Sidelines (Wounded Hearts #1)

by S. M. Smith

His gruff voice softens a bit, tugging at my heart in a way only a father can. “I do.”

  “I want a full report in the morning. And none of that ‘I’m fine, we’re fine, we’re all fine’ nonsense.”

  His need for details is almost as bad as mine sometimes.

  “Okay.”

  “I love you, Allie Cat.”

  “I love you, too. I gotta go.”

  “Stay safe.”

  I nod while I watch the line disconnect and the screen go dark. A lack of thunder overhead makes the staunch silence in the room almost eerie.

  “Feel better?” Logan’s low, cool voice makes me jump. His soft chuckle warms the parts of me that still tremble with the draftiness of the room.

  “A little. Thank you.” I hand him back his phone, our fingers brushing ever so lightly against one another.

  “Any time.” We sit, eyes locked on each other for a few moments until a loud crash overhead startles both of us.

  “What was that?”

  “Probably the screen door to the kitchen. I don’t think I locked it.”

  I consider what that means and realize I don’t really have enough experience with storms like this to know if banging doors are a good sign or bad. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  Logan lips pull up to a sympathetic smile as he scoots off the cot. He holds a hand out for me. Not thinking, I take it and let him pull me to my feet.

  “You need to rest. Take the cot. I’ll wake you when we can go back upstairs.”

  “But you—”

  “Just take it, Allie.”

  We lock ourselves in a staring match until his gaze narrows and I give in. I bend down and pick up Hank before setting us both down on the cot. We snuggle up together and, wrapped up in the warmth of Logan’s hoodie, calm ourselves down while Logan sets a chair up for himself, his face glued to the screen of his phone. Hank is the first to rid himself of any fear, quickly drifting off to Snoozeville in a matter of minutes. His soft buzzing gives me something to focus on, something to distract me from the creaks of the house as the wind huffs and puffs like a big, bad wolf. I feel the tug of sleep pull at me and with one last effort to keep my eyes open, I glance up to see Logan watching us. And I swear, the last thing I see before I close my eyes and let my exhaustion pull me under is the satisfied smile of Logan Lassiter.

  Chapter Eleven

  The morning sun bleeds through the window as if a raging storm didn’t disrupt the night, causing me to stir and wonder if I just dreamt about strong arms carrying me up the stairs and putting me back into bed. But when I get a good whiff of his scent, I pull the blanket out from under my chin and find that I’m indeed still in his sweatshirt. Rolling over to check the clock on the nightstand, I even find my phone plugged into the charger. I pick it up and realize it’s fully charged.

  Is there anything this man doesn’t pick up on?

  It pings at me just as soon as I unlock the screen.

  Walt: Call me ASAP.

  The fact that Walt is texting me tells me that he’s seriously concerned, so without further ado, I dial his number. He picks up on the first ring.

  “Are you okay?” he asks without saying hello.

  “I’m fine, Walt. A little tired, but fine.” I hear his sigh.

  “Oh, Allie Cat, you had me so worried. The pictures they’re showing on the news makes it look like it was pretty bad. You weren’t in the middle of that storm were you?” I rub at my eyes, still too groggy to register all that he’s stammering.

  “What pictures? I don’t know if we were in the middle of it. We were in the basement most of the night. I just woke up and got your text, so I called you.”

  “And thank you for doing that. You know I worry about you, but when they said that Walker was hit, and I couldn’t get ahold of you…”

  “Walt, I’m fine. I told you last night, we were—wait. Did you say that Walker was hit? By, like, a tornado?” I put Walt on speaker phone so I can shed Logan’s shirt and get some fresh clothes on. I’m supposed to be leaving for the regional airport in a few hours.

  “Yeah, the pictures show that a big twister came through the town and took out a good portion of the residential area and a couple of blocks down town. They’re saying that some major farms were damaged too.”

  I stop, pick up the phone and pray that Logan hasn’t left for his training camp yet.

  “Well, I’m fine Walt, but I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you back in a little while.”

