Logan Kade (Fallen Crest #5.5) (36 page)

“Huh?”

I couldn’t tear my gaze from the girl. She had no bra on. Her shirt fell low between her breasts, and they looked abnormally large on her very tiny body. Pain took my breath. God. I had heard the stories, knew he was sleeping around, but seeing it firsthand, the dam I’d had built to contain it all burst open. It flooded me, and I felt dizzy. I almost didn’t hear his next statement.

“—figures.”

“What?” I pulled out my earbuds, and the music blasted between us. It was jarring, but that went for the whole situation. This wasn’t supposed to be happening.

Logan didn’t even have his shirt on. It was in his hand, and his jeans rode low over his hips. When he realized I was checking him out, a hard look flashed in his eyes before a smirk appeared. He tossed the shirt over his shoulder and transformed into the cocky Logan Kade so many knew.

I saw this façade, but I also saw through it. I saw the sweet Logan. The Logan who took me to sit on top of a roller coaster so I could see one of the most beautiful views in town. I saw the Logan who’d punched my ex-boyfriend, no questions asked. I saw the Logan that liked to make food for his family, and who took me away from one party to show me what a
real
party was like.

I drew in a shuddering breath.

God.

I looked past the hardened smirk he wore to hurt me. This was the guy who’d brought me back to life. He’d made me feel again, and realizing all of this, tears came to my eyes.

What had I done?

Blood rushed to my face, but somehow it drained from there, too. I was a mess inside because I now knew I’d made the worst mistake of my life.

I’d let him go. Worse, I’d forced him away.

I turned to the girl. She had a smug smirk on her face, similar to Logan’s at first glance, but so different. Hers was real. She honestly thought he was hers. But he wasn’t. He was mine.

He was supposed to be mine, and I’d lost him. I shook my head. She wasn’t his. If she thought that, she was a fool. I knew, without a doubt, that he’d never date her. Screw her, yes. Date her, not in a million. But as if sensing my thoughts, her smirk grew, and she lifted her chin, daring me.

I started for her, not even thinking about it, but Logan stepped between us. He blocked my view, and once I saw his chest instead of hers—his perfectly shaped and sculpted chest—I jerked backward. I burned, and I wanted to touch him. I wanted to take everything back. I wanted him back. All this screamed inside of me, but I couldn’t do anything. Not here. Not like this. It was done.

I forced myself to step away from him, though one step forward and I’d be against him.

“I’m sorry.” I heard my voice before I realized I’d spoken.

Logan’s hands lifted toward mine. He’d been going to touch me, but at my words, he stopped. His head cocked to the side. “Huh?”

“I’m sorry.” I gestured to the girl. “This isn’t you. This isn’t the real you, and I did this.”

His hand ran through his hair. “Taylor—” he started.

I shook my head. He wasn’t going to be himself, and I didn’t want to hear it. “Don’t.”

“You seem to be mistake—” he said anyway.

“I’m not,” I cut him off. I knew the real him. “You’re sweet. You’re kind. You want to be loved. You still miss your mom’s love. You yearn for a dad who’ll choose you over his lover. You want a girl who’ll hold your hand on top of a broken roller coaster.” I could only whisper the words as they tumbled out now. “You want a partner in crime, but also someone you can protect, and who’ll do the same for you.”

He didn’t say a word, just stared at me with a dumbfounded expression.

I pressed a hand to his stomach. “No one knows the real you, but I do.”

A stricken look passed between us, but he still didn’t speak.

“I see you.” I looked over at the girl. “That’s not you. That’s not the real you.”

He still said nothing, and I didn’t want to look up at him. I didn’t want to know whether he couldn’t talk or didn’t want to. I’d said what I needed to say. I just wanted him to know.

Keeping my head low, I stepped back again and put my earbuds in. Then I turned and kept running.

After a few paces, I found an extra bounce in my step. I’d said what I needed to say, and I realized I was okay.

My mom.

Eric.

My dad.

Jason.

Even Claire.

All of them.

I was okay, and that was because Logan had healed me. For that reason alone, I loved him.

I stopped—right there, right then—in the middle of the sidewalk. It was as if I’d hit a cement wall. I gasped for breath, feeling my insides smashed and jumbled up.

I loved Logan.

I couldn’t move.

I loved Logan…

I gasped for breath.

Holy shit.

LOGAN

I couldn’t move. Fucking hell. Somehow Taylor had just ripped me all the way to my core, and I couldn’t even fucking breathe.

“Hey—”

“Stop,” I cut the girl off. I didn’t want to hear it. She was going to cut Taylor down, and I wouldn’t have it.

“What?”

I turned and looked down the sidewalk. Taylor had kept running, but suddenly she stopped. She stood frozen in the middle of the sidewalk. I held my breath. I was exposed and raw, but holy fucking shit—that was what I’d been waiting for. All these damn years, that right there. Just that.

