Torn from You (28 page)

Deck respected Logan.

“This isn’t him asking me to look out for
you. This is me looking out for you, because I care about you and
so does Logan. He’s worried about you and he has every right to
be.” What did that mean? Deck swore beneath his breath. “Emily ...”
He stopped at the car where Georgie, Kat and Raven were already
piled in the backseat. I thought he was going to say something
else, but instead he helped me into the car then shut the door. I
was left wondering what the hell he was talking about. What did he
mean really bad? I had this sudden need to talk to Logan, hear his
voice and make certain he was alright. I clutched my purse to my
chest to keep from taking out my phone.

Then Deck took us to the condo where I
proceeded to throw up in the toilet then pass out on the floor.

Waking on the cold, hard tiled floor
sometime the next day, I felt as if a skunk had sprayed in my mouth
and I had iron pokers sticking in my head.

Groaning, I used the toilet to hoist myself
up to the sink, tagged my toothbrush, piled on toothpaste, and
stuck it in my mouth. I did that three times then tilted my head
into the sink and drank the cool water relieving some of my dry
mouth.

As I shut off the water, my purse vibrated
beside the toilet on the floor. Falling back onto my ass, I propped
up against the cupboard while shuffling through my purse for my
phone. I glanced at the screen and groaned again.

“You’re calling me this early on purpose,
aren’t you? Punishment for my sins.”

Logan chuckled, and despite loving the sound
of his sexy, deep chuckle that I rarely heard, I held the phone
away from my ear.

“Ouch.”

“That good?”

“Hmmm.” Closing my eyes, I brought my knees
up to hook my arm around them.

“I should be there.”

I huffed. “Yeah, you’d be clanging frying
pans together.”

“No, I’d bring you breakfast in bed with
Advil.”

Shit. Damn it, why did he have to do sweet?
It made all my reservations about him blowtorch into ash. And I had
no return comment.

“That’s after I talked to you about last
night, Eme.” He paused, and I could picture him running his hand
through his hair; I wanted my hands running through it. Well, maybe
not such a good idea right at this moment. I put my head down and
rested it on my knees. “When we talk, it’s good. Then last night we
didn’t. I got caught up with the new manager, and I couldn’t call
you. We did our gig, and I tried after the set, but you didn’t pick
up. I thought you might be asleep, so I called Matt after we were
done to see how Strikeback was working out, and he told me you were
there. Then he said you were slurring your words. Eight cosmos.
Eight.”

“Um yeah. I’m paying for it today, trust
me.”

“Emily. You had eight cosmos, and I wasn’t
there to take care of you. I called, and you never picked up and
... fuck, Eme, I was worried.”

Well, to be fair, I hadn’t heard my phone
ringing, although even if I had I wouldn’t have picked it up. Not
last night on my mission of stamp removal. “Twenty times,” I
mumbled.

“Yeah. Twenty times.” He sounded really mad,
the kind of mad where he just had to look at you and there’d be no
more arguing. Luckily, I couldn’t see his face.

“Logan, I didn’t hear the phone.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Mouse, you go out with
the girls, I need you to make sure you can hear your phone. You
were drunk and slurring your words. Ethan was thinking he was
getting some, and I wasn’t there and couldn’t get there. Jesus ...
There’s some shit happening that—” He stopped abruptly. “You not
answering your phone and then getting drunk at the bar ...” He
groaned and it sounded like he hit something hard with his fist.
“Fuck.” He paused then in a soft voice he said, “I get nightmares,
baby. Everything inside me wants to protect you and I feel like I
keep failing.”

I lifted my head and hit it on the cupboard
door. Wow. Just wow. And also shit. I quietly said, “Matt was
there. And Logan ... you can’t fail at something that isn’t your
responsibility.”

I was hung over, sitting with the phone to
my ear listening to Logan’s words, and feeling like crying. Him
saying stuff like that made it difficult to keep my emotions
hardened against him.

Logan had been worried. He had nightmares.
He thought he was failing me.

I wasn’t going to cry. God, it felt
overwhelmingly good that he’d been worried, and it scared me. I
didn’t want any guy to ever control me again.

He wanted to make certain I was safe. He
knew Ethan was a dog and freaked on him. “I gave him my number,” I
blurted out.

He made a sort of grunt. “All I had to do
was get you drunk? Eme, really?”

“Well, in my defense I was pissed at you. So
I gave it to him.”

“You were pissed at me?”

“Yeah, Logan. I was mad.”

“Why, baby?” His tone had softened, and I
imagined him singing a slow love ballad in his graveled, sexy
voice, microphone between his hands, eyes closed. Yeah, I knew he
could sing a love song really well. And I didn’t want to answer his
question. “Why?”

I rubbed my hand down the side of my face.
If I wasn’t so hung over I’d have some kind of evasive technique.
“You didn’t call.”

“Sweet Jesus.”

“I was being stupid, and I wanted to try and
forget you, and alcohol can do that if you drink enough, which I
tried to do but—”

“Engraved Emily.” I knew exactly what he
meant. “I know you’re scared about us, but when I get back we’ll
work it out. Baby, if you need a call from me then call. If I’m
busy I’ll tell you I’m busy, and I’ll call you back. Don’t go out
pissed off at me and drink with the girls all night and give your
number to some guy you don’t know.” I heard him cover the mouth
piece and shout something to Crisis. “Eme, I have to go.”

