Logan
It takes me much, much longer than it should to snap out of the shocked trance I’ve fallen into. My mouth keeps opening and closing, my eyelids blinking at a rapid pace as I stare at the door Grace just tore out of.
She’s absolutely right. I am a jackass. And I did doubt her commitment to our relationship. And—
Wait. She loves me?
My mouth opens again. And stays open. Agape, in fact, because her last words have finally registered in my extremely idiotic brain. She loves me. Even after I indicted her for a hypothetical future break-up and pretty much told her she was going to desert me when the going gets tough, she still told me she loved me.
And I let her walk away.
What the hell is the matter with me?
I bolt out of my room and take the stairs two at a time. There’s no way Grace could have called a cab or made it to the bus stop yet, which means she’s probably on the front stoop or nearing the end of the street. Which means I can still catch her.
I skid into the front hall like a goddamn cartoon character, only to freeze when I find Garrett at the door. Then I hear a car engine from outside, and my heart hits the floor like a sack of bricks.
“Hannah’s driving her home,” Garrett says quietly.
I curse in frustration, flinging open the door in time to see the retreating taillights of Hannah’s car. Damn it.
I spin around and hurry back upstairs, where I grab my phone and dial Grace’s number. After it goes straight to voice mail, I shoot off a quick text.
Me: Baby, please come back. I’m such an ass. Need to make this right.
There’s a long delay. Five seconds. Ten. And then she texts back.
Her: I need some time to digest your stupidity. I’ll call u when I’m ready to talk.
Damn it. I drag both hands over my scalp, fighting the urge to strangle myself to death. Why do I always screw up when it comes to this girl?
Footsteps echo in the hallway, and when Garrett appears, I stifle another curse. “I can’t deal with a lecture right now, man. I really can’t.”
“Wasn’t gonna lecture you.” He shrugs. “Just wanted to see if you’re okay.”
I sink down on the edge of the bed, slowly shaking my head. “Not in the slightest. I fucked up again.”
“Damn right you did.” My best friend props his elbow against the wall and sighs. “Wellsy and I heard her reaming you out.”
“I think the whole neighborhood heard it,” comes Tucker’s voice. He enters my room and leans against the dresser. “Except maybe Dean, but that’s because he’s balls-deep in a puck bunny down in the living room.”
I groan. “Seriously? Why can’t he ever fuck in his room?”
“Do we really want to discuss that perv’s sex life?” Tuck counters. “Because I don’t think that should be at the top of your priority list right now.”
He makes a good point. At the moment, my only priority is fixing things with Grace.
Christ, I shouldn’t have spewed all that bullshit. I hadn’t even meant it, at least not the part about her breaking up with me. That was my fear talking. And she’s right—I was having a pity party. I was so freaked out about everything that happened with my dad last night, not to mention everything that happened afterward. When I cried in her father’s arms.
I cried in her father’s arms.
I let out another groan. “What if I lost her for good this time?”
Garrett and Tucker instantly shake their heads. “You didn’t,” Garrett assures me.
“How can you be so sure of that?”
“Because she told you she loves you.”
“You stupid jackass,” Tucker adds with a grin.
I love you, you stupid jackass. Not the words a man wants to hear. The first three, sure. The last three? Pass.
“How do I fix this?” I ask, sighing.
“Quick. Write her another poem,” Garrett suggests.
I scowl at him.
“No, I think G’s onto something,” Tuck says. “I think the only way to save this is to bust out another grand gesture. What else was on her list?”
“Nothing,” I moan. “I did everything on the list.”
Tucker shrugs. “Then come up with something else.”
A grand gesture? I’m a guy, damn it. I need direction. “Is Wellsy coming back here?” I ask Garrett.
He smirks at my pleading tone. “Even if she is, I’m not letting you pick her brain. You’re gonna have to fix this one all on your own.”
There’s a pause, and then…
“You stupid jackass,” my friends say in unison.
34
Grace
I’m still fuming as I walk into the media building several hours after storming out of Logan’s house. Normally I don’t stay angry for long, but this time I’m having trouble expelling the volatile energy coursing inside me. I can’t believe he actually thinks I’ll dump him once he’s in Munsen full-time. That I’ll throw him away like an old busted-up toy and find something shiny and new to play with.
Jerk.
When I burst into the station, I spot Morris in the producer’s booth, balancing the telephone handset on his shoulder as he jots something down on a notepad. I frown, noticing that Pace and Evelyn are already in their seats in the other booth. Pace snaps his earphones over the backward baseball cap on his head, while Evelyn bends over a sheet of paper in concentration.
Am I late? I glance at the clock on the far wall. Nope. I’m early, actually. So why is Morris in my booth?
I take a step forward, only to halt when Daisy wanders out of the back corridor. She pushes her bangs off her forehead—they’re neon-blue now—and grins sheepishly when she sees me.
“Hey,” I greet my roommate. “What are you doing here?” She doesn’t usually hang out at the station unless she’s supposed to host or produce, and I know for a fact she’s scheduled to do neither today.
“Hey.” For some reason, she looks almost…guilty. “I just popped in to drop off coffee for everyone.”
“Since when are you the station gofer?” I narrow my eyes. “Your shirt is inside out.” I pause. “And backwards.”
She glances at her tank top, wincing when she notices the tag sticking out from her collarbone. Then her eyes flit toward the producer’s booth.
I follow her gaze, gasping when I find Morris grinning at us. “Holy shit. You and Morris are hooking up?”
Daisy sighs. “Maybe.”
My anger at Logan is momentarily eclipsed by her news. Our schedules are so hectic that Daisy and I are hardly ever in our room at the same time, which works out great for when I want privacy, but it also means I miss out on girl talk and up-to-date gossip.
“Since when?” I squeal in excitement.
“A couple weeks now?” She shrugs. “I didn’t tell you because we’ve both been so busy. You’re cool with it, though, right?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You know, because you and Morris went out.”