Logan Kade (Fallen Crest #5.5)

After Logan left, I sat up there on that roller coaster for another hour. I stayed until I could finally feel the cold. Before that, I felt nothing. I welcomed something finally slipping inside of me, something other than emptiness.

I climbed down, and I was able to squeeze back through a hole I found in the fence. I sat on the curb, wrapped my arms around my knees, and bent my forehead to rest on my legs. If I could have closed in on myself, I would have. But that position warded off some of the night’s chill, so I sat back up. I wanted to feel that. I sat and shivered and waited for the cab I’d called.

I wouldn’t be the type of girl who clung to a guy when I was hurting. I wouldn’t be that person. Nothing good could come of it. I was broken inside, and even though Logan’s Fuck you still echoed in my head, I knew this had been the right thing to do.

He’d see that, too. Eventually.

I was still telling myself that when the cab arrived, its lights sweeping over me. And I was still reminding myself when it pulled up at my house. Stepping inside, I dropped my purse by the door and my keys on the counter. I’d been at Logan’s, and I’d gotten used to how alive his home was. It was full of people, of life, of love. I perused the darkened entrance hall, then moved to stare at the living room.

Empty.

Dull.

Nothing.

That was what I felt as I stood inside my home.

“Taylor?”

My dad came from the kitchen wearing his plaid robe over pajama pants and a white T-shirt—what he always used to wear at night. He also wore the slippers he always used to wear around the house.

I pointed at them and said hoarsely, “Those stupid things. You’re wearing them again.”

He looked down and lifted a leg in the air. He laughed. “Oh, yeah. I didn’t even think. They were by the nightstand, so I just slipped ’em on. Habit.”

I’d given them to him as a Christmas present three years ago. The slipper was a mallard duck, but the green coloring had faded. One had a rip that my mom had tried to stitch up a few months before she died.

“I made that rip,” I said through tears. “Mom was carrying them, and one snagged on a nail from the stupid DIY project I was trying to do.” I’d been rushing past, in a hurry to meet Eric. The words would hardly come now. “I told her to toss ’em, that I’d buy you a new pair, but she wouldn’t listen. She said you loved them. That they were your ‘habit’ slippers. I didn’t know what she meant, but I didn’t care. Eric was waiting for me.”

My dad laughed, still gazing down at the slipper rather than acknowledging my tears. “Your mom was right. I’d gotten used to them, but I would’ve loved the new pair, too.” He passed by me, patting me on the arm.

I used the back of my hand to wipe my eyes.

Pausing at the steps, he turned back and frowned. “It’s almost four in the morning. What are you doing still up?”

Oh, Dad. My heart felt like it had been torn in half. “I had an all-nighter at the library,” I said.

“Oh.” He nodded. “Good to know. Study hard, Taylor. You always do so well. ’Night, honey.”

I hadn’t slept at the house in five nights. The library closed at midnight, and he was wearing his mallard duck slippers. I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. Tomorrow was Saturday. My dad would leave because that was what he did, and I wouldn’t see him for another few days.

I sat at the bottom of the steps and laughed.





HOLY SHIT!





TAYLOR


“We’re going bowling tonight,” Jeremy Fuller explained. “It should be fun.”

I had the phone tucked between my ear and shoulder. “Mmm-hmmm.”

“You’re going to come? Professor Gayle will be there. The professors are joining us tonight.”

I had been tying my shoelaces during that last part. I planned a quick jog before going to work, but Jeremy’s call had caught me by surprise. I answered without looking at who it was and then panicked. For a moment, I’d thought it was Logan calling, but then I recognized the voice.

Jeremy had been calling more and more over the last three weeks. He apologized with the first call, saying he had no right to say what he had against Logan…and I kept quiet on that subject. I knew he knew. Everyone knew, but I couldn’t lie that it felt nice to have someone else calling me. Logan, on the other hand, hadn’t called or texted. Silence. He didn’t sit by me in sociology. He sat with a group of girls in the back of the room instead, but he didn’t act like I was a total stranger either. He offered a polite hello and nod once in a while. Each time it was like a knife being shoved into me, then twisted around for maximum pain.