Mine
Brittany Taylor
Contents
Other Titles by Brittany Taylor
1. Lena
2. Lena
3. Logan
4. Lena
5. Lena
6. Logan
7. Lena
8. Logan
9. Logan
10. Lena
11. Lena
12. Logan
13. Lena
14. Logan
15. Lena
16. Logan
17. Lena
18. Lena
19. Logan
20. Lena
21. Lena
22. Lena
23. Logan
24. Lena
25. Logan
26. Lena
27. Logan
28. Lena
29. Lena
30. Logan
Epilogue
Sneak Peek
Sara
Follow Brittany
Acknowledgments
Other Titles by Brittany Taylor
Without You
Without Me
What Are the Chances
See Through
Dissipate: A Back to Me Series Book 1
Back to Me: A Back to Me Series Book 3
All available through Kindle Unlimited!
Dani
My sister, my best friend.
Never let your fire stop blazing across this world. It needs more of your beautiful mark.
One
Lena
The crunching beneath my foot feels like a million bones snapping all at once.
“Well, shit,” I groan, bending down to pick up the remnants of what was once my phone. The shattered screen and half-broken backing bend across the palm of my hand like a sad, spineless mess. Wiping large clumps of mud and rain from the screen, I foolishly try to turn it back on, knowing there’s no possible way it could still work.
When it doesn’t come back to life, I snap my head up at the sound of a car door closing. Logan’s footsteps pound into the soaking wet asphalt as he steps up onto the curb, stopping in front of me.
Concerned, he eyes the shattered remains of my phone. “Again, Lena?” he sighs, cradling my hands in his. Heavy drops of water cover the skin of our joined hands. I look up at him from under rain-soaked eyelashes.
“I know.” A piece of me deflates, knowing I’ve only had this phone for two months. However, the last phone was replaced simply out of necessity and survival than it was pure clumsiness. “I can’t help it,” I say. “I tripped getting out of the car.” I glance over my shoulder, narrowing my eyes at the exact spot I tripped.
Logan swipes his thumb along my cheek, pulling my gaze back to him. “Always so clumsy.”
I laugh. “No. I think it’s just a case of bad luck.”
We’re standing on the sidewalk outside Logan’s apartment in the center of Providence. Thick, heavy drops of rain continue to pour down on us, soaking us from head to toe. The sound of passing cars, their tires barreling through puddles, echoes behind us. Logan’s touch stirs me, bringing back those all too familiar warm feelings in the bottom of my stomach. His thumb grazing my skin matches the cold water saturating our skin.
I’m still holding my broken phone in my hand when I raise my other one to his head. I brush my fingers against the freshly cut strands. His chestnut-colored hair now looks black thanks to the thunderstorm brewing above us. The ends are pressed against his forehead, weighed down by the cool water. His hair is cut short and a piece of me deflates, missing the way it used to look, long and unruly. But just like my first replacement phone, Logan cut his hair out of necessity.
I run my hand down the side of his face then slide it across his waist, wrapping my arm around his sculpted frame. His muscles instinctively contract at my touch and I can’t deny how my stomach flutters knowing I still elicit this kind of reaction out of him. It’s only been a few months since Logan and I have really been together and not a day has passed where I don’t remember how much I love him. I scan his face, my heart fluttering as his mouth turns up into a smile. His jaw is covered in the beginnings of a beard, the scruff hiding the leftover evidence of what his face had endured several months ago. Scars are buried underneath, a constant reminder of how I had nearly lost him.
Logan wraps his hands around my waist, gripping on to my hips. He pulls me close and the familiar scent of orange Tic Tacs fills the moisture-filled air between us. Ever since I met him, he’s been absolutely obsessed with orange Tic Tacs. Claims they’re the only ones worth eating. I always thought it had more to do with the fact that he quit smoking just after I met him, and he knew it was the only thing that kept him from picking up the habit again. That and the fact that they were significantly cheaper.
His eyes search my face. “We should probably get inside. We’re getting soaked.”
“I don’t care.” I laugh. Thunder rumbles the sky above us and my heart skips a beat, the feeling shooting straight through me.
“Come on.” Logan laughs too, tucking a few loose strands of hair back behind my ears. His fingers stop short when he reaches the ends. As Logan had done, I cut my hair as well. Not too short, but enough for me to be able to feel the absence of the weight it once held. He grabs the shattered remains of my phone and drops them into the grocery bag he’s holding. He wraps his arm around me, urging me to follow him inside to his apartment. “We’ll get you a new phone tomorrow.”
Logan’s apartment building is tall. It’s one of those apartment buildings that require a security code to get in the front door. One large door remains as the only entrance into the building, its brick exterior acting as a blanket of security. When Logan had recovered enough to be released from the hospital, both of us had decided it would be best for us to stay together, to live together. His recovery was going to be a long process, one that would take up the majority of my time. Neither of us felt safe anymore and as far as we knew, Julian didn’t know where Logan lived. In the time that Logan was recovering in the hospital, I would stay with him as much as I possibly could, or I would stay with my best friend, Abby. I didn’t feel safe returning to my apartment, knowing my ex-boyfriend knew where I lived.
