When Love Breaks (19 page)

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

“Okay then, I’ll just gather a few things, and we’ll be off.”

“Can I see your bedroom?”

She seems nervous, but reluctantly agrees. I follow her into a room at the end of the hallway.

“Well, here it is. It’s not much but—”

“Hey,” I interrupt. “Stop making excuses for the way your place looks. I’m not judging you. It’s a great place. You should be proud.”

“I know. It’s just…not as nice as your house. It’s small and cramped and some days, it looks as if a tornado hit.” She shrugs. “But, it’s home.”

I tenderly touch her cheek.

“It’s a great place. Stop worrying what I think. Okay?” She gives me a small smile then nods. “Now, let’s get your stuff and get back to what we started.” She pins me with her best scolding look. “I meant to study. Get your mind out of the gutter, Miss Foster.”

She laughs, gathers her things, shoves them in a nearby backpack, then we exit the room. We’re just about out of the hall, when she bumps, almost literally, into a tall man, who I assume is her brother, Daniel. I hear her surprised gasp, as she stops just short of him.

“Hi. We were just leaving.” She tries to skirt past him, but he stands his ground at the mouth of the hall.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” He crosses his arms in front of his chest as a slight frown forms on his face.

“Of course. Daniel, this is Logan. Logan, this is my brother, Daniel.”

I extend my hand toward him.

“Hi, Daniel. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Daniel looks down at my hand then back up at me. His arms stay crossed at his chest.

“I’ve heard a lot about you too.” He icy gaze turns to Elora, and she glares at him.

“We’re leaving now.” She grabs a hold of my wrist and pulls me toward the door.

Daniel’s body turns to watch us.

“So soon? Why are you in such a hurry, and why do you have a backpack? Planning a night hike?”

Elora walks toward him, stopping inches from his tall frame. She fists her hands on her hips and looks directly up at him.

“Back off, now,” she insists. “I don’t know where this attitude came from, but get rid of it. I don’t need, nor do I want, your opinions on where I go, or who I date. If I recall, I’ve never chastised you for any of your
fine choices
.” She draws quotes in the air with her fingers.

His eyes narrow.

“My
choices
have never put my job in jeopardy. I’ve never dated my boss for that matter either.”

“He’s not my boss, Daniel. I’ve told you that. He hasn’t been my boss for—”

“For at least a few weeks now, huh?” he snarls.

It’s clear he’s been drinking. I need to get her out of here. I place my hand on her shoulder.

“Come on. Let’s go.” Daniel looks at me, and I see the fury in his eyes as he spies my hand on his sister.

“No. He has no right to act this way,” she says, still staring at him. “We’re a couple, and I have no intention of that changing anytime soon, so get used to it,” she tells him.

Then, his stance changes slightly, becoming more erect, and he pulls his shoulders back. My instincts kick in, and I assess this as a threat. With one arm, I hook Elora and push her behind me, stepping forward between her and her brother. If he’s going to do something, let it be to me.

“That’s enough. We’re leaving, before you do something you might regret,” I say, looking him straight in the eyes. His nostrils flare, as do his eyes, and I can smell beer on his breath.

“What do you think you’re going to do? You’ve got no legs.” He snickers.

“Daniel!” Elora shouts. He looks at her for a second, then his bloodshot eyes fall back on me.

“Don’t you worry about me. I can handle whatever I have to.” I, too, stand up straighter and puff my chest out a bit.

“This is ridiculous,” she says, as she tries to reposition herself in front of me. But, my arm remains stock still, holding her back, protecting her.

Daniel takes a step back and scoffs.

“Whatever. Have your little affair, Elora. And, when you lose your job
and
your nursing license,
and
you get sued, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He takes one last look at the both of us then retreats into the kitchen. My arm stays put, until he disappears behind the wall. When I know he’s not going to do anything stupid, I lower my arm and glance back at her.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” she hisses. “Let’s just get out of here.”

She heads for the door, without looking back.

The ride back to my place is mostly silent. My hand rests on her knee as a reminder to stay calm, even though I can tell she’s still enraged.

“Do you want to talk about it?” She blows out a sharp breath through her nose, then shakes her head. “Okay. I’ll give you all the time you need.” I watch as her shoulders relax, and I hope it’s a sign that she’s trying to calm down. It only takes her a few more minutes before she opens up.

“I’m sorry about that. He was out of line.”

I shrug.

“It’s okay. No harm done.”

She glances over at me.

“You’re kidding, right? Did you hear him? Did you hear what he said to you? It’s appalling to say the least. He shouldn’t have said that. If you weren’t standing in between us, I would’ve punched him.”

“He probably won’t even remember meeting me. He’d been drinking.”

She looks over at me again, then back at the road.

“Yeah, he drinks a bit more lately than he used to.”

