minutes.
“Jade. Look at me.”
I slowly pulled air in through my nose, taking a moment to gain my composure. I turned my head to him.
“You okay?”
I offered him the fake smile I knew would be the only smile I had to offer anyone for the foreseeable future. I nodded. “I’m good. I’m going to miss you.”
The words that just a few days ago would have seemed the most natural in the world now sounded awkward and wrong. But as I stared at him, I couldn’t regret a moment of the time we spent together.
He held my gaze until the blaring honk of a taxi’s horn broke our stare down. He shook his head as if he was trying to clear it and leaned forward.
I held my breath and he kissed me. On the cheek. He lingered there for a long moment, his lips pressed against the spot just in front of my ear, but then he pulled away and unfolded himself from my sensible car. He grabbed his bag from the backseat, leaned down to look at me once more. He raised his hand in a halfhearted wave and slammed the passenger door shut, tapping the top of the car twice before he swung around and disappeared into the stairwell.
I don’t know how long I sat there, staring at the spot where I’d last seen him. It wasn’t until a uniformed cop rapped his knuckles on my window that I broke out my stupor.
I put the car in gear, pointed it toward the apartment and prayed I’d make it there before the tears that were threatening started to fall. New York traffic was hard enough to navigate without trying to see through my misery.
Ugh. I must have done something really terrible in my past life. I flipped through the channels one more time to see if I missed anything, but no. Not one crime drama or post apocalyptic angst fest or slapstick comedy to speak of. I swear the universe and every television and cable network wanted to rub in my heartbreak. The only things on were romance—the Twilight Saga on not one, but two different channels. Another network running every Nicholas Sparks movie ever made. A few more channels showed more of the same—a full lineup of Sandra Bullock, Drew Barrymore, and Meg Ryan smooching movies.
I sighed and snapped the television off, tossing the remote on the coffee table in front me. Maybe I should have called some friends and let them know I was back in the city. I could have spent the night dancing and drinking and pretending to have a good time.
But just the thought of trying to fake a good mood for the benefit of my friends made me tired. Not to mention, I couldn’t seem to stop crying. Every time I got it under control, I’d picture Logan—standing at the stove holding a spatula like it was a weapon, lying in the lounge chair looking like a dream, coming over me as we rolled together between white sheets. The waterworks would kick right in.
I’d tried to cheer myself up with a pizza. None of my roommates were home this week so I got to have all my favorites—extra cheese, mushrooms, and sausage. I’d managed half of one slice before my stomach started churning so badly I was afraid to eat another bite.
“This sucks.” I wished my friends were there, but in the next moment I was glad they weren’t. How would I explain this mess to them? If it were anyone but Logan, I’d have Emma, Paige and Katelyn here to console me through all this. But how could I tell them about Logan and me?
I hopped up from the couch and headed for the wine rack built in over the refrigerator. I ran my hand over the necks of the bottles sticking out. Red or white? Or...I moved over to the cabinet and flung it open.
Even better. Tequila.
I snatched up a mostly full bottle and dug a shot glass out of the cabinet and headed back into the living room. I poured myself a shot and decided what the hell? I turned the television back on. If I was going to be miserable, I might as well make it really count.
I flipped through all the romance movies again, trying to decide which one would help me work the last of the tears out of my system. As I cruised through, I couldn’t help but notice that all the heroines had big plans for their lives. Sandra Bullock wanted to keep her job as a senior book editor. Drew Barrymore wanted to get a story on the front page of the paper. Kate Hudson wanted to be able to write about important issues for the women’s magazine she worked for. Meg Ryan just wanted to keep her bookshop open.
No wonder all those hot Hollywood hunks were tripping over themselves to get those ladies to fall in love. They were all ambitious and smart and had goals. I slammed back a shot of tequila and leaned down to grab the bottle. I opened it and started to refill the glass, but thought better of it. I placed my shot glass on the table and tilted the liquor bottle up to my lips, taking a big swig. I cuddled back
into the couch with the bottle of tequila, settling in to completely give in to the misery that wanted to consume me.
I never noticed before how many romantic comedy heroines had jobs related to writing. I’d have to remember to tell Emma her choice of professions had fated her to have an epic romance.
