by Lila Kane
“See? I can do this Logan. I don’t need you acting like I can’t help out or that I need to be locked away inside all the time. I need…”
He continues forward, just like Myra had, but so much closer. Almost to the bottom of the stairs. His face is pale, pain etched into his features. “What do you need, Willow?”
My mouth opens. The words are right there. My heart races, nerves almost making me clam up. Instead, I reach into my pocket and pull out the amethyst. I toss it behind me on the porch and descend the rest of the stairs.
“I need you,” I whisper.
Rain makes my cheeks slick, like tears are sliding the length of them. And they might as well be. My heart is broken.
Logan’s hands clench and unclench, but there’s color in his face now. “It’s dangerous for you to be out here.”
“Is that all you can think about right now?” My throat is thick with emotion. “I know it’s dangerous, Logan. I know. And the only thing making that better, making me feel safe, was you.”
He’s so close he can reach me, but he doesn’t. His hands clench again at his sides. “I can’t…”
My heart cracks further. A sob rises in my throat and I dip my chin, trying to nod. “Fine, that’s fine.”
“No, Willow, you don’t understand. I can’t…do this without you.” Logan’s fingers brush my cheek and then lift my chin. “I’m trying‒I am‒but it’s too hard. I need to be with you.”
I gaze up into his eyes, heartbreak turning into hope. I don’t know whether to throw my arms around him or yell at him. “You’ve said this before,” I whisper.
“I know. And I…” He runs his free hand through his hair. Water drips down his temples. “I screwed up. I thought it was better not to tell you about your dad. And then by the time I did, it was so late, it felt like a betrayal.”
“It did.”
He nods. Swallows. “I didn’t handle it well. And all I wanted was to fix it. To get rid of Kane and fix this for you.”
Another flash of lightning illuminates the sky. I shiver in my sweater and realize for the first time I’m only in socks. They’re getting wet, water soaking through the bottoms.
“Willow,” Logan says, frowning. “It’s cold‒”
“No way. You’re not brushing me off this time.”
He smiles slightly. “I’m not trying to brush you off.”
“What are you trying to do, then?”
“Fix this.”
I won’t make the first move. I want to know he’s in this for me, too. I want to know we’re on the same page. “How are you going to do that?”
He reaches out, just one hand, slowly, like he’s afraid I’m going to run. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Then don’t.”
His lips curve in another slight smile. He moves in, his body blocking most of the rain and the wind, and curls his arms around me. I sink into his embrace, my hands flattening against his chest and then running up to his shoulders.
“Logan,” I whisper, my heart twisting.
His voice is broken when he answers. “I know. I’m sorry, Willow. I didn’t mean to keep anything from you.”
I swallow hard and nod, pressing my cheek to his chest. “Just don’t do it again.”
I hear his low rumble of laughter and the weight on my shoulders slides away. I lift my chin and find his lips. It’s instant heat when our mouths connect. I grip his shirt and hang on, feeling like the world is dropping from around us.
He ravages my mouth, making up for lost time. His arm tightens around me.
And then he stops.
“Willow,” Logan says, breath ragged. “Wait.”
I drag his mouth back to mine. “No waiting.”
“No.” He captures my hands in his. “Hold on.”
“Logan‒”
“Willow, please. I’m trying not to hurt you.”
I freeze, my eyes connecting with his. I realize now how much he’s holding back, how tense he still is. His fingers band lightly around my wrists, but it looks like a struggle for him to be that gentle.
After a breathless moment, I nod. “I understand.”
“This doesn’t mean I don’t want to be near you,” he growls. “You understand me, Willow? I want you. I want‒”
“Then take.” I press against him and feel the air rush from his lungs. “I won’t let you hurt me. I’ll tell you if you are.”
He opens his mouth to protest and I cover it with my own. My whole body aches to be close to him, to feel all of him against me, skin to skin.
“Please don’t say no,” I murmur against his lips. “I trust you not to hurt me.”
Lightning strikes closer this time. I tilt my chin to the sky and spot something fluttering to the tree Logan was standing under.
“Wes,” I say.
Logan swivels, reaching back to put his hand on my hip. “Go inside.”
“Come with me.”
The blackbird dives from the tree and swoops close to Logan’s head.
“What the hell?” Logan says, taking a swing.
I grip his hand tight. “Come on. Inside.”
We run for the stairs. Logan doubles over when we reach the top. “Crystal,” he murmurs, pain in his voice.
I fumble for the amethyst, grabbing it before opening the front door. The blackbird flies over Logan’s head, near the screen, and then in circles.
“Cheyenne!” I shout.
She appears from the kitchen and spots the bird. She disappears for another moment and returns with a broom.
“Inside,” I tell Logan.
He’s on his knees, fingers clawing at the planks of wood.
“Oh, God‒Logan!”
“Get inside,” Cheyenne says to me, steel in her voice. “Now.”
I dash into the house as she exits, waving the broom at the bird. Myra comes my way so I rush up the stairs and bury the stone under some clothes in Cheyenne’s closet before running back to the front door.
Myra helps Logan to his feet, but he freezes at the front door. He won’t move when I reach for him.
