Sorry can’t. Tell Oliver I said hi :)
Don’t leave me with a depressed brother and his ex-bitch. U sure I can’t convince u?
That certainly didn’t help her case. If she wanted to convince me, she shouldn’t have reminded me what I’d be walking in on.
Sorry. Have fun though!
Yeah right! Thanks!
My head rested against the cool wall, glad to have gotten out of the party so easily, and it was then that I noticed the purple hat box stashed behind the sofa. Grandma hadn’t been a very fashionable woman, so I wasn’t sure what I’d find inside as I pulled it out and placed it on the floor in front of my crossed legs. Confused by what I was looking down at, I removed a letter that had my mother’s name written on it in my grandmother’s hand from atop a pile of envelopes.
The letter inside was short and to the point:
Felicia,
Please see to it that Cassandra receives these when you’re ready. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I’ve always loved you like a daughter, but he’s my son. I hope you understand.
I swallowed. My father? I should’ve closed the lid and thrown out the box, or taken it to my mother, whom my grandmother seemed to have had expected to find it. However, I found myself pulling out the first envelope, postmarked two years after he left. Whatever grandma was hiding, I needed to know.
Mom,
I’m sorry this hurts you so much, but I told you, I can’t come back. I can’t face them. I won’t write again. I don’t want to further upset you. I can’t explain my love for her, but it’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. She’s my everything. If you gave Nina a chance, you’d see…
“Nina?” I gasped, dropping the letter.
Nina? My babysitter who went off to college the same time my father left Nina? No, it was too much to assume. There had to be thousands of women in the world with that same name.
I didn’t need to know anymore. Whatever the letters said didn’t mean anything other than further damaging my faith in men. I stuffed the letter back in the envelope and saw the photograph peeking out from under the stack. I couldn’t stop myself from pulling it out to reveal a smiling picture of my father, his arm wrapped around the same Nina who played Barbies with me almost every Saturday for an entire year.
Irate, I shoved it back inside and placed the lid on the box before standing and releasing a deep breath, wishing I’d never looked behind the couch to begin with.
Once I climbed down from the attic and closed up the ladder carefully, tucking it back into the ceiling, I took a quick shower, resigned to forget what I’d read.
An hour later, I plopped down on my couch, phone in hand, and sent the text to Logan that should’ve gone out after Julia’s reminder text, had I not gotten distracted. Logan and I weren’t friends anymore, but I liked things being civil between us. I wasn’t going to overthink it; just a simple text, nothing special.
Happy birthday!
There, a neighborly deed done well. He’d never even told me it was his birthday, so maybe he didn’t want me to know. I rarely knew what he was thinking.
I waited for a reply, but it never came. I figured he was busy at work or on his way home, where he’d be bombarded with his family—his family that included Natasha. I wondered what that would be like for him after all this time…to have her back and celebrating his birthday.
It wasn’t my business, and I wasn’t going to dwell.
Chapter Thirteen
Birthday Ultimatums
Ringing shook through my head. I swatted my arm at nothing and rolled my head to the other side, but it didn’t stop. Instead, it seemed to only grow louder and clearer as my eyes flickered open, adjusting to the darkness. The only light was from the glow illuminating my nightstand. The ringing stopped and I closed my eyes again, relaxing back into the mattress, when the annoying chirping started again.
“Hello?” I croaked, pressing the phone to my ear, still in a sleepy daze.
“About time!”
“Hilary?” My voice cracked, riddled with exhaustion. “What time is it?”
“Nine thirty. Did I wake you?”
I swallowed, clearing the dryness in my throat. “Mm-hmm.” My hand wiped away the sleep in my eyes.
“The fact that you’re sleeping at this hour on a Saturday night is another issue we need to discuss, but right now you need to come down to Haven.”
The nerves in her voice crawled under my skin. I made a face, pulling myself up and resting against the headboard. “Why, is everything all right?”
“No, now hurry up and get down here!”