I want to press her and tell her he might have a problem but ultimately, I stay silent and let her deal with him in her own way.

We get back to my house, and I gesture toward the couch.

“Why don’t you make yourself comfortable. I’ll make us some tea and grab a snack. We’ll study first, then do whatever else later.” My small, sincere smile let’s her know I have no intention of seducing her tonight. Daniel made sure to put a damper on those plans. I’m okay with that though. I want to be there for her, no matter what the situation. She nods sadly and sits on the floor in front of the couch. She leans her back against it, then unpacks her books, spreading them along the floor in front of her, and begins.

“Thank you,” she says softly, “for helping me study…and for being so understanding with Daniel. He gets out of hand sometimes,” she says, as she puts her books back into her bag.

I brush my knuckles against her cheek, and she leans into my touch.

“It’s fine. Really. You can’t control the actions of someone else.”

“I know, but it hurt me to hear him talk about you like that. To say you don’t have legs was a cruel thing to say, and…”

I put my arm around her, pulling her into my side.

“He spoke the truth,” I say, and she lifts her head from my shoulder, a little shocked by my statement. “What? It’s true. I have no legs. I’m not ashamed.
You
taught me that.” I smile and touch the end of her perfectly shaped nose. “People are going to say whatever they say, and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do about it.” A look of deep thought crosses her face. “Can I ask you something?”

She nods.

“Of course.”

“When he gets like that, does he hurt you?”

Her eyes widen significantly.

“No, not at all. He’d never hurt me, not intentionally anyway.” She looks up through her lashes. “Is that why you shielded me? Because you thought he might hurt me?” I nod gravely, and she looks down. Then, her arms wrap tightly around me. “Thank you. It felt good, even if there was no real danger.”

“I’d do again and again for you, Elora.” I pause to collect my scattered thoughts. “I…” I take a deep breath. “I love you.” She looks at me abruptly, and I scan her face, trying to gauge her reaction.

“You do?” I nod; a small smile appears on my face where, just an hour ago, rage was brewing. “I love you too,” she says, barely above a whisper. “I think I have for a while now. I was just too afraid to admit it.”

Her innocent expression begs me to kiss her, so I take her chin in my hand, lower my mouth, and gently press my lips to hers. It’s not a desperate kiss, nor is it the kind of kiss that turns into something else. It’s the kind of kiss that communicates all the emotions that two people, who have fallen in love, need to convey to one another. I cup her face in my hand and stare into her guileless eyes.

“I will protect you at all costs. Nothing bad will happen as long as I’m with you. You are my light, my love, my Elora, and I love you.” I kiss her again, then we meld together as we sit in silence, cocooned around each other.

As I pull back the covers on my queen size bed, she emerges from the bathroom dressed in her pajamas. They suit her perfectly, with black and white penguins scattered all over her full length pants. I smile at how adorable she looks in them. She sees my reaction, looks down at herself, and giggles softly. She shrugs at her child-like clothing, while I shake my head in awe of the woman I confessed to love.

“Which side would you like to lie on?” I ask.

“I don’t care. Whichever one you don’t want to.”

“Okay then, I’ll take the outside. That way, if zombies attack, I’ll get bitten first.”

She laughs loudly.

“Great. I’ll be forced to watch, then you’ll be turned into one, and I’ll really be screwed.”

I laugh loudly.

“Come on. Climb in,” I say, and she does.

After removing my prosthetic legs, I crawl in bed next to her. I gesture for her to roll onto her side, then spoon her—my front to her back. With my arm draped over her, I pull her into me. Within minutes, we’re both fast asleep.

16

ELORA

M
y eyes flutter open. Streaks of the morning sun shine in, filtered by the semi-sheer curtains. I feel the weight of Logan’s arm around me as I attempt to stretch. I smile and lace my fingers through his relaxed hand. Clearly, he’s still asleep. Content, I yawn, but do my best not to wake him up. We were both up late. I sigh and recall the events of last night. We admitted we love each other. That’s huge. I’m not sure what comes next for us, but I know we’re on the right path.

Then, I remember Daniel’s rant and the terrible things he said. I’m still so angry. I don’t know what I’ll say to him, but he’s going to apologize to Logan, whether he wants to or not. What the hell is his problem anyway? He’s been binge drinking more and more these days.

Logan stirs, so I freeze, hoping he stays asleep. He tightens his grip on me, pulling me closer to his body, and mumbles something. I have to cover my mouth to keep from giggling.

“Don’t go,” he says, as he buries his face into the back of my neck. His stubble scratches me a bit, but then he stills. I can feel his face contort as he continues to talk. “Help,” he says. I think he’s having a bad dream. “
No
.” His voice is louder this time. Releasing me, he reaches down. I think he’s grabbing at the air where his legs used to be. Gingerly, I turn around to face him. His face is scrunched up as if he’s in agony, and I know what it’s about. My heart breaks for him, and I feel the need to rescue him from his nightmare.

