by Stella James
“Wh-who was that?” I ask.
“The guy he beat tonight,” he explains. “Getting some payback.”
As if realizing he doesn’t know who the hell I am, he looks me up and down as he slings an arm underneath Logan’s limp body.
“You know him?” he asks.
“I used to,” I say. “I haven’t seen him, I mean, I didn’t kno- Yes, I know him.”
“Good, help me get him back to my truck,” he says.
I take the other side and hold Logan up as best I can as we head back for the parking lot. We stop in front of a red pickup.
“Are we taking him to the hospital?”
“No sweetheart, we’re not.”
“He needs a doctor,” I insist.
“He’ll be pissed if he wakes up in a hospital bed,” he says. “If he wants to go when he wakes up, he can call me and I’ll take him. But for now, I’d rather save my ass from his wrath.”
“Where are we going then?”
“You have a name?”
“Prairie,” I tell him.
“Trevor,” he says with a nod. “We’ll take him back to his place for now.” I glance back at the building, I should find Brooke.
“You got a date in there?” he asks, hoisting Logan up into the backseat.
“No,” I say. “Just a friend. I should let her know I’m leaving.”
“Make up your mind, I gotta get him out of here,” he says impatiently.
I nod and hop up into the passenger seat. I’ll text Brooke later, once I know that Logan will be okay. Logan. After all these years. My hand shakes as I reach for the door and slam it shut.
*
We pull up to an average looking building not far from the warehouse. Logan has groaned on and off from the backseat the entire way.
“I really think we should take him to the hospital,” I say again.
“No hospital,” Logan rasps from the backseat.
“Told ya,” Trevor says. “Let’s get him upstairs.”
A little more lucid now, Trevor manages to get Logan to the front door of the building on his own and up the flight of stairs to the second floor. He tosses a set of keys at me and I unlock the door, opening it wide and brushing my fingertips along the wall until I find a switch. I see an open kitchen/living room to my right and a narrow hallway to my left. There’s a king size bed and a matching chest of drawers in the corner, obviously acting as a bedroom. The apartment is tidy and uncluttered. The furniture is dark and masculine and the walls are bare. Trevor leads Logan to the large leather couch and helps him sit. He rests his head against the cushion behind him.
“He’s gonna need some ice,” he tells me. “There’s probably some pain meds in the bathroom.” He checks his phone and picks his keys back up from the coffee table.
“You’re leaving?” I ask.
“Sorry, duty calls,” he shrugs, holding up his phone. “He’ll be fine, this isn’t his first rodeo.”
“But, you’re just going to leave him here with me?”
“You said you knew each other,” he says, scrunching his brows together.
“Well, I do, I mean, we do but it’s been a-“
“Good enough for me,” he says. “Take good care of my boy and tell him to call me in the morning, he’ll understand why I couldn’t stick around.”
The door clicks shut behind him, echoing in the large room. I take in the bruised and broken man slumped on the couch in front of me. I tamp down the ache in my heart and the flutter of nerves in my stomach and leave the room in search of supplies to get him cleaned up. He mumbles quietly as I leave the room, his eyes still closed.
Laced with a groan, my name falls from his lips.
Chapter 15
Logan
Shifting my body, pain slices through my side as I try to roll over. I can feel the leather underneath me and I know I’m on the couch, but everything else is blurry. I try to stretch out as best I can, my eyes still closed. I can tell my right eye is going to be swollen and my entire face fucking hurts. I think I hear water running and figure it’s probably Trevor. He was at the warehouse last night, he fought before me and barely had a scratch on him. Lucky bastard. I replay last night and it slowly comes back to me. I kicked Santos’s ass and left right after, like I always do. Pale green eyes cross my mind. Prairie. Was she real? I thought for sure when I spotted her in the crowd that it was just my past, fucking with me. But she was outside, wasn’t she? Santos and his piece of shit cousins jumped me. Mother fucker.
I hear the floor creak and the couch dip down near my feet. “Fuck off, man,” I mumble.
“Logan?”
