by Elle Kennedy
I take my seat and conduct my pre-show check. The blinking lights on the phone tell me there are more callers waiting to be screened. I chat with the first one, verify his motives, then send him back on hold. I’m about to screen the next one when Pace and Evelyn kick off the show.
“What’s up, broskis!” Pace greets the radio audience. “You’re listening to Whatcha Need with Pace ’N Evelyn.”
Cringing, Evelyn leans into her microphone. “Before we start, I’d like to ask everyone to speak in their indoor voices today, because I am currently sporting a brutal hang-over.” She glares at her co-host. “I’m talking to you, asswipe.”
And so it begins.
“Let’s chat with our first caller,” Pace says cheerfully. “Who we talking to right now?”
Since I’m not eager to listen to Evelyn talk about G-spots, I lean forward to take another call, only to freeze in my chair when a familiar voice wafts out of the speaker over the door.
“Hey, this is Logan.”
My pulse speeds up.
Oh God.
What the hell is he doing?
“Tell us whatcha need, my man.”
My boyfriend audibly clears his throat. “Well, here’s the thing, Pace. And Evelyn—hey, Evelyn, female opinion definitely appreciated. I’m hoping you guys can give me some advice on how to win my girl back.”
Pace chuckles into the mic. “Ooooh boy. Someone found themselves in the dog house?”
“Big-time,” Logan confirms.
“What’d you do to piss off your lady? We need the deets before we dispense the wisdom.”
Every inch of me tenses as I await Logan’s response. God. I can’t believe he’s about to air our dirty laundry on this stupid campus show.
“Long story short? I projected my own fears and insecurities on her, and made some presumptions that I probably shouldn’t—”
“Gonna stop you right there, broski,” Pace says, rubbing his scruffy beard growth in dismay. “You just threw around a lot of big words. How ’bout you dumb it down for us—I mean, for peeps who might not be good with the English language. Shout out to all our ESL listeners out there!”
A laugh rips out of my throat. Oh, Pace. Never change.
Logan sounds like he’s trying not to laugh as he rephrases himself. “Bottom line? I screwed up. I said some stupid shit I didn’t mean, it pissed her off, and she stormed off.”
Pace sighs. “Bitches be cray.”
“Hey, Logan?” Evelyn drawls.
“Yeah?”
“You sound hot. Are you sure you even want this chick? Because I’m free tonight if you’re interested.”
A strangled cough fills the airwaves. “Um. Uh, thanks for the offer. But yeah, I want her.” He pauses. “I’m in love with her.”
My heart soars like a kite in the wind. He’s in love with me?
Then it sinks like a stone. Wait. What if he’s only saying it because I said I loved him?
“I’ve been in love with her for a few months now,” he continues, and his husky confession re-inflates my heart. “I didn’t tell her because I didn’t want to scare her off by saying it too soon.”
“Dude, you should’ve told her.”
I’m startled by Pace’s earnest response. Touched, even. At least until he finishes that sentence.
“If you say it right off the bat, they drop their panties super-fast. Means you don’t have to put as much work into bagging them.”
“Uh-huh,” Logan says as if he’s in agreement, but I’ve known him long enough to be able to pick up on his sarcasm. “Anyway, this girl…she’s the love of my life. She’s smart and funny and unbelievably compassionate. She forgives people even when they don’t deserve it. She—”
“Good lay?” Pace interrupts.
“Oh yeah. The best.”
God, my cheeks are on fire now.
“But the sex is just icing,” Logan says softly. “It’s everything else that matters most.”
A shadow crosses my peripheral vision. I turn my head expecting to see Daisy or Morris on the other side of the glass door.
My breath hitches when my gaze locks with Logan’s. He’s on his cell phone, wearing faded jeans and his hockey jacket, and his blue eyes shine with sincerity.
Our esteemed hosts notice him as well, and a gasp echoes in the air.
“Wait—we’ve been talking to John Logan?” Evelyn shrieks.