I couldn’t help but compare myself to all those leading ladies. And for the first time in my life, I found myself lacking. Why on earth would the man Logan had become be remotely interested in someone like me?
Hell, look at my friends. Emma landed some major writing jobs before she even graduated college. Katelyn was trying to make the world a better place by becoming a social worker. And Paige might have quit medical school, but she’d already started making a name for herself as a songwriter and no doubt she’d have some other goal in mind soon.
Me? Zero direction.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I tilted the bottle back and took another deep swig. I did have something I wanted. A husband. A family.
But Logan had been surrounded by women like Emma, Kate, and Paige all his life. And although he’d gotten into trouble a lot as a kid, when he and Hunter became friends, he’d straightened out.
And now, seeing the soldier he’d become, there was no doubt in my mind that Logan was a man who valued drive and ambition. Even while he was away overseas, he’d been working with Hunter to build a mini-empire, buying up troubled businesses and bringing them back to life.
I let out a derisive snort as I flipped through channels once more and landed on How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days. Ten days. Kate Hudson wasn’t so smart. Hell, I managed to lose a guy in two and half days. Without even trying.
I needed two hands to line up the bottle of tequila with my mouth, but I managed to get another big shot down.
My last thought as the mixture of alcohol and emotional exhaustion pulled me into sleep—maybe I should ask Emma how to become a writer. It could do wonders for my love life.
Chapter 16
I woke with a groan. Blinking my eyes open, I tried to lift my head, but my cheek seemed to be stuck. I reached up, clumsily sliding my hand over my face. After several failed attempts, I finally managed to dislodge whatever was holding my face prisoner.
I pushed up onto my arms and looked around blearily. I was still on the couch. Not surprising since I hadn’t left it very often over the last three days.
At least my period finished while I had my pity party. Not that it really mattered now.
Today was a little different, though. Today it looked like I’d managed to glue the glossy pages of a woman’s magazine to my face with my drool.
Lovely. I was such a catch. How could Logan give up all that was me?
The thought of Logan sent a lance of pain through my heart. I was amazed I noticed, considering it had to compete with the throbbing in my temples, the churning of my stomach, and the desert that my mouth had become.
I eased myself up into a sitting position and glared at the bottle of tequila sitting precariously close to the edge of the coffee table. Tequila was the root of all evil.
I pushed my hair back off my face and allowed my eyes to close, drifting off in a half doze as I prayed my hangover would allow for more movement some time in the next millennium.
My phone chimed, signaling an incoming text. I ignored it and drifted some more. Until it chimed again. And again. And again.
Crap. I took a deep breath and peeked out of one eye, judging the distance between my body and where my phone sat next to the tequila on the coffee table. I groaned. Way too far away.
The chime sounded again. I clenched my jaw, but even my teeth protested the slight movement. What was I thinking last night?
Logan’s image filled my mind. Oh. Right. I eyeballed the inch of alcohol left in the tequila bottle and contemplated a little hair of the dog.
My stomach took the opportunity to put its two cents in and the answer was a gut-churning, stomach lining-burning, emphatic no to the tequila.
All righty then. I scooted forward, each inch leaving me in more pain than if I tried to run a marathon at full throttle. Barefoot. Over gravel.
My phone chimed once more and I groaned as I bolted forward and snatched it up. I collapsed back into the couch cushions, clutching the phone life a lifeline.
It took several minutes before the throbbing, churning, and burning subsided to a dull achy all over feeling. I pulled in a deep breath and opened my eyes. I ran my thumb over the face of the phone and opened up my texts.
My eyes worked hard to focus on the words in front of me. Kate had sent the barrage of texts.
I started with the first one she sent. What happened with Logan?
Oh, crap. Had he said something about how we spent our time alone together? Why would he do that?
The next message cleared my fear. He doesn't seem like himself. Did you notice anything when he was with you?
Oh, I noticed lots of things when he was with me. The way his blue eyes darkened to almost the color of midnight when he was buried deep inside me. The way his hands felt as they skimmed over every inch of my skin. The way his mouth devoured mine, his tongue demanding entrance, when he kissed me.
I sighed. That’s probably not what she had in mind.
