Yes, his joke was inappropriate, but his words had the intended effect. Scott whipped his head around. “But because of me, everyone thinks you’re dealing drugs.”
“Not everybody. Not the people who matter.
“Did you see Dad’s face? He’ll never forgive me for this.” Scott stared up at the pocked ceiling tiles. In a little-boy voice at odds with his 220-pound frame, he said, “I didn’t really want to die.”
The admission eased the tension pulling at Logan’s shoulder blades. He closed his eyes for a second and thanked God, even though he wasn’t the praying sort. “I hoped not, but I’m glad to hear you say it. There’s life beyond football and life beyond college and even life beyond Falcon.”
“You don’t understand how much Dad wants me to follow in his footsteps. He gets this gleam like he can almost smell the turf. And Mother keeps on and on about sitting with the other parents in premium seats. I want to make them proud, but I’ve only ever been a disappointment.”
Logan braced his elbows on his knees, his hands hanging limply, his gaze down. “After my mom died and my dad remarried, he dumped me with Ada. You want to hear about being a disappointment? I got caught with drugs, knowing how much it would hurt Ada. Hated myself for it. But I craved attention from my dad. Even the bad sort. Then, even after I straightened my life out, I joined the army and nearly got myself killed, all looking for some weird validation from him. I never got it.”
Logan slid his gaze up. Scott stared at him with huge eyes, the sheet clutched to his chest.
“Do you get what I’m saying?” Logan asked.
“I shouldn’t join the army?”
Logan didn’t acknowledge Scott’s attempt at humor. This was too important. “If you’re looking for someone else to give you a sense of self-worth, you’ll never be happy. You have to find it yourself. Ask yourself why you play football. Is it for you or for your parents?”
Scott shifted and picked at a zit on his chin. “I had to give up piano when I hit high school. Football practices took up too much time, and Dad said music was for pussies.” His voice turned defensive. “I was good.”
“Let’s be honest. You’re not going to be suiting up for Falcon, so you’ll have some free time to pursue something you actually love. And you still have your job at Adaline’s.” Logan studied Scott’s face to judge the level of devastation, but it didn’t register.
Something about Scott lightened as if a burden had been taken from his shoulders. “After everything I did, I still have my job?”
“I believe in second chances. I got one. You deserve one too. Now, if you start shooting up PEDs because Beethoven’s Ninth is too damn difficult, we’ll have problems.” Logan winked, and the boy tried on a tentative smile.
“Thanks, Coach.” His smile disappeared when he looked to the window. “What about my parents?”
“I know it’s hard to see from your end, but they love you, Scott. They just got a little mixed up about what their dreams are and what’s best for you. They’ll come around.”
A soft knock sounded on the door. Dalt stuck his head through. “I’m headed out, Logan. Everything okay?” His gaze shifted to Scott and back.
Logan turned to Scott. “Is everything okay?”
Scott took a deep breath. “Yeah. I think everything will be fine.”
Dalt nodded crisply. “Ben and Stephanie are coming back in.”
Scott grabbed onto the metal bed rail. “Coach Wilde, will you stay? Please.”
Logan had no desire to be buffer or mediator, but he wouldn’t leave as long as Scott needed him. “Of course, I’ll stay.”
Holding hands, Ben and Stephanie walked straight to Scott’s bedside. Logan slid back against the wall, planning to intervene only if necessary.
In a gravelly, tear-stained voice, Ben said, “Son, we’re going to get you whatever help you need to feel better. And, if you don’t want to play football, then . . . no more. If my ambition for you was wrong, then I’m sorry.”
Dalt must have had one helluva come-to-Jesus talk with them in the waiting room.
Stephanie leaned over and kissed Scott on the forehead. “I don’t even like football that much, honey. I’d be perfectly happy if you went to college and became a doctor or practiced law.”
Logan rolled his eyes to the ceiling, clamping his lips together. At least, they were trying.
