Mine: A Romantic Suspense Thriller (A Back to Me Series Book 2)

by Brittany Taylor

  I feel the guilt build up in me once again. But I also can’t look at Logan, knowing I haven’t told him about the email or that I’m wishing he’d tell me more about Natalie. I wasn’t sure if I was making it more than it was. But after my relationship with Julian, I was finding it hard to trust anyone in my life. Including my own husband.

  “Abby shouldn’t have told that story.”

  I sigh, wanting this night to be over. “I don’t—” I surprise myself by choking on my words. I don’t want to get into this right now, discussing this with Logan in the hallway of his restaurant. Shaking my head, I clear my throat. “Can we just go home?”

  “Yeah.” Logan removes his hands from his pockets and sighs. “I think that’s probably a good idea. Come on, let’s go tell them we’re heading out.”

  He tips his head in the direction of the dining room, offering for me to go first. The only comfort I get is Logan’s hand resting on my lower back the entire walk back to our table.

  When we finally do get back, Max and Abby are standing, their plates already cleared from the table.

  “I’m sorry, but I think Logan and I are going to head out,” I offer an apology, hoping I didn’t make this whole night awkward.

  “That’s okay.” Abby smiles. “Max and I were just about to leave too.”

  “Really?” I trade glances between the both of them.

  “Yeah,” Max says. “I figured I’d take her down to Kerry Park. There’s an incredible view of the skyline from there.”

  “Nice,” Logan says. His hand is still resting on my back. It’s heavy and weighted. An anchor keeping me from drifting too far away.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Max says, patting Logan on the back. “Get ready for an entire week of closing.”

  “I will,” Logan answers.

  Abby gives me a hug, clearly unfazed that her retelling of our drunken night in college had upset me. I don’t bring it up, knowing I can talk to her about it when we meet up tomorrow.

  As Max and Abby head toward the front door of the restaurant, I turn to Logan. “You’re closing all week?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Logan nods. “Max needs me to close all week with Natalie.”

  “With Natalie?” I bite the inside of my cheek, reminding myself to be rational. I knew Logan was training Natalie. Why would this be any different?

  “Yeah, Max wants me to make sure Natalie feels comfortable before we have our meetings with Gavin James next week.” The muscles of his jaw tense, and I can tell he’s confused by my line of questioning.

  “That makes sense.” I nod. The words in the email I received the other day flicker in my mind like an old movie reel. This whole night has been fucked-up to say the least. I’m not trusting of my own reactions. I can tell I’m pushing Logan away, inch by inch. Every word has only pushed him farther. It’s a runaway train I can’t seem to stop.

  I breathe in a heavy breath, grabbing my purse off the back of the chair. “Are you ready to go home?”

  “Yeah.”

  We ride the whole way in silence. When we’re finally back home, I have Logan help unzip the back of my dress in the bathroom. His hand moves slow and cautious, like he’s savoring this moment between us, bottling it up. I can tell he’s taking his time, using patience as his breath ghosts the skin of my neck. The silence between us starts to swell, filling every surface and corner of our house. It’s partially comforting, partially suffocating.

  His hand stops when he’s made it to the bottom of the zipper. My back is exposed and I glance over my shoulder, looking at him. He keeps his hand resting on my lower back. His eyes slowly find mine. I open my mouth, ready to tell him I’m sorry for making the rest of the night awkward. I try but the words never come out.

  I can sense Logan is tired and feeling helpless. His shoulders fall and his hand slips away. “You’re all set,” he says.

  “Thank you.” It’s the only words I manage to say, hoping he feels the weight of them. I feel like I’m submerged underwater, a heavy weight tied around my ankle, preventing me from swimming to the surface.

  Logan backs away and heads to our bedroom. When I come out of the bathroom, he’s already buried under the sheets. He’s facing the wall, his back to me. I crawl in the bed, trying not to make too much noise as I shift to get comfortable.

  I turn on my side, facing the opposite way from Logan when my phone chimes from my nightstand. I pick it up, finding a text from Abby and an email notification.