“Okay. Logan?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. I mean for whatever happened to
you after ... you know, after you,” I took a deep breath, “got me
out.”

There was breathing on the other end, but he
didn’t respond.

“Deck said last night ... he respects you.
He said it was bad after I left. It had to do with me leaving,
didn’t it?”

He still didn’t answer.

“Tell me he didn’t hurt you.” I felt the
tears well up, because I knew. Deck wouldn’t push this if it wasn’t
something horrible, and knowing Raul and his cruel streak, I
suspected he didn’t take me leaving and Logan’s involvement very
well.

“I’ll call you later before the gig. Coffee.
Advil. Then a big breakfast. Okay?”

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“Eat something, Eme.”

“Okay.”

“If Ethan calls, you tell him you don’t date
dogs.”

I smiled. Logan hung up.

I held the phone to my chest, trying to hold
back tears. I realized that Logan not saying anything meant
whatever went down had been bad. Raul was cruel, but would he have
harmed his own son? I knew already—yes. Raul wouldn’t let anyone
get away with making him out to be a fool.

Logan texted me numerous times over the next
couple days. Little reminders that he was sweet and ... yes, he was
reminding me of the Logan I once loved. He still laid it out raw
and in my face that this—us—was going somewhere, but instead of
getting angry at him for pushing for more than I wanted, I found
myself smiling and rolling my eyes.

Logan would be back in four days, and
despite our recent texting and conversations, I still had trouble
trusting him. Once he got back, I knew things would have to change,
and I did realize that I may have to move from the farm sooner than
I had anticipated. Logan and I may be talking, but living together
was not something I was even close to considering.

He’d called last night twice. It was noisy
and difficult to talk when Crisis and Kite kept yelling at one
another while playing what sounded like a video game in the
background. So, he called me back later after the guys crashed. I
lay in bed talking to him for an hour, mostly about stuff we liked,
music, food, movies. It wasn’t deep, but it was nice, and it was
normal. Logan and I hadn’t had much normal.

I picked up my phone which sadly, I hated to
admit, went everywhere with me in case Logan texted—pathetic—and
ran downstairs. Kat was already sitting on the couch, a bowl of
popcorn on her lap and two glasses of red wine on the coffee table.
We’d decided that an evening of
The Walking Dead
was in
order.

I plopped down and grabbed my pillow and
beer then set my phone on the table. Kat glanced at it, brows
raised. Then she smiled and stuck her tongue out and wiggled
it.

“Gross, Kat.”

“You won’t be saying that when he gets back
and has his head between your thighs.” She turned up the volume on
the TV when I started stuttering my objection.

I reached over and picked up a kernel of
popcorn and threw it at her.

It hit her right on the temple. I heard the
sound of ripping guts in the background.

“It’s not like that.” I popped a few kernels
in my mouth and took a sip of wine.

Kat picked up a piece of popcorn and threw
it back at me. I turned my head at the last second, and it bounced
off my ear. “Sculpt wants in your pants.”

“Sculpt was in my pants, now he doesn’t get
that.” I threw the rest of my handful of popcorn at her. It tangled
in her hair, and she set her wine down then picked it out one at a
time. “Talking to Sculpt is my therapy.”

“Bah, it’s more than that. You’re constantly
looking at your phone to see if he’s texted, you’re so falling for
him—again.”

“You’re wrong. It’s not like that.”

Kat put her hands over her ears and started
singing—loud. I threw a handful of popcorn at her laughing. “I’ve
seen the way you look at him. You’re drooling. Panting. Your wet
panties will be off the moment he says, ‘Come here Emily.’”

I tried to control the burst of laughter at
Kat’s Logan impression and failed. “Kat,” I yelled then grabbed for
the bowl of popcorn. She squealed diving for it at the same time.
We both had a hold of the bowl, and popcorn was everywhere. Kat
tugged hard, and I let go at the same time. We both went flying
backward and landed on floor opposite one another. Kat grabbed a
handful of popcorn and shoved it all in her mouth then we were
rolling on the floor laughing hysterically.

“What the shit?”

I had no clue whose voice that was, and I
quickly scrambled to my feet, hearing the crunch of popcorn beneath
me.

“Ream,” Kat garbled on her overflowing mouth
of popcorn.

Oh fuck. Standing in the doorway looking at
us like we were crazy was Kat’s Ream. Well, not her Ream per say,
but Brett said he was, and by the way his eyes were traveling over
her I was thinking he was right.

Kat was still on the floor, her hair covered
in white kernels.

“Kat.” Ream walked further into the room
then dropped his bag on the floor. He wore a white T-shirt, and ink
crawled down his arms and up his neck on the right side. He was
leaner than Logan and about an inch shorter which meant he was
still really tall. “Emily.” He nodded to me.

Kat got up and looked from Ream to the bag.
“What’s this?”

“Crashing here.”

Kat slowly brushed off the white kernels.
“Really? Surprising, considering you can’t stand to be in the same
room as me.”

“Fuck, Kitkat.” Kitkat? He had a nickname
for her? Holy shit, there was way more between them than Kat had
told her about. “Don’t start.”

“Not starting anything, just pointing out
the facts.” Kat started picking up the kernels on the floor and
tossing them in the bowl. She was acting nonchalant, but there was
more to it than that. Kat was uncomfortable; she never fidgeted.
Right now she was doing everything she could to not look at
Ream.