Irreplaceable (Harmony)

by Angela Graham

  I was tired and ready for bed, so with a loud, drawn-out sigh expressing my annoyance, I conceded and held the washcloth out, keeping my back to him and eyes glued on the tiled wall ahead of me.

  “Sir, security is on their way up,” I heard Jeffery tell him.

  My shoulders slumped forward.

  “That’s not necessary, but thank you. Alright Logan, you want to help be my guest!.”

  Logan shut the door, grumbling something under his breath to Jeffery.

  “I need help washing my back.” I glanced over my shoulder with narrowed, threatening eyes. “If one single finger strays, I swear it will be gone!”

  A single soft chuckle caught in his throat, and then I felt him move forward. His breath was on my skin, followed by the warm, soapy washcloth.

  “Run the water down your back,” he said, his voice strained.

  Was I affecting him? I highly doubted it. He’d seen more naked backs than most men I knew.

  I held the sprayer up over my shoulder and pulled my hair out of the way. Logan started at my neck, his fingers kneading the cloth against my skin, wiping away more than just grime. I closed my eyes and relaxed into the gentle feeling of the cloth over my tender back as he moved over my shoulder blades, taking his time not to miss a single spot.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked after a few moments of silence.

  “No.”

  It wasn’t a lie—it really didn’t hurt. I’d caught a little glimpse in the mirror the day before of the superficial scratches across my back from the impact of the pavement, but there was little pain. Although that could’ve had something to do with the painkillers I was on, the more I thought about it.

  The cloth cleaned the base of my back, and I could’ve sworn I heard him release a ragged breath.

  “Cassandra—”

  “Don’t.”

  Once the cloth was gone, Logan leaned over and turned the water off, then wrapped my robe around me. He didn’t speak a word and neither did I, but it didn’t matter. I was hurt and angry, and all I wanted to do was heal my body before my heart.

  We needed the silence; without it, he’d reel me back in. I knew that now. There was no doubt that my body was still attracted to him. I’d stand no chance, and that wasn’t an option.

  I swore right then as I stood from the shower seat, looking over at him, that I wouldn’t let him charm me again. My heart was off limits, and it was time to prove that I was strong enough to put myself back together.

  Logan left the room, and I dressed in a clean gown and fresh panties from my small suitcase near the counter.

  Logan was there to help me back to bed when I opened the door, dragging the IV pole behind me. Jeffery was standing in the doorway, and I wondered what Logan had said to him to put that look on his face.

  I fixed a reassuring smile on my lips and watched him relax visibly.

  “I’ll leave you alone now, but if you need anything at all, just buzz,” he said before leaving.

  “Thank you,” I said, slightly miffed he’d allowed Logan to help me in the bathroom.

  Once I was tucked back into bed, Logan handed me a glass of ice water as though he could read my mind. My throat was parched. I sipped while he sat back in his chair, where he remained until the end of visiting hours. I didn’t speak to him again, making it clear he was unwanted.

  I hoped he’d leave me in peace and spare me the agony of enduring his beautiful eyes on me any longer. However, like before, he remained staring down at me thoughtfully the entire time until the nurse entered and informed him it was time to leave.

  “I’ll see you in the morning, Cassandra. Sleep well,” he said, standing and walking to claim his coat.

  “There’s no reason to come back. I’m done, Logan. You can’t change how I feel.”

  He slipped his watch back on and unrolled his sleeves before pulling on his coat.

  “Good night.”

  That was all he said as he left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts and resolute commitment to keep myself as guarded a possible to protect myself from him, no matter what I had to do. I wouldn’t be that girl again.

  The next morning, Logan was back by the time breakfast was served. He removed the cafeteria tray I’d been picking at and replaced it with a covered plate. He lifted the lid, revealing a beautiful omelet with all the fixings. Ignoring him, I dug in. It tasted as good as it looked.

  Concentrating on the food, I smiled when I heard Logan leave the room. Was he really giving in? Taking the hint that he was wasting his time? If so, then why would he show up to begin with? I held little hope.

