by Lisa N. Paul
“Good. So it’s with love that I say your ‘I don’t knows’ are bullshit.” Emmy ignored Wren’s saucer-sized eyes as she walked over to the window. “Let me ask you a question.”
Wren’s gaze drifted to the corner of the room where the FEB lay on the floor. She’d thrown it on Saturday night during a fit of despair.
“No, don’t you dare go for that ball. This question is for you, only you. I want to know, was it true?”
“Was what true?”
“Can you honestly say you never spent one minute loving Logan Enders?”
“Of course not!” Wren’s voice cracked. “My God, it’d be easier to count the minutes that I didn’t.”
“See? It doesn’t tell the truth, sweetie. Your ball. It’s a toy that you bestowed great power upon so you didn’t have to feel responsible when life got messy.”
The similarity of Emmy’s statement to Logan’s wasn’t lost on Wren. Emmy pulled a picture off the mantel. It was from their weekend in Las Vegas. They were sunburned, smiling, and holding what amounted to 442 dollars. “Your melons were so sunburned that night. You blamed all of your future freckles on me. Do you remember what a mess that night was? I lost the keycard to our room, and when I went to get a new one, you decided to try roulette for the first time. With all of our cash in your pocket. What did you do?”
“I put all of our money on green,” Wren mumbled, remembering how stupid she felt when they were cash broke in ten seconds.
“Yep, green. We lost two hundred fifty bucks because you liked green. It was a bad decision, but you learned how to play roulette pretty damn fast while I got drinks. And when we were on our way back to our room, and you had apologized for the millionth time, you found that quarter.” Perfectly white teeth stretched into a bright smile. “Who would have guessed that when you dropped that coin into that particular slot you’d hit the jackpot? But you did. We wouldn’t have been in that place at that moment if not for everything that led up to it. The money you won from one quarter fueled your roulette fancy for the rest of our trip.” Emmy placed the frame back on the mantel and picked up two more, then she walked over to the couch and gave them to Wren. “You’re capable of making bad and good decisions, Wrenny. Life is about learning from both of them.”
In her hands rested the picture of her and Emmy from the night of the Pimp and Ho debacle as well as a picture of her and Logan at a bar. She was sitting on his lap, his chin resting on her shoulder. Right before Emmy snapped the shot, Logan had licked the side of her neck. Her pink cheeks conveyed exactly what was running through her mind. I want that tongue licking more than just my neck.
“It lied.” The hoarse admission ripped from her throat. “I love him so much it scares me. Being with him has made me feel whole and safe and happy since the very beginning. Logan left here believing his love wasn’t returned. The thought is choking me.” Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as heavy sobs made it difficult to speak.
“You can’t honestly believe that.” So calm, Emmy reclaimed the cushion next to Wren and rubbed circles on her heaving back. “Sweetie, no one but you believes a thing that toy says. Only you.”
“You don’t under-understand. The things I said, what I accused him of… there aren’t words for that kind of cruel.”
“If he said those things to you, how would you feel?”
“Devastated.”
“Would you hate him?”
“No.” The thought of hating Logan was unimaginable. “I couldn’t hate Logan—I love him too much—but I wouldn’t be quick to forgive him. And I don’t know how easy it would be to forget.”
“Well then”—Emmy tucked a strand of matted hair behind Wren’s ear—“looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”
With the mental haze fully lifted, the challenge of getting Logan back seemed impossible. “What do I do? Where do I start?”
“You can start by brushing your teeth and taking a shower,” Emmy deadpanned. “I may need to take one too. I think I smell just from being near you.” She sniffed her shirt and exaggerated a shiver.
Rolling her eyes, Wren said, “I’m serious. How am I gonna right the mess I made?”
“Go shower, honey. We’ll figure it out.”
*
“What’s up, bro?”
Logan looked up from his laptop to see Smith leaning against the doorjamb of his office. His interruption couldn’t have come at a better moment. Logan was seconds away from spiraling into the dark place he refused to go while at work.
