Linger

by Lauren Jameson

  Her arms were shaking, but still she tried to think of the best way to pick Six up without injuring him further.

  “I’ve got it.” Logan landed beside her on the lawn, one of his large arms gesturing Mrs. Donovan and the caterwauling cat back. Running his hands over Six’s tiny body, he finally gathered the little dog into his hands, standing at the same time.

  I can do this, Scarlett thought as she stood with them. She needed to help, needed to be part of fixing what she had done.

  But then she saw the splintered white bone sticking out of Six’s tiny little chicken leg and had to slap a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming with hysteria.

  • • •

  “Pull yourself together.” Logan made his tone deliberately harsh as he laid Six on the table in his exam room. Blood had matted the fur of his leg, staining the pristine paper sheet beneath his body crimson.

  Scarlett was standing just inside the door to the room, looking as though she’d been the one hit by a car. He knew from her references that she’d handled worse than this and with apparent ease.

  But she’d never had to perform surgery to fix something that she’d caused, though she couldn’t have done anything to prevent it. And she’d never had to do surgery on her dog.

  And because it was her dog, Logan would do whatever it took to fix him back up. And for that he needed a second set of hands.

  “It looks worse than it is, Scarlett.” His hands covered with blood, he gestured toward his bag with his head. “Two fractures, bone went through the skin, one other gash. He’ll be fine. But we need to give him morphine to knock him out. I need you to draw it up for me.”

  Scarlett looked back at him, eyes wide and unfocused. She was so pale that he was pretty sure she was going into shock herself.

  He knew she was stronger than that. And he needed her.

  “Dr. Malone!” His tone came close to shouting, which caused Six to whimper again but caught Scarlett’s attention. “Go into my bag. Determine a morphine dose for a seven-pound canine and draw it up.”

  Scarlett blanched, presumably at the idea that hitting Six with her car had caused him to need morphine.

  “So help me God, Scarlett, if you don’t snap out of it, I’ll whip your ass myself.” The statement sounded so strange coming out of his mouth that Scarlett finally seemed to jolt out of her stupor, a flush of pink coming into her cheeks.

  “Shit.” Hurrying across the room, she opened Logan’s medical bag and pulled out the drug and a fresh syringe. Six whined when she approached with the needle.

  “I’m so sorry, buddy.” Shaving away a patch of hair on the animal’s rump, Scarlett slid the needle into his skin and depressed the plunger. A minute later, Six visibly relaxed, the tension in his tiny muscles starting to droop until he looked like he was asleep.

  “I’m so sorry,” Scarlett whispered as Logan washed up at the sink in the room. But as she spoke, she was getting out the supplies they would need to reset and stabilize two fractured bones and to sew up the gashes.

  His strong woman was still with him. So even though he wanted to take care of her first, he gave her instructions, and together they mended and set and stitched, and in one case cleaned up a puddle of doggy vomit.

  “All done.” Scarlett looked at Logan with eyes that were more than a little wild when he snipped the thread to the last suture. Six was still out, with several bald patches where they’d had to shave his fur, but his breathing was deep and even, aided by the narcotic, and Logan’s professional opinion was that he was going to be just fine.

  “Come on.” Logan set fencing around the table so that Six couldn’t fall off if he woke up. “Staying here to stare at him won’t do him any good and will only make you more upset.”

  He watched as two shiny trails of tears spilled over from her eyes. He’d never seen her cry, and it just about sent him to his knees.

  • • •

  “It was my fault,” Scarlett said, the guilt stabbing through her like a knife. “I was going too fast.”

  “Scarlett, you were driving down the road like you’ve done a hundred times before. Like I’ve done a thousand times. It was an unfortunate accident. It’s not your fault.” Logan looked at her, hesitated for a moment, then scooped Scarlett into his arms. She tensed, then let herself melt against him as he carried her into the kitchen and deposited her on a chair.

  “His vitals are good. He’s young and he’ll heal fast. It could have been far worse.” Scarlett blanched as Logan turned to wash his hands at the kitchen sink, though she knew he hadn’t intended to add to her guilt.

  But it could have been worse. She could have killed the poor little dog that she thought she’d saved.

  “I’m making you some soup and some tea.” Logan pulled a pot from one of the cupboards.

  “No.” Scarlett’s stomach rolled at the thought of ingesting anything.

  “Remember what I said about the whip?” Logan’s voice was mild but underlaid with steel as he found a can of soup and opened it. “You need something so you don’t go into shock. You’ll eat.”

  “Remember that you’re not the one who gets to hold the whip in this relationship.” Scarlett knew she was being nasty, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She felt awful—worse than she remembered feeling anytime in recent memory.

  She didn’t deserve comfort, so she let her misery spill forth.

  Logan was silent as he heated the soup, ladled some into a bowl, and brought it to the table. Scarlett watched, feeling like she was underwater, as he set it down in front of her, then drew a chair close to her.

  “I’m well aware that I’m not the one who holds the whip.” He spooned up a bite of soup and held it to her lips. Incredulous that he would think to do so when she was being so awful, Scarlett opened her mouth and swallowed.