“Come on,” I say. “Get in.”
He glances back at Cheyenne. “I can’t.”
Cheyenne takes one last swing with the broom and the bird flies away. “Four against one,” she says, smiling at us. “I guess he realized he was outnumbered.”
“Cheyenne.”
She sighs and walks back in the house. “Yeah, yeah. Logan, come in.”
The invisible barrier vanishes. Logan steps into the house. I wrap my arms around him, wet from the rain, but not caring because he’s here.
“Are you okay?” I ask, pulling back to see his face.
He lifts his eyebrows, looking amused. “I’m fine.”
Cheyenne isn’t amused. She folds her arms. “Glad you’re fine. Why are you here?”
I start to say something, but she stops me with a glare. “I want an answer.”
Logan turns and props his hands on his hips, looking first at Cheyenne and then at his sister, who also has her arms folded.
“I see what’s going on,” he says.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“They’re trying to protect you.”
“Damn right,” Cheyenne says. “So if you’re here to pull some of the same bullshit you already have, you might as well go.”
“I’m not leaving,” Logan says.
“We can do this tomorrow,” I begin.
“No, we’ll do it now.” Logan takes my hand. “I’m not here to pull anymore bullshit. I’m here because it’s where I should have been in the first place.”
My heart squeezes with love for him. I have to give him credit. He is trying to fix this, and he’s doing it in a way that doesn’t involve leaving me behind.
“You got your act together, then?” Myra asks.
Logan lifts his eyebrows at her. “Yes.”
“Good.” Cheyenne returns the broom to the closet and eyes Logan again. “There are towels upstairs in t
he closet to dry off. Willow can show you. I’m heading to bed.”
She says goodnight and leaves us downstairs with Myra.
“Where did you put the crystal?” Myra asks.
“Upstairs in Cheyenne’s room.”
She frowns. “I think I’ll sleep down here tonight.”
“You don’t have to stay.”
Myra flashes Logan a smile. “Looks like everyone else is, I might as well, too. I want to take another look at the Book of Shadows. See if I can find anything else.”
“Anything else?” Logan asks.
She gestures to me. “Willow will fill you in. You’d better dry off‒you’re dripping, and Cheyenne was saying something earlier about new floors.”
Logan smiles at her before turning to me. “You’re going to fill me in. Upstairs.”
Desire shoots straight to my stomach. His eyes are dark and glued to me, full of everything we missed because of our fight.
“I have something…” My throat tightens. This isn’t easy for me. “I have something I need to tell you.”
Nothing big. Only that I love him. Only that I can’t do this without him either.
Logan slides his finger down my cheek. “Then let’s get upstairs quick.”
I start to turn, but he grabs me in his arms, lifting my feet from the floor. I hold onto his neck, my breath catching when he moves. He’s so fast, the stairs go by in a blur. He pauses in the middle of the hallway and I point to the unoccupied room to the left.
In another blink of an eye, we’re inside, with the door closed.
“Logan,” I gasp, still clinging to him.
He sets me on the bed. “Did I hurt you?”
“No. I…” I shake my head, still whirling from the dash upstairs. “How…have you really changed that much?”
A frown darkens his brow. He kneels next to the bed, pressing his hands on my knees. “I’m still me.”
I touch his cheek. “That’s not what I meant.”
He drops his chin and sighs. “I know what you meant. Yes, I’m changing. It’s happening so fast. That’s why I‒why it’s hard for me to be close to you. I don’t want to slip, to do something because I’m too strong. I don’t want to hurt you.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t believe he’ll really hurt me, but he’s right about slipping. He slipped outside my house when he thought I was Kane. He could have seriously hurt me.
“Are you okay to be up here? Can you feel the amethyst?” I ask.
“It’s fine.”
“I’m serious. It’s close by, I don’t want you to be hurting.”
His eyes meet mine. He doesn’t look like he’s hurting. He looks…more relaxed than I’ve seen him in a while. “Yes, I can feel it. And I don’t care. I need to be here with you, so I’ll deal with the amethyst.”
“Are you‒”
“Yes, I’m sure.” He flashes a smile. “No more questions.”
Logan kneels at the side of the bed, peels away my wet socks and tosses them in the corner. His hands are warm against my feet as he rubs the balls, deep strokes that make me sigh.
“Lie back,” he suggests. “I’ll grab some towels.”
“Wait.” My throat tightens again. Why is this so hard for me?
Logan looks up at me with a smile. His hair is mussed from the rain and a few stray drops still slide down his cheeks. “Yes?”
“That thing I needed to tell you.”
“What Myra was saying? About the book?”
“No. It’s…”
His eyes soften. His hands curl over my knees again, warming me now that I’ve started to shiver. “You can tell me anything, Willow.”
I lick my lips and nod. I know I can. But this isn’t something I’ve ever said to anyone before. No one except my dad.
“Logan.” His smile does me in and the words slip easily from my mouth. “I love you.”
Chapter 10
Logan’s hands freeze on my knees. His eyes search mine. Finally, he says, “I’m going to need you to repeat that.”
I laugh. “Repeat it?”
He nods.
“I love you.”