My good eye opens at the sound of her voice. I look down the length of my body, my ripped T-shirt and bloody jeans, and see her sitting there beside my bare feet.
“Logan, it’s me,” she says. “It’s Prairie.” My stomach instantly churns, my chest tight as I move to sit up.
“Careful,” she winces. “Take it easy.”
I can sense her reaching for me but she pulls her hand back quickly. I wouldn’t wanna touch me either. I shift my legs so that my feet rest on the floor and I lean forward, my hands resting on the sides of my head. The hammering in my skull is almost as unbearable as knowing she’s so close to me and I can’t do a damn thing about it.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, hating that my voice is so cold. But she shouldn’t be here. She can’t be here.
“I- I was at the warehouse last night,” she tells me. “I got your friend, Trevor, to help you. I told him we should take you to the hospital but he said no. I cleaned you up as best I could last night, I don’t think you need sti-“
“Where is he?”
“He left last night, he said you’d understand why,” she offers.
“Hm,” I mutter, standing slowly from the couch. Zavier must have had a job for him. I can feel Prairie’s eyes on me as I make my way to the kitchen and pull a bottle of water from the fridge. I notice the pain meds sitting on the counter and down three.
She stands and walks into the kitchen, her feet barely making a sound against the hardwood floor. She’s even more beautiful than I remember.
“Logan, we need to talk,” she says.
“Talk about what?”
My insides feel like they are being shredded into ribbons and I can’t help but realize just how fucking cruel fate can be. I wanna touch her. I wanna hold her. But I can’t. I lost that right when I pushed her away five years ago. And now? Now I’m surrounded by so much shady bullshit and I can’t subject her to any of it. I have to send her away, again. Even if it rips my beating heart right out of my chest.
“What do you think?” she demands. “It’s been over five years, I haven’t so much as gotten a letter from you. You just gave up and now you’re here and I just, I don’t understand,” her voice cracks and the sound is like a punch to the gut. “I just can’t believe that you’re really here.”
Standing in my kitchen, staring at the only girl I’ve ever, could ever love, should make me happy. But all it does is bring me misery. Because I know I can’t keep her. Not when this is my life now.
“Look,” I begin. “I’m sorry for how things turned out, but we were just kids, right?”
She crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes at me stubbornly, but there’s no mistaking the wobble in her chin. She’s trying so damn hard to be tough right now but it doesn’t matter. I’m even more toxic now than I was back then. Because now I know who I am and I don’t apologize for it. I can’t drag her into this shit. Any of it. Zavier Kane, the warehouse…Prairie is better than all of it.
“So that’s it? You have nothing else to say to me, after all this time?”
“Nothing I say will change the past.”
“Did I mean anything to you?” she asks.
You were everything. You still are.
“It doesn’t matter now,” I say quietly.
She walks back into the living room and picks up a pair of boots and a
purse that I didn’t notice before. It takes everything inside of me to stay where I am, to not reach out and pull her close to me. She reaches her hand up to her throat and tugs harshly, pulling a familiar gold chain from her neck and setting it on the kitchen counter in front of me. Shit.
“I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to move on, Logan,” she says. “So much has happened, and I know you’re probably not the same person you were. But neither am I.” She brushes past me, my fingers itching at my sides.
“I waited for you,” she adds quietly, reaching for the door. “Like a foolish girl, I think I would have waited forever.”
*
Hours later, after I’ve managed to sleep through the pain in my chest and the throbbing in my body, I stare at my battered face in the bathroom mirror and assess the damage. I can’t get her out of my head. She cleaned the blood from my face and stuck a small bandage on the cut underneath my eye. Her hands were on me and I didn’t even know it. Probably for the best. If I would have been reminded just how soft her skin is, I don’t think I would have been strong enough to send her away. I lift my ripped shirt and pull it over my head, dark bruises mark my ribs and stomach. That mother fucker Santos is gonna pay for this shit. The cash was missing from my pocket too, almost two grand. Fucking coward piece of shit. I pull off my stained jeans and flip on the shower. I stand under the spray, not bothering to wait for it to warm up. I rest my palms against the slick tile wall in front of me. I don’t know how much time passes but the water goes from hot to cool again and I’m still stuck in my own damn head.
