Live Without Regret (A Touch of Fate)

by Grayson, K. L.

  “What’s wrong with a guy wanting a smart, sexy, funny, caring woman who has dreams and goals and actually goes after them?” I ask, feeling more than a little put off by her assessment that Brittany and I won’t work out. “Why shouldn’t I wait for a woman with all of those qualities?”

  Logan’s face softens, and I remind myself she’s just looking out for me. Plus, I’ll just have to prove her wrong. Leaning down, I press a kiss to her cheek. “Besides, you’re all of those things.”

  “Ooh, you’re good,” she says, wrapping her arms around my stomach. “So this Brittany…she’s all of those things?”

  Logan gives me one tight squeeze before pulling away, her question lingering in the air. I don’t answer right away. Logan doesn’t show affection very often, mostly because of her childhood. Being neglected for years on end will do that to a person. I’m guessing that not hearing back from me—and quite possibly the mention of Brittany—has left her feeling a little insecure. She’s reaching out, needing to know I’m still here. I know this girl better than she knows herself.

  “Hey,” I say, snagging her arm when she turns toward my refrigerator. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back.”

  She shrugs, but it’s half-assed and I know I need to give her more. “She consumes me,” I say, breathing out the words. “When I’m with Brittany, I forget everything else around me. But that’s no excuse. I should’ve checked my phone and called you back. Please forgive me?” I ask, jutting my lip out, mostly because I know she has a weakness for my pouty face.

  I really do feel bad. Logan is the closest thing to family I have, and it devastates me to know she’s hurting because of me.

  “I forgive you,” she mumbles, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. She twists the top off and takes a swig. “So I guess this means you wouldn’t consider moving to Tennessee with me if I asked?”

  “What?” My eyes widen, my brain processing what she just said. “Oh my gosh, Lo, you got the job?”

  She nods, smiling wide. Grabbing her by the waist, I spin her around and she squeals with laughter. I fucking love that sound.

  “Holy shit.” Putting her back on her feet, I grip her shoulders. “You’re leaving?” My mind races, trying to decide what this means for her…for us.

  “I am.” Placing the bottle of water on the table, she wrings her hands together. “But I’m nervous, you know? This is a big move.”

  “It is, but you’ve worked so hard for it. You deserve this.”

  “Really?” Her dark brown eyes search mine.

  “Of course.” Taking her hand, I lead her to the living room. She sits down on the couch and I move to sit next to her before remembering I’m wearing nothing but a towel. Holding up a finger, I motion for her to give me a second. Then I rush down the hall to my bedroom, where I make quick work of putting on some clothes. When I walk back into the living room, Logan is reclining on the couch.

  “Talk to me,” I say, swatting at her legs so I can sit down next to her.

  Sitting up, she props her elbows on her knees and drops her head into her hands. Her dark brown hair falls around her shoulders, acting as a curtain. “I’m scared.”

  “Of what? You’re finally getting out of this hellhole, so what on earth are you scared of?”

  “This hellhole is my home.” Lifting her head, she glares at me. “This is all I’ve known. Plus…” Her words trail off as she purses her lips.

  “Plus, what?”

  “You’re my home. I don’t want to live where you aren’t, Connor.”

  “Logan.” Sighing, I scoot next to her. She slips her tiny hand in mine and I squeeze it lightly. “It doesn’t matter how far away you live, you will always be a huge part of my life. I will always be here for you.”

  “So if I beg you to come with me, would you consider it?” she asks without an ounce of humor.

  “Wow.” Pulling my hand from hers, I run my fingers through my hair. “Logan.”

  “Don’t.” Shaking her head, she pushes up from the couch. “I shouldn’t have asked that.”

  “That’s not it,” I say, trying to figure out the best way to say this. “You know I would love to go with you. The thought of not seeing you and talking to you all the time terrifies me. But I’ve got InkSlingers now, and I’m not ready to leave that behind.”

  She nods, swallowing hard. “And Brittany. I guess you have her now, too?”