“Not much,” Logan said. “The lawyers were here this morning to discuss the SoM documentary. It looks like a small crew will be here to film the eighties rock show next week. I’m stoked for that. The rest of the filming won’t take place until mid-May, which works out great with our schedules. I’m pretty excited.” He was excited—his schools, the instructors, and the students all deserved to gain the massive recognition the documentary would provide—but he felt somewhat hollow.
“Yeah, enthusiasm is practically oozing out of you. Anyway, I wanted to see if you had any interest in grabbing lunch? Marcus and I are going out—”
“Nah, man, I’m not up for it, but have fun.”
Other than work and band rehearsals, Logan hadn’t left his house since the night he got home from Wren’s. Leaving her was the hardest thing he had ever done—even harder than leaving Shades of Certainty. When he and the band went separate ways, Logan knew it was the right move for all parties involved, but walking away from Wren was a completely different experience. He loved her and knew she loved him, but she didn’t choose him.
Through the course of their relationship, she had continuously told him that she would always listen to the ball and he kept hoping his love would be enough to change her mind. In the end, it was his mistake, not hers. How could he fault her for staying true to her word? That said, how could he continue to be with a woman who kept her heart behind concrete walls? While the answer was painful as fuck, it was obvious—he couldn’t. He needed to be as far away from her as possible.
“Dude, it’s been nearly a week. When are you gonna put yourself out of your misery and answer her calls or at least return her texts? She said she was sorry. She made a mistake. We all make ‘em.”
“You’re just saying that because she bailed your ass out of more trouble than she should have,” Logan snapped. “She’s sorry. Good. Great even. When you talk to her, tell her I received her message and I said, ‘Okay’. That’s all I have to offer right now.” His hand went to the back of his neck and massaged the stiff muscles. “I told you last Sunday night, when you insisted that the only way to mourn a breakup was to get face-melting drunk, that I would mourn for one night, and I meant it.”
Determination danced in Smith’s eyes as he braced his hands on Logan’s desk. “I call bullshit. I’ve seen you every single day since then, and unless you’re holding the record for the world’s longest hangover, your mourning period has only just begun.”
Before Logan could come up with a response, Smith left.
Logan grabbed his cell and scrolled through the texts Wren had sent over the past few days. Her radio silence immediately following their breakup had been excruciating. There was no other word to describe the pain he felt from the disconnect. After months of daily calls, texts, and visits, her disappearance from his life felt almost like a death. Then the phone calls started. He let voicemail answer and had yet to listen to the messages. The texts were much harder to avoid. Like dull knives, her words tortured him enough to make him bleed, but not enough to deliver a fatal wound.
Lucky: Please talk to me. I’m sorry.
Lucky: I should have talked to you before freaking out.
Lucky: I can’t make this better if you won’t respond to me, Logan, please.
Lucky: Can’t we at least talk?
She wanted to talk? What was the point? He couldn’t continue to play games with her. He didn’t want to. He’d always love her, but he was done. Responding to her last text, he hit Sen
d, put his phone in his desk drawer, and went about his business. The fourth and final Shades of Certainty pop-up show was that evening, and there was a lot to be done.
*
“My Sources Say No.” Tears rolled down Wren’s face as she sat in her car with the phone to her ear.
“Okay, I know that stings.” Emmy’s voice was ridiculously calm. “But you’ve gotta admit it’s kind of funny. I mean, give the guy some credit for being original.”
When Wren had grabbed her bag from her locker, the first thing she did was check her cell phone to see if Logan had finally replied to her many messages.
Since Emmy’s intervention on Tuesday evening, Wren had started reevaluating her life. Just thinking of life without Logan made her sad beyond measure. He had been right, as had Emmy. Fear of making choices kept her from moving forward. From the moment she met Logan, she found herself wanting nothing more than to manipulate the ball when she wanted to and cede to it when a choice seemed too difficult to make on her own. No wonder he had walked away from her. Hell, she would have run in the other direction. He didn’t do that though. No, he understood, he gave her time, and finally he gave her a fair choice. Once again, she’d chosen wrong. But that choice taught her a lesson she’d needed to learn.
