by Amanda Faye
"Hey, Logan. What's going on?"
I'm panting, though I shouldn't be out of breath. A cold sweat breaks out over my skin. She knows. Whatever the fuck is going on, Esme knows about it.
"Where is she? I can't find her. She's not returning my calls. What's going on, Esme?"
"You should talk to Emma, Dulzura. It's not my place to tell."
Panic slices through me like a hot knife through butter.
"Aren't you listening to me? I'm trying to talk to Emma. She won't speak to me. What's going on? What did I do wrong?
She looks at me like I'm a puppy that's just got kicked, and I feel my knees turn to jelly. Pulling me by the hand, we stop a few doors down and shoved into a linen closet.
"You didn't do anything wrong, Logan. That's the problem. Emma, she doesn't handle feelings very well. I'm sure you've noticed Corazon? You did everything right, and that's the problem. Joe leaving the way he did? It broke something in her, not that you'd ever hear her admit it out loud. She couldn't bear to see you leave the same way."
My knees are a heartbeat away from giving out entirely, so I drop into a squat and run my fingers through my hair, pulling it out of its bun in clumps, I'm sure.
When I have control over myself again, I stand back up but itch to start pacing in the too tiny space. If I can't collapse in on myself, then I need to explode outward.
"I don't want to leave dammit. If she'd just give me a damn chance to tell her that."
Esme puts her hand on my shoulder, and I turn to face her. Her eyes fill with sorrow for me, and I know that I've fucked this up completely.
"She's gone, Logan. She came to our place first thing yesterday morning before the sun had even risen. I didn't hear it all, Isabella was a right bitch yesterday morning, but she told Darcy that she needed some time off. She and Charlotte took the kids and left last night."
There's a ringing sound in my ears, and I scarcely catch everything Esme says. Gone. She didn't want me to leave, so she beat me to the fucking punch.
"Where? Where is she, Esme. Tell me." My hands have risen to her shoulders, and I'm shaking her before I rein myself back in.
"I'm sorry, Logan, but I don't know. I'd tell you if I did, honest. I like you, Dulzura, more than I should. I'm team Lemma all the way. That's why they didn't tell me where she was going. You can ask Darcy, but --."
I'm already in the hallway running towards the chief's office before she finishes the rest of her sentence.
******
"Where are they?"
Darcy is sitting at his desk as I barge into his office. He pushes away from his papers, linking his hands behind his head.
"Well, if it isn't the visiting douche himself. What can I help you with today, Dr. Taylor?"
My chest is heaving in anger, and the desire to punch that smug fucking look off of his face is so strong I have to take a step back.
"Don't fuck with me, Darcy. Tell me where they are!"
My voice increases in pitch until I'm screaming the last few words, and the smart ass look transforms into anger as he pushes out of his chair.
"Raise your voice to me one more time, asshole, and we'll see what happens to you."
He's brimming with aggression, and I try to see past my fear and anger to remember that he's just doing what he thinks is best for his sister. I don't know what's happened in the last 48 hours to turn my life into such a fucking nightmare, but he's only doing what he thinks is best.
I lift my hands in front of me in a placating, partial, pleading manner. I hope that I convey that I'm not here to pick a fight.
"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I'm just trying to find Emma. I don't know what happened, but I need to see her. I have to. Please, just tell me where she's at, and I'll leave you alone."
Just then, a knock comes on the door, followed by the entrance of two of the security guards. Excellent, fucking perfect. Exactly what I need. Trying to look as unassuming as possible, I sit down in one of Darcy's chairs and scrub my hands over my face.
"Everything okay here, boss?"
With one hand still partially covering my face, I give a salute from my spot in the chair. It takes him a tad longer than I'd want it to, but finally, he dismisses the guards with platitudes that everything is fine and to go ahead and head back down to their positions.
Instead of sitting down, Darcy takes a position in front of me, leaning against his desk. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, and the aggression is radiating off of him so strong I can feel it in waves. There's a silence between us for several heartbeats, each of us sizing up the other.
"Before I forget to tell you, you're fired."
I'm so nonplussed at the statement I reply with the first thing that comes to my mind. I lean forward with my elbows on my knees.
"I bet you've been waiting weeks to say that, haven't you? I hope it makes you happy. You can't fire me, though, because I don't fucking work for you. I work for the agency you hired. If you have an issue with me, take it up with them. In the meantime, let's stop measuring our dicks, and how about you tell me where I can find your sister?"
"Why in the fuck would I do that. Emma had to leave town just to get away from you. If she wanted you to know where she was, she'd have told you. Instead, she had to flee in the night like a battered wife."
The urge to hit him wells up in me again and I shove away from my chair, coming chest to chest with Darcy.
"Bullshit. Emma ran because she's scared. If she'd had just toughed it out another twenty-four hours, I could have told her how much I love her. I love her, Darcy. I love them both so fucking much it's eating away at my insides. You're telling me she's left me, and I'm telling you that I love her so much that I can't breathe right now. I can't fucking breathe. And you're keeping them from me."
Instead of swinging at Darcy, I turn and lash out at the chair behind me, breaking one of the legs and sending it crashing into the wall behind us. I'm sure that'll earn me another staredown with the security guads.
