The moment when Caroline parks in front of my house feels heavy and important. Things already feel different, not just in the greater sense but also between me and her. I don’t want this to affect our friendship, and I’m terrified that an irreparable chasm has started between us. We have to stick together at a time like this – at least I think we do. Maybe she feels differently.
I turn to face her before exiting the car. I need to reiterate the importance of her friendship to me, considering this feels like the last chance I have. If I don’t I may lose her forever and the mere thought of that is unbearable.
“You know how we always joked during Grey’s Anatomy that you were the Cristina to my Meredith? And how if we ever had to call someone to help us drag a corpse across the floor…well, as shitty as it is, I’m glad you were there with me. I can’t lose you, Care. You’re my rock…my person first and foremost.”
Her shoulders slump as she exhales, her body ostensibly collapsing under its own weight as the air leaves her lungs. Her mouth forms a half smirk, and I feel my own body relax with evident relief. “I never thought we’d actually drag a body across the floor.”
“You’re a lot stronger than you look,” I tell her, only half joking.
“And in heels too.” She can’t help but give me a sarcastic side-eye.
“Those fucking heels.” The heels she had to burn with the rest of the evidence. Like I told her, she should’ve worn more sensible and less expensive shoes. We hug, and I vow to ensure that this nightmare pulls us closer together instead of tearing us apart.
It’s a quarter after nine at night so both of my children, Mason and Eve, are already sleeping. I still have the urge to wake them up and cuddle them for days. But I don’t, because that’s like Mom rule number one: don’t ever wake the kids.
The house is quiet and a part of me is praying Logan is already asleep so I don’t have to deal with everything right now. Realistically, I know that’s not a possibility if my nightmare returns tonight, and I wake up in a cold sweat screaming again. I think that may alarm him at least slightly. Or…if he’s already asleep maybe I’ll just go sleep in the spare bedroom so I don’t disturb him.
It turns out I don’t have to mull over my options for too long since I see our bedroom light streaming under the door. I find Logan reading in bed. Great. He probably waited up for me once I told him I’d be home tonight. Just great.
“Hey, babe, how was your trip?” He must register the stark horror on my face because his expression instantly changes from excited to stricken. “Babe…what is it?”
“Taylor’s dead.” My voice catches on the words and the rasp of my throat makes it seem like I haven’t spoken for days. Logan shifts, angling his body closer to mine to attempt to hear the words I’d just uttered.
“What?”
I clear my throat and stumble, nearly collapsing on the bed but somehow managing to catch myself on my wobbly arms. I climb up onto the mattress using my knees to get there. I look Logan dead in the eye, supporting my body weight with my arms that feel as though they’ll collapse from under me at any moment. “Taylor is dead. Sage…Sage killed him.” I’ve either gone numb or my body is completely void of tears because I’m somehow able to not combust into a torrent of blubbing.
I fall into his arms and luckily he’s strong enough to support me. His face goes white before my eyes. “Oh my God, what happened? Were they in an accident? Do we have to go to the hospital?”
He’s not getting it. I don’t know if I can say it again, but I shake my head and try to explain again. “You’re not understanding me, Logan. Sage murdered Taylor. She shot him.”
“Sweetheart, what are you talking about? If this is your idea of a practical joke it’s not funny. I have a missed call from Taylor from an hour ago, but I was putting the kids to bed.” Sage knows when our kids go to bed, so I’m certain she planned that phone call to look innocent. She’s sick but brilliant.
I sit up once more, removing myself from Logan’s comforting embrace so that we’re face-to-face. I tell him everything – from Lexi cheating with Taylor to her being pregnant and Sage finding out. I tell him that Sage shot him point blank and the vile things she said to Lexi. The story takes me twice as long as it should to tell because my tears reappear; the bouts of hysterical, intermittent crying make it impossible to tell a coherent story. I feel the tension in the air descending upon us. It’s choking me, making it nearly impossible for me to breathe, let alone talk. A full blown panic attack hits me; my breaths coming fast and shallow, my pulse quickens instantaneously, and my heart is thumping against my ribs so furiously I’m afraid the bones will break.