“Wait—you’re talking about Gretchen?” Pace exclaims, his gaze darting like a Ping-Pong ball from me to Logan.
“No, I’m talking about Grace,” Logan says, smiling at me through the glass. “Grace Elizabeth Ivers. The woman I love.”
I don’t know whether to stand up on my chair and shout out “I love you too,” or hide under the desk in embarrassment. Big, public displays freak me out. If I owned a cloak of invisibility, I’d wear it every time a birthday or some other major event rolled around, because I hate, hate, hate being the center of attention.
But I can’t tear my eyes off Logan. I can’t breathe, or move, or form a single thought other than He loves me.
“Anyway, I’m hanging up now,” Logan tells the hosts. “I’m pretty sure I can take it from here.”
The line cuts off, and I shoot a panicky glance at the switchboard. Shit. The show is still on the air. I’m supposed to put on the next caller.
To my relief, Morris appears, giving Logan a friendly thump on the arm as he hurries into the producer’s booth. “Go,” Morris orders. “I’ll cover the rest of the show.”
“Are you sure?”
He grins. “That was always the plan. Who do you think screened the call, Gretch?” He points to the door. “Go.”
I don’t need to be told twice.
I hurry out of the booth and throw my arms around Logan’s strong shoulders. “I cannot believe you just did that,” I blurt out.
As his laughter tickles the top of my head, his arms slide down to my hips, large hands curling around my waist. “I figured nothing short of a grand gesture would convince you how shitty I feel about what happened earlier.”
I pull back, tipping my head to meet his gorgeous eyes. “You should feel shitty,” I chastise. “I can’t believe you said all that stuff. I don’t plan on ever breaking up with you.”
“Good. Because I’m never breaking up with you.” He brings one hand to my cheek, stroking it with infinite tenderness. “Actually, I think I’m going to marry you one day.”
Shock jolts through me. “What?”
“One day,” he repeats when he sees my expression. “I mean it, Grace, I’m in this for the long haul. You still have two years left at Briar, and I’ll be in Munsen during that time, but I promise you, I’ll come see you as often as I can. Every available second I have will be yours.” His voice thickens. “I’m yours.”
I swallow a lump of emotion. “Did you really mean what you told Pace just now?”
“You mean…that I love you?”
I nod.
“I meant every damn word, gorgeous.” He hesitates. Visibly swallows. “Hannah was trying to describe love to me last semester. She said it feels like your heart is about to overflow, and that when you love someone, you need them more than anything else in the world, more than food or water or air. That’s how I feel about you. I need you. I can’t stand the thought of being without you.” He releases a shaky breath. “You’re the last person I think about before I go to sleep, and the first person I think about when I open my eyes in the morning. You’re it for me, baby.”
The heartfelt words unleash a flood of warmth inside me, but despite that, I can’t help but gaze at him with profound sorrow. “What about everything you said earlier…about your future, and how you’re going to be miserable and hate your life…” I bite my lower lip. “I don’t want that to happen, Logan. I don’t want you to turn bitter, and hateful, and…” I trail off.
His fingers tremble against my cheek. “I won’t. Or at least, I’ll try not to. It’s going to suck, Grace. We
both know that, but I promise not to let it destroy me, or us.” A crack wobbles his voice. “And it won’t be forever, just until Jeff comes back and takes over again. The next few years, it’ll probably feel like I’m wandering around in a pitch-black tunnel, but there is a light at the end of it. And as long as you’re with me, there’ll be a light inside of it, too. Without you, it’ll just be darkness.”
I burst out laughing, and a hurt expression fills his eyes.
“You think that’s funny?” he says sadly.
“No, I was thinking it’s a damn shame you didn’t put everything you just said into the poem you wrote me.”
A tentative smile lifts his mouth. “You liked that, huh?”
“I loved it.” My heart constricts. “I love you.”
The smile widens. “Even after I acted like a stupid jackass today?”
“Yep.”
“Even though I’ll probably act like a stupid jackass again? Because I can’t promise not to. Apparently I’m hopeless when it comes to relationships.”