The line went dead, and I knew if I didn’t get dressed and drag myself down there, she’d only keep calling.
“This better be important!” I complained the moment I stepped inside the bustling restaurant, with Hilary waiting at the door.
She looked nervous.
“I didn’t know who else to call, and Caleb agreed you were the best person.”
Best person for what? I gave her a pointed look.
“Don’t be mad, please.” She stepped aside with a tense shrug, revealing the view of the bar and the back of a hard body I recognized instantly.
Logan.
This had to be a joke. Was it some ridiculous attempt to lure me out on a Saturday night? The fact that it was his birthday, as well, didn’t go unnoticed. Whatever he was playing at tonight wasn’t working.
“You have thirty seconds to explain why you called me.”
“He’s been drinking, and…” Hilary sighed, her hopeful eyes imploring me to care. “And he needs a friend.”
“Great, glad Caleb’s here.” I turned on my heel to leave.
Hilary grabbed my arm. “What am I supposed to do? He won’t talk to Caleb or me. He’s just been sitting there knocking back drinks, looking miserable with a busted hand.”
“Busted hand?”
“Yeah, I gave him a clean rag, but he wouldn’t let me near it. Said he deserved worse.”
Deserved worse? For crying out loud, it was his birthday. Why the hell was he down at the bar drinking himself into a self-deprecating hangover?
“Fine, but next time, call Julia or Jax.”
“I did. Julia told me to call you.”
I huffed out a half chuckle, half sigh. Of course she did. When was that girl going to realize I wasn’t dating her brother, and therefore wasn’t responsible for him?
The moment I slipped off my coat, Hilary relaxed. I handed it to her, straightening my shoulders as I headed over.
“What are you up to, birthday boy?” I asked with sarcasm heavy in my tone, slinging my leg over the stool beside him.
He didn’t bother to spare me a glance. “Having a drink. What about you?”
I noticed his hand resting on the bar, knuckles splintered and raw, dried blood covering the wounds.
“Well, I was enjoying a pleasant night’s rest till I was called down here to talk you out of drinking yourself into a stupor. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”
“You shouldn’t be here, driving at this hour with the weather outside. It was a waste of your time, and you could have gotten hurt...again. Go home. I’ll have someone escort you to make sure you make it there safely.”
“I don’t need an escort anywhere!” I snapped.
Still looking ahead, he sighed. “Good night, Cassandra. Go back to your warm bed.”
Logan lifted his finger to the bartender for another drink, but the moment the old man set down the filled shot glass, I shook my head slowly, spelling it out with my menacing scowl that Logan would be having no more. He took the hint, backing up with a single nod.
“I’m cutting you off and taking you home.”
The deep, throaty chuckle he let out washed over me, further alerting me to what I was dealing with—especially when he angled his dropped head just enough to catch my gaze.
After a long pause, he spoke. “You look stunning tonight…but then again, you always do.”
I
rolled my eyes. The oversized pale pink button-down I wore had been my pajamas for the night, and was matched with a pair of jeans I tugged out of my dresser drawer in the dark and hopped into. Nothing stunning about it.
Before I could scoff in his face, his body leaned into mine, nose nuzzling my hair.
“And you smell so…sweet.”
My breath caught. I was going to need a drink. I threw up my hand to the bartender and when he looked my way, I called out, “I’ll have what he had.”
The bartender nodded, and I looked back at Logan.
“Not exactly sure you can handle that, sweetheart.”
“You have no idea what I can handle.”
His gaze bore into mine, searching the double meaning in my words. I was the first to break the stare, reaching out and grabbing his bloodied hand.
“What happened?”
“Life happened. My life,” he answered, staring down at the wound cradled in my palm.
“You might need stitches.”
“I won’t. It’s not that deep.”
“You should at least clean it up. A few bandages will help.”
He pulled his hand away, irritation heavy in his posture. I rolled my eyes and grabbed the rag sitting on the other side of him. It must’ve been the one Hilary brought. I pushed off the stool and stretched over the bar in front of him. His breath tickled my ear as I snatched the towel quickly and fell back in my seat.