Logan repeatedly opens his mouth but closes it before any real words can come out. “Um…um…” those two sounds escape his lips briefly, though hidden under a strangled cry. “He’s really dead? I nod. “You’re not fucking with me?” I shake my head.
He’s quiet for ages, and I can’t gauge what he’s thinking. “What the fuck was Sage thinking?” Well…I wasn’t expecting that.
“I don’t think she was thinking at all. I think it was blind rage. And now I don’t know what to do. She said don’t tell anyone, but I can’t keep anything from you. What do we do? Where do we go from here?” A part of me recognizes I’m defending Sage’s behavior. I know it’s crazy. I hate weighing the fact that she’s done so much good as a freaking pediatric oncologist to the one bad thing she’s done. Even if it’s one very horrible, inconceivable, irreversible, horrid thing.
He frowns, a grimace pulling at his lips and his eyebrows furrow together intensely. His expression is grim as he looks first at me and then behind me. I know at this moment he’s looking out the door and thinking of our children, and how we’ll keep them safe. Are we actually concerned Sage will kill our kids? Is she really a danger? I can’t decide, and I don’t voice these thoughts out loud because I feel silly. She murdered somebody. I need to find some way to wrap my head around that and accept it.
“If we make any sudden changes or become distant…I’m just worried. For you, for us, for the kids. I don’t want to think that she’s dangerous, but…she’s unhinged. You didn’t see her, Logan. I can’t erase those images from my mind, and I can’t un-hear her maniacal cackling and screaming.”
My mind wanders down a dark path leading me once again to unimaginable fear and panic. I think the unthinkable. I think about my children and nausea overcomes me with the horrid thoughts and images. I swallow it down and try to shake the images out of my head.
I keep talking, mainly because Logan is offering me no help whatsoever, and when I’m nervous I can’t seem to shut up. “She wants the girls to meet for brunch again this week, as usual. As if everything is fucking normal. She even wants Lexi to come, to keep the status quo or whatever. It’s sick.”
“We need to call the cops.” Finally, he offers me some answers. “Let’s have Caroline and Parker come over tomorrow. Seriously. The kids can stay with our parents for a while. If you and Caroline agree and can corroborate the story, that’s all we need. I mean…we should probably involve Lexi in all this as well, but we can discuss that with Caroline first too.”
I know Logan is right – hell, I thought the same thing. What does it say about me that I don’t want to send Sage to jail? That I feel guilty? Up until 48 hours ago she was one of my best friends and the best doctor at the hospital. She’s done so much good for so many children and their families. Plus…there’s Lennon. Unbeknownst to her, she just lost her father and now we’re going to have a hand in taking her mom away from her.
I know it’s irrational that I’m feeling this way – I’m well aware – but I can’t help it and I can’t change it. But I also can’t imagine how angry and heartbroken Taylor’s family will be and to know I feel even an ounce of remorse for Sage is sickening…but I feel it nonetheless.
“You’re right. Let’s call up Care and Parker. Have them come over tomorrow and we’ll go from there.”
Chapter 4
It makes me wonder if Sage ever felt this way with Taylor. A thought that saddens me. Where did everything go wrong for them? Or was it never actually right? Are things never how they’re perceived?
I guess I could wonder the same about Lexi and Grayson, although their story is a bit more cut and dry to me. Ever since their history was unveiled, little pieces of information have begun to fall into place. Things I never realized before; whether it was between Lexi and Grayson or Sage and Grayson or Lexi and Sage. The tensions, the open flirting between Sage and Grayson, Lexi’s introversion – I could go on. Hindsight is twenty-twenty.