I know he seemed off the night of the party. Hunter said he needed a couple of days to decompress.
Decompress. I wasn’t even going to touch that one. My eyes skimmed over the next message.
I figured a few days at the beach with you would do the trick, but he seems even more withdrawn than before. Something's really off with him, Jade.
The final text was a single word:
Help!
I sighed and hit the keypad, watching as Katelyn’s phone number appeared on the screen. I hit the talk button and lifted the phone to my ear.
“Jade?” Katelyn’s voice came over the line. “You got my texts?”
“Yeah, all thousand and two of them.” My voice came out on a croak.
“Sorry. I’m just worried.”
My shoulders deflated and I sank against the couch, shutting my eyes. “I got that. What’s going on with Logan?”
I gritted my teeth. The last thing I wanted right this minute was to have a conversation about Logan with his sister.
“I was hoping you could tell me.” Kate sighed. “We were all so excited to have Logan home. But he’s been like, I don’t know, like a zombie since he got here.”
“Maybe he’s just tired?” I offered lamely.
“I wish that was it. But it’s more, Jade. I can tell.”
I rolled my neck a little. I’d hoped, if nothing else, Logan would be more like himself when he got back to his parents’ house. But it sounded like the opposite was true. What was going on with him? Was it just the mental whiplash from going from war torn country to his old home?
My heart leapt at the idea it might be something more. But I ruthlessly squashed it. Hoping that Logan might be missing me the way I did him was not a healthy way to get over him.
“I wish I could help, Kate. I really do. We talked some, and I know he struggled a little coming home. He didn’t go into detail about anything that happened during his deployment. But I hoped he was doing a better by now.”
I tunneled my fingers through my hair, leaving my hand sitting on the top of my head. Like that would be enough to keep it attached to my shoulders. I massaged my fingers into my scalp for a second before dropping my hand back to my lap.
“I don’t know what else to tell you. I really wish I could help, Kate.” And I did. I hated the thought of Logan hurting and keeping himself separate from his family.
Kate was quiet for several long seconds.
“Kate? You still there?”
“What aren’t you telling me, Jade?”
“What? What are you talking about?” My voice came out high and slightly frantic.
“Oh my God. You are. You’re hiding something. And it must be something big if I can tell you’re hiding something. You�
�re usually the queen of the poker face.”
I jumped up from the couch, clutching the phone to my ear. My head spun, my stomach heaved and I immediately fell back to the cushions.
I wasn’t sure where I was running off to anyway. All I knew was Kate’s accusation fueled the urge to run.
My body had much, much different ideas, and with a groan I fell until I laid flat on my back on the couch.
“Jade? What’s going on?” Katelyn’s voice broke through my panic. Her words infused with her own anxiety. “Is something wrong with Logan?”
“No.” My response came fast and without much thought. The second it left my mouth I started questioning it. Was it true?
I rubbed my forehead as I thought of the shadows I saw in Logan’s eyes. I thought of the blank-faced soldier who surfaced so often and so easily. That Logan was so very, very different from the Logan I grew up with.
I’d managed to pull the old Logan out of him for a short while the last few days. He’d laughed and lightened up as we spent time together. I’d known the soldier was never far from the surface, but I think that was part of his pull. The vigilance, his protective streak and his new intensity had turned him from the Logan I cared about growing up to the man I...loved.
“Maybe there’s more.” I pulled my knees up to my chest and huddled deeper into the cushions, clamping the phone to my ear.
The most important thing, beyond keeping our relationship—or whatever it was—from Katelyn, beyond protecting my own heart, was making sure Logan was okay. He only had a short time before he had to return to Afghanistan, and if I could do anything to make sure he went back with his head in a good place, I had to do it.
Even if it meant risking my friendship with Katelyn to help him.
I blew out a long breath. Here went nothing. “Kate.” My voice broke a bit on the single word. “I noticed Logan wasn’t himself when he came to the party the other night. It’s why I invited him to stay. Partly...”
“Partly?” She nudged when I’d been quiet for a few beats.
“The other part is selfish.” I pressed my palm into my forehead. “I...Logan...he and I...kind of hooked up and spent the next few days together...um, hooking up...again, more.” My voice trailed off as I tried to figure out how to explain
