by K J Bell
Brent spun on his heels and marched back to Logan. “You’re the one that hasn’t figured out she’s taken,” Brent spit.
Cheap shot, Brent.
“Yeah, well, she didn’t seem so taken when she had her tongue down my throat. I think she even liked it,” Logan threw back at him, aiming straight for the heart.
“Logan!” I shouted.
Brent’s fists were clinched ready to strike, his eyes dark blue, almost midnight, without mercy. I knew whatever came next was going to hurt.
“Yeah, that’s how pity feels. She’d never really care about someone like you.”
“Brent!” I screamed horrified, not believing what I just heard come out of his mouth.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Logan asked, meeting Brent, chest to chest.
“Exactly what it sounded like, Logan. You’re trash,” Brent replied, not backing down even an inch.
I threw my hands up in the air completely frustrated with this charged display of testosterone. “Oh my God, stop it! Both of you. I can’t take it anymore. Kill each other if you want, but leave me the hell out of it.”
“I’m sorry, Claire,” Logan spoke first. “I’ll go in the other room and give you two a minute.” He left the room throwing daggers at Brent with his eyes, on his way out. Brent stood absolutely still, glowering at him until he was out of the room.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked Brent, once I was sure Logan was out of earshot.
“He just gets to me, Claire. I told you. I’m really fucking jealous and when he touches you, and I feel his sense of comfort with you, I lose my mind.” He approached me and brushed the pad of his thumb over the trace of bruising Logan had left on my face. “You’ve taken enough abuse from him, Claire. It’s time to let go.”
I sighed heavily, rolling my eyes. “Oh, my God. I can’t do this with you right now. I need go find Layken. Do you think you can control yourself until I get back and then we can leave?” That came out more patronizing than I had intended.
Brent turned away from me, acting insulted. I wanted to reassure him I loved him and Logan was nothing more than my friend, but the way he behaved infuriated me. I needed to calm down so I wouldn’t say something I couldn’t take back.
I went down the hall looking for Layken, stopping at a door when I heard her voice coming through it. The door was open a crack. I started to knock but stopped when I heard Mandy crying.
“I had no idea, Mandy. Why didn’t you tell me?” I heard Layken consoling her friend.
Mandy spoke though her tears and I chewed on the inside of my cheek listening to her.
“I was embarrassed, Layken. I mean, who wants to admit their first time happened while they were drunk with someone who doesn’t even love them,” she cried. Her eyes shot up to the crack in the door and I thought for a minute she had seen me but I wasn’t sure. She returned her eyes to Layken, evidentially not seeing me.
I needed to leave. It wasn’t right to listen in on their private conversation. I started to knock again and then heard the words that tore me in two.
“Did Brent ever explain himself?” Layken asked, with anger in her voice.
I must have heard incorrectly. As wrong as it felt, I leaned closer and continued listening.
“Brent told me it was a mistake and he didn’t mean for it to go that far. He said he was in love with someone else,” Mandy wailed, finishing her story.
Layken’s voice was loud and very clear. “Brent was in love with someone else but he had sex with you? Girl, I hope you smacked the hell out of him!”
I froze. Brent lied to me. Anger and hurt surged through my body like a lightning bolt. The walls started to vibrate. I tried to control my thoughts so that I wouldn’t destroy Layken’s house. I knew I would have way too much to explain if I let things go too far, but rage was pouring from my broken heart, driving the storm. The house seemed to sway and I felt dizzy. Layken’s door flew open and she stood gaping at me with a terrorized expression.
“Claire, what’s going on?” she screamed hysterically.
Picture frames were falling from the walls, crashing to the floor and then I heard his voice.
“Claire, what is it? Calm your thoughts, Claire.” Usually when Brent spoke, I could calm my thoughts and rein in my anger, but it wasn’t working since he was the very cause of my anger. My head was pounding and my nose was gushing blood. I tasted the combination of metal and salt as the blood mixed with tears and slid into my open mouth.