  “Okay. But, Allie Cat?”

  I forget that I have him on speaker until Logan looks up from the stove with a smug look on his face. “Yeah?”

  “I love you, kid. Stay safe, okay?”

  “Okay, Walt. You too.” I disconnect the phone and take in the sight of Logan still in the sweatpants and t-shirt he was in the night before.

  “Allie Cat?” His brows pick up in jest, but I ignore him.

  “Have you heard from your family this morning? Anyone in town?”

  He tosses a dish towel over one shoulder and nods. “Yeah, I talked to Mom this morning and she said everything is fine out on the farm. A bit of debris, but nothing a good day of yard work won’t fix. And I called Jared to see how the roads were.”

  I must give him a weird look because he goes on to clarify. “The Sheriff. He says the main highway that goes through town is pretty much closed. The storm must have followed its path because it all but cut the town in two.”

  Relief for Logan’s parents finally sinks in at the same time as the idea that so many families lost so much in the middle of the night last night. Trying to calm myself with deep breaths again, I ask the one question that keeps racing through my head. “Was anyone hurt?”

  Logan shakes his head, his brows risen in surprise. “Praise God, no. Not as of this morning anyway.”

  I’d argue that it was God who created tornadoes to be destructive and that it was somewhat contradictory of him to be praising God for no one getting hurt by something God created, but I don’t feel like getting into any fights with Logan this morning. Not when he looks so…attractive right now.

  What is wrong with me?

  “Well, good. I, um, I need to get ready to fly out this morning. So I…I think I’m just going to go shower now.”

  “Oh, um. Yeah, that’s not really going to be a possibility today.” I turn to see him flip an omelet onto a plate. He picks up the plate and holds it out for me. Feeling my stomach rumble, I retreat back into the kitchen and take it from him.

  “Why do you say that?”

  He shoves a hand into a pocket and his hand through this hair. His fresh out of bed hair. His gorgeous—okay, stop it, Allie.

  “Well, the municipal airport is kind of down right now.”

  Digging a fork out of the proper drawer, I feel myself both disappointed and relieved. “What do you mean, ‘down right now’?”

  “A few of the windows of the air traffic control tower were blown out last night and part of the runway was torn up by the storm.”

  I take a bite out of the omelet and nearly melt with how delicious it is. I could get used to having him cook for me everyday.

  “So, what you’re saying is that unless I feel like fighting with a GPS to navigate a bunch of back country roads to get to a main highway, I’m not getting out of town today.”

  A faint smile pulls at his lips as he sets his plate down on the table across from me and moves toward the coffee bar behind me. “If it’s any consolation, neither am I.” I think I see him smirk as he steps behind me to make himself a cup of coffee.

  “So…you’re not going to training camp today.”

  “Nope. Coach says that I could do more good by being here for my town. Thinks it’ll be good publicity for me.”

  “Doesn’t he know that people in this town worship the ground you walk on anyway?”

  Logan actually scoffs at my claim. “They don’t worship the ground I walk on.”

  Arching a brow, I stuff my mouth full of food to ke
ep from starting an unnecessary argument as he takes a seat. An eyebrow pops up as he takes in my disbelieving glare.

  “Okay, so I will admit that the people of Walker give me more attention than I deserve.” He sips his coffee, not willing to look back at me.

  “Well, if you’ve done anything like what you did for me last night for any of them, then I’d say you definitely deserve the attention.”

  He looks up from his plate only momentarily. “I’m glad you enjoyed last night.”

  “I did. Until I was woken up in the middle of the night to be carted off to shelter.”

  One side of his lips pull up in a half smile. “That wasn’t really a part of my plans.”

  I let him off the hook. “I know. And I don’t blame you. But I really did enjoy everything else last night.” Including getting to sleep in your hoodie.

  I keep that last part to myself while we continue to eat in silence. After a few minutes, it dawns on me that I will need to check in with Mac and let him know about my inability to get out of town. Forgetting my manners, I get up unannounced and pick my phone up off the island and excuse myself to the living room.

