Logan Kade (Fallen Crest #5.5) (13 page)

His other eyebrow arched, and he pursed his lips together briefly. “You stood me up tonight.”

I flushed.

“But I don’t think we should be throwing words around,” he added. His eyes went to the window, and an angry glower came over him. It didn’t last long—appearing, then vanishing—but I readied myself. When Jason looked back at me, his face filled with something akin to disappointment. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes locked on me. His hands fell to rest on his lap. “You know...”

Here it came.

“Claire told me you and Logan Kade are buds now. Is that who dropped you off?”

And there it was.

“I was applying for a job at Pete’s Pub. He came in with a friend.”

“Because that makes sense.”

I sighed. “You don’t have to be sarcastic.”

He shot forward in his seat. “Why are you applying for a job? Your mom was loaded. I know you’re getting that inheritance.”

He didn’t get it. I shrugged. “Because.”

“Because why?”

“Just because.” My jaw hardened. “I can’t study all the time.”

“Who’s asking you to study all the time?” He shook his head. “Taylor, I get it. You need to keep busy. And I’m assuming you don’t want to burden me and Claire with your presence.”

A lump formed in the back of my throat. Maybe he did get it?

His voice softened. “But you’re not a burden, honey. You’re my best friend.”

“You have lives.” My voice came out as a whisper. “You and Claire. You have other friends.”

“You’re our friend. You’re family.”

The more he spoke, the more emotion rose in me. “I can’t handle people.”

He gave me a look. “And getting a job at a bar is going to help that?”

“It’s not the same.” There I’d be expected to do a job. Get a drink. Bring them their bill. Be nice. “Being around people and working around people are different.” They wouldn’t know or care about my name. “I saw Claire with her friends today, and the thought of sitting with them…” My voice faded. A pressure was pushing down on my chest. “I can’t do that, Jason. I just can’t.”

“Okay.” He stood, his chair scraping against the floor as he approached me. “I get it. I do. I’m a loser, remember?”

I frowned. “You’re not.”

He shook his head and came to stand right in front of me. His hands came out of his sleeves to cup my arms. His touch was soft. “I am. I always have been. I’m gay, Taylor. People still hate people like me.”

I wanted to shake my head. I wanted to protest, but he was right. So many didn’t care, but so many still did. A tear fell down my cheek. “Those people are assholes.”

He laughed softly. “Yeah. Those people are assholes, but this isn’t about that. I’m trying to remind you that I understand what it’s like.”

I was on the outside at the moment, but he’d grown up on the outside. My hands turned to grasp his arms in return. I squeezed. “You’re not a loser, and you’re not on the outside anymore.” He shook his head. The old pain I always saw in high school bloomed over his face. I squeezed his arms harder. My voice rose. “You’re not. I hate the gambling stuff, but I know you have some good friends.”

He began to protest.

I cut him off again. “I know you do. People are always calling you.” I frowned. “Unless those are clients.”

“No.” He laughed. “They aren’t. You’re right. I do have a circle of friends at school.”

“I’d like to meet your friends sometime,” I told him.

His head moved back an inch. “You would?”

Then I thought about it, and my cheeks grew red again. “Maybe later, or maybe one of your friends. Just one at a time,” I added.

“My friends are better than Claire’s anyway. Her friends have their heads up their asses, smelling their own gas fumes and getting high.”

“Say it like you mean it.”

A half-grin formed, and he rolled his eyes, letting my arms go. He scooted back to lean against the counter across from me. “Claire’s lucky we deemed her our friend. If we didn’t, she’d lose herself. She’s drawn to those types of people because that’s who her family is. They all just think about how special and important they are. They’re like plastic—fake and breakable, honey.”

I relaxed. When Jason started throwing out the
honeys
, he was being himself. I didn’t hear that word too often anymore. “Don’t hold back,” I urged him. “Tell me what you think of Claire’s family and friends.”

He’d been staring off into the distance, but his eyes moved back to mine, and we shared a smile. Jason had always thought Claire’s choice of friends was poor. We were the exceptions, and in his head this was because we’d chosen Claire. That was the truth, sort of. Jason chose me. He saw me in seventh grade and told me I didn’t need too much makeup, as I was just what the guys liked. Then he saw Claire beside me, took in her heavy makeup, and raised his nose in the air. He sniffed at her. “You look just fine, too.”

Her mouth dropped. She wasn’t confrontational, but that day she sputtered out, “Fuck you.”

Jason had paused, stared at her, and a slow grin formed. It had been best friendship at first sight.

“We all know how Claire’s life is going to end up,” he told me, looking around the kitchen. “She’s going to marry a politician who’ll cheat on her in some public scandal, and she’ll divorce him but not his money. Or she’ll marry some up-and-coming entrepreneur. If he loves her more, she’ll end up cheating on him. If she loves him more, he’ll cheat on her. That’s how it always goes with her. Either way, she’ll divorce him, end up with all his money, and have us over for margaritas.”

That sounded accurate. “I look forward to the margaritas.”

He laughed. “You and me both.”

We got mad. We got sad. Now we were laughing. All in all, this had gone better than I expected.

Then Jason sighed. “Don’t fall in love with him.” His eyes were solemn, almost sad again. “Don’t, Taylor.”

“I’m not—” I started to argue.

