by Maya Cross
"That about sums it up," I replied.
Despite his words, the compassion was already fading from his face. "That must have been awful for you." He licked his lips. "I don't suppose he said anything about me, you know, before it happened?"
I blinked in confusion. "What? What would he have said?"
He begun wringing his hands. "It's just — and I hate to bring up business at a time like this — but he owed me a little cash, you know? Football bets and the like."
I was struck by this immense sense of vertigo, like I was falling down an endless tunnel. I couldn't believe this was happening. Tom was dead, and all this creep could think about was his debts? Even here, the world seemed to want to remind me of what I'd been so blind to before. It felt like it was going to haunt me forever. "Are you serious?" I asked.
He shrugged. "I didn't mean no offense. I'm just going through a rough patch, you know? Thought maybe he left a little something. The debt was a few grand, but even a couple of hundred would..." he trailed off as Logan appeared behind him.
"If you're not out that door in three seconds, you're going to regret it." I'd never heard him sound so cold, so dangerous. One look at his face told me he was seconds away from exploding.
Jared didn't take long to make the same assessment. He visibly wilted under Logan's shadow. "Sorry. Sorry. Forget it."
As he turned to leave, Logan spoke again. "And don't you even think of speaking to her again."
Jared nodded quickly, then made a beeline for the exit.
The threat was gone, but the damage was done. It was too much. I needed some space. Before Logan could say anything else, I was fleeing out to the back alley. He followed, of course.
"I'm okay," I said, leaning heavily against the wall. "I just need a minute."
"Who was that?" he asked.
"Just some friend of Tom's," I replied, without really thinking. Great job, Grace.
"You mean your ex?" he asked cautiously.
Well, there was no taking it back now. I nodded wearily.
"What did he say to make you so upset?"
I gave a dismissive wave. "It's not important."
"Bullshit. He comes in, speaks to you for thirty seconds and you just fall apart." He stepped closer, those hard features heavy with concern. "Look, I'm no idiot. It's pretty obvious your ex has something to do with all this. I get that it hurts and you just want to bottle it all up so you don't have to feel it all the time, but if I don't know what's going to set you off then I can't protect you."
I shook my head. "You can't protect me. Not from this. It's too late."
"Maybe, but I can damn well try to protect you from yourself."
His eyes blazed, radiating intensity. For the hundredth time I wondered, who the hell was this guy? He was so stubborn, so relentless in his desire to help. I wasn't sure I had the energy to keep fighting him.
"Tom was my fiancé. He was a poker player, that's why we moved here." I closed my eyes, my hand shooting up to cup my mouth as though in a last ditch effort to hold the words back. "He killed himself about five months ago. A massive dose of painkillers."
"Jesus Christ," said Logan, pulling me in for a hug. It felt so easy, so natural. "I'm so sorry, Grace."
"Me too," I replied, pressing myself against him. Tears stung my eyes, but I forced them back.
"Do you know why he did it?" Logan asked carefully.
"Gambling debts. I don't know the details."
Logan nodded, but said nothing. With my ear against his chest, I could hear his heartbeat, slow and powerful and rhythmic, like crashing waves. It was a soothing sound, so I concentrated on it, letting the vibration flow through me.
"I can't get the image of it out of my mind," I said after a while. "His body slumped on the sofa like that. He was so limp, so...empty." A shiver rolled through me.
"It will get easier.
"And what if I don't want it to get easier?" My voice was tiny, and I had to force each word from my mouth. "What if I deserve this?"
"You don't." He sounded so certain, but that just egged me on further. I'd been nursing my guilt for so long it was a part of me now, like another limb, and he was trying to take it away.
"I do! I was supposed to be his confidant, his closest friend. I was supposed to love him, so why did I ignore the signs? What kind of fiancé does that make me? I should have known! I should have known..." The words dissolved into a sob as the pressure finally grew too strong. I pulled away and buried my face in my hands.
For a few moments, I cried in silence, but then I felt an impossibly strong arm slip around my shoulder. "I know what it's like; full of rage with no one to blame, but you can't take responsibility for his decisions. I know it hurts to hear, but he did this, not you. Punishing yourself like that will eat you faster than any grief."
My chest constricted, and a bolt of anger shot through me. This was what I wanted to feel. Not self-pity or hope, but white hot rage. "How dare you!" I pushed his arm away, shooting to my feet. "You don't get to assign blame here. You don't know!" I screamed. "You don't know at all. You're full of all this sage advice, but it's not the same. I held his fucking body in my arms. How could you possibly know what that's like?"
I stormed toward the street, everything inside me churning.
"I know." Something in his voice made me pause. I turned slowly back toward him. His eyes were fixed firmly on the ground in front of him, his expression grim as night.
It took him a moment to continue. "My best friend in the force was a guy named Connor, although everyone just called him Ace on account of him being fucking awful at cards." He gave a sick little smile at the irony of that. "We came up together in training and just clicked. He was one of those guys who would just do anything for you, you know?