  “Please don’t. This has nothing to do with Brittany. Yes, I really like her. Yes, she’s everything I’ve been looking for in a woman. But we’ve only been seeing each other for a few days. I’m staying because this is my home, and I don’t want to leave. I want to keep building up the shop and see where it goes.” I blowing out a harsh breath. “And yes, I’m anxious to see where this thing with Brittany goes too, but I want to stay here because I’m finally happy. And you know I’ve worked really hard to find my happy.”

  “Ugh,” she grunts, tossing her head back. “I know. I know you’re happy. But the selfish part of me wants you to be happy where I am.” She takes a deep breath. “Connor”—Logan looks up at me, a wave of uncertainty swirling through her eyes—“I’ve never been on my own. Not really. You’ve always been a hop, skip, and a jump away, ready and willing to pick up whatever mess I’ve made. What if I can’t do this on my own? What if I fail miserably?”

  “Don’t—”

  “And what if I lose you?” she asks, cutting me off. “What if you forget all about me? You’re the only family I have, and I don’t want to lose you.” Her voice cracks on the last word, slicing my heart in two.

  “Stop it.” Hooking an arm around her neck, I hug her tight. “You are my family. Nothing is going to change that. I don’t care that we don’t share the same blood. You are my sister in every sense of the word. You’ve seen me through so much bullshit, and I could never forget that. I could never forget you.”

  “I’m sorry.” She sniffs, swiping at her face when a tear runs down her cheek. “I know I’m being an emotional female about this. It’s all just happening so fast.”

  “Is it?” I ask, pulling back to look her in the eyes. “You’ve been going to school, planning for this moment, and when you filled out the application, you knew it was in a different state.” Logan worked two jobs to put herself through nursing school. She knew immediately that she wanted to work in a trauma ICU. Apparently, it’s difficult to get that particular position right out of school. So when she found out about a hospital that was accepting applications for a one-year paid internship at their trauma ICU with the option to stay on full-time afterward, she jumped on it.

  “I hate it when you’re right,” she mumbles, burying her face in my chest.

  “You know,” I say, deciding now is not the time to gloat about always being right, “more than likely you’re going to get out there and make a whole new set of friends. Before I know it, you’ll be bringing home a boyfriend for me to meet. And I’m warning you now, as your brother and best friend, I will intimidate the hell outta him.”

  Logan laughs, and it’s as though I can feel some of the weight being lifted from her shoulders. “You think?”

  “I don’t think…I know. You’re intelligent, beautiful, and you have this incredible heart. Any man would be more than lucky to have you in his life. Myself included.”

  Taking a deep breath, Logan blows it out slowly. “Okay, I’m going to do this. I’m moving to Tennessee.” Her smile grows. Pulling out of my arms, she rubs her hands together. “Holy crap. I’m moving to Tennessee. I’m going to be a full-time nurse.” Her eyes widen, almost comically, and I’m getting the feeling she’s moments away from either laughing hysterically or crying. At this point, it could go either way.

  “I’m so proud of you, Lo.”

  Her eyes glisten. “Thank you. We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

  “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “I guess we got lucky getting sent to that last foster home, huh?”

 
“Damn straight. If it wasn’t for that godforsaken place, I wouldn’t have you in my life.”

  “And we wouldn’t have met Carter.” Logan looks down for a beat before glancing back up. “I miss him,” she whispers. “Do you think he’d be proud of me?”

  “I miss him, too. And he’d be so proud of you.”

  “Thank you.” Logan wipes her hands over her face and straightens her shoulders as though she’s pulling herself together. “Speaking of Carter,” she says, “you probably have to be at work soon, don’t you? Hell, I have to be at work and here I am blubbering all over the place.”

  “Actually,” I say, glancing at the clock on the wall, “I probably should finish getting ready so I can head in. I already took a shower, but I still need to trim my beard.”

  “Oh!” Logan waves her hands in the air as though she just remembered something really important. “That’s why I was trying to call you. My water heater went out. Do you mind if I swing by tonight after work and get cleaned up?”

