Walked away from him with a good memory and a level head, then found the stable guy that she was supposed to be with. Would he have walked out of her life with his problems, and the woman that was hell bent on destroying him?
Would she still have Nic?
Still have Adam?
Still have the only family she’d ever truly known?
Her chest tightened and she knew the sob was bubbling up in her chest. How many times had she wished that?
She fisted her hand and felt the pull of freshly mending flesh tear and split. She tried to swallow the pain.
“Iz?”
She hunched toward the window. She could feel the abused skin slicken.
“What is it?” He swore and pushed a button on the screen. “Rest area or gas station,” he said.
A melodious voice said, “Working. Please choose from list below.”
The voice prompts filled the car as he maneuvered off the main road and into a town. The bright lights of a gas station blinded her.
She blinked away the fuzzy edges of sleep and saw that a few dry patches were bleeding. She must have slept through her time to use the ointment. The stiffness of her entire body told her that she’d slept way longer than she thought.
She cradled her hand against her chest and leaned over. She’d been out nearly seven hours. With even breaths, she tried to align her spine with the seat and sit up straight.
“I knew I should have woken you up.” He sighed. “So this is how it’s going to be between us? You’re never going to talk again? If you think that’s going to work then you’re delusional, babe.”
She scowled at him.
“You can give me the bratty scowl all you want. I’m not going to shut up, and I’m not going to let you shut me out. Aimee stole a lot from me, too. I loved them, too.”
She turned her face to the window.
“Yeah, go ahead and sulk. That’ll make the next few months awesome.”
He pulled up to the front of the store and went inside. He came back out holding a bag and went to her side of the car. She slapped the lock on the door and stared ahead.
“Oh, nice. What are you eight, for fuck’s sake?” He pulled the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door.
She held her arm against her chest and wouldn’t look at him.
He reached into the car and she jerked back. He pressed his thumb into the lapbelt’s buckle and unleashed her.
Fiona sat up in the back. She tucked her big head on Bella’s shoulder and nudged her. Automatically, she nuzzled against the warm dog. Fiona backed up and sat down on her seat again with a low chuff of a bark.
Logan eased her legs out and turned her so she faced him. “Let me see.”
She tried to take the bag from him. She could take care of herself.
He dumped the bag on her lap and took out the water and stack of napkins he’d taken from the store. He wet down a few and held out his hand palm up.
His green eyes were blazing with anger and hurt. She sighed and laid her hand on top of his. He gently blotted her flesh, murmuring soft apologies as he wiped away the abused flecks of skin.
He unearthed the bag at her feet and found the silvery gel that she used as a barrier on some of the worst of the burns that had thickened. His touch was so gentle and compassionate, in direct opposition to the emotions in his eyes.
The ball of tension got bigger with every act of care until her chest felt too full, her eyes stinging with blocked tears. At the bottom of the knapsack, he took out thin cotton coverings for her hands. They looked like huge oven mitts.
Where the hell had he gotten those?
They were perfect to cover her hands and not stick to every little bit. It would also keep her from staining everything. Half her sweatshirts were ruined from the greasy ointment.
Lastly, he got out her pills. Couldn’t he have given her those first?
Why didn’t she think to ask for them?
He opened the bottles, shook out one tablet from each. “Open up.” His eyebrow rose. “Don’t give me that look.” He rattled the two pills in his cupped hand. “So you mean to tell me that your ribs don’t hurt like a bitch?”
They did.
Everything hurt, dammit. She huffed out a breath and opened her mouth.
“Good girl.” He pulled out a straw from the bag and tucked it into the water. She closed her lips over it and took a long drink. His nostrils flared and a muscle in his jaw flexed as she kept swallowing.
She finally sat back and let the straw go. The seatbelt made a sharp zipping sound as he buckled her up.
“I’m going to take Fiona for a quick walk.” He cursed under his breath. “I didn’t ask if you needed to use the restroom.”
She shook her head.
“All right.” He stepped back and slammed her door.
She flinched. She’d really ticked him off. Well good, maybe he wouldn’t talk to her the rest of the trip.
∞♦ ∞
Logan opened the door for Fiona. She stared at him expectantly. One more female that wouldn’t talk to him.
“Need to do your business?”
She tilted her head and thumped her tail once. Jesus, she was a big fucker. She took up over three quarters of the seat. He unearthed her leash from the pocket behind his seat and clipped it to her collar.
Instantly she was up and out of the car.
Guess the leash was her signal.
He looked over at Isabella. He knew she was grieving and he had to get some patience shored up again. But the fact that she wouldn’t talk to him made him insane. He knew she could—she just chose to lock him out.
As if he didn’t carry a freightliner’s worth of guilt already.
He slammed the door and let Fiona tell him where she wanted do her thing. She was pretty much going to sniff everything in sight, so after ten minutes, he led her over to a small copse of trees. She did her doggie spin thing and finally finished.
He loaded her back into the truck only to find Izzy had moved to the backseat. Fiona thought this was an awesome turn of events and crawled into her lap, vibrating with happiness. Logan couldn’t even hold onto his mad with the soft smile that spread across Izzy’s face as the dog loved all over her.