  “But we’re in this together because we take care of each other’s needs.” He spooned up more soup and pressed it to her lips. His words had her furrowing her brow in puzzlement.

  She was supposed to be the strong one. She was the one who was supposed to take care of him—giving him the bracelet had been a symbol of that.

  But she’d watched as the alpha male in him had taken over during the surgery to repair Six’s fractures. And now he was nurturing her the way she’d seen some subs do to their Doms—serving her, pampering her.

  It felt good. It felt right.

  Did it matter so much if what they had together fell neatly into a predetermined slot? He was a domineering, alpha male, yet chose to submit during sex, which didn’t make a hell of a lot of sense.

  So why couldn’t she just let him take care of her now, since it felt so right?

  With that thought in her head, she let him lead her up the stairs to his bathroom, let him draw her a bath filled with pine-scented bubbles. When he undressed her like she was a doll, then carried her into the tub and sank into the water with her, she felt a little bit of the coldness inside of her begin to thaw.

  She borrowed his strength as she leaned back against him, held tight in his large, capable arms. When she’d siphoned enough of his energy, she finally managed to form the question that had been swirling through her mind.

  “How do you deal with it? When you lose a patient?” She knew he wouldn’t think she was silly for referring to animals as patients, though some would, because he felt the same way. He would understand that every animal who looked up at them with wide, innocent eyes was asking for help the way a human would.

  And so—to her, at least—causing an animal pain was akin to causing harm to a child. She didn’t think she’d ever forget the image of Six lying crumpled on the ground by her tire.

  “I won’t give you some song and dance about the circle of life, or any of that bullshit.” Logan’s arm tightened around her waist, and Scarlett pictured herself pulling strength from the embrace. “It will never b
e easy, not when you lose a patient, not even when one is hurt.”

  “Then why do we do it?” Maybe she’d chosen the wrong career path—she’d fallen to pieces down there, when Logan had needed her help.

  “We do it because it’s the right thing to do, and because somebody has to.” Logan pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then gently began to rub her shoulders.

  “And sometimes the only way to get through is . . . just to get through.”

  • • •

  Scarlett woke in the middle of the night with her heart pounding a wicked rhythm up into her throat. Caught in a blind panic, though it took her a moment to remember why, she frantically searched the room for Logan, tendrils of cold air creeping across her skin when she couldn’t find him.

  The sheets on his side of the bed were cool. He’d been gone for a while. Sliding from beneath the quilt, Scarlett reached for her robe against the chill of the air and made her way downstairs in the dark to check on Six . . . and on Logan.

  “Oh.” She stopped short when she stepped into the living room. Logan had built a fire, which had burned down to no more than glowing coals and small flickers of blue flame.

  And on the floor in front of the fire was a makeshift bed comprised of pillows, couch cushions, and blankets.

  Six was on a cushion of his own, and even from the doorway she could see that his breathing was normal.

  And laid out on the floor, looking ridiculously long on the makeshift bed, was Logan. Dr. Logan Brody, her submissive, guarding over the teeny-tiny dog that she cared about.

  And looking at that scene, Scarlett fell head over heels. Crazily, truly madly deeply in love.

  Her heart full, Scarlett moved quietly toward where they slept—her two boys. Rearranging the quilts so that Logan’s feet didn’t stick out at the bottom, she then ran her hands over Six gently, reassuring herself that the tiny heartbeat was steady.

  Six gave a sleepy, disoriented yip, and Scarlett felt happier in that moment than she had in a long time. She curled up next to Logan on the floor, wrapped her arms around him, squeezed tightly.

  And together, they fell asleep.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Something smells good.”

  Scarlett turned, light on her feet despite the early hour, as Logan stumbled through the archway that led from the living room to the kitchen. His golden hair was sticking straight up, and he had creases from his pillow on his cheek.

  “Just checked Six. He’s still sleeping, and he might for a bit longer. He’ll be hungry when he wakes up, though.” Wearing just the underwear he’d thrown on after their bath the night before, Logan crossed the kitchen to the coffeepot. It was all so blessedly normal—so much like what she’d yearned for her whole life, when she’d felt like she never quite fit into any of the families she lived with—that the words fell from her lips before she could truly think them through.

  “I love you.”

  And in that moment, in her heart, she really believed that they wouldn’t need anything else. She could finish her internship here and then open her animal hospital. It didn’t have to be in Vegas. Or maybe she didn’t have to open the hospital at all—it seemed so very far away at the moment, anyway. She could work with Logan—partners in a practice. And she would find another way, an even better way, to help local children in need.

  Her smile started to fade when she realized that Logan hadn’t said anything in response. She anxiously searched his face, but he remained as he was, frozen by the coffeepot.

  His face was set in an expressionless stare.

  Scarlett’s heart thudded unpleasantly against her rib cage. What had happened to the sweet submissive who had taken care of her the night before?

  “I know you feel the same.” He did. She was sure of it.

  But the way he was looking at her—like a man being burned at the stake—had terror clawing up inside her throat.