“No, you’re not.” I ease up on my tiptoes and kiss the corner of his jaw. “You’re a bit inept, sure. But you’re also ridiculously talented when it comes to romantic gestures, so if you screw up again, I’m ninety percent sure you’ll be able to win me back.”
“Only ninety percent?” He looks upset.
“Well, it depends how badly you screw up. I mean, if it’s picking a fight with me like you did today, then obviously we’ll be able to work through it. But if I’m over at your house and I go down to the basement and find a serial killer lair? No promises.”
“Jesus Christ, what is your obsession with serial killers?” He grins. “Hey, that should be your specialty. Profiling killers.”
Damn. Not a bad idea.
I decide to put a pin in that, then loop my arms around his neck again. “Question.”
His eyes twinkle. “Hit me.”
“Can we kiss now, or are you still groveling?”
“Depends on whether my girlfriend requires more groveling.”
“Nope. I require this.” I cup the back of his head and yank his mouth down on mine.
The kiss is…magic. It’s always magic when we’re together. As our tongues meet in a reckless tangle, my mind spins and my body sings.
“Love you, Johnny,” I murmur into his lips.
His laughter warms my face. Then he brushes his mouth over mine and whispers, “Love you too, gorgeous.”
35
Logan
The next morning, I wake up with Grace snuggled up beside me, and it’s the best fucking feeling in the whole fucking world. She slept at my place last night, and we stayed up until four a.m., alternating between talking, cuddling, and having sex. And not the hollow, meaningless kind I’ve been indulging in since I started college. Sex with Grace means something. It doesn’t make me feel hollow, but full. Brimming with emotions I can’t even give labels to.
Grace stirs in my arms, and I absently toy with a strand of her hair, twirling it around my fingers.
“Morning,” she says, yawning as she lifts her head.
“Morning.”
“What time is it?”
“Ten-thirty.”
“Oh no. We slept in? Don’t you have practice?”
“Not for a few hours.”
“Oh, okay, good. We stayed up way too late last night.”
She hops out of bed and starts searching the room for her clothes. I grin, because I’m the one responsible for why her pants are flung on top of the dresser and why her lacy panties are scrunched up in a ball across the room. So sue me. Groveling makes me horny.
“Is it cool if I invite Morris and Daisy to the game tomorrow?” She eases her panties up her smooth, bare legs, and I’m so distracted by the sight that I forget what she asked a nanosecond after she asks it.
My cock hardens beneath the sheets, tenting up as if trying to get Grace’s attention. She sighs when she notices the campsite on the bed.
“I swear, you’ve got sex on the brain every second of the day.”
“Pretty much,” I agree, then waggle my eyebrows. “Why are you getting dressed? Wouldn’t you rather come here and sit on my dick?”
She rolls her eyes. “Sure, if you want me to pee all over you.” When I open my mouth, she raises a hand in warning. “And don’t you dare say you’re into that, because I am not incorporating pee into our sex life.”
I flop onto my side and laugh hysterically. “Relax,” I stutter between chuckles. “Golden showers don’t get me off.”
Grace snickers. “Thank God.”
After she ducks into the hall to use the bathroom, I reluctantly drag myself out of bed and track down a pair of sweatpants. I’m thinking of suggesting the diner for breakfast. After last night’s strenuous sexcapades, I could really go for a huge greasy platter of bacon and sausage and—and Coach will murder me if I show up to practice sluggish and crashing from a grease high. Frickin’ in-season nutrition regimen.
I pace around as I wait for Grace to come out of the bathroom, because now I’m the one who needs to piss like a racehorse. My buzzing phone serves as a distraction from my about-to-explode bladder, but when my brother’s number flashes on the screen, my good morning mood fades away.
“Hey,” Jeff says after I pick up. “Can you come by today?”
I stifle a groan. “I’ve got practice at one-thirty, man.”
“Come now, then. We’ll be done long before that.”
“Done what?” I ask warily.
