It’s your fault. It’s your fault that this mess is here. It’s your fault that Kellan’s dying. You left us. You left us. You left us… Kellan’s dying…
My chest scorched as I blinked over and over again, trying not to fall apart. How did I get back here? How did I find myself in exactly the same kind of position that I was in five years ago? How was I back on the hamster wheel I spent so long running away from?
She didn’t stop hitting me. She didn’t stop blaming me.
So I packed up my things and I left.
Logan, eleven-years-old
“Don’t you look comfortable?” Dad stumbled into the living room while I sat on the floor watching Cartoon Network. I ignored him the best I could and continued eating my Captain Crunch cereal out of a bowl. He was smoking a cigarette and smirked at my attempt to pretend he wasn’t there.
It was only four in the afternoon and he was already stumbling. He was already drunk.
“You deaf, boy?” He moved over to me and ran the back of his hand against my head before he smacked me hard. I shivered at his touch. But I kept ignoring. Kellan knew how bad my dad could get, and he said it was best if I didn’t respond. Kellan was so lucky that he had another dad. I wished I had another dad, too.
I couldn’t wait for Mom to get back home. She’d been gone for a few days, but when she called me last weekend she said I would see her soon. I wished Dad would leave and stay gone forever.
When his hand ran against my shoulder blade I flinched again, knocking my cereal bowl out of my hands. He laughed wickedly, pleased by my unease. His hand rose and he slapped me against my ear. “Pick that shit up. And what the hell do you think you’re doing eating cereal at four in the afternoon?”
I was hungry and it was all we had. But I couldn’t tell him that. I couldn’t tell him anything.
Standing, I shook as I began to put the pieces of the cereal back into the bowl. Dad started whistling a tune from my cartoon, and my heart started pounding. “Hurry the fuck up, kid. Pick that shit up. Making messes in my house like you don’t have any damn sense.”
My eyes started to tear up, and I hated that I was letting him get to me. An eleven-year-old was supposed to be tougher. I felt weak.
“Pick. It. UP!”
I couldn’t take any more of his drunken anger, his apparent displeasure for me. I picked up the cereal bowl and threw it at him. It missed his head and hit the wall, the bowl shattering into a million pieces. “I hate you!” I hissed, tears burning down my cheeks. “I want Mom back! I hate you!”
His eyes widened, and I panicked, regretful of my outburst. Kellan would’ve been so disappointed. I shouldn’t have talked back. I shouldn’t have responded. I should’ve locked myself in my bedroom like always.
But there were no cartoons in my bedroom.
I just wanted to be a kid, if only for one day.
Dad swung around and gripped my arm. “You want to get slick? Huh?” He yanked me across the room, forcing me to trip over my own feet. “You want to break shit?!”
I was dragged through the kitchen, where he opened the cabinet under the sink. “No. I’m sorry, Dad! I’m sorry!” I cried, trying to tear away from his grip.
He snickered, and pushed me inside of the cabinet. “Here’s your damn cereal,” he said, grabbing the box, and dumping it all out on my head.” When he shut the cabinet door, I tried my best to open it, but it wouldn’t move. He’d placed something in front of it to keep it locked.
“Please, Dad! I’m sorry!” I cried. “Don’t leave me.”
I’m sorry.
He wasn’t listening though, and after a while I didn’t even hear his footsteps.
I didn’t know how much time had passed since I was locked inside of the cabinet, but I fell asleep twice, and pissed myself. When Mom found me, she looked strung out and shook her head, seeming so disappointed in me.
“Oh, Logan.” She sighed, and ran her hands through her hair. She lit up a cigarette. “What did you do this time?”
28
Alyssa
“Do you have any idea how much you’re confusing me, Logan?” I asked, my arms crossed as he stood on my porch in a black T-shirt with dark jeans. I was chilled by the cool breeze that hit me, seeing how I was only wearing an oversized T-shirt and knee-high socks. His back was turned to me as he moved over to the edge of the porch and wrapped his fingers around the railing. He stared out into the darkness. His arms were muscular and I could see every cut to him as he held onto the wooden rail. When we were younger, he was handsome, but not built. Now, he looked somewhat like a Greek god who made my legs tingle just by looking at him.
“I know. I just… I don’t know where to go.”
He turned to face me, and I gasped, seeing his blackened eye. With haste, I hurried over to him, lightly touching it, watching him cringe. “Your dad?”
He nodded. “If I go back to Kellan’s like this, he’ll freak out.”
Oh, Lo…
“Are you okay? Is your mom okay?” I asked, and I paused. It was as if we traveled back in time, reliving the same routines we used to perform. I wished this wasn’t one of the more common memories.
“She’s not okay. But she’s okay.”
Déjà vu.
“Come inside,” I said, taking his hand in mine.
He shook his head, pulling his hold away from mine. “You asked me something the last time we spoke, and I didn’t reply.”
“What?”
“You asked me if I think about the baby.” His fingers rubbed the back of his neck. “I think about how at the end of the summer, he or she would’ve been starting kindergarten. I think about how maybe he’d have your laugh, and your eyes. I think about how she’d probably chew on her collar and hiccup when she was nervous. I’d think about how his heart would beat. How she’d love you. How he’d walk, talk, smile, frown. I think about it. More than I want to. And then…” He cleared his throat. “Then I think about you.