“So, what will it be tonight?” Logan enters the code into the small silver box beside the front door to the building. I follow him as he steps inside. He begins walking backward toward the elevator, lifting the now soggy brown paper bag of groceries. His mouth curls back into that playful smirk. His golden eyes spark and I can feel them consuming me. “Spaghetti or tacos?”
I twist my face in disgust. Laughing, I step into the elevator, pressing the button for the nineteenth floor. “Spaghetti? Are you really asking me to choose between spaghetti and tacos? Hands down you know I’m choosing tacos.” I reach up, squeezing the excess rainwater from my hair then lean against the wall, eyeing Logan from across the small space between us.
“I knew it wasn’t a contest. I’m just a sucker for when you twist your face the way you just did. The way your smooth lips twist at the perfect angle. The way your eyebrows slant into those gorgeous light brown eyes of yours.” His eyes gleam despite the dim lights overhead as he slowly says each word. He leans back against the opposite wall, tipping his head back, mimicking my stance and watching me with hooded eyes. He’s happy. I’m happy.
Pushing off the elevator wall, I walk across the small space, tipping my chin up to meet Logan’s gaze. I press my hips into his, melting into his body. I grasp on to the wet fabric of his shirt with my fingers and run my tongue across my lip, pulling him impossibly close
r. “And I’m a sucker for you, Logan Moore.”
Logan reaches up, wrapping his hand around the back of my head. His movements are quick, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing. His fingers thread through my wet hair. He pulls me close, pressing my lips to his. His mouth is warm and wet from the rain. I sigh against his body. His hand slides away from my hair and along my cheek, holding me back just enough for me to see his face. “I want it to be like this forever, Lena.”
“Me too.”
Then, as the elevator dings, reaching the nineteenth floor, I will Logan’s words to be true. I wish I could freeze this moment in time. One where my heart feels like it might burst out of my chest and Logan’s staring at me like he wouldn’t want to ever be looking at another person for the rest of his life.
I playfully bump my shoulder into his solid, sculpted arm as we step out into the hallway. It’s quiet as it usually is, and I’m thrilled about the prospect of removing my rain-soaked clothes. My cheeks grow sore from grinning as Logan walks ahead of me. My smile immediately fades when I stumble and nearly trip into him, the right side of my body slamming into his. His body is stiff, frozen solid and every part of my body turns cold when I follow his gaze.
The door to Logan’s apartment is propped open, six inches of black empty space between it and the doorframe. We don’t immediately walk toward the door. Instead, he reaches his arm out, blocking me from walking farther than where he is standing. He’s protecting me, unsure what kind of situation we’re in.
“Wait here,” Logan whispers.
“No,” I whisper back. “I’m going with you.” I wrap my hands around his arm, pressing my fingers into his tensed muscle.
He narrows his gaze toward me for a moment, knowing how stubborn I can be.
A chill prickles down the back of my neck and a familiar feeling washes over me. Fear pierces its way into my chest. Logan’s heavy boots carefully step onto the carpet as we inch forward, carefully examining what type of situation we’re walking into.
We’ve been here before. Months ago, I walked into my apartment to find Logan’s Boston Bruins T-shirt shredded to pieces on my bedroom floor and my ex-boyfriend’s tie knotted to the metal post of my bed frame.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, willing myself to believe this isn’t the same. This can’t be Julian. It can’t.
When we make it to the front door, Logan leans forward and carefully peeks through the opening before gently nudging the door open with the toe of his boot. The hallway leading to the living room is pitch black and after my eyes have taken a moment to adjust, it doesn’t appear as if anything has been disturbed. But the sight doesn’t bring any sense of relief. It’s Julian’s way. He has a way of letting you know he’s there without making it obvious.
Neither of us step into the apartment and I could swear I could hear Logan’s heart pounding alongside mine, echoing through the empty hallway. I suddenly remember just how alone we are. I hold my breath, the oxygen swelling in my throat as I turn my head, glancing down each side of the hallway. There’s no one that I can see. Again, there’s no relief, worried the person could still be inside.
“I’m going to check inside the apartment and make sure there isn’t anyone still in there. I need you to stay here.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m going in there with you.” I remove his hands from my face, holding them between us. “I’m safer with you than I am standing out here alone.”
He presses his lips into a thin line, nodding in acknowledgment. I can see the war in Logan’s eyes. He’s afraid. He’s not afraid of what is inside the apartment. Instead, he’s more afraid of how what’s inside will affect me. He’s worried for me.
I look into Logan’s eyes one more time, silently telling him I’m ready to go inside. Without another word, he turns around and takes one careful step inside, craning his head farther into the apartment hoping to get a better view.
I’m immediately darting my eyes across every surface, looking for any clue that Julian may have been in our apartment.
