Heart Strings

by Melanie Moreland

  “Yes, I have two. Rex, who is an IT guy at a bank. His girlfriend, Gretchen, is the one studying to become a hairdresser. And Trevor is our other roomie. He’s a personal trainer and owns his own gym—he lets me use it for nothing, which is great. Our apartment is too small for any equipment except a set of dumbbells in my room.”

  “Does he have a girlfriend?” she asked.

  I snorted. “Too many to count. Let’s just say, Trev rarely sleeps at home.”

  “Oh.”

  I chuckled. “We’ve been roomies since university. We get along well and respect one another’s boundaries. I think Rex will be gone soon enough—he’s pretty smitten with Gretch. Trev, I have no idea.”

  “What about you?”

  I slid my hand down her back, cupping her firm ass in my hand. “What about me, Lottie? You asking my future plans?”

  She peered up at me. “If they left, would you stay there or move?”

  “Probably move or find other roommates. The place would be too big for me.”

  She nodded, and I saw the concern in her eyes.

  “Stop worrying about my finances, Lottie. I’m careful with my money, and I’m quite solvent. I certainly don’t pull in the salary I expect you do, but I’m fine. I promise not to embarrass you.”

  She sat up, her eyes blazing. “I never said you embarrassed me. I never thought like that at all. Don’t put words in my mouth, Montgomery Logan!”

  I tried not to grin at her tone or the way she used my full name. She was beautiful in her indignation, her color high and her eyes flashing at me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said automatically. “I simply meant you don’t have to worry. I’m fine.” I studied her, waiting until I saw the fire disappear from her gaze. I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I was homeless and broke once, Lottie. Alone. Not long after my father died, I had nothing, and I lived on the streets when foster care didn’t work.”

  Her eyes widened. “How did you survive?”

  I sighed, hating to discuss that period of my life. “I played the guitar for money. I begged. I took odd jobs for cash. I finally got into a program that helped me. I went to school and finished my education. Got a scholarship and went to university. Met Rex and Trev. I know what it’s like to have nothing.”

  She stroked my hand with the scar, a question in her eyes. “Yes,” I replied to her unspoken words. “I got that on the streets. A few other scars too. It’s a dangerous place to be. I never plan on being there again.”

  “I hate that happened to you,” she whispered, lifting my hand and kissing the scar.

  “I hate what you went through,” I replied, pressing my hand to her cheek. “Money doesn’t guarantee happiness, Lottie. How you live your life, the people in it, that is what makes the world good.”

  “I think Josh would have liked you.”

  “I think I would have liked him.” I tugged her back to my chest. “So relax, Snow Queen. I’m good. I’m a simple guy, but as long as you’re okay with that, we’ll figure things out.”

  “I like things simple too, Logan. It’s one of the biggest problems between my parents and me. They live a different lifestyle than I do, and they want me to live it too. But I’m not comfortable in their world.”

  I stroked her hair, not speaking. I wasn’t sure she’d be comfortable in mine either. I wanted her to be, more than I thought possible, but only time would tell. Finally, I spoke.

  “You need to find what makes you happy. Live for yourself. Not for Josh or your parents. Not even for me. For Lottie. Once you accomplish that, your own world comes into focus.”

  She looked up. “Will you be a part of that world, Logan?”

  I slid down and pulled her up to my mouth. “I want to be the center of it, Lottie Prescott. I want to be your nucleus. I want to be the one who makes you happy.”

  There was no more talk. I kissed her until she was lost. Until I was lost.

  Until the world outside these walls ceased to exist.

  Chapter 11

  Lottie

  We spent the rest of the day in bed, eating cookies, and watching mindless TV. Logan lay on the sofa with me draped over his chest—my own living, breathing heating pad. I discovered he liked my hair down. He ran his hands through it constantly, often rubbing the ends between his fingers. He would slide his large hand under my hair and run it up and down my back in a soothing manner, then go back to playing with my hair. Every time I tried to move, he grunted low in his throat.

  “Stay,” he would order. “I like you there.”

  So I did. I liked it there too.

