Sin Bin

by Maureen Smith

  There was more angry shouting and grunting as the four men grappled with Logan. A reverberating thud rocked the door, startling a gasp out of Meadow.

  As tears squirted out of her eyes, she screamed shrilly across the room, “Stop it, Logan! I don’t want to see you anymore, so please just leave me alone!”

  The yelling and scuffling abruptly stopped.

  She closed her eyes, releasing her breath in stuttering half gasps.

  A long silence followed. Each second stretched into agonizing eternity.

  Finally Lucien spoke reassuringly through the door, “They’ve taken him away, Meadow. Are you all right?”

  No! she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. I’ll never be all right again!

  “Y-Yes,” she managed to stammer.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” She swallowed sickly. Then, in a tremulous half whisper, she asked, “Was he…Did they hurt him?”

  “No.” There was sardonic amusement in Lucien’s voice. “It’s my men you should be worried about. They don’t call my son Bruiser for nothing.”

  Meadow sank down weakly on the bed, her hands shaking in her lap.

  “Do you need anything?” Lucien asked.

  Other than a new heart to replace the mangled mess in my chest?

  “No.” She closed her eyes. “I-I think I’ll just go to bed, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course.” His voice gentled with sympathy. “I’ll make sure my son is kept away from you for the duration of the trip. Tomorrow morning I’ll have two of my guards escort you safely to my private plane, which will fly you home. Logan will travel separately.”

  Meadow swallowed painfully. “Th-Thank you.”

  “No thanks necessary.” He paused for a long moment. “I’m sorry that your visit had to end on such…unpleasant terms.”

  “So am I,” she mumbled.

  She thought he would leave after that. But then he said grimly, “I’m afraid I’m largely responsible for creating that monster—”

  “Don’t you dare call him that! He’s not a monster! He’s just…broken. And I can’t fix him,” she said in a painfully raw whisper. “No matter how much I wish I could, I can’t fix him.”

  There was silence on the other side of the door.

  Anger flared in her chest. “And, yes, you are responsible for his demons. Your absence from his life devastated him and left him vulnerable to unspeakable abuse and neglect. As for your actions tonight, I don’t know your motives or what you were hoping to achieve. But I hope you can see how much you hurt your son with that stunt you pulled. He’s an amazing man, Mr. Brassard, and he deserves so much better than what you and his mother did to him. He was fortunate to find a loving father in Mr. Tavárez, but it’s never too late for you to play a role in his life. If he ever decides to let you in, don’t you dare hurt him again. Be there for him. Earn his trust. And maybe someday, if you’re lucky, you can earn his love and respect.”

  Another long silence fell.

  “Goodnight, Meadow,” Lucien said quietly.

  After he left, she slid off the bed and dropped to her knees on the floor, burying her face in her hands. Her tears came fast and hard, the sobs strong enough to convulse her entire body.

  Damn you, Logan, she silently railed. Why did you have to destroy our one true shot at happily-ever-after?

  Chapter Forty-Five

  MEADOW

  * * *

  “What’s wrong?”

  Meadow turned her head on the pillow to see her aunt hovering in her bedroom doorway, watching her with a concerned expression. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough to confirm my suspicion that you’re not just jet-lagged. You’ve been staring at the ceiling for three whole minutes. Something’s eating away at you.”

  Meadow could feel tears threatening. She was so tired of crying. She’d cried on the flight back home. Cried on the way to her aunt’s house. Cried as soon as she reached the privacy of her room. The clammy wetness of her pillow suggested she’d even cried in her sleep.

  She didn’t think she had any tears left. Yet there they were, welling up in her eyes and blurring her vision.

  Rosalie eyed her worriedly. “I know you’re probably not hungry, but I ordered pizza for dinner. It’ll be there whenever you feel up to eating.”

  Meadow nodded. The thought of putting food in her mouth turned her stomach.

