When Love Breaks (3 page)

“You’re back. You weren’t supposed to ring the bell. It’s hard for me to open doors.
Remember that
,” he says bitterly then rolls away from the entrance, allowing me to walk in.

I roll my eyes, knowing he can’t see me, and close the door.

What an ass.

“My apologies. I’ll make a note of that,” I say.
For the
next
person who has to deal with your bullshit,
is what I want to say, but I refrain.

He wheels himself up to the kitchen table and begins leafing through the newspaper. “I’ll have eggs again this morning,” he says gruffly.

“Okay. How would you like them?” My face is an exaggerated grin, complete with fluttering eyelashes and all. If there’s one thing I’ve got going for me today, it’s that I can make all the faces I want behind his back. It’s not professional, I know, but if it helps me get through the day, then so be it.

“Over easy. Yours weren’t horrible yesterday. Just put more pepper on them this time.”

I sneer. Not horrible? Is that his idea of a compliment? He really needs to work on his people skills. Then, it occurs to me. If he’s going to make me miserable with all of his negativity, I’m going to annoy the shit out of him with my best happy-go-lucky attitude. I smile at my new plan and open the fridge.

“Coming right up.”

A little while later, I lay his breakfast in front of him. He seems satisfied and begins to eat.

“It’s supposed to be a beautiful day today,” I say, trying to make small talk. He just grunts. “Do you ever go outside?” He shakes his head but says nothing. I guess it would be hard for him to get out there. I’m wracking my brain trying to come up with a topic that interests him. “Do you have any hobbies?” There’s no reply. He’s not much of a conversationalist, which is making this first half hour awkward and difficult. “So, your brother…what does he do for a living?”

Logan turns his head, enough to be able to see me.

“You know, it’s really hard to eat and talk at the same time. Would you mind keeping your questions and comments to yourself?” he says.

My brows knit together, involuntarily.

“Sure,” I say flatly, not even trying to disguise my frustration.

I start on the kitchen clean up.

An hour has passed. The dishes have been washed, dried, and put away. The kitchen is cleaned up, and the rest of the house has been straightened. As I turn away from the kitchen sink, I’m startled, as Logan has wheeled himself up right behind me. I have to grab onto the counter to keep from falling into his lap.

“When you moved those boxes yesterday, did you see a small wooden box?” he asks, a very angry expression on his face.

“Um, I’m not sure. Why?”

“
Think
. Did you, or did you not, put a small wooden box in my brother’s room?”

“I don’t remember.”

His sigh is one of pure frustration.

“I
need
that box. It has something important in it.”

“I’m sorry, I really don’t know if I moved it or not. Chances are good, that if it was near the rest of the pile, I did. I can just get it for you.” I step around him in an attempt to walk toward his brother’s bedroom.

“Forget it. He keeps his door locked, and I don’t have a key.
Thanks a lot
,” he says in a condescending tone. He then mutters some swear words and stalks off, back down the hall.

He doesn’t have a key? And, what the hell is so important about some stupid box that has his panties in a twist? This job is getting really old, really fast. I’m not sure how much longer I can take his ridiculous behavior. I’m here to help, not to be mistreated. I want to tell him off right now, but I decide to let him cool off a bit, before I rile him up again.

After about fifteen minutes of letting
myself
calm down, I walk gingerly down the hall, toward Logan’s bedroom. The door is ajar, so quietly, I peer through. I see him. He’s sitting at his desk. The laptop that’s in front of him is on, but he’s not paying any attention to it. I watch, curiously, as he exercises. With his arms on the arm rests of his wheelchair, he lifts himself up and down repeatedly. His shirtless back is toward me, and I get an uninterrupted view of his truly impressive physique.

Holy hell. He’s really ripped.

In awe, I observe him as his muscles contract with each extension of his arms. I expect him to stop after a few minutes, but he continues. A sheen of sweat that has formed, trickles down his back, as he pumps up and down, never once even pausing to rest. I can hear his labored breaths, and I know he’s been at this a while.

Suddenly, his hand slips off, no doubt from the perspiration of his palms, and he’s knocked off balance, almost falling out of his chair.