  He made scrambled eggs and bacon as I toasted bagels, and we ate standing up in the kitchen, sharing the plate and feeding each other bites of the bagels. I was shocked to discover he’d made a dozen eggs and consumed most of them, but I realized I shouldn’t be. He had a voracious appetite for food, coffee, sex—any and all of it. I had a feeling he felt the same way when it came to life. He grabbed it and lived it.

  His words earlier gave me a lot to think about. I thought he would bring it up again, but he didn’t. We fell asleep on the sofa, and I woke up to him carrying me to bed and sliding in beside me, a gentle kiss to my head and his low voice rumbling in my ear, the last thing I heard until I woke up in the morning.

  Sunday, we got up and showered. Once again, he got me filthy, then scrubbed me clean, leaving me boneless with pleasure and barely able to return the favor. He kissed me and promised I could make it up to him later.

  We went for breakfast, and he wolfed down a stack of pancakes as well as eggs and hash browns and his usual gallon of coffee.

  “Doesn’t the caffeine affect you?” I asked after he emptied the carafe on the table.

  “Nope. I’m sure one day it will catch up with me. But for now, I’m good.”

  I pretended to go to the washroom, instead paying the bill. When I got back to the table, he glared at me, and I narrowed my eyes in return.

  “Suck it up, buttercup. I watch my finances too, you know. I can afford to treat my boyfriend to breakfast.”

  He threw his head back in laughter and pulled me to his lap, kissing me.

  “I’ll let you get away with it this time,” he teased. “Only because you called me your boyfriend.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  He kissed me again. “Damn right, I am. I liked hearing you say it.”

  We walked to his apartment building, hand in hand. He still wore the mitts I gave him, the flap folded back so his fingers were out and wrapped around mine. The sun was shining, glinting off the snow, and despite the cold, it was a glorious day. I couldn’t recall the last time I had felt so content. Normally, since it was Sunday, I had brunch with my parents, then after heading home, I would already be worried about Monday and what it would bring. But right now, that felt very far away, and I was happy to be with Logan.

  “This is it.” He indicated the brick building with a wave of his hand. It was similar to mine. Older, with faded red brick and large windows that faced the street. “We’re on the top floor.”

  “Same as me.”

  “Yep. But I don’t have the luxury of an elevator,” he teased.

  We headed inside. Logan stopped and emptied his mailbox, muttering about the lazy SOBs he lived with as he pulled out a pile of mail and flyers. But he grinned the whole time, then took my hand again, and we climbed the steps.

  “I gotta admit, I wish for an elevator when I have bags of groceries. But the apartment makes up for hoofing it most of the time.” He winked.

  Inside, I looked around. It was an open space with a large living room and a good kitchen tucked at the back. Three doors led off the living room, and Logan indicated them with a tilt of his head as he took my coat. “Trev’s and Rex’s rooms and the bathroom.”

  “Where is yours?”

  He took my hand and pulled me past the kitchen and into a small hall I hadn’t noticed. He pushed open a door and flicked on the light. His room was a decent size, with a q
ueen bed against the wall and a tall dresser. The opposite wall had a keyboard, his guitar I recognized, plus a couple of other ones. Sheet music was piled on top of the keyboard, with more lying on the floor. I walked over, looking at the piles of music. His name was written across the top, with song titles underneath. There were pages of compositions, some completed songs, some half written, others with only titles. Hundreds of them. I picked up one, studying it. It was called “Your Eyes,” and as I read the lyrics, I knew.

  It was about me.

  My gaze flew to his, and he nodded. “I wrote that the first night I sang to you.” He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me back to his chest. “I had never seen eyes that held such pain.” He kissed the side of my neck. “I never wanted to erase something so much. I wanted to ease you.”

  “You did. You have no idea.”

  His arms tightened. “Good.”

  I indicated the piles of music. “You perform these songs?”

  “Yes. I, ah, I hope one day to sell some. I just need to find the right person to hear them.”

  I turned in his arms. “You want to perform?”