"Eventually he wound up in my squad when I shipped out the last time. One of our jobs over there was training the local security forces, teaching them to deal with the insurgents themselves. One evening, we were winding down in a little village after a session with the Afghani military, when I sent Ace out to check in with our guys on watch. It wasn't standard procedure, but something in the air had me on edge, and I wanted an update. About ten seconds later, the attack came.
"By the time I got outside, it was fucking chaos. A ton of our guys were already down and there was shit flying everywhere; smoke, bullets, blood. Fighting back wasn't an option. Somehow I made it behind a rock without taking a hit, and that's where I found Ace." Logan's voice was soft and unfocused now, like someone talking in his sleep. My anger ebbed. There was no ignoring how painful this was for him to recount. "His vest had soaked up a few rounds, but his arms and legs were shot to shit and he'd taken some shrapnel to the chest. I managed to carry him back to the medical chopper, and they got him to the hospital, but it wasn't enough."
He paused for a few seconds and sucked in a long breath. "He died on that bed a day later without ever regaining consciousness. I sat with him the whole time, talking, praying, and he just slipped away."
His eyes refocused on me. "I really do get it, that guilt. What if I'd sent him a minute later? Or not at all? Would we both have made it? Or what if I followed my instincts earlier? Maybe we'd have stopped the attack all together. We'd have saved a whole lot of lives that way. So many questions, so many possibilities."
There were fresh tears rising behind my eyes now, and this time they weren't for me. I felt like the world's biggest bitch. "I...I'm sorry, Logan. I'm sorry."
He nodded, seemingly not trusting himself to speak. I couldn't blame him. That scene was more horrific than anything I'd experienced in my life. I was struck by an immense sense of shame. How much death had Logan seen? How many friends had been ripped away from him, before his eyes? It didn't bear thinking about. And here I was crying over one lost life. I probably looked so childish. If Logan could find a way to overcome his pain, then so could I.
"How do you stop it destroying you?" I asked.
"By acknowledging you don't control
the world. We all make choices. Some of them are good, others are a fucking disaster, but very few things are the result of a single action. What if our CO had sent us to another village, that day? Or the insurgent leader was slow with his dinner and the attack came five minutes later? What if Ace had never enlisted at all? There are a million variables to everything. Blame isn't black and white. I know I contributed to his death in some small way, but I also know I'm not responsible. You need to realize that, too." He stepped closer and reached out to brush my face where a single tear had leaked down. "There's a girl in here somewhere who deserves a second chance, and you owe it to her to make that happen."
The tenderness in his voice filled me with warmth. I stared up at him, everything inside me in tatters. I hurt for me and for him, for Tom and for Ace. There was so much pain, and right then it felt like we were both ready to drown in it. I desperately wanted something to cut through all that, if only for a moment.
There was barely a foot between our faces now, and slowly but surely, that space was shrinking further still. His hand lingered on my cheek, his eyes locked to mine. I could feel the heat of him enveloping my skin like steam, his scent swelling in my nostrils. There was something stirring in my stomach, something hungry and desperate and lonely. I knew I needed to look away, to break the spell of that moment, but his sheer presence held me in a trance.
He stood poised over me for what felt like a lifetime, gaze hungry, breath trembling, fingers dancing tiny circles across my skin, then with a low growl he pulled back.
My reaction was sharp and physical, the wind leaving my lungs as though I'd been punched.
He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily, then cleared his throat. "Anyway, if you're feeling alright, we should probably head back in." That guarded expression was back now, like the heat of the previous moment had never happened.
I opened my mouth to reply, but no words came out. I was dropping back to Earth now, the electricity beneath my skin gradually dissipating. I didn't know whether I was angrier at myself for letting us get so close, or at him for pulling away.
"All right," I said woodenly. Ironically, all I wanted now was to be back in the bar, lost in that simple rhythm. I needed to be away from him, needed time to think.
I turned to leave, but he caught my arm. "Grace, if anyone else bothers you, you know where to find me. I meant what I said about protecting you."
I nodded.
Back inside, the moment played through my head over and over. I had no idea how to make sense of his reaction at the end. Was it really possible I'd imagined the whole thing? A desperate little hallucination to fill whatever emptiness our talk had dredged up inside me? I wanted that to be the case, but all I could think about was the fire in his gaze, his hand against my skin, his lips just inches from my own. No, we'd shared something in that moment, I just didn't know what to do with it.
Chapter Eleven
Logan
Well, I truly fucked it all up this time. Grace finally opened up to me, and I responded in the worst possible way. I really thought I had myself under control around her, but that pain in her eyes triggered something inexorable inside me. In that moment, all I could think about was kissing her. I knew I needed to back off, but it was like trying to tell my heart to stop beating. I'm amazed I managed to stop when I did. Another few seconds and I'd have been tearing the clothes from her body.
I felt like the world's biggest asshole, and judging by the way she reacted, she thought the same. Sure, for a few moments there it looked like maybe she wanted it too, but that didn't mean shit. She was vulnerable and afraid. In that state of mind, people will do all kinds of things to not feel alone. She'd just confessed to losing the love of her life, for fuck's sake. Not to mention the fact that she'd straight up told me she wasn't interested. The idea that she might have actually wanted me pawing at her was insane.