It was Logan’s voice that brought me back this time.
“Claire, sweetheart, are you okay?” He put his hands on my shoulders and locked eyes with me, the warm amber tone, soothing me. “Calm down, Claire. Everything is going to be fine.”
Logan’s words were working. I started to relax until I heard Brent.
“Leave her the fuck alone, Logan.” Brent exploded.
The room stilled instantly, halted by my anger.
“How dare you,” I shouted at Brent.
Brent looked over my shoulder to where Layken and Mandy were standing. I knew he read my thoughts. I was more than a little upset. I guessed my thoughts were screaming in his head. I sniffed tasting blood in the back of my throat. Layken brought me some tissues and I wiped my nose, handing them back to her.
“Do you like what you heard Brent?” I chastised.
“Claire,” he reached for me. “It’s not like that.”
“Don’t even think about touching me. Do you hear me?” I shouted, angry tears blurring my vision. Brent ran his fingers through his hair groaning and moved closer to me.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You heard what she said,” Logan spoke firmly as he stepped in front of me, blocking Brent’s path.
“Get out of my way, Logan.” Brent hissed.
“Not happening, Brent. You wanna beat the crap out of me go ahead, but she doesn’t want you near her right now,” Logan replied, standing his ground.
Brent glared at me over Logan’s shoulder. “Claire, please let me explain.”
“Explain Brent? What is there to explain? It’s pretty clear. You lied to me, you lied right to my face, twice. The first time was just a while ago when you said she was ‘nothing’,” I reminded him pointing to Mandy. “And, the second time was last night when you wanted me in the worst way, so, you told me you had never been with anyone that way. How do you think you can explain any of this, Brent?”
“I wasn’t lying. Listen to me please. I wasn’t with her like that,” Brent claimed, also pointing at Mandy, speaking softly, and pleading with me to understand.
Mandy finally spoke. “It was like that for me. God, Brent, you’re an asshole,” she remarked, running back into Layken’s room.
“Yes, I agree!” Layken spat, following her friend, slamming the door behind her.
I looked straight into Brent’s icy blue eyes, stained with pain and regret, and didn’t believe him. I should never have allowed myself to trust him.
“How could you do this?” I asked, feeling my heart deflate.
Brent hung his head in his palms, brushing his hands up and down his face a few times before he spoke. “I’m sorry. Can we just go somewhere private and talk about this? Please? It’s not as bad as you think. I promise you.”
“No way! I have nothing more to say to you.” I wanted to leave. It was too painful. I needed some distance to think about what would happen to us. “Logan, can you take me someplace please, I need to get out of here.”
“Sure,” Logan replied, squeezing my hand, giving a little tug towards the front door.
Brent attempted to side step Logan. “There is no way I’m letting you leave with him, Claire,” he threated.
“You don’t get a say, Brent. Not now,” I said with venom in my voice.
“Not like you have ever given me one, Claire,” Brent countered with just as much venom.
Damn him!
I pushed past Logan and shoved my finger into Brent’s chest.
“Don’t you dare! Do you hear me? You lied to me, so don’t even bring up trust. You hypocrite! Maybe my mind knew all along what my heart refused to believe. I never should have trusted you,” I sniffed, holding my ground, straining to hold back tears. I pursed my lips regretfully knowing that statement would hurt Brent a great deal and as mad as I was at him, I didn’t want to hurt him.
“Claire, don’t say that. Please,” Brent pleaded, attempting to put his arms around me. I wanted nothing more than to let him soothe the pain away and offer some rational explanation, but I just couldn’t stand the sight of him right now.
“Don’t touch me,” I hissed, stepping away from his embrace. “I thought I made that perfectly clear. Let’s go, Logan.”
Brent grabbed my elbow as I past. “Claire, I won’t let you leave. You know I won’t,” he protested, tugging on my arm.
“I think you will,” Logan grumbled, pulling something from the front pocket of his sweatshirt. I heard the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking. “She wants to leave and you are going to let her,” Logan told Brent, pointing the gun at him.