“No idea. Dad says he has something important to tell us, but he won’t give me any more details than that. Marty’s covering for me in the shop right now, so get your ass over here. It won’t take long.”
I hang up feeling even warier than before. He has something important to tell us? What the hell could it be? We haven’t had a family meeting in…ever. My father has never sat us down for a talk, serious or otherwise.
I’m still frowning when Grace reappears, and concern instantly creases her features. “Everything okay?”
I slowly shake my head. “My dad wants to sit down with me and Jeff today.”
“Today? But you have practice.”
“He said it won’t take long. He just needs to tell us something.”
“Tell you what?”
“I don’t know.”
She goes quiet for a moment. “Do you want me to go with you?”
I’m touched by the offer, but I shake my head again. “I don’t think he’ll want anyone else there.”
“Obviously,” she says with a smile. “I figured I could wait in the car. That way if it’s something bad, you’ll have someone to talk to on the drive back.”
I hesitate. I’m not sure I want to take the risk of Grace running into my dad.
But I also don’t want to be alone.
“Okay,” I answer, releasing a breath. “But only if you stay in the car. I don’t know what kind of state he’ll be in when we get there.”
We’re both somber as we leave the house fifteen minutes later, and the weather matches our foreboding expressions. The sky is overcast, the metallic scent in the air hinting at a downpour.
My uneasiness grows the closer we get to Munsen. By the time I reach the end of the long driveway and park in front of the bungalow, my nerves have formed a solid, immovable ball in the pit of my stomach.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Grace, leaning in to kiss her cheek.
She shakes her head. “Take your time.” Unzipping her canvas bag, she pulls out a psych textbook and holds it up. “I’ll be fine out here, I promise. So don’t try to rush on my account, okay?”
I exhale shakily. “Okay.”
A minute later, I walk through the front door without knocking, flinching when the familiar smell of stale beer fills my nostrils. I swear, it’s like the walls in this house are soaked with alcohol, slowly releasing the sour odor into the air.
“John?” My brother’s voice drifts through the hall. “We�
�re in the kitchen.”
I keep my shoes on, a habit left over from childhood. I’ve stepped on far too many puddles on the floors and carpets of this house and soaked my socks. Puddles that weren’t always of the alcoholic beverage variety.
I know something’s up the second I enter the kitchen. Jeff and Dad are at the weathered oak table, sitting across from each other. Jeff is sipping a coffee. My father has a longneck bottle of Bud in front of him, both hands wrapped around the base.
“Johnny. Sit down,” Dad says.
The beer isn’t a promising sign, but at least he looks and sounds relatively sober. And by sober, I mean not passed out in a pool of his own vomit.
I sink into the nearest chair without a word. Studying my dad’s face. Waiting. Studying Jeff’s face. Waiting.
“Chad Jensen came to see me yesterday.”
My head swings back toward my father. “What? Are you serious?” Why the hell would Coach talk to my father?
Dad nods. “He called ahead, asked if he could stop by for a chat. I said sure, why not, and he came by yesterday evening.”
I’m still battling my shock. Coach Jensen drove out to Munsen and met with my father?
“I didn’t know about it,” Jeff speaks up hastily, obviously misconstruing my expression. “I was over at Kylie’s when he stopped by, and Dad only told me about it this morning.”
I ignore Jeff’s assurances. “What did he want?” I ask suspiciously.
Dad’s cheeks hollow as if he’s grinding his teeth. “To discuss possible solutions.”
“Solutions for what?”
“For next year.” His gaze stays locked with mine. “He assured me he wasn’t trying to be disrespectful or overstep his boundaries, that he understood the car accident was difficult for me and my family, and why you’re needed at the shop after you graduate.” My father’s hands tighten around the beer bottle. “But he was hoping there might be some way for you to play hockey next year while still helping out your family.”
My hands curl into fists, and I press them tight to the table, trying to control my temper. I know Coach meant well, but what the hell?
“He also asked me why I didn’t go on disability, if my injuries from the accident were bad enough to prevent me from working.”