  “No. Christ, no. I like small stages and singing for an evening.” He bent down and touched my nose with his. “I like singing for you. But I have no aspirations to be famous. I write what my heart tells me to. I would love to hear someone else perform my work.”

  “Then I hope you get it.”

  He smiled, but for the first time ever, it didn’t reach his eyes. “We’ll see.”

  I realized in that moment, we both harbored a dream we were certain would never come true. It was yet another thing that drew us together.

  A noise startled me, and I glanced behind Logan. “What was that?”

  He held out his hand. “Come meet the inmates. Trev probably just got back from the gym, and no doubt he’s waking up Rex and Gretch. They’re both serious gamers and stay up half the night playing video games. He likes to piss them off and roust them out of bed for roomie brunch. It’s a Sunday tradition.”

  “Oh, but we ate.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “That was a snack to tide me over, Lottie. Trev makes a wicked stir-fry every Sunday. It’s epic.” He grabbed my hand. “Come meet the guys. They think you’re a figment of my imagination, so prepare yourself for the open mouths and disbelief.”

  I laughed as I followed him, certain he was teasing.

  Except, he wasn’t. The looks on their faces when Logan appeared, his arm wrapped around me, were priceless. The two men, Rex and Trev, I assumed, looked at each other, then at Logan.

  “And who is this?” one asked.

  Logan’s arm tightened. “This is Lottie. My girlfriend.”

  “Your subway angel know about this?” the other one teased.

  There was no mistaking the satisfaction in Logan’s voice. “This is my subway angel.”

  They stared, blinked, and looked at each other.

  “You shitting us, Logan?”

  I tried not to laugh, instead stepping forward and holding out my hand to the taller of the two. “You must be Trevor.”

  He shook my hand. “I am.”

  I turned to Rex. “Hi, Rex. I’m Lottie.”

  He beamed. “You’re real?”

  “Last time I checked.”

  Trev whistled low. “Holy shit. You weren’t kidding, Logan. She’s stunning.”

  “And she’s taken,” Logan snapped.

  “Now, boys.” A beautiful woman stepped into our odd circle, a wide grin on her face. “Hi, I’m Gretchen. Aren’t you pretty? Look at that hair! Logan, you were right. Amazing.”

  I looked up at him. What exactly had he been telling these people?

  Ten minutes later, it didn’t matter. They accepted me for me. Lottie. Logan’s girl. I felt as if I had known them all my life.

  Rex and Gretchen sat with me on the sofa, handing me a coffee cup that was well laced with Baileys. Gretch, as she insisted I call her, perched on Rex’s knee, chatting away. She was tiny, with white-blond hair and huge blue eyes. Rex was average height, with sandy-colored hair, no doubt styled by Gretchen. He wore glasses that emphasized his dark-brown eyes and had full sleeves on both arms, the colorful ink a splash of brightness against his black jeans and T-shirt. They were a cute couple, affectionate and funny—finishing each other’s sentences and joking constantly.

  “The way Logan talked about you, we were sure he was exaggerating,” Gretch admitted. “We never thought he’d get up the courage to talk to you.”

  “Or that you were even real,” Rex added. “I was sure he was singing to some mystical being only he could see.”

  “Nope. I’m real.”

  “And he finally talked to you,” Gretch breathed out.

  I looked over to the kitchen, where Logan was helping Trev chop vegetables. He caught my eye and winked, making my cheeks flush.

  “He did,” I assured her. “I was so exhausted, I fell asleep in the subway, and he sat and watched over me until I woke up. Then we went for burgers and talked. We, ah, spent the weekend together.”

  Gretch clapped her hands. “How romantic! Isn’t that romantic, babe?”

  Rex grinned, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses. “Yep. Romantic. That’s our Logan.”

  She slapped his chest. “Stop it.”

  He grabbed her, kissing her hard, and I averted my gaze to the kitchen. Trevor was saying something to make Logan laugh, and I liked seeing him in his own environment. He was relaxed and happy. Trevor was about Logan’s height and a wall of muscle. He had a head of dark hair and hazel eyes. He was clean-shaven and wore a tight T-shirt that emphasized his chest and arms. Obviously at home in the kitchen, he chopped and stirred, talked and teased, all at the same time. Remembering the box I had brought, I went to Logan’s room then returned to the kitchen, sliding it on the counter.

