Second Chance at Love (The MacKenna Born & Bred Trilogy) (6 page)

“Oh yeah?” she yelled back. “Well, good!”

She didn't give a damn about his perfect, beautiful nose.
She didn't give a damn if she managed to knock every perfect pearly white tooth
out of his mouth. It would serve the cheating bastard right. She hauled back to
swing one more time, but he was faster. With one quick movement, he grabbed the
handle, covering both of her hands with his own. When he tried to pry her
fingers off, she held on tighter.

God, his hands are strong.
His strength was
outrageous, but she refused to let go. Instead, she fought him. She turned,
trying to get out from underneath his grip, and his chest ended up pressed
against her back as they struggled. Her strength was no match for his, and he
wore her out. Tired, she stopped struggling and became still.

She loosened her grip on the handle, and so did he.
Reluctantly, she let her hands drop away. Logan tossed it to the side. He was
still behind her, and he buried his bloody face in her hair while wrapping his
arms around her. The tears came, long and hard, racking her body. He held onto
her. The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach worsened until he felt like he
was going to vomit. Her body shook uncontrollably, and the sound of her pitiful
sobs pierced his heart. He tried to soothe her, to console her, in the only way
he knew how to at that moment. By just holding her. After a few minutes, she
shrugged him away. Turning, she looked at him. He was a mess. His right eye was
swollen and his nose was bruised already, the blood caked around his nostrils
and on his face. She almost felt badly about what she'd done to him. Almost.

She looked into his eyes, searching for something, anything,
that would make this better. But there was nothing. Nothing he could say or do
would ever make this better. It would never change the fact that he'd slept
with someone else. The thought of it made her physically ill.

He took a step toward her, and she stepped back. He looked
at her then, searching her face for some understanding, some compassion. But
all he saw there was hurt and anger. The way she looked at him tore him to
pieces. Logan could never have imagined that something like this would happen.
Not ever. Not to them. He was desperate, and he knew it. So he did the only
thing a man in his position
could
do. He prepared to beg.

“Brooke.” He said her name softly. When she didn't respond,
he pleaded. “Brooke, please. Look at me.” She did. Her eyes were bright with
shimmering tears. “I'm sorry.” He whispered it. “I'm so so sorry.” He swallowed
the softball-sized lump in his throat. “Brooke, you know me. You
know
me. This isn't me. You know that I would
never
do something like this.”

She fought back stinging tears that still threatened, and
kept her eyes on his. “And yet you did.” Her voice was strained with emotion.
“I would never have believed it, not in a million years. Until I saw it with my
own eyes.”

“Brooke, I was wasted. Completely fucked up,” he said, in an
attempt to explain his deplorable actions. “I didn't know what I was doing.”

“How can you say that? How can you recall the events of last
night so easily, and then expect me to believe you didn't know what you were
doing? Drunk or not, you knew exactly what you were doing.” she said, her voice
hollow. “Don't add 'liar' to your list of shortcomings.”

She turned her head to the side, and something caught her
eye. Strewn about the floor near the foot of the bed were three condoms, all
used. She could see the semen pooled at the tip of each one from when he'd
ejaculated. They were just tossed there, on the floor. His eyes were drawn to
them, too. He couldn't explain, not even to himself, what he was feeling at
that moment. She felt a wave of nausea rise up. She had to get the hell out of
there.

Frantically, she tried to move past him, but he stopped her.
He reached out to take her hand, but she pulled it away. She shook her head.
“Don't touch me. You don't get to touch me. Not anymore.”

Panic gripped him, hard. He had to say something, anything,
that would reach her. “Brooke, please. I love you. I
love
you. It was a
mistake, a horrible mistake and I'm so sorry. I'll do anything to fix this.
Anything, Brooke.”

“Don't you
dare
stand there and tell me it was a
mistake. A mistake is when it happens once.
Once,
Logan. Not three
times. You fucked this...this whore, three times!” she yelled at him, waving a
hand toward Jennifer, who still sat in the middle of the bed, naked, watching
the entire scene as if she were at a movie and all that was missing was the popcorn.
“Or three times that I know of, anyway. ” Her voice broke, and the flood of
tears she'd been holding back threatened to break free again. “I can't even
bear to look at you right now. You disgust me.” She drew her hand back and
slapped him across his face. The sound echoed throughout the room. Logan took
it, because he knew it was less, even, than he deserved. “There
is
no
fixing this.” Before she broke down again, she pushed past him and ran out of
the room.

Logan ran after her, down the hall and down a flight of
stairs to the door that exited to the parking lot. He reached her just as she
got into her car and slammed the door shut. He banged on the window. “Brooke,
roll down the window, damn it.” She looked away from him, and put the car in
reverse, backing out of the parking space. She quickly put it in drive and sped
away. When she looked in her rear view mirror, Logan was still standing there,
naked and bruised. Coincidentally, that was the exact way she felt at that very
moment.

Logan called her a dozen times, and texted her at least
twice that many. She didn't answer a single one. After she'd sped out of the
parking lot, he ran upstairs and escorted a screaming, cursing Jennifer from
his room with her clothes in her arms, and closed the door in her face. He
showered and dressed quickly, grabbing his keys on the way out the door. He had
to see Brooke. But when he got to her room, she wasn't there. So he'd called
and texted and called some more, but with no luck. She wasn't answering, which
told him that she had zero interest in talking to him. Or in listening.

Logan wasn't sure of much at that moment, but one thing he
was sure of was that he loved Brooke more than life itself, and he wasn't going
to lose her without putting up a fight. He just hoped that in the end, he came
out the victor.