Scott threw his arms around his mother, and she returned the hug full force. Her tiny, kittenlike cries joined Scott’s childlike sobs. Ben wrapped his arms around both of them. Love could be misguided and destructive, but it could also heal the worst of wounds.
Scott was right. Everything would be fine—eventually. No one noticed when he slipped out. Logan was weary body and soul.
Jessie. Her name scrolled like a mantra. He burst through the doors and into the hospital waiting area. It was empty.
She had probably caught a ride with Darcy and Dalt. It was past midnight, after all. As practical as those excuses sounded, an overwhelming loneliness weakened his knees and hollowed his heart.
He stuck his hands into his pockets and walked out the automatic door into the cool night. He’d crawl into his empty bed, hug a pillow close, and pretend it was her, like a pathetic teenager. No one would witness his weakness, so what did it matter?
A hand grabbed the back of his T-shirt. “There you are, Mountain Man.”
Her drawl washed his desolation away. He pulled her into his arms with a rough desperation that drove a little sound of surprise from her. She hesitated only a second before circling her arms under his shoulders to return his hug.
He didn’t crave a sexual solace but an emotional one.
Standing in the middle of a hospital parking lot with the sound of an encroaching ambulance siren, the words he’d been holding back shot out. “I love you, Jessie.”
21
Time stopped for Jessica. Her mind disconnected from her body and flew overhead to watch the embrace. Did he love her? Truly? Always, she questioned motivations. It was only when her mother or father wanted something from her that any sort of parental love or pride surfaced, usually expressed as an if-then statement.
If you love me, then you’ll . . .
She waited for the clause. But none came. Neither did she sense an expectant waiting for a return declaration. It had taken over a year before she’d told her ex she loved him, and she’d only said it then because she’d felt the pressure from him. She’d never been sure of her feelings.
She’d known Logan Wilde for less than a month. Yet, her heart pounded, not from fear or panic, but in rhythm with his. Was this love?
Before she could decipher the Morse code of her beating heart, his voice rumbled. “Will you come home with me tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”
For a man used to escaping to the woods for days of solitude, the admission splayed her open. On what felt like her last breath, she said, “Yes.”
A car horn beeped, shocking her back to life. Still holding her close, they somehow shuffled from the middle of the parking lot to his truck. He stopped her from scooting to the passenger-side window. His hand stayed on her knee, keeping their legs pressed close.
He wanted her. Not the woman practiced in numbers and organization, but her. Not Jessica Montgomery, but Jessie. The realization streaked through her. Joy and fear tumbled together.
He pulled the truck to a stop in front of his darkened house. Bare tree branches surrounded the house and loomed far into the distance, more ominous than welcoming.
He held out a hand to help her out of the truck. So tall and handsome, yet shadows smudged his eyes and an unusual sadness stole his smile. Not to mention the stark white bandage across his forehead. His physical and emotional pain radiated, and became her pain. Maybe that was love.
Her heart pounded her analytical brain into submission. Screw logic. She tossed her arms around his shoulders and pressed a kiss against his stubbly jaw.
“I love you, too.” Relief poured throug
h her. When she said the words before all she’d felt was dread and the niggling sense that she’d lied. She tossed her head back and laughed.
“Oh my God, I love you,” she said again to test herself.
No dread. No guilt. More laughter bubbled out. She couldn’t seem to stop it. She pulled back. Logan probably thought she was crazy. He laughed with her. Maybe they were both crazy.
“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” he said wryly.
“I can’t help it. Loving you is the most shocking, surprising thing to ever happen to me.”
“To me too. It happened fast.”
“It’s complicated.” She brushed her hand through his hair, taking care with his stitches. “But I don’t want to think about tomorrow.”
“Technically, it is tomorrow.”
“Then let’s not think about today or tomorrow or even a week from now. Can we just be together?” She swallowed, but let herself admit the truth to him. “I’ve never been in love.”