“I think about your smile. About how when you’re nervous you chew on your shirt collars, and when you’re shy you do the same thing. I think about how when you’re angry, you hiccup three times, and that every time your mom puts you down, it still stings. I think about where your mind is at night when it storms, and if you ever, for a second, still think about me.”
“Lo.” I sighed. “Come inside.”
“Don’t invite me in,” he muttered under his breath.
“What?”
“I said, don’t invite me in.”
“You don’t want to talk?”
“No.” He locked eyes with me. “No. I don’t want to talk. I want to forget. I want to make my mind stop remembering all of the bullshit. I want to… High…” He lost his breath, and his words faltered. The tremble in his voice would’ve been missed by someone who didn’t know Logan. But I heard it, I knew him, and his mind was traveling to those dark places again. He stepped in closer, and I stood still. I wanted him closer. I missed him being so close. His hand fell against my cheek and I closed my eyes at his gentle touch. “I want to talk to you, but I can’t. Because then we’ll be back to where we were all those years ago, and I can’t go back to that, Alyssa. I can’t fall back in love with you. I can’t hurt you again.”
My heart skipped. “Is that why you’ve been so mean to me?” He nodded slowly. “Logan. We can just be friends. We don’t have to be in a relationship. Just come inside, and we can talk.”
“I can’t be your friend. I don’t want to talk to you, because when I talk, I hurt. And I don’t want to hurt anymore. But… I can’t stay away from you. I’m trying to, but I can’t. I want you, High.” His words sent chills down my spine, and fogged my mind. “I want to run my hands through your hair,” he whispered, taking his fingers and combing my curls behind my ear. “I want to run my tongue across your neck. I want to feel you.” His hand ran against my cheek. “I want to taste you,” His mouth slowly licked the curve of my neck. “I want to suck you.” His lips engulfed my earlobe,
sucking it gently. “I want to…Fuck…” He sighed, pulling me closer. “I want you, Alyssa. I want you so much. I want you so hard and deep that my mind can’t think of anything else. So please, to avoid any more confusion between us,” he hissed against my earlobe, before sucking it lightly. “Don’t invite me in.”
My heart was racing, and I took a few steps backwards until I was pressed up against the wall of my house. He grew closer, his arms boxing me in. His eyes dilated as they locked with mine, filled with need, want, hope…? Or maybe it was my own hope, which I’d prayed still existed within his stare. My thighs quivered, my mind a jumbled mess. A part of me wondered if I were dreaming, while a bigger part of me didn’t care. I wanted this dream. I missed this dream. I longed for this dream over the past five years. I wanted to feel his body pressed against mine. I wanted to feel how much he missed me. I wanted to lean in closer and kiss him.
I wanted to feel him…
Taste him…
Suck him…
Lo…
“Logan,” I murmured, unable to take my stare away from his lips, which were almost touching mine. Logan moved that gorgeous body closer to me, lifting my chin so we stared straight into one another’s eyes. His lips reminded me of the summer when kissing was all we’d do. Reminding me of the first boy I’d ever loved and the first and only boy who managed to break my heart. “You’re sad tonight.” My head tilted to the left and I studied every part of him. His hair, his mouth, his jawline, his soul. The dark shadows that were always in the depths of his eyes. His breaths were heavy, unsteady like mine.
“I’m sad tonight,” he agreed. “I’m sad every night. Alyssa, I never meant to hurt you by not returning your calls.”
“It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago. We were kids.”
“I’m not that same boy anymore, Alyssa. I swear I’m not.”
I nodded. “I know, and I’m not that same girl anymore." But a part of my soul remembered our yesterdays. A part of my soul still felt the fire that Logan and I started to build many years before. And sometimes, in the quiet moments between daylight and night, I swore I still felt its warmth. “That’s why I want you to come inside tonight. Because I’m sad, too. No commitment. No promises. Just a few moments to forget, together.”
His fingers started lifting my T-shirt, and my eyes closed from the pleasure that simple act brought me. A small moan escaped me as his thumb rolled against the fabric of my panties, and then he pressed harder, sliding his thumb up and down. His tongue danced against my earlobe before he sucked it hard. His right hand gripped my ass as his left moved my panties to the side, allowing him to slide a finger deep inside of me.
One finger.
Two fingers.
Three fingers…
My pants were heavy, my needs even stronger. My hips arched in his direction, wanting his hardness inside of me. I grinded against his fingers, begging for the touch that I missed so much.
“Come inside,” I said, quietly moaning, pulling him closer, needing him closer.
“Don’t invite me inside.”
His fingers deepened. My heartbeats heightened. I felt everything in those moments. Every fear, every want, every need…
Feel.
Taste.
Suck.
Oh my God, Logan…
“Come inside,” I ordered, wrapping one leg around his waist.
“No, High.”
“Yes, Lo.”