“We need to at least clean the blood off.”
The bartender set down a shot glass and filled it with an amber liquid. “A water too—no ice,” I said, examining Logan’s busted knuckles.
I picked up the glass with my free hand and tipped it back. My tongue shot out as the liquor burned its way down my throat and warmed my stomach. My face pinched, and I tried to shake it off.
“I warned you. Not your type of drink.” Logan chuckled.
My mouth was still complaining when Logan took the shot glass and downed the remainder of the liquor. With a smug grin, he set it back down. The bartender interrupted our challenging stare when he set a mug filled with tap water in front of me.
I didn’t say a word, and instead dunked a side of the towel into it and let the water drip over Logan’s wounds before carefully wiping away the traces of his obviously unpleasant night. He sat there watching me, with eyes I couldn’t look up at as I tended to his care.
“So, seriously, what happened?” I prompted, finding the knuckles nearly shredded. “It’s your birthday. You were supposed to be celebrating.”
“Why didn’t you come? Julia told me she invited you.”
“Answer my question first.” I peered up for just a moment and watched his frown deepen.
“Oliver wanted Natasha to come, and I didn’t want to disappoint him.” He stopped, gazing down at the bar.
“And…”
“And she came. Oliver was happy, hooked onto her every word, following her around the entire time. She even read him a story and tucked him into bed.”
Wow, not how I pictured Natasha at all. Maybe I really did misjudge her.
“So what’s the problem?”
“She then made her way into my bedroom, undressed, and climbed into bed.”
I blanched, gripping his hand more tightly than I realized, gaping at him.
“O-oh,” I mumbled. Why was I suddenly feeling shell-shocked?
The wince on his face caught my attention, and I released his hand from my death grip. “Shit, sorry.”
He chuckled to himself. “You know, I think that’s the first swear word I’ve heard slip from your lovely mouth.”
Flushed, I focused back on his hand attentively, wiping the cloth over it one final time.
“All cleaned up. You sure you don’t want me to ask Caleb for the first-aid kit? It’s not a problem, and you really need to keep the cuts—”
His pointer finger shot out and landed on my lips, silencing me.
“I didn’t sleep with her.”
I nodded, unable to speak over the jealous wave crushing my chest. His finger trailed over my bottom lip until it reached the corner of my mouth and dropped away.
“I came in, found her there, and demanded that she get out. Unfortunately, she refused, and then informed me that she was moving in. Explained how she already told Oliver the wonderful news, and unless I wanted him to hate me for kicking her out on the streets, I had to give her a chance and come to bed.” His words turned into an angry hiss, his back teeth grinding together.
Wow, Natasha had some gall. He slowly craned his neck back to face me.
“I don’t respond well to threats, and I especially don’t allow someone I despise to tell me what to do,” he continued, jaw clenched. “The moment my fist went through the wall, Natasha was out of bed and already threatening to yell for Oliver, so I left. Called Julia to come stay the night there and came down here for a drink.”
Holy hell, the woman was crazy.
“So what now? She’s really moving in?”
I thought about Natasha living in the same house as Logan, using Oliver. But for what? What was she up to?
“Let’s not talk about her again. Not tonight,” he said.
I was staring down at his hand in thought when he interrupted my troubled mind.
“I think a kiss will help more than a bandage.”
“You wish!” I laughed and slapped his forearm playfully, earning me a wry chuckle and lightening the direction the mood was heading in. I propped my elbow on top of the bar, resting my cheek on my hand.
I was no longer his friend, and even though I felt for his situation and for Oliver, it wasn’t any of my business. As a friendly neighbor, I didn’t owe him anything except perhaps one more offer to drive him home, and then I’d be gone.
“I thought a good nurse was eager to please her patient,” he teased.
I scoffed and glanced down at the bar before looking back up seconds later.
“Seriously, do you want a ride home or not? You’re drunk, and I’m not really in the mood for games.”