  “Damn it,” I say, groaning. “Why didn’t you tell me? You know that shit pisses me off. I would’ve gone over to take a look at it for you.”

  Logan cocks an eyebrow, giving me her classic don’t-get-sassy-with-me look. “Ummm…you’re the one who didn’t answer your phone. And there isn’t anything you could’ve done anyway,” she says, waving me off. “I have to have a new water heater put in, but my landlord says they can’t come until tomorrow.”

  “Still pisses me off,” I grumble. “But since you’re going to be here, why don’t you plan on staying for supper? Brittany is cooking.”

  “Will she mind?” Logan asks, walking toward the pantry. “Can I steal a Pop-Tart? I was in such a hurry this morning I forgot breakfast.”

  “I don’t think she’ll mind, but I’ll talk to her and make sure. And eat the chocolate ones; that strawberry one is mine.”

  She nods and reaches for the Pop-Tarts on the top shelf, but she’s not quite tall enough. I take a step toward her but stop when she grabs a chair from the table. My mind drifts to Logan’s water heater. Who is she going to call when she’s in Tennessee and has a problem? Who’s going to fix her garbage disposal or change the batteries in her smoke detector?

  I watch silently as she slides the chair toward the shelves, steps up, grabs the box, and puts the chair back. It was a simple task—and obviously not all problems will be fixed quite so easily—but it reminds me that she’s a big girl and fully capable of solving her own issues. And I’ll still be here for the ones she can’t.

  “Why are you staring at me like that?”

  “You’re going to do great in Tennessee,” I say sincerely. Logan tilts her head, probably wondering why in the world I went from Pop-Tarts back to Tennessee.

  I’m two steps down the hall when she calls my name. “Connor?”

  “Yeah?” I peek over my shoulder to find her standing in the hallway. “Thank you…for everything. I can’t wait to meet Brittany tonight.”

  I smile. “You’re going to love her.”

  “I already figured as much.” She smiles back, a look of pride and—most importantly—acceptance shining from her face.

  Everything is going to be okay.

  For the both of us.

  This is crazy, I think to myself, staring at the door. Is it proper dating etiquette to drop in on someone at work just to say ‘hey’? Probably not, but Connor does own the place and I’m in the area, so what the hell. I tug the door open and the familiar bell dings, signaling my entry.

  Everyone in the shop turns toward me. I freeze, surprised at the amount of people in here. Honestly, I thought it would just be Connor and a client. Nope, there’s actually…one, two, three, four—

  “Can I help you?”

  I turn toward the front desk and the tiny girl seated behind it. “Um, I’m here to see Connor.”

  “Good timing,” she says. “He just finished with a client. He’s in the pisser.”

  Okay. That’s not at all what I expected her to say, but she’s cute in a gothic Tinker Bell sort of way so I decide to go with it. “Is it okay if I wait?”

  Tinker Bell shrugs, popping the gum in her mouth. “Suit yourself. You can keep me company. I’m hella bored.”

  I stick my hand out. “I’m Brittany.”

  She looks at my outstretched hand hesitantly before slipping her much smaller, more delicate one into mine. “Nora.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Are you sure you’re in the right place?” she asks, scrunching her nose.

  “Hell yes, she’s in the right place.” Turning around, I come face-to-face with Connor. “I see you’ve met Nora,” he says, snaking an arm around my waist. I step into him, the front of our bodies molding together.

  “I did meet her.” My words come out way too husky for my liking, so I clear my voice. “She’s very sweet. You’re very sweet,” I say, looking over Connor’s shoulder. Nora is staring at us, mouth agape. I look around, and everyone else in the shop is staring at us too. “Do I have toilet paper hanging out of the back of my pants?” I whisper, pressing in closer to Connor.

  He smiles, slow and sexy. “No,” he whispers. “You’re just that fucking gorgeous, and they’re all wondering why in the hell you’re here to see me.”

  “Psssh.” Slapping at Connor’s chest, I push away. “I highly doubt that.”

  Connor rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” Gripping my hand firmly in his, Connor pulls me to his station. “So, to what do I owe this wonderful surprise visit?”