With knowledge in her pocket, she wanted her man back. Problem was, judging by his response, he had learned a lesson too—if the girl repeatedly chooses a toy over you, leave.
“My sources say no—you don’t think that was unkind and… and hurtful?” Wren wiped her cheeks.
“I do, but not anymore than the time you snuck out of a bar because you couldn’t give him your phone number, or more than the time he wanted to show you where he worked and you refused to go in with him because you weren’t allowed to, or more than the time he told you he loved you and you let him leave because you were too scared to say it back. Wrenny, those are just the biggies. Don’t forget all of the times he stood by your side while you ordered coffee. Jeez, I can barely get through that process and I’ve loved you forever. He did it hardly knowing you, and he still fell deep. So yeah, what he said may be hurtful, but he’s finally speaking your language.”
Letting her eyes close, tears dripped onto her lips. The bitterness of the salt was no different than Emmy’s truth. “You’re right. How can I make this better if he won’t talk to me?”
Pulling into her driveway, Wren saw something taped to the front door. She got out of the car and pulled the envelope off the door. “What the hell?”
“What’s wrong?”
Her name was written on the front of the envelope in sloppy letters. Quickly, she opened it and found a note and a pass to Crushed, the bar where she first saw Logan perform, for that night. The note read:
He’s hurting too. Don’t give up. ~ S
“Hello!” Emmy shouted. “If you don’t speak, I’m gonna assume you were kidnapped.”
“No, I-I’m here.”
“What happened?”
“I got a pass for the final SoC show. I guess it’s tonight.” Wren stared at the note, a seed of hope blooming in her chest.
“I know. William told me,” Emmy said bashfully. “I didn’t want to say anything to you about it. That’s great that he sent you a ticket, right?”
“He didn’t send it. Smith did.”
“Goddamn Smith.”
Emmy’s snarl made Wren giggle. Things were far from over between her friend and Smith.
“Are you gonna go to Crushed?” Emmy asked.
“Without a doubt.” Wren’s heart rate spiked.
“Do you want me to come over and help you pick out an outfit?”
“Nope, I’ll figure it out on my own. Wish me luck.”
“Good luck, Wrenny.”
Disconnecting the call, Wren hurried inside to prepare. Visions of how the night would go danced in her head as she smiled. When he saw her, he would realize they were meant to be together. She knew it…she just knew it.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lucky
“This is it,” Noah said, shoving a pair of drumsticks in the back pocket of his jeans. “The final show.”
“I can’t thank you enough for stepping in for me while I was laid up,” Greg said, then sipped on warm tea. He had been rehearsing with them for the past week and would be on stage the entire show, playing guitar and singing backup for Logan.
“You never need to thank me,” Logan said. “It’s what family does. Just a little advice for the future—ask for medical records before you hook up with groupies.”
“Why? I can’t get tonsillitis again.”
An echo of groans filled the room as Logan chuckled. The loud knock on the office door barely captured anyone’s attention. After all, two bodyguards were posted just outside. No one was surprised when Smith entered the room, but Logan was surprised by the look on Smith’s face.
“What’s the matter?” Marcus asked.
See, even he knows something isn’t right. Long fingers of tension spread across Logan’s shoulders as his pulse beat heavy in chest. Is she okay?
“Sorry to interrupt right before you guys go on, but I wanted to let you know”—Smith’s focus was solely on Logan—“I invited Wren tonight. She isn’t here yet, but she will be and… well, I just wanted to give you fair warning.”
She was okay, thank God. “Why would you do that?” Without anger in his tone, the question came out as whisper.
“You know why.” Smith turned on his heels and left, closing the door.