  Rosalie walked into the room and sat at the foot of the bed, gently searching her face. “Are you ready to talk?”

  Meadow sniffled and turned to stare out the window. It was a dreary evening with low clouds of drizzling rain. The crappy weather matched her mood.

  “Canadian media outlets have been buzzing with the news that Lucien Brassard is Logan’s father. Apparently he made the big announcement at the party last night.” Rosalie stared at Meadow. “Is it true? Did he really out himself like that?”

  Meadow nodded grimly. “It was a shitshow. Logan was totally blindsided.”

  “I can imagine,” Rosalie said sympathetically. “As if his father hasn’t put him through enough.”

  Meadow didn’t want to feel sorry for Logan, but it was hard not to. Still, it didn’t absolve him of what he’d done to her.

  “I wonder what possessed a man of Lucien Brassard’s stature to air his dirty laundry like that,” Rosalie speculated. “It all sounds so dramatic and soap-opera-ish. His guests must have been scandalized.”

  “You could say that,” Meadow mumbled.

  “Well, no video has surfaced so far, which isn’t terribly surprising. These billionaires are an insular group and they tend to abide by a code: What happens at the country club, stays at the country club. I could be wrong, but experience tells me that the story was probably leaked by one of the waitstaff—the ‘anonymous source’ quoted in every article I’ve read. I’m sure he or she was paid a pretty sum for betraying Lucien’s confidence.”

  Meadow let out a disgusted snort. “I’m not shedding any tears for Lucien. He’s deplorable. He doesn’t deserve anyone’s loyalty.”

  “You won’t get any argument from me.” Rosalie’s voice softened. “So what happened between you and Logan?”

  Sharp pain speared Meadow’s heart. Staring out at the falling rain, she whispered, “We broke up.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  Meadow swallowed tightly and shook her head. She didn’t want to rehash everything. Her emotions were still too raw, and she knew she’d only end up sobbing once she started talking.

  Her aunt gently touched her leg. “I’m worried about you. Please talk to me.”

  After a long moment, Meadow sat up slowly and leaned back against the headboard, swallowing several times before trying to speak. “Logan was rightfully upset about his father’s speech. So upset that he walked out in the middle of it. I knew he was hurting and I didn’t want him to be alone. So I went looking for him. I didn’t know where he might have gone. The yacht was huge and he wasn’t answering my texts. So I asked his father to help me find him. His wife, coincidentally, was also missing,” she added bitterly.

  Rosalie stared at her. She knew what was coming next. “Where did you find him?”

  “In the underwater lounge with his stepmother.” Searing pain surged and twisted in her gut. “She was sitting on his lap, and God only knows what they were doing before we walked in on them.”

  “That son of a bitch,” Rosalie hissed.

  Meadow squeezed her eyes shut, but she couldn’t get the image out of her mind of Chantal straddling Logan on the couch, her black dress pooling around them. What would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted? How far would they have gone? All the way?

  Just the thought of it made her feel violently ill.

  “Oh, baby,” Rosalie commiserated, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

  “So am I,” Meadow choked out, tears welling up again at the compassion in her aunt’s eyes. “I know he des
pises his father, but I never imagined he’d go so far as to sleep with his wife.”

  Rosalie’s eyes narrowed sharply. “Is that why he did it? To get back at his father?”

  Meadow nodded, trying not to break down crying. “He said Chantal came on to him and he was fighting her off. He insisted nothing happened, but he admitted that he let her kiss him because he wanted to hurt his father. How the hell am I supposed to feel about that?” she demanded tearfully. “Am I supposed to give him a pass because he was mad at his father? Does his need for revenge take precedence over our relationship?”

  Rosalie studied her sympathetically for a long moment. “It was wrong of him to let his stepmother kiss him.”

  “Damn right it was,” Meadow fumed, wiping her eyes with a knuckle.

  “But under the circumstances, I can see how he let his emotions get the better of him.”