“Logan,” I say as I shake him gently. “Logan, wake up. It’s just a dream.” He winces and begins to thrash about. His cries are garbled, as he fights a battle he’s already won in real life. My expression goes from concern to panic, as I try to wake him, before his dream goes too far. “Logan!” I shout, and he stills. With sweat dripping from his brow, he opens his eyes. He gazes at the ceiling, in an obvious attempt to regain consciousness. He then looks at me, and his expression softens. I smile timidly, unsure of his mood after this bout. He rubs his eyes, and a small smile appears on his face.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” I reply.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, I did. I might ask the same of you.”

“I slept like a rock.” He yawns and stretches, pulling at the covers to adjust them.

“Are you okay?”

His brow furrows.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You were having a dream—a nightmare. I’m guessing it was about your accident.”

He frowns.

“I don’t remember.”

“Really? I woke you up from it just a second ago. It seemed pretty violent. You were thrashing around quite a bit.”

He shakes his head adamantly.

“Nope. No recollection.”

I eye him suspiciously.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“It just seems odd, that’s all.”

“Do you remember all of your dreams?”

“No.”

“Then, why is it odd that I don’t either?”

I shrug, wondering if he knows, but doesn’t want to talk about it. I decide to let it go for now.

“So, what do you want to do today?” he asks, effectively changing the subject.

“I’m not sure, but whatever it is, it’ll have to be early in the day. I need to be home before dinner.”

“Do you have to go so soon?”

“Yes,” I say, as I sit up and dangle my legs off the side of the bed. My back is to him, but I feel his weight shift behind me. I no sooner notice, when two arms engulf me around the waist, pulling backward onto the bed. I screech and giggle, and before I know it, he’s on top of me.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he declares, then he starts to tickle me.

I’m laughing, and wiggling, and trying to drag in precious breaths. And, although I have a definite two limb advantage, he’s got me pinned down by my arms and is looking at me, triumphant.

“You can’t leave now.” He gives me his best evil laugh, then bends down to bury his face in my neck. I’m thinking he’s going to kiss me there but, instead, he blows a raspberry so loud that I clamp my chin to my shoulder, holding him there until he stops.

“You win!” I exclaim, and after a few more seconds of torture, he relents.

Still holding himself up off me, he greets me with a smile.

“You look beautiful in the morning. I only wish I could see you this way every day.”

“Well, I don’t know about every day, but it’s a distinct possibility on the weekends.”

“I’ll take whatever I can get.” He kisses my forehead, then climbs back off. “Come on. Let’s make breakfast.”

After brushing our teeth and starting the coffee pot, we begin making breakfast. Pancakes are on the menu, alongside bacon and eggs. He pours two glasses of juice, then we sit down to devour our mini feast.

“So, now that we’ve established that we love each other, and that neither of us is going anywhere, I need to ask you a question that’s been rolling around my head for some time.”

“Ask away. I’m an open book to you,” he says.

I take a deep breath, then exhale, to shake any nerves I have out of my body.

“Okay. Answer as much as you’re comfortable with.”

His fork freezes in midair, and he looks apprehensive.

“Okay…”

“I want you to tell me about your accident.”

I jump, as the fork he was holding drops and hits the plate. His flustered appearance makes it very apparent that he doesn’t like this question.

“Why do you want to know about that?” He’s guarded.

I shrug.

“I don’t know. You’ve never really said much about it, and I’ve always wondered.”

He takes a long sip of his orange juice, then puts the glass down, but says nothing.

I’ve upset him.

“You don’t have to answer. I’m sor—”

“No, it’s fine. You have a right to know. I’m just not comfortable talking about it, you know? It sort of brings it all back to me. It makes me relive it all over again.” He fidgets in his chair, clearly contemplating his words, but continues, despite feeling uneasy. “It was a motorcycle accident. I was on my bike but only remember parts of it. I remember waking up screaming in pain as two make-shift tourniquets were being placed around both my thighs, in an attempt to stop me from bleeding out.”

“Ryan,” I mutter, more to myself than to him.

“Yes, it was Ryan. Thank God he was behind me. I found out later that one of my legs was ripped off on impact. The other was so badly broken that they had no choice but to amputate it.”

I wince and cover my mouth, horrified and unable to imagine the amount of pain he must’ve been in.

“Oh, my God. That’s awful.”