He inhaled sharply, and on the exhale whispered her name in the sexiest, huskiest voice she’d ever heard. “Jessie.”
He hugged her close under the night sky, the breeze rustling brown crunchy leaves at their feet. For the first time in her life, she felt protected, cared for, accepted. Maybe that’s what love was. All she knew for certain was that she wanted to stay in his arms forever.
Forever was cut short. He moved them in the direction of the front door. “Let’s go to bed. And, by bed, I mean sleep. My head is killing me, and I’m bone-tired. Do you mind?” He sent her a sheepish smile.
“I’m exhausted too. Anyway, you’ve got to fill me in on what happened with Scott.”
While he told her everything that transpired, they got ready for bed as if it were the most natural thing on earth. He tossed her one of his T-shirts to use as a nightgown. Feeling unexpectedly shy, she stripped to her bra and panties and pulled the shirt on, unhooking her bra and pulling it out through the sleeve. He stopped talking. Glancing over, she caught him staring at her legs.
She cleared her throat, and his gaze shot up her body. Red flushed up his neck, and she beat back a smile. “What happened after his parents came back in?”
He continued his recitation of events in the bathroom. He produced a brand-new toothbrush, and they shared the sink, trying to out-goof each other with the foam.
“I need to . . .” She pointed at the toilet. While things had taken a markedly more intimate turn, no way was she peeing in front of him.
“Of course. I’ll be waiting.” He thumbed over his shoulder toward the bedroom.
Once alone, she felt his absence keenly even though he was thirty feet away. Pathetic. She was pathetic. She was also in trouble. What was going to happen when she ran out of money and had to get a job? No way in hell was she going to be Logan Wilde’s kept woman.
Meeting her eyes in the mirror, she pushed thoughts of the future away. She had enough savings to make it at least a year. Although she had been raised to be a planner, a schemer, she had discovered new sides to herself since stumbling into Falcon. She would take things as they came. She nodded, and her reflection agreed.
Logan was already under the covers with the lamp off, but moonlight and stars filtered through the open drapes to light her path. She slipped under the cool cotton, his warmth drawing her to his side.
She settled next to him, her head on his shoulder, his hand drawing lazy circles on her back. Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. In a state of wonder, she drifted off.
* * *
She woke to him kissing and nuzzling her neck. The gentle caress of his hand started a fire between them, turning her frantic for him. The sex was quick and satisfying. With a pressing urgency to get the day started, they took turns in the shower. Logan brought her a steaming cup of black coffee and set it by the sink.
With a towel around her, she sipped the coffee as she strolled back in the bedroom. “I could get used to this.”
“The sex or the coffee?” He shot her a half-grin and pulled a shirt off a hanger.
“Both. Lilliana doesn’t offer the same services.” She plucked the same clothes she had on the night before off the floor and pulled them on.
He buttoned his shirt, his gaze on task. “You know, there’s no reason you should be paying Lilliana. You could stay here. If you wanted.” An uncharacteristic uncertainty laced his stumbling words.
It had taken two years of careful analysis before she’d reluctantly allowed her ex to move into her house, yet a streak of excitement had her fumbling with the zipper of her jeans even as she tried to keep her voice casual. “I suppose that makes sense. Lilliana will be glad to get rid of me.”
“I’ll the leave the door unlocked so you can bring your stuff over whenever. I need to talk to the school about getting reinstated as a coach. You’ll be at Adaline’s later getting me organized, right?”
“Of course. This”—she pointed back and forth between them—“has nothing to do with my job. One that will take another week tops, by the way.” She followed him to his truck and hopped in. She studied him from the corners of her eyes on their drive toward town, but his face was bland. Talking about the future meant dealing with it, and her nighttime vow to take things day by day held in the reality of morning.
He pulled into Lilliana’s drive. How did they part? She didn’t think she was ready to throw out a casual “Love you.” Instead, she leaned over and sucked his bottom lip between her teeth, giving him a nip. “I’ll see you soon. Go give those idiots hell for not believing in you.”