I grip on to Logan’s hand tighter as we walk deeper into our apartment. Not one single item in the living room or kitchen looks disturbed, still in the same place it was when Logan and I had left hours before. Logan stops in the living room, placing the wet grocery bag on the coffee table. He turns to face me, still holding on to my hand. “No one’s in here.” His whispered voice is a contradiction to his words. Even he doesn’t believe we’re safe. He knows something, or someone, is here. The apartment feels as if all the life has been sucked out of it. The darkness pouring into every corner of every room.
A brief wave of foolish relief hits me before I remember that we still need to check the rest of the apartment, including our bedroom and the bathroom. Logan leads us down the hallway and almost immediately I spot something sitting on top of the neatly made bed. My stomach twists and the chills return to the back of my neck, only this time it feels like tiny pinpricks dancing all the way down my spine. I already know what it is before I’ve fully seen it.
In the center of the bed is a neatly folded T-shirt. The fabric is pressed and folded into a perfect square, not a single wrinkle. In the center of the black T-shirt is a large letter ‘B’. The Boston Bruins logo. On the top of the shirt is a folded note.
“No.” I cover my mouth with my hand then turn to Logan with wide panic-stricken eyes.
His eyes are just as wide as mine only they’re locked on the shirt and note resting on our bed. He doesn’t speak a word. I stand in silence, watching as his jaw tics. I can see the thoughts running through his mind. He’s deciding what to do.
I reach for the taped note with a trembling hand. My rain-soaked, nervous fingers reach out, pinching the thin sheet between them.
I jump when I feel a tap on my arm. I gasp for air when I turn around, realizing it was Logan. He raises his finger to his mouth, reminding me to stay quiet. Staying silent, he gently nods his head toward my hand, his eyebrows bending in confusion. I’m still holding the note between two fingers. I’m holding it as if it contains some sort of poison or deadly virus. Its weight grows with every passing second, the heaviness quickly becoming too much for me to handle. Panic rises inside me and the feeling is all too familiar. My stomach twists with every painful heartbeat pounding in my chest.
Logan’s eyes move to the note in my hand. Our clothes are still soaked from the rain yet the short strands of Logan’s hair have already completely dried. Rain droplets are still dotted across his skin, dripping their way down with every nervous breath he takes.
The thin paper is an off-white color and I quickly recognize it. It’s a piece of paper from one of my sketchbooks. Aside from the words written inside, it’s completely blank, unused.
I hold my breath as I slowly open the folded paper and gasp when I read the words written in bold ink.
You should have known I wouldn’t give up so easily. You may have moved on, but one thing hasn’t changed. You’re still MINE.
“What does it say?” Logan’s eyes are steeled on me, his face tense as he waits for me to respond. When I don’t, he asks again. “Lena. What does it say?”
“I can’t...” My breaths begin to quicken and my throat swells. It’s becoming harder to breathe and the longer I keep my feet planted where they are the more I’m allowing the panic to overtake me. I lift my arms and run my fingers through my hair, hoping it will somehow relieve the pressure on my chest and the sickness brewing inside me. “I...”
Logan rips the note from my shaking hands when I don’t answer him and immediately begins reading the note. Wide eyed, he snaps his head up, the message clearly injecting fear into him the same way it had for me. “We have to leave.”
“Leave?” I’m hearing Logan but his words fall on deaf ears. I don’t understand him.
“Yes. We need to get out of here. We aren’t safe here anymore.” Logan grips my face in his hands, his fingers catching the silent tears streaming down my face. I hadn’t realized that I
was already crying.
“Look at me, Lena.” Logan’s attempting to calm my nerves and when my eyes meet his I’m stunned to see his so determined. He’s definitely more rational and aware than I am right now.
“We have to go.” Then as if he flipped a switch, he moves quickly, taking large steps to the closet. Within seconds, he tosses my pink overnight bag to me then begins filling his black backpack.
I’m holding the note, still staring at the shirt as if I’m expecting it to suddenly spring to life and jump off the bed.
“Lena.” Logan’s hand is suddenly on my shoulder. It sounds like his voice is underwater. “I know it’s hard but we have to go.”
“He was supposed to be gone. I gave him the chance to start over.” I face Logan with tear-filled eyes and swallow the lump in my throat. “Where are we going to go, Logan?” Worry begins to replace the panic and time starts to slow down.
“Look, Lena. I know this is really difficult right now but we need to go.” Logan points to the shirt. “This is clearly Julian sending a message. He knows where we live and we’re no longer safe here. We need to go and we need to do it fast.”
I look away from Logan and back down to the shirt. The logo is slightly different than the one Julian had cut into pieces and left at the foot of my bed. Logan had given me the shirt when I had told him I wanted to leave Julian and be with him. My only problem was that I didn’t know how to safely leave him. Apparently, it didn’t matter how I’d left him. He would always be in my life whether I wanted him or not.
Mine: A Romantic Suspense Thriller (A Back to Me Series Book 2) Page 1