How do you maintain a relationship with someone you don’t trust or don’t view as your soulmate? How do you pretend, for years, to be friends with a person you loathe? I can’t wrap my head around the complexities of this situation.
Which brings me back to how lucky I am to have Logan in my life as my better half. I’m looking at him and succumb to the emotions brewing within. I want him to know how much I appreciate him, how much I love him and care for him. Over the years, people in a relationship forget to remind their loved ones of their value and oftentimes they get taken for granted. With the things I’ve witnessed this weekend, there’s no better time for me to remind Logan how much he means to me.
We’re standing side by side, brushing our teeth in our his-and-hers sinks. “What?” he asks me, the toothbrush obscuring his words. His gaze remains on mine in the mirror. He’s eyeing me skeptically, his eyebrows crinkled together. Maybe he thinks I’m on the brink of a meltdown, wondering if I’m about to snap and go crazy on him too.
I spit into the sink and rinse my mouth before addressing his question. “I love you, Logan. I thank God for you every single day, and I’m sorry if I don’t tell you that enough or sufficiently show you that. I don’t know where I’d be without you, and I don’t ever want to find out.” While I tend to be overly-emotional in general, it’s not every day that I announce my love and appreciation.
Maybe I’m already taking him for granted. I vow to myself and him that I’ll be more aware of it, and that I’ll make a habit of telling him how much I love and care for him.
“I love you too, baby, immensely. I’m sorry you had to deal with this mess alone and I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I want to protect you. I want to help you. God–” He lets his frustration win for a brief moment. His fist slams down on our white marble countertop before slowly relaxing his hand. He hangs his head, gripping onto the edges of the vanity in defeat. “I’m so fucking angry. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
I go to him, circling my arms around his waist and resting my cheek on his muscular shoulder. “I’m right here, baby. Look at me.” Look at me. I’m right here.” He turns to face me. I rest my hands on his cheeks, forcing him to meet my gaze. “I’m right here.”
Our eyes lock and our pent-up energies explode, the usual simmer between us igniting from the fear and the stress we’re experiencing. He grabs me roughly, though not trying to hurt me, and looks at me tenderly. His arms encircle my waist and he tugs me flush against him. My arms lock around his neck as we meet in the middle with a kiss hot enough to make honeymooners jealous.
I moan, my frustration from a multitude of things coming to a head, I release my anger with Sage and Lexi, and my anger toward Taylor and Grayson. I’m irritated over the lies and betrayals surrounding me and my friends these past few months. I’m devastated over my newfound fertility struggle even though I know it’s only been a few short months. I’m enraged I’m losing friends and it’s affecting my family because of this entire debacle.
I release it all and allow Logan to take care of me. I forget that I could be going to prison alongside my friends. I forget the sight of Taylor’s dead body, and Sage’s sinister grin. I forget the piercing scream Lexi emitted at the scene. I relinquish it all to the back of my mind and focus on the most important thing: my husband.
My moans escalate quickly as the frustration builds like wildfire. I’m only wearing Logan’s white cotton tee and a pair of black panties. Logan’s in his briefs, his erection evident and nearly protruding from the top of the boxer’s waistband.
I rub over him shamelessly, letting him know I need this. I want this. Now. Right here. I know he feels the same as he groans into my mouth in the middle of our hot make out session.
“Oh, God, babe,” he whispers on a breath. I try to climb him like a tree, never being able to get the closeness I so eagerly desire.
He takes over, having had enough of our mere kisses. He grips my waist hard and lifts me onto the counter in between our sinks. I push at his underwear, trying my damnedest to release his cock. I’m unsuccessful in that as well, my impatience hindering instead of helping my cause. He shoves the briefs to the ground and steps out of them as I shimmy unsteadily out of my panties.
My breathing picks up as anticipation spreads rapidly from my head to my toes. I whimper at his light touches fluttering along my inner thigh. He grips my hips, fisting the fabric of his t-shirt in his hands. He groans as he looks down at me, his eyes near-black with desire.