“You’re hurting.” He waved my words away. “I don’t know what happened with Eric, but you were with him for years, and then you weren’t, and you still won’t talk about it. I know you’re trying to put on a brave face and march on, like you always do, but I know you. I see you.” His voice softened once more. “A guy like Logan Kade is very dangerous to a girl like you.”

My eyes closed. Everything he’d said was true.

#CHEFLOGAN

LOGAN

Cheese—check.

Eggs—check.

Vegetables—check.

I stood back and perused the ingredients on the counter. I had everything…wait, I didn’t. Bacon—and double-check. We were good to go. Mission To-Build-The-Best-Omelet-Ever was about to commence.

“What are you doing?” Nate came in behind me, opening the fridge.

I blocked him and swatted his arm. “No juice for you.”

He moved back, sending me a frown. “I was reaching for the milk.”

“No milk for you.” I pointed the spatula at him and motioned to the table. “Sit. I am Chef Logan this morning.”

“Oh God.” He groaned, but sat. “What the hell is that?”

He was looking at the pile of fruit sitting next to the juicer. “That’s for the wide receiver when he wakes up.”

“Since no one else in this house plays football, I’m assuming you’re talking about me, and yes,
he’s
awake,” Mason said, coming into the kitchen. He stopped, gave the pile of fruit a lifted eyebrow, then ran a hand through his hair. “Shit, Logan. I said to grab a few pieces of fruit. You got the entire produce section.”

I smirked. “You don’t know. That could be my new pet name for Nate’s asshole. Wide receiver—”

Nate yelled, “Shut the fuck up!”

Laughing, I waved the spatula at both of them. “Calm your tits, Monson. I’m fooling, and yes, I meant my big badass brother, but no hate, Mase, on the fruit. I’m following Mama Malinda’s rules: Go big or go home.”

“My stepmother would not buy the entire fruit section at the grocery store,” Sam said as she followed Mason into the kitchen. But when she saw the fruit piled high on a platter, she sighed. “Never mind. She’d totally do that.”

I raised my finger and pretended to add a number to the air. “Score one for me and a big fat zero for the rest of you. As it should be in Logan Land.” I turned to my brother. “For real, though. I got all that shit for you. Don’t make me regret it.”

Today was Mason’s first home game. He asked the night before if I could get the fruit and juicer for him. Mason was always one for training, but since he decided to stay at school the last two years and get his degree before going pro, he was extra careful about his body—what he put into it and avoiding injury for the next two years. It was becoming rare to go to college all four years before the NFL. I knew Mason wanted to get a college degree no matter what, but as he started the juicer, I watched him glance over his shoulder at Sam. She was the other reason he had stayed.

I thought I loved Tate. That ended horribly. Then Sam came into our lives, literally moving in with us with her psychotic mother, and now Sam was family. Then there was my last girlfriend, Kris. She’d been young, with some of her own problems and an overprotective sister. I cared about Kris. I was with her for almost a year, and I was faithful. A lot of people assumed I was unfaithful, but fuck that. I wasn’t a weak-ass coward—not like my dad. I cared about Kris, but I knew I didn’t
love
her. Maybe that’s why Mason and Sam’s love was a bit much for me sometimes.

I loved vagina. That was what I loved, and I knew it would be a long-lasting relationship. No matter what, I would never stray from pussy. That sweetest part of the female anatomy was my soulmate.

“What are you thinking about, Logan?”

Nate had been watching me. “If I could marry vagina—not a particular person’s, but vagina in general—I think I could call myself happy in love.”

There was silence.

Nate coughed. “I’m not even touching that one.” He lifted his hand. “Can I get a glass of juice, Mason?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Mason made the juice. I did the omelets, and everyone got one, even Sam. Hers was double-stuffed with everything. She started to protest when I gave it to her, but I fixed her with a firm look. “You’re going to have all of that worked off within an hour when you go running. Deal with it, and eat it.”

No one else jumped in to support her, so she lowered her head, lifted her fork, and dug in. After a bite, she gave me a warm smile. Around a mouthful, she said, “Stho goo, Loganth.”

I grabbed my own plate and sat in the last open spot at the table. “Damn straight it’s good. I made it. It’s Logan approved.”

“When did you get all this stuff?” Nate reached for his glass. “It wasn’t in the fridge last night. I would’ve eaten it if it were, and I came in after you.”

After dropping Taylor off, the two chicks took us home. There was a lot of flirting, but for once, I wasn’t into it. I went inside, and Nate left with both of them.

“I got it this morning. I was well-rested.” I grinned at him. “Did you have a twofer last night?”

He laughed. “Uh…” He put his glass down, concentrating on it more than he needed to. “Let’s say the one girl was a little hurt you rejected her.” His smile grew more prominent. “I tried to make her feel better.”

Sam’s nose wrinkled. “I’m eating here.”

Mason laughed. “I think the big news is that Logan turned a chick down.”

All three gazed at me. I frowned. “What?”

Sam asked, “You turned a girl down?”

“I can be selective.”

“Not normally,” my brother responded. “With who you date, yes. Not with who you screw. You screw a lot of girls.”

“Shut up.” I scowled. “I went through all this to get your fruit and your juicer, and I became Chef Logan this morning.” I waved at the table. “Most of your plates are already empty.”

“No one’s saying anything negative, and you know I appreciate you doing all this. I really do.”

I could hear the
but
coming from my brother. He shared a look with Nate before continuing. “We’ve all noticed a decline in your female activities over the last week.”