  My heart races and I sit up in the bed. I glance over my shoulder, making sure Logan is still asleep. His hushed breaths are steady and calm. He’s fast asleep.

  I open the text from Abby first.

  Abby: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow!

  I leave Abby’s text unanswered, staring at the six words until they begin to blend together. Her text leaves me confused.

  Why is she pretending like telling that story was meaningless?

  After looking at the text longer than I should, I exit out and click on the email. I’m praying it’s some trash email, another one of the thousand emails I receive offering me a discount on a product I’ll never have a use for.

  My heart sinks into the bottom of my stomach and chills prickle down my spine. It’s another anonymous email. Only this time, it’s longer than the last.

  Have fun tonight? You should wear that dress more often. Did your husband love it just as much as I did?

  You know, for once I agree with Logan. Abby really shouldn’t have told that story. It’s a memory I wish we could forget. But I don’t think it quite works that way, Lena. We can’t erase our pasts. No matter how hard we try.

  Until next time, my love.

  My phone slips through my hands, dropping to the floor with a dull thud. I immediately sit up, tossing the blankets to the side like they’re engulfed in flames, incinerating my skin. I don’t pick up my phone, staring at it lying on my floor. The screen is lit, glowing from the still open email.

  I cover my mouth with both hands, holding back the scream begging to be released from my throat.

  Logan hasn’t moved. He hasn’t even twitched. I snap my head to the bedroom door, sprinting down the stairs. I don’t even bother to check the app on my phone to trust the system is locked.

  Panicked, I read the panel by the front door, making sure it’s set to secure. I reread the words three times over. Then my hands are flying to the three bolt locks, turning them tighter and tighter.

  A pressure falls against my chest and I lift my hand, pressing my palm against the frantic beating of my heart.

  What is happening? Was Julian at the restaurant?

  He had to have been, or else he wouldn’t have said the exact words Logan said to me in the hallway.

  Abby really shouldn’t have told that story.

  After making sure the entire house is locked, I walk back up the stairs with my arms wrapped around my waist, my mind focused on taking each step at a time. Slow and calculated.

  When I’m back in my bedroom, Logan is still sound asleep. Silently, I crawl back under the sheets and lay there until the sun comes up and I can no longer fight to keep my eyes open.

  Eleven

  Lena

  The street where Abby’s business is located is nearly as empty as the first time I met her here.

  I didn’t want to meet her at her office. The place gave me the chills. The smell alone was enough to keep me away. Not to mention the dark, mold covered walls and dusty windows.

  But Abby’s insistence that we meet at her office building won out over my aversion to the place. I needed to talk with her. What happened last night was eating me up inside.

  I walk down the street, my laptop bag strapped around my shoulder. Every ten steps, I find myself looking over my shoulder, hoping not to catch a glimpse of blond hair and those intense green eyes I know too well.

  I didn’t get much sleep after reading Julian’s email last night. I laid in bed for hours, staring out my window. Sleep was chasing me u
ntil I finally gave up, allowing it to swallow me whole when the sun began to rise, and the birds began to chirp. The daylight had brought me a sense of comfort, allowing me to sleep for at least three hours before I had to wake up and meet Abby.

  Unlike the comfort and safety of my own house, the daylight no longer brought me that same relief. The sun peeks out between the tall buildings surrounding me as I make my way down the sidewalk. I keep my eyes focused on my feet, telling myself to take another step. My feet are heavy much like the thoughts weighing down in my head. When I woke up this morning, Logan was still wrapped up in bed. I knew today started his weeklong nights of closing shifts and that he would need the extra sleep. I slipped out without waking him, waiting to text him until I was parked outside Abby’s office.

  Abby’s waiting outside for me, a brown bag tightly held in her hand. “I brought some donuts.” She holds it up then points to my laptop. “Oh good, you brought it. I can’t wait to see what you designed.”

  “Can we talk?” I wince, not looking forward to this conversation.