I was planning to remove my shirt but I wasn’t quick enough. Logan pulls me forward, my ass cheeks making an incredibly unsexy squeak against the marble. We ignore it and push through with one singular goal in mind.
He balances me on the edge of the counter and places his arms under my legs to spread them and angle me to his liking. He clutches my ass for support and inches the head of his dick to my opening. I guide him in with my hands.
My head falls back as the head of his cock spreads me. I gasp as pleasure shoots down my spine. My husband groans. His body is tense; tightly coiled around his fleeting control. His fingers dig into me and I’m desperate for it, the slight pain that only brings more pleasure.
I’m more than ready for him, and he slides in easily. My ass is going to be covered in bruises from his grip tomorrow, but it’ll be damn worth it. Maybe it’s insensitive of me to fuck my husband in the midst of this disaster, but I’ll worry about when the chemicals in my brain return to baseline.
Logan has always been incredibly attuned to my needs and desires. Despite our passion and unbridled want, he takes it slow, knowing that any ferocity would ultimately hurt me. But, together, we realize that won’t suffice, that our brimming desire is wilder and more demanding to be unleashed. He wraps my legs around his back and lifts me from my seat, causing me to squeal with excitement.
He slams me against the wall, using it to help support the weight of my body. I never understood the brute strength a man must possess to fuck someone while holding them in the air, but God, is it hot as all get out. I want to focus on the way his muscles move and contract with every thrust and how they strain under my weight and the effort, but I can’t. I can barely keep my eyes open because everything he’s doing to me feels so fucking good.
My orgasm builds as rapidly as our lust to one another had. He’s thrusting into my hard, hitting that magical g-spot that’s nearly as mystical and unbelievable as a unicorn. Simultaneously, his groin is rubbing at the perfect rhythm against my clit and it’s nearly painful in its satisfaction.
An uninhibited scream erupts from my mouth. Sweat pebbles on my skin and I slide against the wall behind me. My entire body begins to shudder as if I have no control over my own muscles.
I allow my body to release all my worries and frustrations. I brutally clamp down on my husband’s cock as my orgasm hits full force. My legs tighten around his waist and I feel him sliding into me hard and fast and less controlled than before. He’s chasing his own release in an unrestrained rush of desire. The slapping of our skin echoes loudly through our bathroom in the sexiest way.
I force my eyes to stay open despite wanting to close from a mixture of exhaustion, being sated, and the recurrent stimulation to my sweet spots. I lean my head back against the wall and admire my husband’s stamina, his body, and him as a whole.
His face is pinched together in pure ecstasy with his brows nearly touching and his eyes appearing to be sewn shut. His mouth is open, accommodating his rapid breathing. I trail my hands delicately over the hard lines of his chest and shoulders, occasionally pushing the stray hairs off of his face as they cling to him through sweat. I fear his teeth are going to shatter from grinding them together so hard.
He’s close. I can feel the way his dick is elongating within me, swelling with his impending release. I’m afraid his orgasm will destroy us; it’s severity taking us tumbling onto the hard tile floor.
His groan takes me by surprise, and I feel it rumbling from his chest. His aggression is a turn on, and I go slicker around him once more. He’s loud with his release; it takes everything out of him but still he murmurs sweet nothings into my hair, always tending to me carefully with love. It’s a stark contrast to the alpha male sex sessions we have, but that’s what I love about this man. He’s hard and domineering while being sweet and cautious. He’s the total package – taking what he wants but knowing what I can handle and always, always, ensuring I’m okay, first and foremost.
When he cums it’s like a never-ending stream pouring inside me. He’s pressing his full body into me, pushing my harshly against the wall behind me though I don’t dare complain.
When he backs away, he gently pulls out of me and I sigh at the slight tenderness and because I’m already missing his closeness. I’m still unsteady on my feet so he supports me until he knows I can stand on my own.
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