I should have known Miles had left for a reason.
Staring at Logan, anger threatening to erupt but need overtaking me, I debated whether or not to let him in. I hated that he’d given up on us so easily. I wanted him to fight his fear of what might happen. Don’t get me wrong, I understood I could be in danger, but I truly believed Tommy was using that fear to further ruin Logan’s life.
“Elle, it’s me,” he said, his voice low, husky.
Uncertain, I stood behind the door considering my options. I knew what would happen when I opened the door. I’d see him—his knowing eyes, his hard square jaw, his even harder body, and just like that, I’d let him off the hook for thinking I was safer without him. I’d melt like the schoolgirl I knew better than to be. It would be that simple. But our situation wasn’t that simple. It was so much more complicated. And I hated that it was.
The knocking persisted until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I longed to see him, to smell him, to touch him. I didn’t want to be apart from him.
“Elle, please.” His voice broke.
My heart stilled at the sound of his tone. He was the stronger one, my protector, and yet right now, the dauntless, fearless man needed me and I couldn’t shut him out no matter how much I knew I should. The truth was, deep in my heart, I knew there was no way this thing between us was going to end well. He just wasn’t willing to accept that he wasn’t responsible for my safety, and that fact was going to continue to eat at him and destroy us.
Still, I couldn’t turn him away.
All I could do was hope that I was strong enough to make this work for the both of us.
With a shaky hand, I opened the door and there he stood, all male, all need, all hard and yet soft. With his head down and his sorrowful, regretful hazel eyes blazing into mine, I was his. Any sense of self-preservation I had been feeling vanished.
“I’m sorry,” he said, stepping toward me and putting his hands on my hips.
Even upset with him, my body flared to life. Lust and love and something that felt a lot like my own fear swirled around me like a mini tornado. I wanted to push him. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to punch him. I wanted to fuck him. I settled for throwing my arms around him. I needed to touch him. To comfort him, as odd as that sounds. With my mouth unbearably close to his ear, I whispered, “Don’t shoulder this situation we’re in on your own.”
He buried his head in my neck. “I can’t think straight. I’m so fucking worried about you.”
Oh God, that ache in his voice killed me. My fingers threaded through his hair and as I touched him, I breathed him in. All Logan. All everything I never knew I wanted but now needed so very desperately.
Moments passed. Seconds. Maybe minutes. I knew I had to push him away. I had to talk to him with a clear head and I warred with myself until I finally did. “Logan, I’ll be all right. I can take care of myself.”
His sigh told me he didn’t believe it.
Clarity set in. “What are you doing here?”
“I was going out of my mind. I had to see for myself you were safe.”
“I’m fine, Logan. I‘11be fine,” I lied. Physically maybe, but emotionally, I didn’t think I would.
The doubt in his stare made his hazel eyes look icy.
I chose to ignore it and press on. “Why didn’t you come back to your father’s this morning?” I asked, even though I knew why. Still, it was a start to the bigger conversation.
His face was worn, his eyes tired. He rubbed his jaw. “I didn’t know what to do. I had to figure things out. And to do that I needed, I need, some time alone.”
Being alone meant not being with me, which in turn, in his mind, meant I was out of danger. I got that. I just didn’t agree with it. I didn’t want him to be alone. I didn’t want to be alone. But he was worried that if he stayed with me, something bad was going to happen. If something bad was going to happen, I believed it would happen either way. Was he here because he just couldn’t fight his need to be with me? Or had he decided we were in this together? I had to know. “And what has changed?” I asked, trying to make him think this through. Hopefully see that we were better together.
Logan stared at me with blankness in his eyes.
I knew right then nothing had changed. I should have asked him to leave—I didn’t. Instead I pressed on, hopeful. “Logan, what has changed?” I repeated, hoping for a miracle.
There was a slight shake of his head. His beautiful hair was tousled, his stubble longer than usual. Everything about him screamed that he was lost.
And even though I felt anger that he couldn’t see what I saw, that we should fight together, I couldn’t fight my longing to take the lost boy and comfort him. Maybe make him see things the way I did. That if anything was going to happen, it would happen either way.