  As I assumed, he hadn’t taken the hint. He was back less than a minute later, with a file box in his hands.

  My brows knit together as he sat in the chair beside me and opened the lid. I watched, too curious to look away, when he set the box and lid on the floor and pulled out a stack of catalogs.

  Was he really going to do some shopping here? I swallowed another bite, controlling the flurry of annoyance growing when he held up a Pottery Barn catalog and red marker, smiling.

  “You don’t have to talk to me, but I thought you might want to fight off some of your boredom by helping me finish the details of Julia’s new place.”

  Julia’s house—the house I bet him she would love and, if she did, he’d be my slave for a weekend. I grimaced at the thought of me being indebted to him.

  “I was hoping to have it furnished by spring break and do the big reveal to her then,” he continued, setting the items at my side on the bed when I made no move to take them from his hands. “She still doesn’t know, and I’m sure you’ll want to make it look perfect…unless you’re calling off the bet?”

  I wanted to say, “Yes—the bet is off, and you’re crazy,” and scream at him to get out of my room. But instead, I swallowed the bite of egg in my mouth and nodded. “A bet’s a bet.”

  After breakfast, I scoured the catalogs diligently, circling the most lavish, expensive items I found—ones I knew she’d love, but would impact Logan’s bank account the most. The Restoration Hardware catalog was just the ticket for that.

  It was in his hands, and I watched as he sat back in the chair, leg rested over his knee, flipping through pages. He circled something, then dog-eared a page. My attention was piqued—he’d been going through the same book for over an hour, and only pulled the marker from his ear a total of five times to note of something he liked.

  Curious, I dropped the catalog in my hand and snatched the one from his. The whole picture of him sitting there browsing for furniture was ridiculous, but still he sat there most of the morning. The page he’d been on had a bright-green circle around a beautiful leather sofa with silver-stud detail. The piece was gorgeous, but the fact that he’d picked it left me unsettled. With a quick hand, I pulled the cap of my marker free with my teeth, letting it protrude from my lips as I drew a giant X over his circle.

  “And what’s wrong with the sofa?” he asked, slightly miffed. He must’ve really liked it, which further pushed me to veto it.

  “Too masculine.”

  He eyed me skeptically as I flipped through, starting over from page one until I landed on another item he’d circled: a stunning blue Moroccan area rug. I honestly would’ve chosen it, as well. With a shrewd smile in his direction, I crossed out the item and moved to the next page.

  One after another, I crossed out his items and circled things I liked better. If I wanted to win the bet—and I did—I needed the house to be perfect: feminine and homey. I had it in the bag, especially since Logan had moved on from the furniture catalogs to paint chips.

  Before I could snatch the array of colors from his grip, he moved his hand back, shaking his head with a soft chuckle.

  “Not so fast. You may be taking over decorating the place, but the color scheme is all mine. I’m not giving you the entire upper hand here.”

  My brows rose suggestively, and I feigned an exaggerated pout. “Oh, and here I thought you’d let a girl
win. You know, so you could be my little slave for a couple days. All those possibilities...”

  He was visibly affected by my seductive tone, but it didn’t take long for his open mouth to shut into a boyish smirk. He leaned forward, handing over the color palette. “Do your worst, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m already at your will.”

  I rolled my eyes in response. “On second thought, you can pick the paint. I’m confident enough without it to win this hands down.”

  He only grinned, watching me as I resumed my circling of knickknacks for the bookshelves I chose. Yeah, I was buying everything Julia would need and more.

  After lunch, my head began to throb, and I knew what that meant. I looked to the clock on the wall: after one o’clock. It was time for my daily exercise—the worst part of the day. I loved to work out, to run and stretch, but this was different—painful.

  I closed my eyes and yawned to feign exhaustion, hoping he’d take the hint and leave me to rest so he wouldn’t be around when Marilyn came to collect me.

  It didn’t work.

