by Stella James
“Just love me,” I say. “Just love me, Logan.”
He reaches his hand down and slides one thick finger inside of me, my nails sinking into his shoulders. The sting passes and I let go of the breath I was holding.
“You’re so tight,” he groans. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“Don’t stop,” I insist. “Don’t stop.”
He moves his hand, dragging my wetness up to my clit as he brushes it gently. My hips buck and he grins, adding another finger. The fading pain quickly turns to pleasure.
“Christ Prairie, you’re ready for me already,” he says.
“I want you inside me Logan, I need you inside me,” I plead.
He removes his hand and guides his thick length to my throbbing centre. He slides in slowly, his body tense as my hands explore his back. Every muscle, every ridge, I commit to memory. His strong body above mine was how it was always meant to be.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Kiss me,” I say.
He presses his mouth to mine in a tender kiss as a tear rolls down the side of my face. He pulls out slowly and presses back into me, his lips never leaving mine. I hold him tightly as he rocks back and forth gently. The moments pass between us in a slow flurry of broken promises and lost time. Our movements gradually becoming frantic as we try to capture the bond between us, hanging on with all our might so that we don’t lose it again. So that we don’t lose each other.
“Logan, Logan,” his name tumbles from my lips, my body burning.
“Come for me,” he says. “Come for me, Prairie.”
His pace quickens and everything fades but the sound of my heart beating and the mumblings of bliss that slip past my lips. He breathes deeply on a curse and thrusts into me once more before he lets himself go and our bodies melt together.
*
Stretching my arms, I feel the spot beside me only to discover that it’s cold to the touch. I smile anyways because I know that last night wasn’t a dream. Logan was here and he made love to me in the most perfect way possible. I roll onto my side and check the time. I’m going to have to get up for work soon. I reach for the pillow where his head rested last night and pull it close to my naked body, breathing in deeply. He left at some point in the middle of the night after his phone was buzzing on the nightstand. Something about work but he didn’t say what, just that he would lock up and call me tomorrow.
There’s a soreness between my legs as I shift my body, but I welcome the discomfort. This is the way it was always meant to be. This is the way it was always supposed to feel. I didn’t know what to expect with sex. I didn’t know if my memories would plague me and ruin the experience completely, let alone if I’d even be able to go through with it. But being with Logan was like being under a spell. All I felt was him. All I saw was him. And it was beautiful and perfect.
I feel guilty for not telling him, but I don’t even know how I’d start. I know him and I know he’d take the burden onto his own shoulders. I can’t do that to him, not when we’ve just found each other again. I’ll tell him, but not yet.
My alarm goes off just as I pull the covers back and place my feet on the cold floor. I glance at the clock as I turn it off and notice a small piece of paper folded in two. I pick it up and a gold chain slips free. My necklace.
Prairie,
I gave this to you when I had nothing. No matter what, it will always belong to you.
Logan
I reach behind my neck and secure the repaired clasp that I so thoughtlessly broke. I place my hand over the charm and hold it there for a moment. We’ve found each other again, through the scars and broken paths…we’ve found each other.
*
“Okay, you go first,” Brooke insists while she quickly dumps a spoonful of sugar into her coffee.
“Logan took me to the carnival last night,” I tell her. “It was amazing.”
“Hmm, so that’s why you’re all glowy today, you’ve been spending time with your blast from the past.”
She winks and slides the carton of creamer over to me. This morning has been crazy busy and we haven’t had a chance to chat so we’re using our coffee break to catch up.
“Your turn,” I tell her.
“Well, I don’t want to jinx it, but…I got a callback!”
“No way! That’s awesome, I’m so happy for you. What’s it for?”
“If all goes well, you’re looking at Estella, the female lead in Loving Fury,” she says with pride. “Basically, it’s about the leader of an L.A. street gang and the woman he loves but can’t have. I am so excited. I swear if I get this, I’ll die.”
“Well you know I’ll be there opening night, cheering you on.”
“This could be the beginning, the break I’ve been waiting for. I’m scared but so damn ready.”
“I’m happy for you, truly.”
“Okay, enough about me, I don’t want to discuss it again until after my callback. I need to keep my aura relaxed and casual, even if it damn near kills me,” she mutters. “Distract me and tell me more about your date night with Logan. And don’t you dare leave anything out.”
“It’s like we were us again. I can’t really explain it, but it felt like no time had gone by, like we were picking up right where we left off.”
“Girl. I am officially jealous,” she sighs. “Have you guys talked at all about the past? Has there been any closure or are you letting all of it go and starting fresh?”
I tell her about Logan’s apology and confession as to why he pushed me away, without giving away too much.
“Ugh, he sounds so romantic,” she says. “Does he have any brothers?”
“Sadly, he does not,” I laugh.
“Ladies, you’re needed on the floor,” Anne barks from the doorway, tapping her watch before she turns briskly and Brooke glares annoyingly at her retreating back.
“Well that’s the end of that I guess,” Brooke whines. “Just when things were getting good too.”
“I promise I’ll give you another fix later on.”
