by Stella James
“Logan? Thank God,” she sighs, springing from her chair and leaning over my chest, gripping me tightly. My groan has her pulling away, a look of sorrow on her beautiful face. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t even thinking,” she cringes. “Let me get you some water.”
She fills the blue plastic cup sitting on the nearby tray from the matching pitcher and holds it for me while I take a generous sip. The effort it takes to sit up plays me out and I fall back against the pillow behind me.
“Thank you,” I rasp, reaching for her hand. I pull her onto the bed so she’s sitting beside me. She raises her hand and strokes her fingertips gently down the side of my face, past what I’m sure is a fucking angry looking bruise. Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears.
“I was so scared,” she says quietly. “When I got back to your apartment and saw the blood I didn’t know what to do. I thought I was going to lose you again.”
“Nothing could keep me from you. Not anymore.”
I tug her gently towards me and she rests her forehead against mine. There’s more to say but before I can get the words out there’s a knock and Trevor stands in the open doorway. Prairie tries to pull away from me but I keep her body anchored to mine and she relents, lying down beside me.
“You look like shit,” Trevor says.
“I feel like shit.”
“I’m sorry man, we should have been there sooner,” he breathes out.
“Well I’m not dead, so consider me grateful.”
“Save it for her,” he nods down at Prairie. “She came straight to the club and gave Zavier shit until he agreed to exhaust his very connected efforts.”
“You went to the club?” I ask her.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” she says. “I figured I had nothing to lose by at least trying to get help.”
“You did the right thing,” Trevor states. “Took Zavier two phone calls before we had a lock on you.”
I vaguely remember breaking my hands free and squeezing that fucker Santos’ windpipe before I was pinned to the ground. A gun shot was the last thing I heard before everything went black.
“Bobby took out Santos with a shot to his leg before he could pull the trigger on you,” Trevor explains. “His uncle Caesar was pretty pissed to find out that he was wasting his time on petty bullshit like paying you back, no offence,” he offers. “He said he’d take care of him.”
“And the other two?”
A subtle shake of his head tells me what I need to know. Zavier would have taken care of the mess, not wanting to ruffle business feathers with Santos’ uncles.
“I should let you guys get some rest,” he says. “We’ll talk later man.”
“Brooke was moved to the second floor,” Prairie offers innocently. “Just in case you were wondering.”
Trevor gives a non-committal nod before he turns and leaves the room. I look at Prairie but she just shakes her head and grins. We stay like this for a while, our arms wrapped around each other. I hold Prairie close even when the nurse comes in to check my vitals and go over my various injuries. Some broken ribs, a couple fractures and a shattered knee cap. She tells me I can go home in a couple days. Once she leaves, the quiet settles between Prairie and me once again until she eventually clears her throat and sits up, angling herself to face me.
“I’m sorry babe,” I say, knowing full well that the words aren’t enough. Not for this bullshit.
“I don’t know what your deal is with Zavier,” she admits. “But I do know, that I can’t live wondering if something like this is going to happen again. I was so scared Logan, so scared of losing you. I love you.”
“I love you Prairie, I’ll figure this out, I promise.”
“There’s no need for that,” a familiar voice says from the doorway. “Please excuse the interruption, my timing is not ideal I can see.”
Zavier brushes a piece of lint from his black suit and walks into the modest hospital room as if he’s the chief of surgery himself. He might be a smug bastard but I wouldn’t be here with Prairie if it weren’t for him. Relief washes over me at the same time as dread. Another favour owed to the collector.
“Thanks, for what you did,” I tell him.
“It was nothing,” he shrugs. “But I’m afraid that I’m gonna have to fire you.”
Prairie squeezes my hand and looks between me and Zavier, obviously thinking the same thing that I am.
“Fired?”
“That’s right.”
“What’s the catch?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake Logan, must you always be so doom and gloom?”
I give him a level stare and wait for the answer to my question while Prairie shoots me a nervous glance.
“Fine. You have to kill three people and present me with their heads. Is that better? Frankly I’m insulted Logan, I thought we were friends. I’m a business man, not a bloody savage.”
“So, that’s it, he’s just fired?” Prairie asks.
“Correct, sugar. Now if you’ll both excuse me, I’ve already missed what I was told was going to be the Avant-garde of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. However, I don’t see why the entire evening must be wasted.”
He heads for the door when I call out, “Zavier?”
“You just can’t accept a favour, can you?” He asks. “The thing is my friend, you no longer have nothing to lose. Which means you have a reason to fuck up. I suppose you could also call me sentimental, as I recall a time when I too had everything. A girl can do that to you,” he adds. He closes the door behind him and Prairie sinks back into me with a sigh.
“What now?” she asks eventually.
“You and me,” I respond.
“Always,” she says.
I will never let anything come between us again. Nothing that I wouldn’t fight tooth and nail to get to the other side of…back to her.