He camped out in the hallway outside her dorm room. He
didn't know what else to do, where else to go to look for her. He'd gone
everywhere he could possibly think to look. She obviously didn't want to be
found. So he slid to the floor and sat with his back against her door, and
rested his head against it. He stretched out his legs. He was tired and sore.
After exhausting every avenue searching for Brooke, he'd gone to the hospital,
where they'd cleaned, x-rayed and taped his nose. It was indeed broken. He had
to give it to her, she had a hell of a swing. All he could do now was wait. She
had to come back eventually. Besides, it was the only plan he had.

This was how Brooke found him when she finally made it back
to her dorm room, just before 7:00 that evening. She watched him as he slept.
His body was slumped over and his head fell to the side. He looked incredibly
uncomfortable in the position he was currently in. He looked exhausted. Brooke
noticed that the blood that had dried and caked in and around his nose had been
cleaned. There was bruising across the bridge of his nose and general swelling.
His left eye was purple and swollen shut. He looked like he'd been through a
war.

In a small part of her heart, Brooke felt badly for what
she'd done to Logan's face. She couldn't believe she actually had the nerve to
beat him with a tennis racquet, his
own
tennis racquet, no less. She was
the most calm and easy-going person. Or at least she'd thought she was. It
scared her how she'd let her rage control her the way it had. She was used to
being in complete control of her actions. But rage and jealousy combined could
do strange things to a person, she realized. She didn't want to be that person.
Not ever again.

She hated him for what he'd done. But she loved him, too.
She stepped around him and jabbed the key into the lock. She turned the knob,
and the weight of his body against the door flung it open wide. Logan fell
backward toward the floor. Brooke stepped over him and headed into her room. He
was awake instantly, and it took him only a couple of seconds before he was on
his feet. He blinked a few times to clear his eyes of sleep, and to focus.

Neither of them spoke. He watched her silently as she took
off her sweater and hung it in the closet. She was nervous, and at the same
time trying to be as calm as she possibly could be. She gathered up her shorts
and tank top and disappeared into the bathroom. She came out a minute later,
her clothes changed. She remained silent.

Logan had remained standing, watching her every move. She
was much too calm, he thought. Something didn't seem quite right. She should be
furious with him. Instead, she was so calm.

“Brooke.” Her name seemed foreign to her own ears, which was
fitting because she certainly didn't seem herself. She felt like someone else,
someone on the outside looking in, seeing her life the way it was at that
moment in time, and the devastation that had ravaged it, just before her world
came crumbling down around her. She stopped what she was doing and turned to
face him.

“I'm glad you came by,” she said, her voice small, distant.

“Brooke, baby, we need to talk about this,” Logan said, the
stress of the day finally taking its toll on him. He thought he was near to his
breaking point.

She dismissed his use of the endearment. It didn't mean
anything to her anymore. They were only words, the significance of them having
been snuffed out by his betrayal of her love, her trust.

“I told you this morning, Logan, that there's nothing left to
say.”

“The hell there isn't,” he exclaimed. “I have a lot that I
want to say to you.”

“Whatever it is won't change anything. I wish it could, but
it can't.” She felt hollow inside. Every part of her heart ached. She brought
her hands up in front of her, and touched a finger to the ring she wore on her
wedding finger. The ring that, until that very morning, had symbolized their
love for and commitment to one another, and had been the promise of their
future. Now it meant nothing.

Brooke slowly slid it off of her finger. Logan watched her
as panic began to build up inside him.

“No. No.” He shook his head as if to reaffirm his words.
This couldn't possibly be happening. His head throbbed and the tightness in his
chest felt like a hundred pound weight was sitting on top of it.

Brooke held the ring between her thumb and index finger. It
sparkled brilliantly when the light caught it in just the right way. He'd given
it to her the summer before when he'd proposed to her. Brooke had cherished
that day in her heart, believing it was the start of their long and happy life
together. It was astounding to her how quickly things could change. How your
life could fall apart in the blink of an eye. She was numb. There was really no
other way to explain how she felt. She'd gone through the shock and the anger,
and now there was numbness.

She held the ring out to him, her hand trembling a little as
she did. Logan reached up to take her chin in his hand. “Brooke, look at me.”
She met his gaze with her own. “Please, don't do this. Don't shut me out like
this. We need to work through this.” He fell silent for a minute, his throat
constricting with emotion. “I'm so sorry, baby.” Tears welled up in his
brilliant green eyes and he tried desperately to hold them back. She'd always loved
his eyes.  After all, a person's eyes were the gateway to the soul. She used to
think that she could see inside Logan's soul. She'd been a fool.

She shook her head. “We can't work through this,” she said
softly. He opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand to stop him. “Let
me finish,” she said, looking deep into his eyes. “I don't understand. I just
don't understand.” Her voice wavered, but she went on. “You told me you loved
me, and that I was the only woman you'd ever wanted. We made promises to each
other.” Her breath hitched.

“I
do
love you, Brooke. And you
are
the only
woman I want. I've loved you since I could spell my own name. Practically my
entire life. There's nothing in this world I want more than to be with you. To
marry you and to make babies with you. To share all of those things we've
dreamed of. We can still have that, Brooke.”

She knew now that those dreams were just that ~ dreams. “No,
Logan, we can't.”

His face was so close to hers now that they were almost
touching. “Don't sat that. Brooke, forgive me. Please. If you love me the way
you say you do, you'll forgive me. You'll give me a second chance. A chance to
prove to you that I'm worthy of you. I'll do whatever it takes.”  He knew he
was losing her, and he didn't know what, if anything, he could do to stop it.