“Games,” he mimicked with a thick, disheartening snicker. Something in his mood shifted back to that dark place I’d walked in on originally as he repeated the word again to himself. “Games. I’ve always loved a good game.” His head dipped to the side, tired, hooded eyes locking with mine. “You were the best and worst game I ever played.”
My heart pounded against my chest; the pain was unbearable. Finally, he could admit it. I was nothing but a game. A challenge.
He looked straight ahead again, staring blankly at the rows of bottles perched on the wall ahead of us. His voice came out a rough murmur.
“But then I lost. Not the first time I’ve lost something, but you…” He looked back at me, voice growing, eyes searching mine. “You took more than anyone before. You took a piece of me I can’t get back—I don’t want back. I only want you, and you…you can hardly even look at me anymore.”
What could I say to that? I couldn’t find the words, and it took all my strength to break our shared gaze.
He chuckled again. “I’m not drunk, Cassandra. There’s not enough alcohol in the world to get me drunk enough to forget what I had with you. What we almost had together.” His lips molded into an angry frown. I watched as he spoke, heat rising through me as he laid his deepest fears on the table.
“I almost killed you. I let that bitch get in my head, and it was you who suffered for it. I’m such a piece of shit—an unworthy bastard—and yet I still tried to win you back, wanting to convince you that I could be better, be what you need. But I can’t. I’m no good for anyone, and especially not you. You’re an angel, and you deserve so much more.”
Logan gripped the shot glass that sat untouched in front of him and tipped it back, closing his eyes as the liquid worked its way into his system, then slammed it back down.
“Logan, you’re a good guy. I never would have gotten close to you to begin with if you weren’t. I wish things had been different between us, I’
m not going to lie—you know what you meant to me, you had to have seen how much I wanted you—but I can’t forget what happened. The way you made me feel in that alley...I’ve never felt so cheap.” I sighed, twisting my palm over my chin to rub my tired eyes. “Maybe this is for the best. You would have grown bored with me and eventually wanted to move back to the city once Julia graduated. We never would have lasted.”
His jaw clenched. “You really believe that?”
“You can’t expect me to believe that you’d all of a sudden go from sleeping with more women than I can count to just little ole me.” A soft, insecure laugh crept out.
He stared at me silently, his eyes taking in my expression, reading me. I shifted on the stool, uncomfortable under his penetrating gaze. What the hell was he thinking?
“Why don’t you see it? You’re so fucking beautiful, and you don’t even see it!” A spark of anger flashed in his eyes. “There was a time I wanted to feel you pressed under me, that sharp tongue of yours put to work in ways you could only imagine. But then somehow I lost myself—forgot about how much I wanted just your body at my control. It was deeper than even I realized.
“It was you, Cassandra—your heart, your kindness—and before I knew what was happening or had a chance to stop it, I found myself lying in bed at night wanting to hold only you. To kiss you, worship you, and finally discover what it was like to make love to a woman.”
I sat there, the lost butterflies that’d been hidden for the past month buzzing to life throughout my clenched gut. My heart raced, and I watched with soft eyes as his hand reached out, the pad of his thumb caressing my cheek and catching the single revealing tear that slid out of my unsuspecting eye.
He placed his thumb in his mouth, sucking it clean before whispering, “Tell me to walk away. Tell me to leave and let you go. Tell me I have no chance, and that you’ll never love me, and I’ll listen. I’ll never bother you again. If you want me to move away, I’ll put my house on the market tomorrow and be gone. I just need you to be honest and tell me. I can’t see you in pain anymore, and I know it’s me that’s hurting you.”
Harsh tears stung my cloudy eyes, his words cutting deep. My eyes never strayed from his. My heart screamed out to him, beating against my ribcage, fighting with everything it had to reach him and beg him to stay. But all I could hear was the voice in my head telling me, “This is it. Your next words will forever change your life, one way or another.”
Irreplaceable (Harmony) Page 13