Part Three
Our Future
Chapter 28
Prairie
1 month later…
I’m sitting on the floor in Logan’s apartment, a worn out, discoloured envelope resting in my hand. I’d just finished packing up the linen closet when I found a small box sitting on the bottom shelf. I sat down and removed the lid, the only contents being this tattered envelope. An envelope addressed to him from me. I gently unfold the top and pull out the first letter I ever wrote him after he was sent to prison. It’s obvious when I open the letter that it’s been read numerous times, almost to the point where the folds are nearly falling apart completely.
“Hey, we’re almost done out there, you ready for us?” Logan asks, leaning against his crutch.
I hold the paper to my chest and let out a surprised laugh, “You scared me!”
“Sorry babe,” he grins. “I thought you heard me hobbling.”
“You’re supposed to be taking it easy remember? Let Trevor and Levi do the heavy lifting.”
He brushes me off, typical, and carefully sits down beside me in the hallway. It’s been just over a month since Logan got out of the hospital. After seeing the damage done to his apartment, and the fact that he spends most of his time at my place anyways, we’ve decided to move in together. We’ve been attending couple’s counseling once a week in the last month as well. We had a couple tough sessions where we talked about my assault and Logan’s childhood. Our therapist gave him a great starting point for dealing with his past and also accepting that although it can’t be changed, it can be healed. It’s been helpful for us as we try to move on from our respective pasts. Logan’s even begun one on one sessions and I swear I’ve seen the tension lift from his shoulders brick by brick. He’s been working on letting go of his anger and finding new, healthier outlets for when he feels overwhelmed. I’m so proud of him.
“You kept it?” I ask.
“I was too selfish not to,” he replies. He pulls me to him and I lean back against his chest, his arms wrapping securely around my waist. I fold the letter up carefully and slip it back into the envelope.
“I got a te
xt from Brooke this morning.”
“How is she?”
“Relieved that her parents have finally gone home,” I laugh. “She says she’s still too freaked out to come back to work though, so she’s going to find something else. She has an audition next week for a new play too.”
“Good for her,” he says sincerely.
“Good for who?” Trevor asks, from the end of the hallway.
“Brooke,” I explain with a smile. “She has an audition.”
He shakes his head with a snort and lifts another two boxes from the kitchen floor before he mutters something under his breath. He stomps out of the apartment calling back over his shoulder, “Get off your ass and help us you pansy!”
“Is she still busting his ass?” Logan asks.
“Yup. They have a very weird friendship.”
“Friendship?”
“Well I don’t think they’re sleeping together,” I add. “She said he comes by now and then and they watch T.V. and argue about everything.”
“Sounds healthy.”
“The heart wants what it wants,” I shrug.
“And what does your heart want, Prairie?” Before I can answer he takes my hand and uncurls my fingers. I look down as he slides a thin gold band with a square cut diamond onto my ring finger. “Oh my God.”
“My heart will always want you,” he says thickly. “We don’t have to rush, but you deserve every promise I can ever give you. Starting with this one. I bought it the day after the carnival.”
“Oh my God.”
“Is that a yes?” he asks with a laugh.
I turn in his arms and frame his face with my shaking hands, tears rolling down my cheeks. He brushes them away and seals his lips to mine.
“Yes,” I answer, hovering my mouth above his. “Yes, Logan. I love you.”
He pulls me onto his lap and my legs wrap around his torso. We sit and hold each other, laughter bubbling up from my chest.
“Is this real?” Logan asks me eventually, swallowing hard.
“It’s real,” I say. “And it’s only the beginning.”
Epilogue
Prairie
8 months later…
“I think that’s the last of them,” Logan says, placing two neatly stacked boxes at my feet.
“Finally,” I sigh. “Remind me why we thought it was a good idea to move ourselves across the country without any help?”
“Mm, so we could do this,” he suggests, reaching for the hem of my shirt. I slap his hand away and he instantly begins to pout.
“No way. I am determined,” I say firmly. “I will unpack this kitchen.”
“Fine, but you better hurry,” he warns. “I’m heading for the shower and you better be naked and under that water with me in the next ten minutes Mrs. Mackenzie.”
“Or what?” I challenge.
He pulls me against his hard chest and seals his mouth to mine in a demanding kiss, making me dizzy before he leans back.
“You don’t wanna know,” he says. “Ten minutes babe.”
He heads for the bathroom and I look around at the three large boxes of kitchen supplies that still need to be unpacked. I begin pulling out tea towels and coffee mugs, knowing that I won’t get it all done but I can at least make a small dent before my husband demands my attention. My husband. The words still make me blush.