I feel like I'm losing my mind. How can so much go wrong so quickly? I try to run my hands through my hair again, but when the hair tie impedes them, I yank it out and toss it across the room.
"You love her?"
Momentarily forgetting that I was in Darcy's office, I whip in his direction again, exasperation clear across his face.
"Yes! Why is that concept so fucking hard for you people to grasp. She's a tall radiant fucking chicken shit of a little imp, and I love her dammit. Please, please, Darcy, tell me where she's at."
The silence stretches tight between us, and I'm close to tears when he pulls his cell phone from his front pocket.
Holding my breath, I strain to hear any noise from his side of the phone.
"Emma, all settled? Yes, I do have to call and check on you. It's my job."
I try to step closer to hear, hoping to listen to her voice, but he raises his hand between us to stop me. Never taking his eyes from my face, he continues his conversation as if I wasn't here.
"Em, Logan came to see me. I fired him. I know, but at least now he can leave a few days early, and you guys can come back." My anger is rising again, and he puts up one finger to hold me off. I don't know if I moved or twitched in his direction, but he seems to sense I'm seconds away from yanking the phone from his hand.
"Look, sis, I know it's not my place, but he seems pretty torn up. You gave me the impression that whatever feelings you have for the douche -- yeah yeah, I know. But you made it seem like he was itching to get back home, and that's just not the story he told me. I think you should talk to him."
I can't hear her side of the conversation, and Darcy is doing nothing to calm my nerves. His office is almost as big as my apartment, and I resort to pacing once again, trying to soothe my damaged nerves.
"Emma. Stop with the bullshit. I know you have feelings for the guy. Why did you let me think it was all one-sided? He broke one of my chairs when I wouldn't tell him where you've gone. He says h
e loves you."
He's reserved as he listens, giving away nothing other than to scoff at something she says. I kick pieces of the broken chair out of my path as I hit one wall and turn to stomp towards the other.
"So this is you being self-sacrificing, huh? How's that working out for you? Look, I'm on your side, always. Say the word, and I'll kick his ass back to New York, but he wants to know where your at, and I think you should talk to him. What do you want me to do?"
I stop dead in front of him, breath held in some sort of prayer. He gives nothing away.
"Okay. I love you too, Em."
He pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at the screen for a minute before putting it back in his pocket.
"Sorry, man. She doesn't want to talk to you. She's not coming back until after she's sure you've left. I'm sorry this is the way it played out. Truly. But go, home, man. Go home."
With no other choice, I leave the office, and with it, my last chance of finding Emma.
I send Mandy a text asking her if she'll book me the next flight home.
Chapter 37
Emma
Make You Feel My Love — Adele
Charlotte sent me a message and told me that the kids were driving her nuts, so she was taking them to the mall to blow off some steam.
The house is dark and empty when I enter, and it perfectly matches my mood these last few weeks without Logan here.
In a spectacular showing of Denver's unpredictable weather, last week's snows have turned into springtime thunderstorms, and I'm wet and bitchy by the time I get from the car to the front of the house. The temperature was mildish this morning when I left, and I switched out my heavy winter coat for something lighter. As a result, I'm drenched through in the thirty second run from the carport to the front door.
I bypass the living area altogether and make my way into the kitchen, forgoing turning on any lights. As a result, when I turn away from the fridge and see Logan walking into the kitchen from the other side of the room, I let out a scream they could probably hear in Texas.
Shutting my mouth abruptly, I bring my hands to my chest and lean forward at the waist, trying to get my runaway heart back under control.
For his part, Logan has this half amused half apologetic look on his face with his hands raised in front of him like he's trying to calm a spooked horse. I don't think he's shaved since I last saw him two weeks ago. His hair is wet and pulled into a bun on the back of his head. His clothes have the look of being worn for an extended amount of time. He's in a charcoal v-neck sweater that falls against his chest beautifully and faded jeans that have seen better days. It's the sight of his sturdy combat boots that allows me to find my voice finally.
"What in the hell are you doing here, Logan? You scared the holy shit out of me!"
"Yeah, I gathered that. I had to talk to you, and you weren't answering your phone."
Emotion bursts in my chest, but I clamp it back down.
"Yea, take the hint. Does Charlotte know you're here, or did you break into my house?"
He takes a step closer to me then stops, discomfort palpable all over him. His hands keep opening and closing at his sides, and he's alternating his weight from foot to foot as if trying to keep himself in place. I can see the effort he's exhorting to keep himself held in check. He takes another step closer, and I mirror him taking a step back.
"Charlotte knows. She let me in, then took the kids out so that we could have a chance to talk. Brandon looks good. His scar looks dashing in a nine-year-old sort of way. I told him he looks kinda like a pirate now."
"You talked to Brandon? Why? Why would you do that? What are you even doing here, Logan?"
"I told you I had to see you. You wouldn't answer your phone, you wouldn't text me back, so I took matters into my own hands."
Hope flares in my chest, and I use my irritation at his testosterone-fueled alpha male behavior to squash it back down.
"Of course you did. That's just like you." I make sure he hears the disgust laced in my voice, spitting my words at him.