She pushed Fiona off her and settled back. The dog curled onto her side and put her head in Izzy’s lap with a groaning sigh of bliss. Yeah, Fiona had found her person. Isabella absently rubbed under her chin to her chest and back in a soothing gesture as she looked out the window.
He’d been effectively ignored once more.
Logan got back behind the wheel and pulled out of the gas station. While he waited to take a left out and get back on the main road, he opened a soda. He was bone-tired, but he had another hour to go and he needed to be sharp.
The roads were winding and narrow this far up into the coastal area. Aidan Roth had found them a cabin that was out of the way, but close enough to a hospital if Isabella needed something.
Needing to occupy his mind beyond his own fucked up thoughts, he plugged his iPhone into the auxiliary port and found the playlist he used for his workouts. Def Leppard, Metallica, and a little Journey got him through the last leg of the drive. It was too dark to see much more than shadowy trees, but the scent of the lake went a long way to easing his tattered nerves.
By the time he found the main lodge, Izzy was asleep with the dog in the back again. He reached into the console for his baseball cap and decided against waking them. He locked the doors as he went in for the keys.
An older man shuffled out from a small office. “Hello there.”
“Are you Richard?”
“That I am, son. That must make you…” He flipped through papers on a clipboard on the counter and put on a pair of glasses. “Madigan, John C.” Dressed in plaid and denim, he pulled the glasses off and dropped them on top of the pages.
“Jack,” Logan said easily. He’d practiced in the shower and in the car on his way to the hospital. He was used to using false n
ames for hotels, but he’d never actually kept a name going. They usually used a pun on names or famous characters from movies.
The man scraped large, craggy fingers into his shock of white hair. “I was beginning to think you folks got lost.” His Maine accent lengthened the O and made it sound more like an A.
“My wife needed a pit stop.”
“As they do,” Richard said with a laugh. “As they do.” He turned and unhooked a key with a carved moose keychain. “This would be a little easier to navigate in the daytime, I’m afraid. You requested the most remote cabin we have.”
“Yeah. My wife and I are writers.”
“I’m not much of a reader. Anything like Stephen King?”
Logan laughed. His life hadn’t quite gotten to Stephen King levels, but it was damn close these days. He tried to think of a few authors he’d seen on Izzy’s shelves at the house. “More James Patterson meets Nora Roberts.”
“Never heard of ‘em.”
Logan figured they were safe from snooping if that was the case. “We’ve got a deadline looming so we figured we would get away from home and the intrusions.”
“Well, we’re on the fringes of the off-season here, so you’ll have plenty of time alone. And you look like the workout sort. There’s plenty of running trails through the woods.”
“Sounds amazing, sir.”
“We like it.” He handed Logan the key. “There’s a computer in the rec center off the lake if you need to do email and that kinda stuff. Not much of a signal up here for cell phones and such.”
Just him and Isabella.
Six months ago he would have killed for the time, right now he hoped they would make it through without untalking each other to death.
“Good to know.”
“Okay, take the main road all the way up until you can’t go anymore. You’ll know when you can’t. You’ll see a big railing that looks over the lake.”
Logan nodded. “All right.”
“Take a left and follow it up until you see three boulders about the size of your truck there.”
“Left then boulders, got it.”
“The boulders make a Y, you want to go to the right. That’s your cabin up there.”
“Sounds good. If I get lost, I’ll be back.” Logan smiled. “Maybe.”
“Just don’t get lost in December. Then there’s more a better chance of dead. Now, you’ll just have to stay in the car with a blanky.”
“Okay, then.”
Richard let out a booming laugh. “Just kiddin’, son. You’ll be fine.”
He tucked the key into his pocket. “I guess we’ll see you tomorrow sometime.”
“Night now.” The burly man turned and went back through the doorway to sit in front of the television.
The girls were still sleeping when he got back. Fiona gave a halfhearted thump of her tail but snuggled back into Izzy.
He followed the directions and his stomach actually pitched when he got to the top of the vista. The railing wasn’t much of a deterrent for going over the side. Well, at least not at first look. Once he got his breath back, he noticed that the log was reinforced with a steel beam.
By the time he navigated the pitted access road, his knuckles were white from holding onto the steering wheel so tight. When the cabin came into view, he finally relaxed. They really were in the middle of nowhere.
Trees shrouded the little cabin with its sloping roof and second level wraparound deck. Warm light spilled across the slate and stone walkway. Hearty gold flowers lined the stairs. It was just what they needed.
He got out and shut the door. Fiona sat up, but wouldn’t budge from Izzy’s side, who was still sleeping. He opened the back and gathered their bags, the dog bed, tucked the leash in his back pocket, and deposited them onto the porch. He found the moose key chain in his pocket and unlocked the front door. A small light saved the room from full dark, but he clicked a few more on to get a lay of the land.
The main living space was all natural pine, both floor and walls in an intricate post and beam set up that reminded him of home. Denim blue couches were grouped around the center of the room. A modest television stood on an entertainment center and two more faded red chairs flanked the room. The kind of chairs that Izzy loved. The sink in and read kind. They were right near a window, so he bet they got full light in the mornings.