  Meadow stared at her aunt in disbelief. “I’m surprised to hear you say that.”

  “Why? Because I walked in on my husband screwing another woman?”

  “Well, yes! I would think you of all people would understand what it feels like to be betrayed.”

  “I do understand, darling, and my heart is aching for you. Believe me, if Logan ever shows his face here again, he’s getting a blistering earful from me.” Rosalie’s voice gentled. “But as hurt and angry as you are right now, believe me when I tell you that Logan and Gibson are absolutely nothing alike. For starters, Logan isn’t a cheater. In a moment of weakness, he made a terrible mistake that he probably regretted right away. Unfortunately for him, the situation escalated out of control before he could stop it.”

  Meadow said nothing, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.

  “You know the other big difference between Logan and Gibson?” Rosalie said quietly. “Gibson never loved me the way Logan clearly loves you.”

  Meadow turned to look out the window again, silent tears sliding down her face. “Are you saying that men never cheat on women they love? If I forgive Logan this time, and years down the line I come home to find him in bed with another woman…will you still tell me that he loves me?”

  Her aunt was quiet.

  “I didn’t think so,” Meadow whispered.

  The sound of falling rain filled the silence between them until Cam came bounding into the room.

  “You’re awake!” he yelled excitedly.

  Meadow’s heart squeezed when she saw that he was carrying the autographed hockey stick that Logan had given him. “Hiya, Bear.”

  He leaped onto the bed, almost poking her eye out with the stick. “You took a long nap!”

  “I know. I was exhausted.” She sniffled and brushed a knuckle under her eyes, then wrapped her arms around Cam as he nestled back against her. “Whatcha been up to?”

  “Not much.” He sounded disgruntled. “It rained all day so I couldn’t play outside with my friends.”

  “Bummer.” Meadow kissed the top of his head. “We can watch a movie if you want.”

  “Okay!” He angled his head back to give her a hopeful grin. “Is Logan coming over?”

  Her throat tightened. “No, he isn’t.”

  Cam looked disappointed. “Why not?”

  She met her aunt’s eyes, silently pleading for help.

  Rosalie smiled cheerfully at her son. “Logan has to focus and get ready for the next round of playoffs.”

  This seemed to satisfy Cam. He stared up at Meadow. “So are you staying here with us?”

  She nodded and smiled.

  “For how long?”

  She swallowed around the tightness in her throat. “For a while.”

  She needed to get her stuff from Logan’s place, but she didn’t want to risk running into him. She’d have to wait until he left for Las Vegas on Wednesday. The Rebels were playing the Golden Knights in the conference final. Vegas had home-ice advantage because they had a better regular season record than the Rebels, so they were hosting the first two games.

  “I like it when you stay with us,” Cam told her. “But Logan’s gonna be sad.”

  Her heart twisted painfully. That makes two of us.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  LOGAN

  * * *

  Logan felt like a certified stalker as he sat in his truck outside Meadow’s workplace, chewing on his thumbnail as he waited for her to emerge on her lunch break.

  He’d been camped out there since just before eleven on Tuesday morning. His phone had been buzzing and pinging like crazy with incoming calls and texts from Hunter, Coach, his agent and Santino. He’d skipped practice that morning, so he knew there would be hell to pay. But he didn’t give a damn.

  His radio was tuned to 92.5 FM, a Denver sports station that covered hockey. The broadcasters were discussing the upcoming conference finals, but he didn’t hear a word of their predictions or banter. His hawk-like focus was on the front entrance of the building. Seeing Meadow walk out those doors was the only thing that mattered right now.

  He hadn’t slept in two days, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d tasted food. Meadow had changed her phone number and blocked him on social media. He didn’t want to show up at her aunt’s house and make a scene that would upset Cameron. But he needed to talk to her and plead his case, make her see reason.

  And he was getting desperate.

  When Meadow finally emerged from the building, his heart jackknifed into his throat.

  Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and she had on a slim-fitting skirt suit with the highest heels he’d ever seen her wearing. She looked sleek, icy and untouchable. Nothing like his Jupiter.

  She’s not yours anymore, a voice taunted cruelly. You fucked that up big time.

  Disregarding the gut-wrenching reminder, he climbed out of his truck and started toward the building.

  Meadow froze on the spot when she saw him.

  He stared at her, half afraid that she would run back inside and call security. He really wasn’t in the mood to get arrested. But he wasn’t leaving until she heard him out.

  Reaching the bottom of the steps, he watched as she looked down at the ground, shook her head and muttered something like, “Not today, Satan.”

  Logan swallowed nervously. This was going to be even harder than he’d feared if she thought the devil had sent him.

  As she started down the steps, he couldn’t help admiring the way her skirt clung to her shapely hips and thighs.

  He stepped forward. “Can we talk?”

  “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Jupiter, please—”

  “Don’t call me that.” Her voice was sharp as broken glass, cutting him deep. “What are you doing here? I told you to leave me alone.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You have to. We’re over.”

  His heart twisted at her words. “Please—”

  A few guys trickled out of the building, laughing and joking around.

  “Hey, isn’t that Logan Brassard?” one of them exclaimed.

  “Holy shit! It is him!”

  “Yo, Logan!” the dudebros called out excitedly.

  He ignored them as Meadow shoved on a pair of sunglasses and began striding toward the parking lot.

  He fell in step beside her. “Where are you going? Can I take you to lunch?”

  “I’m on my way to a meeting and, no, you can’t take me to lunch.”

  “What about dinner later?” he persisted.

  “No.” She walked faster, her heels clacking sharply on the pavement.

  When they reached her car, he followed her around to the driver’s side. “I’m going crazy without you. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat—”

  “Sounds like a problem for the Denver Rebels, not me.”

  Logan dropped to his knees on the cold pavement, startling a gasp from her.

  “What are you doing?” she hissed.

  “Please forgive me,” he begged raggedly, throwing his arms around her waist. “I need you
so much, baby. I can’t live without you!”

  “Stop this!” She cast an embarrassed look around the parking lot. “Get up before someone sees you!”

  “I don’t give a shit who sees me!”

  “Well, I do!” she snapped. “This is my workplace, Logan. You can’t be showing up here and causing a scene!”

  “What else am I supposed to do? You won’t talk to me!”

  “And whose fault is that?” She wrenched out of his grasp, giving him a hard shove and a deadly warning glare. “Stay the hell away from me.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said with raw urgency. “You mean the fucking world to me—”

  “Obviously not, or you wouldn’t have done what you did.”

  “I didn’t do anything!” he shouted hoarsely. “Nothing happened!”

  “Whatever, Logan!” She pressed her key fob and opened her car door. Her hands were shaking pretty badly, so maybe she wasn’t as unaffected as she seemed.

  “My father told me what you said to him that night. I know you still love me—”

  “Go to hell!” She jumped behind the wheel and slammed the door.

  Logan pushed heavily to his feet and stood watching as she started the engine. She backed out halfway, stopped and buzzed down her window just enough to frame her cold, unforgiving eyes.

  “Goodbye, Logan. I mean it. Leave me alone.”

  Before he could respond, the window went back up and she peeled off with a squeal of tires.

  He stood there watching her drive away. As helpless fury and grief overtook him, he yelled “FUCK!” and kicked the nearest tire several times before hunching over with a strangled sob.

  Seconds later he heard a screech of tires and looked up as a familiar Ford pickup braked to a rocking halt. He saw Reid behind the wheel right before Hunter exploded from the backseat and charged toward him. His face was a mask of lethal fury, green eyes blazing.

  Logan instinctively swallowed. “What—”

  Hunter grabbed him by his shirtfront, slammed him up against the car and snarled in his face, “Did you really just blow off practice when we’re right in the middle of playoffs? Are you out of your fucking mind?”