  “I brought dessert.” When Logan had said he was taking me to meet his roommates, I had insisted on bringing the cake. I was glad I had something to contribute.

  “Awesome.” Trevor agreed. “Sundays are my lax days. I eat whatever I want.” He elbowed Logan. “Not all of us can chow down like this big guy.” He flipped the lid on the box. “Wow. That’s an awfully pretty cake. Special occasion?”

  “Um, no. I just made what I felt like.”

  “You made this?”

  “Isn’t she talented?” Logan asked.

  Gretch hurried over and peeked in the box. “That is fabulous.”

  “And it tastes even better. Her cookies are to die for,” Logan assured her.

  “Then let’s start eating and get to dessert!”

  “Sounds like a plan. Stir-fry ready in ten.” Trev winked at me. “Dessert after that.”

  I curled up next to Logan, tracing lazy circles over his chest. I peeked at the clock, dreading the way the day was flying by. The brunch had been delicious, the stir-fry packed with veggies, shrimp, and chicken. The sauce was spicy, making me need lots of water. The cake had been devoured amidst groans of appreciation. I was fairly quiet, but the constant banter and teasing that flew around the table made me smile. I was thrilled to see my fears of Logan’s living conditions were way off. The apartment was comfortable and warm, and his friends supportive and caring. They were obviously a little family unit, and it made me happy that he had that. It was so much better than the shelter I’d worried about him being in, or the street I was scared he walked every night.

  We had spent time with his roomies, and I saw a different side to him. He was obviously the leader of the group. They all seemed to defer to him as they discussed shopping, meals, paying the rent. There was a lively discussion about a new TV Rex and Gretch both thought the place needed.

  “You mean, you need,” Logan snorted. “I am not bankrolling your obsession with a bigger TV so you can play even more games.”

  Trev agreed. “You two want one—you buy it.”

  That led to more arguments, but it was all done in good fun. Then Gretch broke out the Scrabble board, an
d I discovered Logan’s competitive side. He was all snarls and glares, going for big-point words and triple-scores. I laughed so hard, my sides ached.

  It was a great day. I hated thinking of leaving, but I knew I had to go.

  “What are you thinking about that made you so tense?” he asked quietly, his arm tightening. “Don’t say you have to go.”

  “I do have to go soon,” I admitted. “I have laundry and work I never did this weekend. I have to be ready for tomorrow.” I lifted my head, meeting his worried gaze. “Back to reality.”

  He rolled, pinning me under him. “Not totally, Lottie.” He traced his fingers down my arms, making me shiver. “Your reality now contains me. I’m in your life and plan to be a part of your day-to-day.”

  I opened my mouth, and he stopped me from speaking. “I know you’re busy. I’ll be teaching every day as well. But we can text and call. Have dinner. Spend some time together. And we have the weekends, right?”

  I nodded sadly. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I usually worked from home most of the time on the weekends. He looked so happy; I didn’t want to burst his bubble yet.

  He lowered his head and kissed me. “If you play your cards right, you might entice me to sleep over during the week, my Snow Queen. I can wake you up early and send you off to work with a smile on your face.” He ghosted his lips over mine. “And me all over you.”

  My core clenched at his words. I liked how that sounded.

  “Hmm,” I breathed. “That sounds naughty.”

  “Oh, it is. I promise you.” He kissed me again, this time harder. “We’re just starting, Lottie. We’ll figure it out. Just promise you’ll try. Find time to live, not only work.”

  “I will.”

  He glanced at the clock. “I’ll walk you home in an hour, and you’ll have all evening to do your work, okay?”

  “An hour?”

  He nudged my collar down with his nose and licked at my skin. “I told you I wanted to have you in my bed. I want my sheets to smell like you when I get in later. Smell like us. I need at least two rounds for that to happen.”