Brent brought his hands up in front of him, surrendering to Logan.
“Logan, what in God’s name are you doing with that thing?” I screamed, horrified by the sight of the weapon in his hand.
“I told you Kace scared the hell out of me. I took it from my dad.”
I should have told him to put it away, but I didn’t. I needed to be far, far away from Brent and his lies. Knowing in my heart Brent would never let me go if Logan gave the gun up, I kept quiet.
“Please don’t do this, Claire,” Brent pleaded.
“You did this, dammit! You did this!” I shouted, choking out my resentment.
“Let’s go, Claire, I got you,” Logan instructed.
We backed away from Brent slowly, and made our way to the front door. Brent kept his eyes on me but never made a move to stop us. I saw a lone tear roll down his cheek and for a brief moment, I almost went to him, but the shards that remained of my broken heart refused to allow it.
As we opened the door, Reese and Brooke were coming in hand in hand. Reese sensed immediately something was wrong. His eyes bulged out when he saw the gun in Logan’s hand. Brooke clung tightly to him.
“What the hell is going on, Claire?” he asked.
“Ask your friend,” I huffed indignantly, and slammed the door after we went through it.
When we got to Logan’s truck, I lost all control of my emotions and sobbed uncontrollably. I expected to see Brent run out of the house after us, and for a moment considered running back to him, but he didn’t come.
CHAPTER 20
“Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defense.” – Mark Overby
Logan locked the gun away in a small box under the back seat. He backed out of the driveway before speaking.
“You’re going to be fine, Claire,” he said, putting his hand on my knee squeezing gently.
I lifted my head. “I know I will. It just hurts. I trusted him with my heart and he stomped on it.”
He nodded his understanding. “Where to, sweet girl?”
“Can we go back to your uncle’s loft?”
“Sure thing,” he agreed, smiling at me.
We pulled to a stop sign and I looked out of the window. On one side of the street was the park my Mom always brought me to as a kid. On the other side of the street was a cemetery. I noticed Mr. Shattuck leaning over one of the gravestones. Our eyes connected and I waved at him.
“Who are you waving at, Claire?” Logan asked.
“Mr. Shattuck.”
Logan expression changed into something curious. “But, Claire, Mr. Shattuck has been dead for years.”
That was puzzling. Mr. Shattuck was as real to me as Logan was, smiling and waving back warmly. When I returned my eyes to the cemetery he wasn’t there. Why was I seeing him if he was no longer with us? Was he in some sort of trouble?
“He seemed so real,” I said, turning toward the park. “Can we stop here?”
“The park…or the cemetery?” Logan questioned, making exaggerated hand motions to each side of the street.
I rolled my eyes. “The park. I could use some fresh air.”
“Phew,” Logan said, “Because if you’re seeing dead people, I’m not about to set foot in that cemetery.”
I couldn’t help laughing.
“Ha, ha,” I said, attempting to sound annoyed.
Logan helped me out of his truck and I was grateful. It sat so high off the ground, and I was dreading jumping down for fear of turning an ankle in the process.
The park was exactly as I remembered it, including the merry-go-round.
“My mom used to spin me on that thing so fast that I felt like barfing after,” I told Logan, pointing at the merry-go-round and frowning inwardly at the memory.
Logan tossed me a playful look. “Want to give it a whirl?” he challenged.
“What? No way,” I answered instantly, backing away from him.
There were two reasons it was a bad idea. The first being, I was not exactly sure I trusted Logan not to spin the thing until I was sick. There was still a little part of me that worried if old Logan would come roaring back one day. I didn’t want to be in a vulnerable place if that happened. The second reason was probably closer to the truth. I knew the memories of my mom would come rushing back to me the second I stepped foot on the carousel.
Logan rolled his eyes. “Come on. I’ll go easy on you.”
“I don’t know, Logan.”
“I know what you’re thinking, Claire. Your mom would get a kick out of you reliving a little piece of you childhood and remembering her fondly. Do it for your mom,” he suggested reassuringly.