I turn to leave, wrapping my anger and surprise about his presence in my kitchen around me like armor, but he grabs me by my hand and yanks me back around to face him. Closing the distance between us, he takes my face in his hands and kisses me with fire and heat. It's forceful, almost painful, and I allow myself a few brief heartbeats to relish in the contact before ripping myself away from him and putting space in between us again.
I rest my hands on the counter in front of me, trying to get my ragged breathing back under control. I don't know why Logan has this type of control over me, but even though my mind is screaming for me to protect myself at all costs, my heart and my body are straining to take back my last three steps and crawl up his body.
"Go home, Logan." I try to harden my voice, clip my words, but I'm sure he can hear the longing underneath them.
"Dammit Emma, stop being a coward and talk to me."
Good. Fuel my anger asshole. That's just what I needed to set my head back on straight. Taking a calming breath, I turn to face him again, crossing my arms over my chest.
"What's there to talk about Logan? We both knew what this was when we got into it: sex, just sex. Nothing has changed. We agreed to three months. The three months were over. You went home. End of discussion."
Again, he steps forward, and I step back. My foot hits the fabric of the hallway carpet, and I contemplate just running to my bedroom. I look around as if someone will magically shimmer into the air and rescue me from this heartbreak. Instead, plant my feet at the edge of the kitchen and hold my ground.
In respect to the panic plain on my face, Logan turns and stalks several steps deeper into the kitchen. Then he turns back to me with fire in his eyes.
"Like hell, it is. Stop spewing that bullshit at me. You don't believe it, and it's an insult to both of our intelligence that you keep spouting that crap. You know damn well that this stopped being just about sex a long ass time ago. If it ever really was. I love you, Emma. I fucking love you. And you love me too. And yes, given everything we've both been through, that's scary as fuck, but at least be woman enough to admit it to yourself.
"So yeah, I went home. I had to go home. Plus, it's not like you gave me any choice now, did you? You know that as well as I do. But I'm here, Emma. I came back. So stop being such a chicken shit and talk with me so we can settle this between us, and I can take you to bed."
Logan is bursting with frenetic energy, and instead of being held tightly at his sides, his arms are gesticulating wildly at me, pointing in accusation and rebuttal. He runs both hands through his hair again, and with the strands now pulled out of their holder; he looks quite wild. What little control I'd gained over my body leaves me in a wave as my heart thunders in my chest, and the elephants in my stomach start breakdancing. My whole body is tingling, and my desire for him pools in my gut.
Defend defend defend. Deny deny deny. I can't; I can't do this again. I can't go through the pain of giving away my heart only to have it returned with pieces missing. There's not enough left to live with as it is.
I stand there frozen, unable to vocalize the bevy of emotions running loose in my heart. I can't help the tears that leak from my eyes and slip silently down my face.
Logan eats the space between us in three long strides and cups my face in his hands, using his thumb to wipe away my tears and his tongue to lick up what he missed.
My arms are still wrapped as tight around me as I can, and I'm afraid if I let myself go, I'll fall apart entirely. I close my eyes and tilt my head up, craving his touch on me as if walking into the sun after ages in the shade. He shakes me oh so gently, but I refuse to open my eyes.
"Austen, talk to me. Whatever you need to hear, I'll say it. Just please, don't cry. I can't stand to see you cry." It's so soft I can barely hear him, and his breath whispers against my skin.
"I can't. I can't get hurt again."
He lets out a little noise, that may have been a cr
oss between a laugh and a sigh.
"Good, because that makes two of us. I swore after Tempe left me that I'd never put myself in that position again. Dependant on another person for my happiness. Desolate when that person wasn't with me. So, I built a fort around my heart and told myself that a guy like me wasn't made to love.
"Imagine my surprise when I realized that it wasn't just your body I was craving, but ownership of your soul as well. Somehow, you sneaked through the cracks in my walls I didn't even know I had. Suddenly instead of quickes in my apartment, I'm craving dinners with Brandon and all night lovemaking sessions in your bed. Whatever you need, I'll do. But I'm in Austen, one hundred percent."
There goes the last piece of my heart. Oh, God, it hurts. The flow of tears strengthens as I shake my head back and forth.
"No, Logan. Stop talking. You have a home, and you have a family. A whole country away. I won't be responsible for taking you away from them for taking you from Ellie. Go home, Logan. Please, God, just go home."
My resolve cracks and I start to fold in on myself, despite Logan still trying to hold me up. As my crying edges into hysteria, he gives up on supporting me on my feet and instead scoops me bridal style into his arms, carrying me into the living room. He sits down on the couch with me on top of him.
I wrap my arms around his neck, trying to hide my face in his chest, but Logan peels me away from him and holds both of my wrists in his hands, using them to put enough space between us so that he can see my face.
"Emma, look at me."
I open my eyes and am startled at the peace I see reflected in his.
"I do have a family in New York. But the love of my life is here, and so that means so am I."
He gives me another little shake as if that will somehow get his point across better.
"Maybe you didn't know, but they have these great things called cell phones that allow you to talk and see people across long distances. And they have these amazing things called airplanes that carry you quickly from place to place over long distances."