Lilliana was waiting inside, leaning in the entrance to the kitchen and waggling her eyebrows. “Well, well, well, missy. Out with Logan Wilde all night long—again. I happened to be peeking out the curtains and saw that sweet kiss you laid on him.”
Jessica rolled her eyes on her way through the kitchen door, but nothing could keep the smile off her face. She poured a cup of coffee and took a sip, mainly to let Lilliana stew.
“I’m going to be getting out of your hair.”
“As in leaving Falcon or . . .”
“I’m moving in with Logan.” Jessica peeped at Lilliana from the corner of her eye.
Lilliana’s face didn’t reflect shock or surprise. Almost as if talking to herself, Lilliana said, “It makes a weird sort of sense, I suppose.”
Jessica wrapped her hands around her coffee mug. “What do you mean?”
“I wasn’t sure Logan would ever settle down is all. But you and he are a good match.”
“Logan is not settling down with me. I can’t stay in Falcon forever.”
Lilliana climbed onto a bar stool and rested her chin in a propped-up hand. “Why not?”
“What would I do here? Become his part-time bookkeeper? That’s not what I want.”
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Jessica stared at Lilliana. Had anyone besides her third-grade teacher ever asked her that? She opened her mouth to answer, but closed it with a sigh. She was done toeing the family line. “I want to run my own restaurant management company. I’ve learned a lot from my father, but I would do so much differently. Hire more women, more minorities. Make everything more accepting and hopefully more fun.”
Lilliana shrugged. “Then, start your own company.”
Jessica chuffed and threw a hand up. “You make it sound simple. Even if I sold my house in Richmond and took all my savings, I would need a bigger stake.”
“You have a name that’s well-known. You have cajones. Throw them both around. Find someone to back you.”
Jessica shook her head and laughed a little. “I’m going to change clothes, pack, and head to work.” She bracketed the last word in air quotes.
All through her packing, Lilliana’s words rolled through her head. Her own company. The dream had simmered for years. She had always assumed Montgomery Industries would be hers eventually, but that bridge was blown to smithereens. Was she brave enough to strike out on her own?
&nb
sp; Her father had insisted she spend time in all areas of the business, and she’d spent a summer as a restaurant manager. She knew the basics of menu preparation and cooking, but her expertise lay in risk analysis, supply chain management, and recognizing the importance of location and targeted advertising.
Her confidence surged, but her father was right about one thing—money made the world go around. If she sold her house in Richmond, pooled her savings, and applied for a business loan, she might have enough. She put her whirling thoughts on the back burner.
She loaded her bags into the trunk of her car, but instead of heading to Logan’s house, she drove to Adaline’s and went straight to his office. Logan looked up from making notations on an invoice. He smiled, not with good-humored tease, but with true happiness to see her lighting his face. An answering happiness warmed her from the inside out, and she found herself smiling back.
“Hi,” she said inanely.
He rose and stalked toward her. Closing the door with his foot, he pushed her against the wall and kissed her. Not a chaste “nice to see you” kiss, but an “I want in your pants” one. And, she returned it, because she wanted in his pants too. He could lay her over his desk or hike her leg up right here. She wasn’t picky. When had she lost the inhibitions that had kept her sex life staid and uninspiring?
Since Logan. Everything had changed since Logan.
A tentative knock and a comically loud throat clearing on the other side of the door broke their kiss. Logan’s manager, Brian, called out, “Sorry, boss. Some questions about the menu came up.”
“Be there in a sec.” Logan pressed his forehead against hers. He’d replaced the big white bandage for a flesh-colored Band-Aid. Purple bruising spread from the bottom edge.
“How did the meetings go?” she asked.
“I was reinstated with a raise. Even got a half-hearted apology and an offer to cover my medical expenses from Ben.” He chuckled. “Did you get your stuff moved in?”
Caught Up in the Touch: Sweet Home Alabama Page 23