His arms are around me in an instant, lips finding mine in the dim lighting of the room. I feel warm now, despite our wet clothes. So happy I told him how I felt that I’m ready to say it again.
“Willow,” Logan murmurs, his breath brushing my ear. He leans back, eyes meeting mine. “I love you, too.”
“I know.”
His hands find the hem of my shirt, pulling the wet material away from my skin and over my head.
“The towels,” I begin.
“Screw the towels.”
Laughter rumbles in my chest. I help him pull the shirt off. My wet hair hangs down my back, cold against my skin. He crawls onto the bed and presses me back against the mattress. There’s hunger in his eyes, but he takes it slow.
“Logan.”
I reach for him, but he captures my wrists gently in his hands and pins them to the bed. “I have to be careful, Willow. You have to do something for me.”
“Anything,” I say, wishing he’d let me touch him.
“Tell me if I hurt you.”
“You won’t.”
He leans in, brushing his lips across my cheek and resting them against my ear. “You have to, Willow, or we can’t do this. It’s too much of a risk.”
I stare into his eyes for a long moment, realizing I’ve never wanted him more. Also realizing he’s doing this because he loves me, too, and if he hurts me again, it’ll break him.
“I’ll tell you,” I whisper.
“Good.”
Instead of releasing my wrists, he binds them with one hand, keeping them firm above my head. He uses the other to slide down my arm, over my shoulder and across my side.
I release a breath. “No fair.”
He smiles. “Never said I play fair.”
I shiver when he reaches my stomach and brushes his fingers at the band of my jeans. “Logan.” There’s an ache in my voice that makes his eyes find mine again.
“Yes, Willow?”
“I missed you.”
He releases my wrists and pulls me into his arms. They band tight around me, almost too tight, but I don’t want him to let go. He buries his face in my shoulder, voice muffled when he says, “I missed you, too.”
I take the lead and straddle him. I fuse my lips to his, my tongue seeking entrance while I slide my fingers in his hair. It’s slick and cool. His hands come around my back, fingers unlatching my bra.
It falls to the floor behind me as I pull off Logan’s shirt and toss it over with my bra. His hands slide down my back, skimming my ribs and making me shiver again.
“You’re cold,” he murmurs.
“Not for long.”
I try to push him down, but he shakes his head with a smile. “Not this time.”
In one swift movement, I’m on my back. My breath rushes out in surprise.
Logan grins. “My turn.”
He trails kisses down my cheek, my jaw, to my shoulder, and then farther, stopping between my breasts. He takes one nipple in his mouth and I bow off the bed, pressing into him. His hands slide to my pants, removing them with my panties in one swift pull.
I sigh as his fingertips brush over my sides and my stomach.
In another quick moment, his pants are off and his whole body presses mine to the mattress. “Are you okay?” he asks, voice low and rough.
I make a noise of agreement in my throat.
His eyes are still anxious. “You have to tell me, Willow.”
“I’m okay. Please, Logan, don’t stop anymore. I need you.”
With those words, he slides into me, slow and gentle. My hands clench around his shoulders as he begins to move. There’s love between us this time, so strong I can almost touch it. And as he reaches his peak, his arms come around me, holding me tight as his body shudders.
“I love you,” he says, breathless.
“I l
ove you, too.”
I meant to tell Logan about the spell last night, but by the time I had the chance, I was too tired. I fell asleep folded in his arms and happy that my heart seemed to have mended itself with Logan nearby.
When I open my eyes and sunlight is shining through the window of Cheyenne’s spare bedroom, I wince and roll over, expecting to find Logan.
The bed is empty.
Clutching the sheet to my chest, I sit up, worry threatening to creep in. I start to get out of bed when the door opens and Logan walks in.
“Morning,” he says.
His hair is wet like he just took a shower, and he looks rested. His smile is swift, but it fades quickly when he sees my face. “What’s wrong?”
I give myself a mental shake. “Nothing.”
He sits on the bed next to me, so close I smell soap and shampoo. He probably had to use Cheyenne’s, but he smells good. “I like to think we got past all this last night.”
“Past what?”
He trails a finger down my bare shoulder. “Avoiding questions. Not telling each other things. I tried to take this on myself and it was wrong. But if I’m going to be open with you and trust we can do this together, you have to do the same with me.”
I lean into him, breathing deep. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s just…when I woke up and you weren’t here, I got worried.”
He shifts to face me, sliding his hands down my arms and linking my fingers with his. “I’m here, Willow. I promise.”
I glance away, amused with myself. “So this must be what it feels like.”
“What?”
I flick a glance back at him but can’t hold his gaze. “Love.”
It makes me feel vulnerable. And wonderful. And terrified. And safe. All at the same time.
He grips my chin and turns my head to face him. “Yes. Love feels like wanting to be with someone no matter what. So I’m here now. And it means a lot you told me how you felt.”
It still feels weird. Like a new skin. I avoided relationships for just this reason in the past. I don’t like feeling vulnerable, and more than that, I don’t like knowing the person I care about is vulnerable, too. They can get hurt. I could lose them.
And if I lost Logan…
“What is it now?” he asks, fingers squeezing mine. “Did I hurt you last night?”