  “Feel free to rest. I’m going to step out to call my assistant to come collect everything that needs to be ordered, then I’ll be back.” He stood and switched out the light.

  Alone at last, I smiled to myself as he walked to the door just as Marilyn entered. So close.

  “You know what time it is, Miss Cassandra.” Marilyn’s voice was soft and sweet but had an undertone of authority, and I’d seen it at work. No point in fighting the woman.

  “You can go, Logan,” I said, noticing him lingering at the doorway. Please go.

  Marilyn was beside my bed in seconds, pulling back the blankets. I held them tightly, earning me a dubious look from the woman. I wasn’t ready for Logan to see all my wounds.

  “You have to do at least one lap, Cassandra. We can’t have that leg stiffening up on you.”

  “I said go, Logan!” I didn’t mean to yell as loudly as I did, but panic was setting in as she pulled the blanket from my grasp.

  Logan stepped closer to me. I yanked on my gown to help cover the bandage, but I could tell by his stricken face that he saw.

  “I think I’ll stay,” he said softly, now standing next to Marilyn with a frown.

  Of course he would.

  With a short breath, careful not to awaken the sleeping beast in my ribs, I shuffled both legs off the side of the bed. The bandage covered most of my thigh, and thankfully so did the hideous gown.

  I sat there as Marilyn slid on the white robe to cover my backside and helped me to my feet. It took a moment to let my body stretch, willing myself to walk down the hall and back with no help. Marilyn was always there for support, but today I wanted to prove that I didn’t need it. I was just fine, and ready to leave the hospital in the morning.

  The moment I took my first step, I knew I was in trouble. My leg gave in and my knees wobbled, but I was able to catch myself on the railing of the bed. Not that I needed it—Logan’s supportive arm was there, holding me up.

  “I’m here. Let me help.”

  “It looks like I’m not needed today,” Marilyn said with a smile, oblivious to the angry frown on my lips. “She needs to walk to the elevator and back on her own. Stay with her, though.” And with that, she was gone.

  “You ready?” he asked kindly.

  “I guess.” No way was I ready for him to see me in need of help. “You can let go now. You heard the woman: I need to do it on my own.”

  The warmth of his grip released my waist and I was standing freely, ready to get the walk over with.

  To my complete satisfaction, I made it to the elevator without missing a beat—no stumbles or weaknesses—and with Logan behind me out of sight, I was able to truly enjoy the accomplishment. The doctors were right: my leg was healing. I finally believed them.

  I turned to walk back, grinning to myself.

  “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t be going through this.” Logan looked at me, and it was then I noticed the forlorn expression from the previous day was back.

  “Don’t!” I snapped. “I just walked down a hall that I struggled with all week and still have the strength to walk back. You don’t get to ruin that for me. You don’t get to make me feel bad about the situation.” I ambled on past him.

  Damn it. I was in such a better place, and he squashed it. The walk back was eerily silent as I let the irritation pick at me.

  When I landed back in bed, that nap sounded better than ever. I rolled to my side and closed my eyes.

  “Goodbye, Logan.”

  I waited for him to reply—to say a thoughtful goodbye, or that he wasn’t leaving. Instead, I heard him sit, and then he began to read aloud.

  My eyes opened wide. He was reading to me—and not just any book, but the first classic novel I read as a young teen. Another tidbit my mother must’ve told him.

  With a nearly silent sigh, I allowed my eyes to drift closed as Elizabeth Bennet prepared with her sisters for the dance that would lead her to making the acquaintance of Mr. Darcy.

  The hum of Logan’s sweet voice lulled me into my slumber, where he no longer awaited me in the alley. Rather, I found myself at home, standing in my backyard, watching Oliver chase Scout. But we weren’t alone—Logan was there as well. Far off in the distance, the trees surrounding him stood miles away, yet his searing gaze was concentrated on me, searching my soul for answers I couldn’t give.

  Chapter Four

  Scars

  “Rise and shine, sleepy head!”