“You better. I am officially living through you.”
We make our way back to the front counter and the rest of the morning passes by uneventfully. I’m just finishing up with my current customer and closing my cash drawer when I look up and see a group of men, all wearing masks and all dressed in black, walk through the large glass doors. It takes me a second to realize what’s about to happen when suddenly a cluster of gunshots ring out and chips of marble rain down from the ceiling, scattering across the floor as people duck for cover. I’m paralyzed in my chair until Brooke grips my arm tightly and jars me from my panic. I lunge from my chair and sink down behind the counter in front of me.
“Listen up! This is gonna be quick and no one needs to get hurt. But if anyone tries to pull any kind of hero bullshit, we will fucking shoot you!” he shouts. “Everybody out here on the floor, get face down and do not fucking move. Everyone behind the counter, stand the fuck up and keep your hands in the air where we can see them!”
I peek up and see that one of them has already disarmed Lawrence and has him pinned on the floor with his own gun at the back of his head. I search the floor and take a quick tally of customers. Ten. And no children, thank God. I try to remember our training but everything is blurring together as two of them stand guard at the front doors and the remaining four men start making their rounds. I stand on shaky legs and watch as they start at the first wicket, holding out their black duffel bags to be filled with cash. I catch Brooke’s attention and realize that she’s glancing at her emergency switch. I shake my head no. She doesn’t realize that the two men standing at the front entrance are watching us. She glances at the switch again but before I can get her attention, another shot rings out. It echoes and rings in my ears. I close my eyes and tilt my chin down, opening them slowly only to discover the splatter of red across my blouse. I look to my left as Brooke clutches her stomach and falls to the ground.
The first man who spoke sh
outs something in Spanish that I can’t understand before the man at the door shouts back.
“That puta was making a move!”
“Get that fucking cash and let’s go!”
Numb from shock, I dump my cash drawer into the black bag shoved in front of me, tears blurring my vision. The minutes feel like an eternity until finally the men retreat the way they came and the faint sound of sirens can be heard in the distance. I kneel on the carpet beside Brooke and hold my palm tight to the hole in her stomach, the blood oozing past my fingers.
“Brooke! Brooke! Stay with me, okay? The police are coming.”
My voice is shaky and hoarse, but my words firm. I watch as her eyelids flutter and her lips part, unable to do anything but watch.
*
I take a sip of the cold coffee that I’ve been clutching between my palms for I don’t even know how long. I managed to scrub the blood from my hands but my shirt is still stained and no matter how hard I try, I can’t get the image of Brooke, bleeding all over that ugly green carpet, out of my head. The clock on the waiting room wall ticks loudly, the only indication that time has moved forward. I’ve already given my statement to the police and phoned Brooke’s parents who drove into the city immediately. Right now they’re speaking with her surgeon. I’m hoping they’ll update me as soon as they can. I’ve texted Logan twice and called him once, but I haven’t been able to reach him. I tried to keep my voice calm and steady when I left him a voicemail but I know he’ll see right through it.
“Babe?”
I look to the doorway of the emergency room and see Logan and Trevor. In three quick strides, he has me in his arms and I’m gripping the fabric that’s pulled across his chest.
“Shhh, it’s okay, I’m here,” he assures me through my broken sobs.
“I was so scared. There was so much blood, Logan.”
“I know, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay babe, I’m here.”
He holds me tightly and rocks me back and forth until the beating in my chest begins to slow and my eyes begin to dry.
“How is she?” he asks.
“I don’t know yet. She was in surgery and her parents are talking to the doctor now.”
“Come on, let’s sit down,” he insists, pulling me into the chair beside him and keeping me close.
I look up at Trevor as he shuffles from one foot to the other. His arms are crossed over his chest and his jaw is held tight.
“Thank you for coming,” I say quietly.
“I should have been here sooner,” Logan says. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, I’m sorry if I freaked you out.”
“I know you’re upset, but I need you to talk to me right now, can you do that?”
“Of course.”
“I need to know if you remember anything about the crew that did this.”
“I- I don’t know, they wore masks. Plain black ski masks, and they were dressed in all black as well.”
“Did they speak at all? How many were there?”
“I think there were seven of them, the one spoke a bit, he told us what to do,” I explain. “The man who sh- who shot Brooke, he spoke in Spanish but I couldn’t make out exactly what he said.”
Logan looks to Trevor who leaves the room, his phone on his ear before he even makes it through the door.
“I already told the police everything. Why are you asking?”
The tick of the clock fills the silence in the waiting room and it isn’t until Logan speaks again that I realize I’m holding my breath. Calm and steady, he answers me with conviction.
“Because I wanna know who the fuck thought they could point a gun at you and get away with it,” he growls. “And when I find out who it was, I’m gonna fucking gut them.”
“Logan, you have to leave this alone,” I plead. “Please. Just let the police handle it.”
“The police,” he snorts. “No babe, I’m not trusting anyone with this but me.”
“Think about what you’re saying Logan. Think about me. Think about us.”