  Once we’re out of sight, Connor drops to a chair and tugs me onto his lap. Large, warm hands find their way up the back of my shirt, and for the life of me I can’t remember what he just asked me. “What?” He continues trailing his fingertips across my skin and my eyes nearly roll back in my head.

  “I asked what brought you by,” he says, nuzzling the side of my neck.

  “Oh, yeah…I was in the area. I need to go by the Chef’s Nook down the street, so I figured I’d drop by.”

  Connor’s deft fingers travel around my waist, stroking my stomach, and a shiver races up my spine. “What do you need from that place?” he asks, seemingly oblivious to the way he’s torturing me.

  My body is thrumming with sexual energy, and if I don’t get out of here soon, I’m going to beg him to fuck me right here in this chair. “You have to stop touching me,” I demand, earning myself a bright, white smile from Connor.

  “Sorry, I can’t do that. Now tell me what you’re getting at the Chef’s Nook.”

  “A pan for lasagna.”

  Connor’s hands stop. “You’re making me lasagna?”

  “Is that okay?” I ask, suddenly unsure of my supper choice. He did tell me that was his favorite food, right? Shit. Maybe I was so damn horny I didn’t hear him correctly.

  “It’s perfect.”

  “Good. I realized when I got home that I don’t have the right-sized pan. It might still be in storage, but there’s no way in hell I’m digging through that mess so I’ll just buy a new one.”

  “Don’t.” Connor shakes his head. “I’ve got every size pan you can imagine in my kitchen. Just go borrow what you need. Hell, make dinner at my place if you want. In fact,” he says, waggling his eyebrows, “I wouldn’t complain one bit if I came home and you were wearing nothing but an apron. That would actually be really fucking awesome.”

  “Is sex all you think about?” I ask with mock annoyance.

  “No,” he says, pressing his lips to the base of my neck. The scruff on his jaw abrades my skin, and I squeeze my thighs together in a desperate attempt to control my ever-growing need. “All I think about is you.”

  My body shudders at his words. Damn he’s good. “I like that,” I say, cupping his face in my hands. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

  A deep growl rumbles from Connor’s chest. “You can’t say those things to me when I’m at work because it makes me want to lay you flat on that table,” h
e says, motioning toward the tiny table with supplies scattered on the surface. “And I cannot lay you flat on that table.” He pauses and glances at said tiny table. “Well, I could, but we’d end up flat on our asses.”

  I push up from Connor’s lap. “Tonight you can lay me on any surface you want. How about that?” I whisper, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

  “Fuuuuuck,” he says, reaching for my arm.

  Laughing, I sidestep his grabby hand. He attempts to glare at me, but it lacks the necessary edge and I end up laughing harder. “Later, I promise. Now are you sure you don’t mind if I borrow a pan?”

  “Fine.” He sighs, reminding me of a petulant child. Normally, I would find that annoying, but when Connor does it, I find it cute. “And you’re more than welcome to borrow it.” Connor stands up and leads me out of his workstation toward the front door. “You can go in through the garage. My code is 9080.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re making me lasagna. Trust me, I should be the one thanking you. Oh! By the way”—he snaps his fingers—“is it okay if Logan joins us for dinner tonight?”

  “Absolutely. I’d love to meet your best friend.” Lifting up on my tiptoes, I brush my mouth against Connor’s ear. “Just make sure Logan is gone by dessert. I’ve got a can of whipped cream I was planning to bring over.”

  “Leave. Now.” I bust up laughing when Connor all but shoves me out the front door. He immediately yanks me back in and gives me a searing kiss that earns us several catcalls from the guys in the shop, and then he shoves me back out again. “Now go.”

  “Goodbye, Connor.” I walk out of InkSlingers, and my body feels as though I’m floating down the sidewalk. My heart is full, my soul is happy, and I’m afraid this goofy-ass smile will be permanently etched on my face.

  Holy shit, I’m in love.

  “This smells fantastic.” Keeping his hands on the hot rags, Connor takes the steaming dish from my hands.