  It feels like just yesterday when Abby came back into my life. The past had always lingered around me and Logan, never fully setting us free. But it felt as if Abby had dragged the past back with her, making it more present in my life than it already was. I didn’t know what to believe anymore. Or who.

  Her face falls and her red painted lips pout. Her fully sculpted eyebrows dip. “Of course.”

  Abby unlocks the front door and I follow her inside. The open office space doesn’t smell any better than it had the first time I was here. No furniture has been moved. Abby hasn’t touched a thing since she bought the place.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” Abby sets the bag of donuts on one of the old metal desks, sitting herself down in the chair behind it. I set my bag on the same desk and pull up one of the other chairs, looking around. “It’s still a work in progress.” she adds.

  I dig my laptop out of my bag and sigh. There are more problems on my mind than Abby’s lack of progress on her business space. “You aren’t kidding,” I mutter. I try to give her a small smile, scraping to find any bit of humor I might still have. I come up short.

  Abby ignores my comment and opens the brown bag, pulling out two donuts. One is covered in chocolate frosting and sprinkles; the other with crushed cookies on top.

  She hands me the one with the cookies and takes a large bite of the sprinkled. “What did you want to talk about?” she asks after swallowing her first bite.

  Looking down at my donut, I pick at the cookie crumbs then look over my shoulder to the front door. The windows are still covered in a thick film of dust. The occasional shadow of a passerby flashes across the window. It’s hard to see the street from where I’m sitting.

  I turn back to Abby, still leaving the donut untouched. “I wanted to talk to you about last night.”

  “Oh,” Abby says, wiping her mouth with a napkin. She waves me off. ” Nothing happened between me and Max.”

  “What?” I narrow my eyes, stunned with Abby. We used to be close. We used to be able to tell what the other was feeling without actually having to say it. I thought Abby’s return would bring back the same kind of relationship we used to have. But ever since she’s been back, I feel like were on two opposite sides of the magnet, never quite connecting the way we should.

  “Yeah.” She nods, taking another bite of donut. She raises her shoulder, shrugging. “He’s too cocky and arrogant. I’m not into that, you know?”

  “Actually, that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

  “Oh.” She drops her half-eaten donut and it’s as if she’s looking at me for the first time today. “What’s going on?”

  “I wanted to talk about what happened last night.”

  Her eyebrows knit in confusion. When she doesn’t show any sign of understanding where I’m heading with the conversation, I continue. “Telling Max and Logan about what happened that night at The Dive?”

  “Oh, right.” She stops chewing and sits back in her chair, resting her elbows on the arms. “Was that not okay?”

  “Well, no, actually.” I tilt my head and breathe out a heavy sigh. “For one, I never told Logan that story because I didn’t want him knowing how Julian punished me for what happened that night. And two, we made a promise to never talk about him again.”

  “How was I supposed to know that, Lena?” She points to her chest, sitting back up in her chair. “That was a promise between you and Logan. Not me.” She’s getting more defensive the more the conversation goes on. I wasn’t sure how she’d take it, hoping she would know how talking about it would make me feel. Instead, she had no clue how it felt like she’d severed and reopened an old wound.

  I attempt to keep my voice down, not wanting to fight with Abby. The people I had around me were slowly starting to slip away. I didn’t want to lose Abby before I’d even begun to have her back.

  I run my hands through my hair, pushing it back away from my face. Resting my elbows on the desk, I look Abby straight in the eye. “Look, I know you didn’t do it intentionally, but I didn’t exactly want my husband’s boss to know that I got drunk and stripped in a club one night. It happened a long time ago. I’m a different person than I was back then. And the part about Julian, I—” I stop myself from blurting out about the emails I’ve been getting from Julian.

  I hadn’t even told Logan about them. How could I tell her first over him? If I couldn’t tell my own husband that Julian had reappeared, there was no way I could tell Abby.

  “What about Julian?” Abby asks. Her eyes are narrowed once again, only now they’re slightly softer than they were before. She reaches across the desk, placing her hand over mine.