  “I didn’t mean for this to happen.” He wasn’t saying he didn’t love her, exactly, but those sure weren’t words that any woman wanted to hear after she’d bared her soul to a man.

  “For what to happen, exactly?” Turning the burner off, Scarlett set the pan of eggs aside and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I can’t give you what you need.” She could hear the pain in his voice, as well as the determination. “I didn’t think you . . . I didn’t . . .”

  “Didn’t what?” Temper was surfacing with her panic. She gestured at the bracelet on his wrist with a nod. “You didn’t mean to accept that? Didn’t mean for us to find something so wonderful together?”

  “This can’t work long-term.” Logan crossed his arms over his chest, unconsciously mimicking her stance. His tone held a trace of the belligerence she’d heard in it the first night they’d met.

  “Why?” Scarlett demanded. “You know by now that there’s nothing you can tell me that will send me running. So tell me why.”

  His jaw set, Logan met her eyes. The resolution Scarlett saw there told her everything she needed to know.

  No matter what she did, no matter how she pushed him to face the reality of the feelings between them, he had already locked a part of himself away so tightly that no one was getting at it.

  Not even the most determined of Mistresses.

  “All right, then.” She didn’t even recognize her own voice. Her mind ran through her choices—and she came to the conclusion that she really didn’t have even one.

  All of the power in this kind of relationship lay with the submissive. She had done all she could to get to his heart—hell, she’d thought she had, that he trusted her enough to let her in.

  She’d been wrong. And she couldn’t flog that last bit of trust into him, couldn’t tease it from him with sex.

  She’d been willing to give him everything. But before she’d even had a chance to tell him that, he’d shut down, put himself on lockdown.

  And from the familiar shutters she could see lowering over his eyes, she wasn’t going to get them open again.

  “All right,” she repeated, trying to get ahold of herself. Her insides felt like they were slowly turning to lead, making her limbs heavy, her brain slow. “I’d like the day off, then, please. To move my things.”

  “What?” Now it was Logan’s turn to sound panicked. “Move them where?”

  “I’ll finish the internship. I’ll meet my obligations.” Logan, she knew, had committed himself to a busier workload in the spring, thinking that he would have a second pair of hands, and she wouldn’t renege on her word. “But I think it would be best if I got an apartment in town.”

  Anger licked over his features. “A condition of the internship was that you live here.”

  “Logan, don’t.” Suddenly weary despite her pain, Scarlett held up a hand.

  “Don’t go.” Scarlett heard the same panic that she felt in Logan’s voice. It made everything worse.

  He felt the same way that she did—she knew it. So why the hell couldn’t he—wouldn’t he—take that final step?

  “What did you think I would do when this moment came?” And she saw now that he had expected it to come, all along. He knew that in the end he wasn’t going to give her that last bit of himself—not because he didn’t want to, but because, in his mind at least, he couldn’t.

  “I . . . Scarlett.” Logan stepped toward her, and when the bright morning sunlight glinted off of his bracelet, Scarlett winced. “Please. You know how I feel. I want you for as long as you’ll have me. I just . . . can’t . . . not like that.”

  She wouldn’t cry. She was too numb for that. But as Scarlett made her way to the stairs, where she planned to go pack up her hopes along with her floggers and her work boots, anger began to melt some of the ice in her veins. She turned, one hand on the doorjamb, and let her eyes shoot daggers at Logan.

  “That’s bullshit. You could have me
forever. We’re good together.” The anger built and built, and she wanted to scream, to throw things.

  Later, when she was alone, she would.

  “This secret you have—I think you keep it on purpose. It’s your cushion, to keep you from fully submitting, from committing to someone, to letting yourself go that far. You won’t risk getting hurt.”

  Now it was his turn for his eyes to narrow in anger. Like blue ice, they frosted over, and his lips pinched together before he responded. “You don’t know anything about it, little girl.”

  “No, I don’t, because you won’t tell me.” Scarlett sucked in a mouthful of air. “I would have stayed, you know. The reason I was so distracted in the car yesterday was because I realized that I felt more at home out here, on the farm, than I ever had back in Vegas. I wanted to stay. But I won’t settle. And I won’t let you settle, either.”

  A choked sound escaped Logan. “Scarlett . . .”

  “No.” She held up her hand again. It was too late. She needed his feelings without the safety net he wrapped around himself.

  “We both deserve it all. And unless you’ll give me that last piece of you, I’d rather have nothing at all.”

  • • •

  Logan wallowed in his misery for two full days. He snapped at people on the phone, shouted at his surroundings, and muttered until even the horses looked at him like he was crazy.

  “Just you wait,” he told Loki when the horse rolled his eyes after Logan had forgotten to bring him an apple yet again. “Some mare is going to get you tied up in knots, and then she’s going to disappear, even though she said she’d stay.”

  The bracelet winked on his wrist, mocking him. He hadn’t been able to take it off, though he had hidden it under long sleeves when Scarlett had come to the house to do the chores that would fulfill the terms of her internship.