Taylor saw me. She saw through me. She saw into me. She saw me, and she claimed me.

“Logan?”

The girl touched my arm, but I moved away. I didn’t want her touch. I’d been revolted by it as soon as I woke up next to her, and I’d slipped out. I hadn’t known she was at the window until Taylor looked and saw her.

I wanted to apologize to Taylor. She caught me leaving another girl’s bed, but then
she
apologized. She went deep, deeper than anyone else in my life. I was so wrong. I saw her running and instantly wanted to claim her as mine again, but I fought against myself. These days I always fought against myself when it came to her. Every damn time in class I forced myself not to sink into the chair next to her. I forced myself to keep moving. I forced myself to sit with other girls, to hear their annoying come-ons.

That was all I’d been doing the past month, forcing myself to stay away from Taylor, and then she pulls this shit?

She gutted me.

I couldn’t move, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her. I wanted to go after her, ask her why if she could see me she couldn’t be with me.

But I didn’t. Like every damned day this month, I didn’t. I didn’t text. I didn’t call. I did nothing, and I was starting to hate myself for it. Because I needed to go to her. It was normal to be with her, because she was mine. My insides knew it.

Because she was still mine, just like I was hers.

Fucking hell. I was in love with her.

I was in love with Taylor Bruce.

Fucking…hell…

“Logan.” The girl lifted her hand again to touch me. I saw it coming and stepped aside, evading her. She let out a frustrated sound, but said, “Your phone is ringing.”

“What?” I looked at her. “What’d you say?”

She pointed to my pocket. “Your phone is ringing, and I’m pretty sure that’s your brother. It’s the same ringtone from when he called you last night.”

I closed my eyes, wanting to scream at the girl because she was the one in front of me, but I didn’t. That’d be an asshole thing to do, and my asshole limits were set at sleeping with girls, not taking anything else out on them. I heard the ring this time, and I pulled out my phone and answered. “Yeah?”

“You need to get back.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Because Dad just called,” Mason said. “He said he reached out. Rankin won’t be a problem. I don’t know how he did it or what he did, and we’re not supposed to ask questions, but he did it. Rankin is supposed to stay away.”

I waited. I knew Mason had something else to deliver.

And then, he did. “And he’s coming to town. He’s calling in his favor.”

LOVE YOU BACK, FIRECRACKER

TAYLOR

I couldn’t run anymore after that realization, but eventually I could move again. I ended up walking back to the house, but when I went inside, I just stood there. Nothing made sense. I had no idea what to do. The door shut behind me, but I barely heard it. My keys fell from my hands, clattering to the floor.

I loved Logan.

I couldn’t—I loved him. I hadn’t thought I could love again.

A dazed cloud settled on top of me, but my mind was spinning at the same time. I wanted to shout and throw my hands in the air, then I wanted to shed more tears. All at once. I was all over the place, so I sat down.

Right where I was. In the middle of the front entryway, I crossed my feet over my lap, and I leaned forward. I…I loved Eric. Or I had. It felt like all my life he’d been at my side. He was my best friend in elementary school, my crush in junior high, and my boyfriend for the next four and a half years. He was going to be my partner for life, and he’d taken my heart with him when he left me.

Or so I thought.

I couldn’t…I couldn’t believe it. And then a wave of yearning crushed me. I wanted someone to talk to. Jason…he was gone. The person I really wanted to talk to was my mom. And she was gone, too. I wrapped my arms around my knees and rocked back and forth. She would’ve been ecstatic for me. She would’ve hugged me, told me to go after whoever made me happy, and she would’ve waved in the window as I left to do just that.

She should’ve been here. “Mom,” I whispered.

“What did you say?”

I looked up to see my dad standing there with a cup of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. “You’re home.” I had to blink a few times before it processed in my head.

He frowned. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re never home.”

“Oh.” The frown deepened, and his chest lifted as he took in a breath. “Um. Okay.”

He put his book on the stand, took a sip of his coffee, and placed the mug next to it. He took a step toward me and folded his hands behind his back.

“Yes. I know I’ve been…” His hand tugged at his collar before it went back behind his back. “…absent for the last few months.”

“You think?” I retorted. I grabbed the ends of my shirt and fisted my hands around it, stretching it tight. It was becoming harder to breathe, and a hot and burning feeling started in my chest. “Why are you home?” I asked.

“Honey…” He stepped back, his eyes closed. “I’m sorry, Taylor.”

“You’re sorry?” I couldn’t have heard that right. “For what? For not being around? For not helping with Mom’s funeral plans? For not being here, ever? What
exactly
are you sorry for?”

“Honey—”

“Stop.” I stood up, shoving off from the floor. “I don’t want your apology.”

“Taylor—”

I shook my head. God. I could see it all over him. He felt bad. His face was filled with regret. He wanted to take everything back. I saw all of it, and none of that helped. “Don’t.” My voice dropped. “You can’t take anything back.”