  “Nothing.” I shake my head and slide my hand out from under hers, picking at the donut once again. Frosting lands on the tip of my finger. “Forget it.”

  “Is everything okay, Lena?” Abby tilts her head to the side, examining me. I look back at her and wonder how we got here. Not necessarily here, in an old musty office building, munching on donuts. I mean in our friendship. It wasn’t long ago when I’d sat next to her in my economics class sophomore year.

  “I’m good.” The reassuring smile I give Abby takes more energy than I can give. Still leaving the donut untouched, I slide my laptop out of my bag, hoping to place my mind elsewhere.

  I wanted to tell Abby about the not so anonymous emails I’d been receiving. I wanted to talk with her about my suspicions with Logan and Natalie. I knew it would make me feel better, that I wasn’t the only one harboring these secrets. But as I sit with Abby ready to go over the logo I had designed for her business, I realized I would have to keep these secrets for myself.

  Opening my laptop to my design file, Abby slides her chair around the desk, pulling it up alongside me. She crosses her legs, pressing her knee up against my thigh and resting her arm on the desk. She’s leaning over, turning herself more in my direction than my laptop. I turn it, moving it to give her a better view.

  I click to open the design and Abby’s mouth drops open. “I love it, Lena. It’s perfect.”

  “You really do?”

  Abby nods her head up and down furiously, her grin spread wide, stretching out her blushed cheeks.

  “I wanted to play on your initials.” I point to the screen and move my finger across the lines. “The ‘A’ and the ‘C’ are interconnected. If you don’t like the colors, we can play around with it a bit more. I just figured a deep purple suited your personality but still came across professional.”

  “No, don’t change it. I really do love it.” She keeps her focus on the laptop, her smile never fading away.

  “Okay. I’ll send it over to you then.” I close out the file and open a blank email. After sending her the email, I check my phone and find a text from Logan.

  Logan: I thought we could start building you a new office today.

  Below his text is a picture of our yard, where once laid the pile of old, weathered planks
of wood. The spot of grass is empty, a stack of new wood laid out beside it.

  “Hey,” Abby says, bringing my attention back to her. “Do you want to grab some lunch? I heard there’s this great taco truck out in the park not too far from here.”

  “I’m sorry.” I frown. “I think I’m just going to grab something small from home.”

  “Oh, okay.” Abby’s eyes move to my phone, finding the open text from Logan. “How about tomorrow?”

  “I have a meeting with a new client out in Tacoma.” I’d nearly forgotten the appointment I’d made a few weeks back until the client had messaged me yesterday, ensuring we were still able to meet.

  Abby’s frown deepens. I place my hand on her arm. “But maybe we can meet up later this week? Logan’s working a ton of closing shifts so we can do a dinner and movie at my house if you want.”

  “Sure.” Abby nods, pressing her red lips into a thin line.

  She’s upset with me, but I still can’t shake the conversation we had this morning. Not only did I want some space from Abby to think, I wanted to see Logan.

  We hadn’t talked since last night and I needed to see where we stood. I took the wood as a good sign.

  I stopped by a drive-thru coffee shop on my way home. The caffeine had removed some of the fatigue I’d felt this morning, giving me another few hours of energy to deal with whatever was going on between me and Logan.

  By the time I get home, I find Logan outside in the back yard. I set the alarm by the front door and walk out back to meet him.

  He’s standing in front of the empty patch of grass, his hands perched on his hips. His eyes narrow as he studies the four pieces of wood he’s laid out in a square, creating the base for the frame.

  “Do you think this would be a good size space?” He tilts his head in my direction but keeps his focus on the wood. He’s wearing torn jeans and a red plaid shirt, the long sleeves rolled halfway up his arms, showcasing the tense muscles underneath them. His long hair is tied back, and his beard has already grown out noticeably longer than it was yesterday. He looks like he should be on the cover of a lumberjack magazine. I savor this image of him, knowing he’ll most likely have to trim his beard before he goes into work tonight.