He went back out to the porch and hauled in the bags and set them by the stairs. He tossed the dog bed near the back door. He had a feeling Fiona wasn’t the sleep on the floor kind of dog for bedtime.
Now all that was left was Isabella. He went back to the Escalade and opened the rear passenger door. She was reclined slightly in the big back seat, her head tucked into the small space between the seat and side of the car. The dome light cast a shadow to her lashes making them seem even longer. Her skin was achingly fragile. The glass cuts had faded to little silvery scratches along her cheeks and eyebrows.
He curled his fingers into the palm of his hand.
He missed touching her. He missed talking with her. He missed her laugh.
He just missed her.
It felt like he’d actually lost her ever since she’d learned about Nichole. He would have given his career, his money, his future career to change it. Anything so he didn’t have to cause her pain.
But he wouldn’t give her up.
She was alive, and she was his. He just had to remind her of that again.
“Izzy.”
She gave a sleepy little moan and turned toward his voice.
“Wake up, baby.”
Her eyes slitted open, vivid even in the low light. For a moment he saw the love that he used to wake up to every morning. Her soft smile chased away the demons that had been living in him for weeks now.
She lifted her hand to his face and saw the glove in her periphery. The light blew out like a candle and she pushed him away and tugged off the cotton covers he’d had made for her.
He bit back a sigh and stepped back. “Honey, we’re home.”
She slid out, snapping her fingers at Fiona who scrambled out after her. The big dog leaned against her thigh and Izzy idly scratched behind her ear. She headed for the walkway, leaving Logan to stare after her.
When she got to the door, she looked over her shoulder at him and then disappeared inside.
Logan scrubbed his hands over his face. Exhaustion had burrowed inside of him like a fistful of thorns. He couldn’t remember a day he didn’t hurt and he wasn’t tired at this point. He took her knapsack out of the front seat and followed her up the path.
She’d taken the smaller of the bags with her up the stairs. He hiked the bag over his shoulder and played pack mule with the rest. The stairs were narrow and lead to a loft-style room. It was all open.
A king sized bed was tucked under the sloping ceiling. Area rugs were scattered around in the same colors from downstairs. Two more couches and a chair clustered around a pellet stove.
The back door was open to the deck. She stood at the railing, the moonlight gleaming against the curtain of dark hair that had been blown back with the wind. She tipped her head back and he had to look away.
She didn’t want him.
Yet.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Bella looked out over the river. The water looked like glass in the dark, the crescent moon a shimmering cast that was just a little malformed with the current.
Kind of like her.
Just a little off balance. A blurry copy of the pretty one in the sky.
Fiona whimpered quietly next to her and she stroked her large head. She turned to find Logan bustling around the room. He had the suitcases open on the couch and was unloading tops, jeans, sweatshirts, and her favorite bulky cardigans.
With a quiet efficiency that belied his status as a badass rockstar, he unpacked and stored her clothes. But not only did he put them away, he did it in the same way she liked it.
His attention to detail had always amazed her, but knowing he was trying to
keep everything as normal as possible for her put that damn lump back in her throat. His shoulder and back muscles flexed and flowed under the worn thermal Henley as he hung her cardigans and dumped boots and sneakers into the bottom of the closet.
When he looked up to see her staring at him, he flashed a grin at her. The crooked one that had hooked her that first night. The one he’d given her as they pored over his record collection that first night.
She swallowed and turned away to the other suitcase.
“I got it. Why don’t you take a shower? I’m sure you miss hot water that wasn’t attached to antiseptic.”
Because she wanted one so bad, her hand faltered at her toiletry bag. How did he know so much about her when she felt so very adrift from herself? It was as if she didn’t know anything anymore.
How could he be so sure of every-damn-thing?
She nodded and closed herself into the large bathroom. A deep claw-footed tub was tucked under a wide window. It was powder white with brass handles and feet. A soak would probably help her ribs, especially after the way she’d been banged around in the ICU.
No. Don’t think about that.
Lydia’s stricken eyes. The endless agony that had come off of her in waves. Sorrow and pain—it was a toxic brew that she’d been stewing in. Would she end up like Lydia?
She already felt it happening.
Her words were stuffed behind all that sorrow. And she’d lashed out at Logan already. Again and again, but she couldn’t stop. Every time she looked at him, she saw what they’d had and how arrogant they’d been even after every warning told them to back off.
She shivered and pushed those thoughts away. She was tired of the loop that seemed to play in her head like a horror movie soundtrack. All grinding notes that left her off balance and on edge. She trailed the tips of her fingers over the lip of the tub, but ultimately passed it by. The idea of sitting in water after days of getting sponge baths was a little too close to hospital life. She toed off her clogs and unsnapped her jeans before shucking her sweatshirt and tank top. She couldn’t quite manage to get a regular bra on yet.
She turned the dials on the shower to a notch above tepid. The burns still smarted too much for the hot showers she adored. It would be a few weeks before she could think about one of those.
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