  “Allie. I’m glad you’re okay. What’s going on out there?” Mac’s scared tone reminds me of Walt and how abrupt I was with him earlier. A pang of guilt hits me and I set a mental reminder to call him back and apologize later.

  “I am okay, but I’m not going to be able to get up to the A&M campus this weekend.”

  “I figured. I sent Colin after their filming this morning. What’s going on in Walker? Do you think there might be a story there? Maybe with Logan?” I can practically hear the pleading in his voice.

  “Possibly. He’s been cleared to skip camp this weekend to help out around town. I’ll get with him and see if we can come up with something to blog about.”

  “You’re my favorite person, Allie Mooreland.”

  “Only because I’m the only person who can tolerate you as long as I have.” The moment the words are out of my mouth I want to take them right back. But if they hurt Mac in any way, he doesn’t let on.

  “No truer words were ever spoken. Go get ‘em, girl. I’ll wait for your post. Oh, and Al?”

  “Yes, Mac.”

  “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

  Stepping back into the kitchen, I watch as Logan picks up his plate and takes it to the sink, mesmerized by every move he makes.

  “Me, too.”

  ***

  “It’s not a bad idea, Logan,” Emma argues for me while on the bluetooth of his truck as we drive into town. Logan gave me the third degree on making sure to wear jeans and sturdy sneakers, as if I didn’t know that community service couldn’t be done in a skirt and flats.

  “I didn’t say it was a bad idea, Em. I said I don’t want to do it.”

  “But you said that Carrey wants some good publicity, what’s better than getting video of you working around town?” I ask, as I mess with the settings on my camcorder.

  “Does it even occur to you that maybe the people of Walker do not want their pain posted all over the internet for the world to see?” Logan’s hands tighten on the steering wheel for the fourth time since picking up his sister’s call.

  “The rest of the world has already seen their pain on TV. And besides, if it will make you feel better, I’ll get verbal consent with anyone caught on video.” I look up to see why he’s slowing down and see what he means by the town being torn in half.

  My stomach bottoms out the moment we hit the residential area. A path of at least two houses wide is littered with pieces of housing and roofing and broken fences. The standing houses along this path have debris of all sorts scattered in their yards and thrown up against their fences. A firetruck is parked next to a hydrant with its lights casting a red glow over the houses still standing while water sprays in a huge arc over the street. Logan waves to the men trying to get the water under control and when they wave back, I know my idea is a good one.

  “Listen Logan, I doubt there isn’t a person in this town who wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to help your publicity—”

  “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

  “So let them. Let the people of Walker show the rest of the world why they should love you.” He sighs as he slows to turn onto the main street. Taking one look at all the damage done to the old storefronts, my breakfast threatens to come back up at the idea of turning these people’s misfortune into Logan’s advantage. But I have to remember I have a job to do. That doesn’t mean I can’t do it tactfully. Turning to Logan, I play the one card that could either make or break my chance here.

  “Logan, do you trust me?”

  His head swivels so fast I wonder if he was trying to break his neck. “Trust you?”

  “Do you trust me to do you and these people right by this blog post?”

  Emma stays as suspiciously quiet as Logan does. His eyes are hidden behind those shiny aviators again, but I’d bet good money that they’re probably swirling with mixed emotions right now. “Please, Logan. Just trust me that I can do this to your liking.”

  “Fine.” He exhales harshly and I can practically hear Emma’s silent celebration on her end.

  “Great. We’re twenty minutes out. We’ll see you in a bit.” Emma doesn’t hang up the phone before we hear her excited squeal, making Logan’s jaw do that thing it does as he parks the truck in the parking lot of Lilly’s Diner.

  “Thank you for doing this, Logan. Really.”

  He doesn’t say a word as he gets out of the truck, but he doesn’t have to. He’s not entirely happy with shooting video of me and him helping the people of Walker and he’s going to sulk about it. As long as he gets over it enough to be genuine with the people I don’t care and I won’t push the matter.