He seems to snap out of his mission for retribution for a split second before Brooke’s parents come back.
“Prairie, honey?” Sharon says.
I release my grip on Logan’s hand and go to Brooke’s mom. She tells me that although Brooke made it through surgery, she’s still not out of the woods yet. She’ll be in the ICU until her vitals are stable enough that she can be moved. The bullet missed her major organs, thankfully, but there’s still a risk of infection or internal bleeding.
“Thank God,” I sigh. “Is she awake?”
“Not yet sweetie,” Sharon says. “Why don’t you go on home for now and I’ll call you the minute she’s awake. You need to get some rest.”
Her gaze flickers to Logan and back at me before she squeezes my hand and turns to head back to the intensive care unit. Logan’s breath tickles the back of my neck as he takes my hand and leads me from the waiting room.
“Come on, let’s get you home,” he says.
Once we’re outside and the cool evening breeze touches my face, I stop where I am and pull my hand from his.
“Promise me Logan, promise that you’ll leave this alone.”
By the clench in his jaw and the anger in his eyes, I know he’s battling himself. But I have to convince him to step back.
“I’m asking,” I beg. “Let it go.”
“You could have been hurt,” he grinds out.
“But I’m not.”
“The thought of losing you makes me sick.”
“Then promise me you’ll leave this alone.”
He reaches for me and I let him pull me into his warmth, his strong arms wrapped around me.
“For you,” he says.
I relax against him but not entirely. Because in the far depths of my mind, a little voice that I want desperately to ignore speaks a truth that I don’t want to hear.
He’s lying.
Chapter 21
Logan
Prairie’s asleep by the time I pull up to her building. Her body is slumped over the seat, her arms wrapped protectively around herself. The rust coloured stains splashed across her shirt continue to gut me. I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles are white and try to steady the rage that flows through my veins. The thought of something happening to Prairie makes me sick to my stomach. We were in a meeting with Zavier when her messages were coming through. The minute I turned my phone on and heard the tremble in her voice, I was out the door and on my way to the hospital. To her. Trevor followed behind after I gave him the short version of what happened. When she stirs beside me, I snap myself out of my thoughts of retaliation against those responsible and back into the present, where she needs me.
“Are we home?” she asks sleepily.
“Yeah babe, we’re home.”
I climb out of the truck and open her door, hoisting her down into my arms. I keep my hand on her lower back as we walk up the stairs. She digs out her keys and passes them to me wordlessly, her fingers shaking slightly. I unlock the door and flip on the kitchen light, keeping my eyes on her back as she remains silent and pads quietly to the bathroom. I check her bedroom and do a quick sweep of the living room, double checking the locks on the patio doors when I hear the faucet groan to life and the steady stream of water from behind the bathroom door. I know she should eat but I doubt she will. Deciding to wait and ask her, I take a bottle of water from the fridge and chug it back while I check my phone. I’m expecting a message from Trevor, but there’s nothing yet. I empty my pockets onto the kitchen counter and fight the urge to bombard Prairie, making sure she’s okay. After ten minutes of wandering around aimlessly, looking at old pictures of her and her mom that decorate a large portion of her full bookshelf, I can’t take it anymore. I make my way down the short hallway to the bathroom and knock gently on the door.
“Prairie? I’m gonna open the door.”
She doesn’t protest as I slowly open the door, steam billowing out from behind the b
right yellow shower curtain. Her stained clothes are in a rumpled heap on the floor, along with her shoes. I reach for the curtain and slide it back. She looks up at me from the floor of the bathtub, the water raining down on her. Her eyes are red and swollen, her body shivering despite the warm water.
“I just needed a minute,” she explains, her voice strangled.
I bend down and turn off the water before I pull a large towel from the rack beside me. I offer her my hand and pull her up, wrapping her carefully. She molds into me and I don’t dare loosen my grip until her teeth stop chattering and her body stops shuddering.
“Tell me what you need, Prairie,” I manage to get out over the lump in my throat.
“Just you. I just need you,” she says roughly.
I walk us to the bedroom and pull back the covers before I lay her down, towel and all. I climb in beside her and bring her body flush against mine. I’ll hold her for as long as she needs me to. I’ll hold her until her world is bright again.
*
A shift on the mattress beside me pulls me from a dreamless sleep that I didn’t think would come. It didn’t take long for Prairie to drift off once I got her into bed, but I was too restless to do much more than simply watch the rise and fall of her chest. I feel her fingertips brush my arm as she searches the small gap between our bodies.
“Prairie?” I turn onto my side but the room is bathed in darkness and I can’t make her out. I stop her hand and tug her towards me. She rolls into me and places her palm on my chest, nuzzling her head beneath my chin.
“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” she asks.
“How are you feeling?”
“I was dreaming,” she says. “I kept seeing it over and over again. I kept seeing Brooke fall backwards. The blood.”
“Do you wanna call the hospital and check on her?”
“No,” she sighs. “Her mom said she’d call. I don’t want to bother them when they’re probably trying to rest. I don’t even know what time it is.”