It’s for the best.
You can’t have her.
The truth is, I never thought I’d see her again. Not in this lifetime. My instinct was to push. To get her far away from me. But what if I was wrong? I push the thought away as quickly as it comes to me. I did the right thing.
I hear the front door slam shut and turn the water off. I grab a towel and head back out into the main room, seeing Trevor standing in front of the fridge.
“Don’t you knock?”
He turns to face me. “You look like shit,” he says.
“I feel like shit.”
“You kick out your company already?” he asks with a smirk.
“Mind your own fucking business,” I shoot back.
He pulls out a beer and pops off the top, taking a long sip. I throw some clothes on the bed and dress quickly while he stares at his phone. It’s Saturday and Zavier will expect both of us at the club tonight but I’ll be paying that fucker Santos a visit on the way. I want my fucking money and I plan on breaking his jaw. I nudge Trevor out of the way and grab my own beer. I take two more pain pills and wash them down.
“Let’s do this,” Trevor says, not bothering to ask where we’re headed. He knows. And he’ll have my back just like I’d have his.
*
I crack my knuckles, standing against the wall across from the dance floor. Hidden from the flickering strobe light and the neon glow from the DJ booth, I watch the crowd. My impromptu meeting with Santos on the way here was quicker and more productive than I thought it would be. Trevor and I swung by his favourite hangout, a shitty old strip club downtown. He was sitting on perv row, tossing my money at the half-naked woman on stage. It didn’t take much convincing for him to hand over what was left of my money plus a twenty-four hour interest charge. He’s a pussy when he doesn’t have his crew. He might try to retaliate, he might not. I hate to fall back on it, but being associated with Zavier has its perks. Most of the scum in this city are too damn scared to cross him, and that includes putting one of his enforcers out of commission. This is exactly why I sent Prairie away this morning, even if it nearly killed me to do it. This is the kind of fucked up bullshit that is my life. I’ve had to remind myself of that fact several times today when the urge to track her down was so strong that I almost gave in.
I scan the packed dance floor again, slowing my gaze on the mess of bodies grinding to the beat of the music thumping from the speakers. Saturdays are usually our busiest night and a total shit show. Too much booze, too much testosterone and not enough girls to go around it seems. Some dumbass always starts something he can’t finish and I end up tossing him out on his ass before the cops get called.
Everything is tame at the moment, so I let my eyes pause on a tight pair of jeans and a perky ass. She has her back to me, her hips swaying back and forth. She’s dancing with some blonde who’s done up like most of the females here. The one I’m watching looks plain in comparison, but there’s something sexy about the way she moves. Her hair is pulled up messily on top of her head and her black top doesn’t look revealing from here, just tight. Familiarity hits me. She begins to turn slowly, a laugh falling from her lips and all I see is red.
What the fuck is she doing here?
Chapter 16
Prairie
When Brooke drags me through the large front doors of Delve, I don’t know where to look first. The club is massive, with a bar set up off to the right and another one in the back near the dance floor. Music pumps from the speakers, vibrating against my skin. The entire room is dark and seductive, the soft glow of multi-coloured backlights illuminating the sleek black walls. I take some cash from my wallet and stuff it into the back pocket of my jeans before we drop our jackets and purses at the coat check
After I left Logan’s this morning, I walked for several blocks in a daze before I realized how far away from home I was. I slipped into a café and called a cab, managing to keep myself together until I was safely within the walls of my apartment. I replayed Logan’s words to me over and over again. Searching for any indication that maybe he didn’t mean them. But whether he did or didn’t, doesn’t matter. I can’t do this anymore. I need to move on. And that’s why I’m here now.