  Climbing out of the truck, I find him digging a few things out of the tool box. “Here. They might be a little big, but they’ll keep you from getting any splinters. ”

  He hands me a pair of work gloves and turns to walk down the sidewalk without waiting for me to catch up. We walk up a few blocks to a man in a uniform and when he turns, his salt and peppered look alerts me to who he is.

  “Morning, Logan. Allie. I take it y’all fared well through the storm.”

  “Better than some of these guys.” Logan nods toward a rusted out farm truck laying upside down in the middle of Main Street. “Where do you need us?”

  The good sheriff nods toward a row of shops that have the windows blown out of them. “Cooks is bringing some plywood out to board up the storefronts and we’ll need some help getting them put up. Also, Manning’s Hardware has a shed stuck in its front window. Right in the glass. Coolest and weirdest thing I think I’ve ever seen. We’ll need to clear the road of all the limbs and rubble before we can open up Main again.”

  “Have all the buildings been checked out? Anyone hurt or missing?”

  “Other than a few pets, no one seems to be missing. The Williams family has been staying with Annie out at the inn, and Mrs. Williams was having a hard time getting her asthma under control, so I had the ambulance take her out to the hospital in Flat Rock. Other than that, everyone seems to be in good shape, physically speaking, of course.” I give Logan a weird look. He said the inn wasn’t ready for guests. Was he lying to keep an eye on me?

  “The Williams are Annie’s great-aunt and uncle. They used to own the inn before they sold it to Annie,” he states, as if that would explain everything. I just shake my head. Whatever his reasoning, Logan wants me to stay with him. So for now I will.

  “Oh, Jared. Allie was tasked with getting some footage of my helping the community for her blog. Can you think of anyone who we should steer clear of or wouldn’t want their face plastered all ever the place?” He gives me a pointed look as if to tell me I’m about to have my idea shot down by the sheriff. I almost burst with laughter when Sheriff Perry replies.

  “Ah, Logan. You know that just about everyone in this town would do anything for you. Just lik
e you’d do anything for any of us.”

  “Sheriff Perry, would you mind if I quoted you on that?” I ask, pulling a tiny notepad out of my back pocket.

  “Not at all, Allie. It’s true. There isn’t a need that is talked about in this town that Logan doesn’t try to meet. Biggest heart I know.” He claps a thick hand over Logan’s shoulder and grins proudly up at him.

  Logan’s trademark poker face looks my way before stepping away from the sheriff and toward a group of men loading branches into the bed of a pickup truck.

  “You’ll have to forgive him. He doesn’t like the attention.” Sheriff Perry and I watch Logan help pick up a particularly heavy looking branch and hoist it over the side of the truck.

  “I think I’m getting that, Sheriff.”

  ***

  A few hours later, Emma has videoed Logan and I helping load pieces of broken homes into trucks, board up storefronts and help free the Miller’s storage shed from the hardware store’s window. There isn’t a person out that doesn’t look dirty and tired, but every face is streaked with relief that they were given another day, regardless if it wasn’t the most pleasant of them.

  I’m just about to try to convince Logan, Emma, and Owen that we need to hit up Lilly’s for some lunch when Jillian and Lucy come strolling down the street carrying a couple paper sacks and a case of bottled water.

  “Thought you guys might be getting hungry,” Lucy announces as she lays down the case of water on the sidewalk. Jillian sets the sacks down next to the water and gives her son a hug.

  “I’m so very thankful to be seeing you right now,” she declares into Logan’s neck and that twinge of jealousy hits me square in the chest. I’d give my left foot to hug Walt right now. But then she steps back and pulls me in for a hug as well, knocking the breath swiftly out of me. “And you too. I’m so very thankful the two of you are here.”

  “Me too. And I’m thankful to see you. There wouldn’t happen to be something to eat in those bags would there?” I ask, giving her a hopeful smile as I step back to see Logan giving his mother an odd look, which she blatantly ignores.