I half expected that to be the end of everything. How was she supposed to feel safe around me now, knowing I might jump her again at any moment? But at about ten the next morning, as I was letting out some of my self-loathing via my fists, she marched in through the gym doors.
My heart leapt. "Hey," I said cautiously.
"Hey." She hadn't even looked at me for the whole rest of last night, and most of that coldness still remained.
She stared for a couple of seconds, seemingly on the edge of speaking, then nodded toward the cardio machines. "I'm going to get started. Treadmill, then a few rounds on the bags?"
So, that was how it was going to be. No more small talk. Just down to business. That stung more than it had a right to, but it was a hell of a lot better than nothing. "Sounds good. I'll be here if you need me."
She gave the barest hint of a nod, then walked off.
I returned to my training, but my mind was elsewhere. The fact that she hadn't just thrown in the towel was a huge relief. I'm not sure I could have handled it if she relapsed because of me. Maybe there was actually a chance that we could rebuild what we'd had but, for that to happen, I had to reign myself in. I wanted to believe I could do that, but it was becoming increasingly clear how little control I had where Grace was concerned. It didn't make any sense. Sure, she was sexy as hell, but I'd had sexy before. Could have it again too, if I wanted to deal with all the shit that followed. That wasn't enough of a reason for me to feel this powerless.
I needed a plan before I ruined things once and for all.
Chapter Twelve
Grace
"So, something happened between Logan and I the other night."
It was a few days after my encounter with Logan, and Joy and I were sorting stock in the back room. I hadn't really been planning on telling her, but the words just kind of came out. Despite my best efforts, that night was still messing with my head pretty badly. I hadn't done anything drastic — I still went to the gym and clung to my routine — but things with Logan were awkward, at best. I didn't know how to be around him anymore, my mind flitting between anger and confusion like a hormonal teenager.
Joy spun toward me, eyes full-moon wide. "What? When? Where? Details. Me. Now."
"It was a few nights back, out in the alley," I replied. "I was having kind of a rough night and I ducked out to get some air. He followed."
Her smile grew more eager. "And then?"
And then we shared one of the most intimate moments I can remember that involved only words. And then we bared our souls to one another. "And then...it got complicated."
"Did he kiss you?"
"No." She looked a little disappointed by that. "I think he came close though."
"You think?"
I shrugged uncomfortably, suddenly unable to find the words to express the depth of the situation. "I don't know. Maybe I was just imaging things. Forget I said anything."
But Joy wasn't going to let me off the hook that easily. "Uh uh. There's no going back now. You need to let your poor neglected friends who aren't getting any live vicariously through you. It's part of your sisterhood agreement."
"I didn't realize we had an agreement," I said, feeling a smile tug at the edges of my mouth.
"We broke ice-cream together," Joy replied solemnly. "It is an ancient ritual. We're sealed to one another now."
I laughed. "If I remember correctly, that involved you shoving most of it down your throat before I could get a second scoop."
"Still counts! Anyway, enough dancing around the subject, Missy. Give up the goods!"
I sighed. "It was just one of those moments, you know? Where you're both just staring at one another and everything else fades away. He had his hand on my face, and this look in his eyes..." I trailed off.
"Okay, stop, you're giving me shivers now."
Reliving the moment was doing the same to me, although I didn't want to say that.
"So then what happened? Did you stop him?"
I licked my lips. "No, he kind of stopped himself."
"Seriously?"
"Yep. Then he tried to act like nothing happened. I
t's so goddamn confusing."
"Well, it sounds like you're pretty sure it wasn't just nothing, right?"
I nodded slowly. Any doubts I'd had disappeared when it became clear that he felt as awkward as I did. You don't behave that way over nothing.
"Okay, well first, five points for Joy, because I totally called it. He wants to jump your bones."
I laughed. "Noted."
Her voice softened a little. "And second, that might mean it's time to start asking yourself the tough questions."
I felt a lump building in my throat. "Like what?"
"Like, if he hadn't stopped himself, would you have?"
And there it was, the crux of issue. The doubt I'd been carrying in the back of my head like a lead weight. "I think so," I replied, but my tone wasn't convincing either of us. Whatever my mind may have thought, my body had made no move to act on it.
She hesitated, chewing nervously on her lip. "You know if something did happen between you two, that's okay, right?"
"What?"
"I just mean...Your fiancé, I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that he wouldn't begrudge you a kiss, or anything else for that matter. He loved you, right?" I nodded. "So he'd want you to be happy. I know it's trite, but there it is. If you're not in the right place for this, then that's obviously totally fine, but if you are, you shouldn't just dismiss it out of loyalty to someone who isn't asking you to."
"And what if I have no idea what sort of place I'm in?" I asked.
"That's where it gets tricky."
Understatement of the year. "I know Tom wouldn't want me to be unhappy," I said. "But it still hurts so much. The thought of being with anyone else is kind of terrifying."
She nodded. "Then don't force it. You take as long as you need." She chewed her lip for a moment. "You've been spending a lot of time with him lately, so I'm guessing you told him what happened?"
"It came up," I replied.
"So he gets how rough this is for you."