  My eyes fluttered open to meet the marvelous grin covering Hilary’s cheerful face.

  “Come on, the doctor’s signing the papers for your release as we speak. Let’s get you the hell out of this place.”

  I sat up, wiping the sleep from my eyes. Home, finally. A slow smile tugging on my lips lifted my spirits as her words settled over me.

  “That’s my girl. Now go get dressed.” Hilary held out a pile of clothes and watched as I slipped my feet off the side of the bed but didn’t make a move to stand.

  “Can you just shut the curtain? I’ll change here.” I motioned my hand to the yellow drape behind her.

  Hilary turned and rustled it closed without a word. After she helped me shuffle into a white shirt and pink sweats, I was feeling more eager than ever to get out of there.

  “Remember to continue taking the medication as needed for pain, and make sure you schedule an appointment next week to check your stitches. We want to make sure that leg keeps healing properly.”

  The doctor whom I’d seen since childhood stood across the room and rambled on and on as I sat at the edge of the bed, zoning out. Anxiety set my nerves on the fritz, my hands smoothing small circles over the mattress I’d be leaving for good as soon as he was done talking.

  Hilary squatted in front of me and helped me slide on my comfy suede boots, though my attention was not on her or the doctor, but Logan. He’d come in sometime during my dressing, and was standing near the door, jotting down endless notes on a small black leather pad as the doctor listed off instructions.

  He wasn’t seriously going to visit me at home as much as he did here. Was he?

  Hilary smacked the bottom of my shoe when it was on and stood, a smile lighting her face when she turned to Logan, watching him asking the doctor a question. Of course he was.

  It was his car that awaited me outside the hospital, since my mom was stuck with a shift she couldn’t switch. After enough complaining, I managed to win a ride with Hilary.

  I didn’t say a word when he made it to my house before us. He stood in the driveway, waiting for her car to stop.

  After opening the passenger-side door, he leaned down, encircling his arm around my waist, and helped me inside my house.

  “It has to feel good to be home. I mean, we can finally see each other past seven,” Hilary said with a laugh.

  Visiting hours were no friend of hers. She tried to sneak in a couple times, but the nurses weren’t having it. Not surprisingly, Logan wa
s there after visiting hours, meeting nothing but giggles and blushing from the previously grouchy nurses once he explained why it was important he stayed. I was a lucky girl, they said. If only they knew.

  Before I could respond, Logan reappeared from his jaunt around the house, during which he’d surveyed every room for trip hazards and potential serial killers lurking in closets. He stood in the doorway to the living room, staring at me as I rested on the couch with a thin quilt covering my lap.

  “Everything looks good in here, sweet—”He cut himself off.

  Smart man. I pursed my lips, narrowing my eyes at the television, and he knew why. I’d made it clear I was not his sweetheart, and he was not to call me so.

  Not bothering to look his way, I replied, “Of course it does. Now you can leave and not bother coming back.”

  “Cassandra!” Hilary gaped at me, appalled at my lack of appreciation.

  Logan, however, seemed to have taken the jab in stride. “Right, well I’ll bring dinner by tonight. Let her get some rest. She needs it,” he said to Hilary, completely unaffected by my venomous tone.

  I said nothing, expecting no less from him, since it was becoming our thing lately for him to hound me to no end. Being home reminded me of the last time I was there, dancing around, eager to wear my new party dress and confess my feelings to the man I was certain would be the last one I kissed on New Year’s.

  My nose scrunched. The image left a sour taste in my mouth.

  Ignoring Hilary’s pout, I picked up the remote and began flipping through the channels. Hilary, on the other hand, pushed off the couch with an exaggerated huff and walked Logan to the door, where they began talking in quiet voices.

  “Thanks again,” she said as he stepped outside, finally leaving us alone. The moment she shut the door and turned back to me, I knew I was in for a lecture.

  “Look, I didn’t want to press you in the hospital, but what the hell happened between you two?” She walked back to the armchair across from me.