The last eight months have been a whirlwind. Once Logan was fully recovered from his injuries, we had a serious talk about what we both want moving forward. I continued to work at the bank and Logan found a job when he was physically able to at a garage. Four months ago we got married. We both agreed that we didn’t want to waste any more time and that we wanted to move onto whatever the future had in store for us. We had a small ceremony at the courthouse downtown with my mom and Neil, Holly and Brooke and Trevor. I knew it would only be a matter of time before those two were together and I was right. They argue like crazy and both claim that it’s not serious but I’ve seen the way he watches her on stage. I can’t see him letting her get away any time soon, that’s for sure.
I made the decision after we got married that I wanted to go back to school and get my degree in social work. I want to help people the way that Holly helped me. I applied to college on the west coast after we decided that a fully fresh start was what we both wanted. The owner of the garage where Logan was working had a contact down here and next week he’ll be starting his apprenticeship for his mechanic’s license. He hopes to open his own shop someday and I fully support him. The apartment we just moved into is modest and cheap but I love it. Because I’m with Logan, and I know that someday we’ll have all the things we dream of.
“Babe! Two minutes!”
I put down the coffee maker and bite my lip in anticipation as I pull off my T-shirt and saunter casually down the hallway.
Logan really hates waiting. And so do I.
Logan
Seven years after that…
I look down at my daughter Zoey, arms clutched tightly around the stuffed turtle that Santa left for her this past Christmas. I pull the pink quilt up over her legs and kiss the mop of dark brown curls on her head before I sneak out of the room and close the door. As much as I love my three year old daughter, she’ll be up demanding five more bedtime stories if she hears me and I need to have some alone time with my wife.
I turn off the lights and check the locks before I make my way upstairs. I can hear the water running and my first thought is to jump Prairie in the shower but I think better of it when I remember the weary look on her face when we sat down for supper. Every so often she has a difficult case that she can’t shake off and I know she needs to unwind. We found out during her first year working as a counselor that she was pregnant with Zoey. I had just opened my garage and money was tight but somehow we managed, and I thank fucking God every day that I got a second chance with Prairie. The three of us lived in that tiny apartment for two years until we were able to buy our first house, but I wouldn’t trade those two years for anything in the world.
I step into the walk-in closet and peel off my T-shirt and jeans, stripping down to my boxers. I open the bathroom door just as Prairie steps out of the shower, beads of water rolling down her soft skin.
“She asleep?”
“Out like a light,” I say, reaching for my toothbrush.
“Good,” she sighs with a smile. She wraps her arms around me from behind and lets the towel around her slip free. “I talked to Brooke today.”
“I noticed I had a missed call from Trevor, but I didn’t have time to call him back.”
“They’re thinking of coming up with the kids next week,” she says, tracing her fingertips lightly over my chest. “Brooke said they’re taking two weeks off from filming for the holidays and Trevor has some time to kill while he waits for the permits on the new condos he’s building.”
“Zoey would like the company,” I grin. “She asked me again tonight what she has to do to get a sister.”
“Is that right?” Prairie grins. “Don’t be too long.” She gazes at me in the reflection of the bathroom mirror, her pale green eyes flickering with desire before she pads to the bedroom.
There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t think my wife is the most beautiful woman in the world. Watching her as a mother has only added to that feeling. She’s everything our little girl deserves.
I rinse my mouth and turn off the light, the only thing illuminating Prairie’s naked body above the sheets is the subtle glow from the dim lamp on the nightstand. I crawl under the sheets and pull her to my side, her body molding instantly to mine.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, just a tough day,” she says.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“No, I’ll be okay. Promise,” she assures me, tilting her head up and pressing her lips to mine.
The kiss starts soft but one small moan from her parted lips has me rolling her onto her back and caging her beneath me.
“God
damn, you do things to me,” I growl. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” she grins, reaching her hand down to my length and squeezing hard. “No more talking, just make love to me.” She tilts her hips up, seeking relief but this is just one of those times where I can’t rush with her. I want to feel all of her, and I want her to feel me.
I gently press her hands back into the mattress and hold them there while I trail a lazy path across her collar bone and down to the pink tip of her breast. A gasp falls from her lips when I pull the hard bud into my mouth and nip it gently. I let go of her hands but she keeps them in place, knowing that I want to take my time tasting her. I kiss the skin across her stomach, letting my lips linger on the faded stretch marks that she hates so much.
“Beautiful,” I groan against her hipbone.
I nudge myself between her legs, her fingers now tangle in my hair as I swipe my tongue along the seam of her folds. With every brush against her clit, she moans and bucks her hips up. I’ll never have enough of her or the way she tastes. Like sweet honey on my lips.
“Mm, Logan, don’t stop,” she moans.
I can feel her climax coming but before she can let go, I’m sliding up her writhing body and thrusting into her harshly. The pulse of her centre around my cock as her lips find mine is heady and overwhelming.
“Give me another one Prairie,” I growl, nipping and sucking the soft skin along her throat, her fingertips digging into my back.
We come together in a blur, my heart beating out of my chest against hers. I don’t stop moving until the tremors around my cock cease and she falls back onto the pillows with a sleepy smile.