“If I come inside, I won’t be gentle,” he swore. “If I come inside, we don’t talk about anything. We don’t mention the past, we don’t discuss the present, and we don’t talk about the tomorrows. If I come inside, I fuck you. I fuck you hard. I fuck you wild. I fuck you to shut off my brain, and you fuck me to quiet yours. And then I leave.”
“Logan.”
“Alyssa.”
“Lo…”
“High…”
I blinked once, and when I reopened my eyes, I promised myself not to look away from him again. “Come inside.”
We didn’t make it past the piano in the living room. As his mouth found my lips he kissed me like I’d never been kissed before. It was hard, rough, ugly, and sad. So fucking sad. The fire in my chest was burning hot as I kissed him back harder, wanting him more than he could’ve ever wanted me. We tore off each other’s clothing, knowing that this was a life timeout. This was a chance to silence our minds and screw the hurt out of one another. He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me up, placing my back against the piano.
He took my hand and slid it over his hardness. I stroked him as his fingered me, our stare never faltering from one another.
Feel.
Taste.
Suck.
Yes…
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a condom and slid it on before spreading my knees wider. As he slid into me, I cried out in bliss, in pleasure, in the deepest kinds of ache. His fingers dug into my skin as mine clutched onto his back. My arms gripped him tight as he thrust deep into me, making my body tremble beneath his body weight. We rocked against the piano keys, the sounds matching our wants, our needs, our confusion, our fears. He rolled in and out of me, and I begged him not to let go. We were so broken. We were so worn out from the lives that we lived. But tonight we made love with the broken pieces.
It was intense, it was sacred, it was heartbreaking.
It had its lows, it had its highs.
Oh God. It felt so wrong, yet always right.
I missed him.
I missed us.
I missed us so much.
When he left, he didn’t say a single word.
When he left, I hoped he’d come back tomorrow.
29
Logan
I’d been cooking since the age of five. Ma used to leave me at home with nothing but a can of soup, so I had to learn how to use a can opener and the stove to heat it up all on my own. When I turned nine, I was making personal-sized pizzas with homemade dough, using ketchup and Kraft cheese slices as toppings. By the time I was thirteen, I knew how to stuff and roast a whole chicken.
So the fact that Jacob sat frowning across from me was troubling. We sat at a booth in Bro’s Bar & Grill as I placed my dish of mushroom and sausage risotto in front of him. The restaurant was still closed, and it was the second time he’d made me sit across from him with an entrée.
“Hmm…” he murmured, taking his spoon and scooping up a large bite of risotto. I watched him chew really slowly, not showing any emotion in his face as he debated his opinion, as if my food was good enough to allow me to work in his kitchen.
“No,” he flatly said. “This isn’t it.”
“Are you kidding me?” I asked, baffled and insulted. “That dish got me through culinary school. It was my final meal.”
“Well, your teachers failed you then. I don’t know how they do things in Iowa, but here in Wisconsin, we like food that actually tastes good.”
“Screw you, Jacob.”
He smiled. “Bring me another dish next week. We’ll see how that goes.”
“I’m not going to keep bringing you dishes for you to keep shooting down. This is ridiculous. I can make the food on your menu. Just give me the job.”
“Logan. I love you. I really do. But no. I need you to cook with heart!”
“I cook with my hands!”
“But not with any heart. Come back when you find it.”
I flipped him off. He laughed again. “And don’t forget, you still owe me that hair mask recipe!”
“How are things going so far, being back in town?” Kellan asked me as we sat in the clinic where he was getting his third round of chemotherapy. I hated the place, because it made his cancer seem more real than I was ready for, but I tried my best to hide my fears. He needed me to be his brother who stood by him, not the weak guy that I felt like becoming.
Watching the nurses hook all types of IVs into his arms was hard for me. Seeing how he winced sometimes in pain, was almost the death of me. But still, I t
ried to act normal.
“Things are fine. Jacob’s being an asshole, though. He said I had to perfect three dishes before he’d hire me to work in his kitchen.”
“That seems fair,” Kellan said.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m a great cook! You know that!”
“Yeah, but Jacob doesn’t. Just test out a few different dishes at the house. No big deal.”
He was right, it wasn’t a big deal, but it was still annoying seeing how Jacob offered me the job when I first came here, but was now putting guidelines on it.
“How has it been seeing Alyssa?” he asked, closing his eyes. “That has to be weird.”
“You mean seeing her with or without her clothes on?”
His eyes shot open, shock hitting him. “No! You’re sleeping with Alyssa?” he whisper-shouted.
I clutched my teeth together and shrugged. “Define ‘sleeping.’”
“Logan!”
“What?!”
“Why? Why are you sleeping with Alyssa? This is a terrible idea. This is a completely, out of this world, horrible idea. I thought the plan was to avoid her at all costs so you don’t fall back into your past. God. You seriously slept with her? How does that even happen?”
“Well, when two people take off their clothes…” I started smirking.
“Shut up. I was having sex when you were still wearing underwear with superheroes on them. But how did it happen with you two?”
I couldn’t tell him that I went to her when I was falling apart, because he’d feel terrible about me not being strong. But, I didn’t want to lie. So I told the truth. “She always reminds me of home.”
The Elements Series Complete Box Set Page 44