Holy Crap! If I didn’t know better, I would think he actually read my thoughts.
I could do it for mom. “Race you there,” I teased, sprinting towards the circular metal contraption that seemed so much larger to me years ago.
“Hop on,” Logan dared, and I did.
The metal was freezing, but I didn’t care. I welcomed the distraction. Logan started spinning the carousel slowly at first, grabbing each handle and giving it a push when they passed. He laughed a carefree boyish laugh that was contagious, and soon I was laughing just as I had as a little girl.
“Get ready, Claire!” he taunted.
“Not too fast, Logan. I mean it. I will barf on you,” I threatened through a giggle.
“Ya, right,” he shouted, forcing the machine to move faster and faster.
The world around me flew by in streaks of brilliant colors and my head became light. I rolled with the sensation, clinging to the handles, fighting gravity, enjoying how carefree I felt. Dizziness pooled in my stomach, but I didn’t want it to stop. I threw my head back with exaggerated force and my hair flew out around me, flying in the breeze. Through the whistling around me I heard my mother’s laughter, echoing my own. I was lost in the moment, frozen to a memory in time when my life was simple – far from worries – far from heart ache.
“Okay, you can stop it now,” I yelled, thinking for a minute he might keep the ride going to torture me. To my relief, he gripped the handle, running alongside, dragging his feet until it stopped. I was bursting with laughter and my eyes watered from the wind, but I felt so alive.
“That was awesome,” I said, catching my breath.
“You’re awesome,” Logan grinned. I started to stand, but my body swayed back and forth. I started to fall, still dizzy from the ride, or maybe it was my thoughts.
“I got you,” Logan said, grabbing me around the waist. Our eyes met with uncertainty. Our lips were so close, his breath sweet and minty. “You good?” he asked.
I started to answer but felt a buildup of emotions, so I threw caution to the wind and put my lips on his. Logan pulled me closer and kissed me. When he kissed me the first time, it repulsed me. He had been taking something greedily from me. When he kissed
me the second time, just before Brent showed up at the loft, it was confusing and emotional. This kiss was giving me something – warm and affectionate – using his mouth to show me how he felt about me. He grabbed a handful of my hair and held me firm and a low groan escaped his throat. I kissed him back, pressing my tongue firmly into his, reveling in the sensation of each tiny, minty, taste bud. He pulled away and drew my bottom lip into his mouth. Then the kiss was over.
“Sorry,” he breathed, looking like he had just been caught doing something wrong. I handled him like a child so often my heart squeezed, reminding me Logan was looking for the attention he missed growing up, as though he stalled somewhere in his toddler years.
“It’s okay,” I reassured him, placing a gentle peck on his swollen lips. “I didn’t say no, did I? Although I have to admit, my head’s not in the best place right now, Logan,” I confessed, kissing him once more on the cheek.
He smiled and let out a heavy breath. Logan and I understood each other on some higher level. It was something we shared and I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that.
“Come on, let’s swing,” I suggested and Logan followed.
We sat side by side on the swings and began talking. My feet dangled off the ground, contrary to Logan whose height allowed him to reach the ground. He rocked in the swing. I had to use my legs, pumping the swing to get it moving, which made him chuckle.
When I told him about Maggie, I could almost see the heavy burden leave his body, as though a crane latched onto the giant weight, pulling the load away, placing it far away from us. His amber eyes burned bright. “She really tried to help me, Claire, and I pushed her away. Then I found out what I did to her and it’s been eating at me. No matter why it happened, I was still responsible.”
In that moment I knew that there was only one Logan. He accepted no excuses for his bad behavior, finally winning his fight against the choleric, hurt bully that controlled him for too long.
“Well Logan, it seems you both have a second chance now,” I praised.
“Thanks to you,” he smiled pushing up until his legs were stiff and releasing the swing, lifting his feet off the ground. He pumped harder until the swing was high in the air.