“Yeah. That was the most painful thing I’ve ever had to endure. It’s an agony you can only imagine.” His face contorts, and I feel guilty for wanting him to continue. “I can still smell certain things. The odor of gasoline and the smell of burning rubber really stand out clearly. I also remember a revved engine. I think it might’ve been Ryan’s. Anyway, I had several, life threatening injuries, which landed me in the hospital for months. I was in a coma for most of it, but after finding out what I’d lost, I’d wished that Ryan had never found me that day.” He bows his head, most likely ashamed of the way he thought at that time. I place my hand over his, reassuring him that I understand. He turns his hand over, letting our fingers intertwine, and squeezes my hand gently. “It was a long time ago. It’s over now, and I’m glad I didn’t die that day—or I never would’ve met you.” He raises our joined hands to his lips and kisses the back of mine.

“Thank you for telling me. I know it was hard to talk about.”

“I don’t want to hide anything from you. From now on, if you want to know something, all you need to do is ask.” He winks at me, then releases my hand, and resumes eating his breakfast.

I’m reeling from his version of the events, and I’m finding it hard to eat. But because I don’t want him to think he can’t talk freely about it, I manage to finish most of my food.

Suddenly, the phone rings.

“Who is calling me on a Sunday morning?” he says, a little irritated having been interrupted. I shrug as he answers. “Hello?”

I listen intently to his end of the call.

“Yes, good morning to you too, mother,” he says in an exasperated tone.

He waits as she speaks.

“I’m not sure we’ll have time today. Elora and I are just finishing breakfast, and she has things to do later. Can we make it another time?”

He listens again, rolling his eyes no less than two or three times in such a short period of time.

“Okay, fine, mother. We’ll come, but just for a little while. Like I said, her time is limited today… Okay, fine. Bye.”

He hangs up the phone, then pushes his hand roughly through his hair. Finally, he looks at me.

“My mother has requested the honor of our presence at her house for lunch today. I tried to get out of it, but she insisted. And, believe me when I say, you don’t say
no
to my mother.”

I giggle as he struggles to hide his frustration regarding his mom. I find it adorable that he still listens to her.

“I’d love to go,” I say. “Is what I’m wearing acceptable?”

“Baby, you could be wearing a burlap sack, and I’d still drool over you.”

I laugh.

“I mean to meet your mother. I want to make a good first impression.”

The almost pained expression that washes over his face concerns me instantly.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but my mother has never been a fan of anyone I’ve dated. It takes a while for her to get used to the idea that her baby boy isn’t going to be carried off by some barracuda in a pair of high heels—especially since my accident. So, don’t expect her to be welcoming. Hell, I’d be shocked if she even acknowledges you’re in the same room.”

My face falls. He sees my dismay and reaches out, covering my hand with his to comfort me.

“Sounds like a great time,” I say sarcastically, lifting the upper corner of my lip.

“Don’t worry. I won’t leave your side. And, if she gets the least bit out of line, I’ll speak up, and we’ll leave. I’m not going to let her scare you off,” he says then kisses my temple.

As we pull into the large, circular driveway of the mansion-like home belonging to Mr. and Mrs. Ross, I find that my palms have suddenly become sweaty, and my mouth is dry as a bone. How ironic. Too bad it wasn’t the other way around. I’m not sure where to park my car, until I see a man, dressed in a tuxedo type suit, staring at me as he walks toward us.

“That’s Malcolm. He’s one of the wait staff. He also parks the guest’s cars,” Logan says, by way of explanation.

“You didn’t tell me your parents are rich,” I reprimand him for leaving that bit of information out. I glance down at my attire. Is this good enough to greet the wealthy parents of my new boyfriend, who used to be my boss, not so long ago? I suddenly feel
way
out of my league.

“Stop worrying about how you look. You’re as gorgeous as ever. If nothing else, you’ll get my stepdad’s approval. Now, let’s get this over with.” Malcolm opens my door, and I step out.

“Hello,” I say.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” he says dryly.

“Hi, Malcolm,” Logan says casually, as if he gets his car parked everyday by a man in a three-piece suit.

“Welcome, Sir,” Malcolm replies, then gets into the driver’s seat and takes off around the side of the house.

“Are you ready?” Logan asks, taking my hand in his. I must look like a deer caught in the headlights because he chuckles quietly and kisses my forehead. “You’ll be fine. You’ll see.” And, we walk up the massive steps up to the front door.

The doorbell sounds like something you’d hear at church on Sunday morning, and the huge, ornately carved double doors are at least nine feet tall. I’m awestruck, staring at the anomaly, when another man, dressed the same as the first, opens the large doors.

“Hey, Jeffery,” Logan says. “How’re they hangin’?”

“Very well, Sir. Thank you for asking.”

His dry reply makes me wish I’d gone home instead of coming here. Sensing my unease, Logan leans over and whispers in my ear.

“Jeffery is paid to be boring. That’s why I try to greet him in a fun way. Pay no attention to him. He’s actually a very nice guy.”