Fuck, he wanted to strangle Smith. It had only been a few hours since he told his friend he was done with Wren. He’d told him why… hadn’t he? Logan was beginning to get confused about what he was saying and what he was thinking. Had he told his buddy that he stilled loved Wren with every fiber of his being? Was that why he invited her? Shit, Logan couldn’t remember. After the show, he would set things straight with Smith.
“Enders, I hate to bring this up, but we go on in five minutes. Do you still want to play the new song, or should we scrap it for tonight?” Marcus asked.
“It’s going on your next album. I say we debut it tonight.” Logan knew that was best for Shades of Certainty, but seeing Wren in the crowd and knowing how the song would affect her would tear him up.
*
With a drink in hand—a fruity concoction the bartender had created—Wren wedged herself into a spot as close to the stage as she could get. She meant to arrive earlier, but Mrs. Russell had locked her keys in her car and was stuck at a restaurant with her friend. By the time Wren drove the spare set to her neighbor, got to the bar, and waited in line to get in, she had already missed the first few songs.
The minute she walked in, she noticed a difference in the audience. They were charged, electrified. As soon as she heard the guitar riff of “Own My Soul,” she knew exactly what caused the spark…
Having the five original members on stage together for the first time in nearly a decade was an amazing treat for long-time fans. But Wren, while a huge fan, could only focus on the one man who would stay behind when the band moved on.
Transfixed, she watched the show. The men were in sync with not just the music but each other’s every move. With nothing more than a lifted brow, the entire arrangement would change into something playful or dark, then ease back into the song they’d been playing. And Logan was as much a part of their language as the other four. A brotherhood.
Wiping sweat from his brow, Logan wrapped his hand around the mic. “I’d like to thank you all not just for coming out tonight to hear us play, but also for supporting me over the past two months while this fool”—he cocked his head toward Greg—“recuperated from surgery. As a special thank you, we’re going to end this show with a new song that will be on the next SoC album. We hope you enjoy. It’s called ‘Lucky.’”
She must have heard him wrong. Did he say Lucky? Maybe he said Ducky. Yeah, Ducky—that had to be it. Wren remembered Logan telling her that since they met, he had been writing more tha
n ever. But a song about her? Oh no, what if it was a hate song? Acid churned in her belly. She had been awful, but to humiliate her in public… and even worse, in music millions of people would hear? Oh God…
A soft melody came from the keyboard just before Greg accompanied it with his guitar. It wasn’t until Logan’s velvety voice began to sing that her stomach settled.
Night we met when you looked my way
My feet stuck still
Couldn’t inch away
Kissed my lips, baby, blew my world apart
Jacked me up inside, yeah, you stole my heart
You did it not tryin’, all without lyin’
Just being the woman
You were born to be
Yet it never fails, as you’re wrapped in my arms,
Naked flesh sated and loved
I see the look on your face, questions that race
Why are you the one?
So I’ll tell you again, again, again…a thousand times if I must, must, must
Until you believe it’s our love you can trust.
Lucky
When you come to me at night
Lucky
With your bright blue eyes, your silken hair
Lickin’ your lips, girl, you walk on air
You’re all I see…
When it comes to love
Lucky, you’re it for me.
The second verse led back into the chorus, and Wren simply became one with the floor. Boneless, wordless mush.
The room erupted in applause, Wren was sure of it, but she only heard the beating of her own heart, the sound of her own breath. Her eyes were glued to Logan. She wished he would look at her, find her in the audience and sing that beauty straight to her. But he didn’t. Did he know she was there?
Then, as if by magic, his brown eyes landed on her. Not an ounce of surprise crossed his features. Maybe he had known she was present. For a moment, he seemed to study her, and the intensity warmed her from the inside out.
A wave of apprehension swept through her the longer he stared. He’s waiting on you. She pulled in a deep breath and headed toward the stage. Before she took her second step, Logan turned his back and left. Just walked off. He knew she was coming to him, and he left.