I called Brooke once I got myself together, I didn’t tell her about Logan, I just said I lost track of her last night and decided to head home early. She ended up staying at the warehouse until she finally got sick of waiting for Jesse and took off on her own too. She suggested a proper night out tonight to make up for it and I agreed. I need a distraction. I need to get out of my head and I need to feel something besides this ache in my heart. Logan’s changed in so many ways, maybe the man he is now truly is capable of sending me away without a second thought. Maybe if he can let go of what we had together, I should too.
“Let’s grab a drink!” Brooke shouts over the music.
I nod towards the bar and she slips her hand around mine, leading me forward through the crowd. I can feel eyes on us, or on Brooke, I should say. Much like last night, she’s dressed to kill in a form fitting emerald green cocktail dress. Even with the added height from my own boots, she still towers over my five foot eight frame in her skinny black heels. She’s impossible to miss.
“I’ll get this round,” she offers, leaning into me before she waves the bartender over and orders.
She hands me a glass with red liquid and clinks hers to mine as we turn and find a table to stand at, sipping our drinks while we watch the people on the dance floor. One drink turns into two and after our third round of shots I lose count altogether. All I know is that I feel light. I feel free. She grabs my hand again and leads me to the black and white checkered dance floor.
“That’s enough booze,” she giggles. “Time to dance.”
She pulls me through the throng of people until we’re surrounded on all sides. We keep our hands joined as Lorde’s Greenlight begins to play and I let go of everything but the beat of the music. My hips begin to sway slightly, my arms lifting. The people around me fade into the flashing lights and for this moment in time, I’m not a college statistic or the owner of a shattered heart. Right now, I’m just a girl in a bar.
We sing along, laughing and bumping our hips together, unaware of anything or anyone around us. I don’t know how many songs play before I feel it. I can’t explain it, not even to myself. But a shiver crawls up my spine and I know someone is watching. I turn, searching throug
h the crowd and there he is. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or just my mind playing a sick game, but I see his eyes, watching me. My body pauses and that’s when he begins to move. The people part for him instantly and when he reaches me, he wraps his hand around my arm and pulls me off the dance floor.
“Excuse me, do you mind?” I shout, stumbling slightly. I glance back at Brooke and see that she’s started dancing with some guy, oblivious to the fact that I’m no longer beside her.
“What are you doing here?” he demands, his grip on my arm lightening as he tugs me towards the back of the club where it’s not as loud.
“None of your business,” I tell him, my arms crossed over my chest.
“You can’t be here,” he insists. “This isn’t you.”
“This isn’t me? And what exactly do you know about me Logan?”
“I’m taking you home.”
“The hell you are,” I say firmly, my head already beginning to spin. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Prairie,” he sighs. “Just let me take you home.”
“No.”
We face off in a silent battle of wills. I don’t know what he’s doing here, and I don’t care. I’m trying to move forward. To move on. I take a step but he blocks my path.
“Seriously?”
“Please let me take you home,” he says again, his voice softening.
“Leave me alone Logan,” I plead, my voice breaking. “Just leave me alone.”
I brush past him and he doesn’t stop me. I head straight for the bar and I don’t look back.
*
I open my eyes against the harsh light filtering in between my curtains and instantly vow to never drink again. I’ve never been a heavy drinker due to being a major lightweight. Something I apparently forgot last night when Brooke and I were doing shot after shot. I drape my arm across my eyes and will the throbbing behind them to lessen. Everything from last night is blurring together. All I know is that I need a hot shower and a cup of coffee, after I brush the taste of stale booze from my mouth. I stretch and realize that I’m still in my clothes from last night, the only thing missing are my boots which are placed neatly beside my bedroom door. I fling the covers back and stumble down the hall to the bathroom. Closing the door behind me I use the toilet and wash my hands, staring up at my reflection. Mascara is smeared underneath my eyes, my hair a tangled mess. I pull the elastic free and run my fingers through it as best as I can and brush my teeth twice before I peel off my clothes. I flip on the water and let it warm before I step under the spray and groan. I wash my hair, conditioning it twice before I soap up and rinse off, paying extra attention to my caked-on makeup.