“Agh!” he exclaims, as he tries to right himself.

Automatically, I rush in, ready to catch him, or at least soften his fall. I grab him around the chest from behind and pull him back onto the seat. He squirms in my arms, and pries my hands apart.

“
What the hell do you think you’re doing?
” he barks. I back off immediately as he turns to face me. “
Why are you in here?
” His face is full of rage, and I know I made yet another mistake.

“I…I’m sorry. I thought you needed my help. You fell…you
almost
fell. I was just trying to help,” I say, desperate for some sort of sympathetic look. “I was just doing my job,” I say softly out of frustration.

“I don’t need your help or your pity. Save it for some frail, old lady!” he spits. “Were you spying on me? How long were you standing there?” His tone is accusatory, as if I was ogling him for fun, which in a way, I suppose I was. Tears threaten, but I hold them at bay.

“Only for a few seconds,” I lie. “The dishes are done, and the house has been tidied. I was looking for you to ask what else I can do.”

He sighs loudly.

“Nothing. You can go.”

“But, I still have most of my shift left.”

“I can take it from here.”

My puzzled look generates an expression of,
are you stupid?
from him, so I step back and bow my head. I hear another exasperated sigh.

“Look, I’m good. My brother hired your company to come and babysit me while he’s at work. I don’t really need you here. I’ll call and tell them I dismissed you, so you don’t get in trouble.” I nod without looking at him. “If you want, you can take the garbage out to the street before you go. My brother will practically wet himself with delight,” he says sarcastically.

“Okay,” I say quietly then back away from his room, until he’s out of my line of sight. I turn the corner and lean against the cold, hallway wall, feeling defeated as tears, once again, prick my eyes. I knew this job would be hard. I just didn’t think it’d be
this
hard.

LOGAN

S
hit
. I was too hard on her. Why am I such an asshole? She was just doing her job, like she said. I close my eyes and silently castigate myself for chasing another one off. Only this time, I feel guilty for it. I touch my chest where her warm hands just were and oddly, my skin has never felt so cold. Her touch was an automatic response to her training, yet it seemed different, sincere, kind. I rub my forehead in frustration. I feel bad that she has to put up with me but then, I doubt I’ll see her after today. Good. She doesn’t need the hassle, and I don’t need her help. But, even as I think it, I know it’s bullshit.

I throw my shirt back on and wheel myself out of my bedroom toward the kitchen. She’s still here, but not for long, as she’s putting on her jacket.

“I’ll need you to sign this, to say I was here, and that I did the tasks listed here.” She points to a line on the paper. Her face is sullen, and she doesn’t look me in the eye. I feel terrible for yelling at her. None the less, I take the pen from her hand and scribble my name. Our fingers touch briefly as I hand it back to her, and it’s as if an electrical pulse travels up my arm. I pull back immediately. Silence overtakes the room, and my need to fill it is unlike me.

“Thank you, for…um…breakfast, and…everything else.” My words come out awkwardly, as though I’m a nervous teenager talking to a pretty girl who’s way out of my league.

“You’re welcome,” she says softly, still not looking directly at me.

I want to see her eyes one more time.

“Hey,” I say sharply, and it works. She looks up. “Have a good rest of the day.”

The confusion on her face is evident. I’m sure she’s wondering why I would summon her attention to say something so random and so…normal. Hell,
I’m
wondering the same thing. She nods and turns to walk out the door. I want to say something else…
anything
, to make her turn back around, but I don’t, and my heart sinks as the door latches behind her.

2

LOGAN

“Y
ou did
what?
” Michael shouts at me while clenching his fists.

“I dismissed her. I don’t need a babysitter, Michael.”

“Like hell you don’t! You can barely manage to get in and out of the damn bed without falling onto the floor! You need help, Logan. You do. The sooner you admit that, the better. I’m calling the agency back and asking them to send her again tomorrow. Hopefully, she’ll come, or you’ll be on aide number nine.” His voice is strained. He’s serious—not that I care.

“Fuck you! If you tell them I still need someone, I’ll just have them sit on their ass all day and do nothing. Won’t
that
be a great use of money?”

Michael’s face is turning a menacing shade of red as he scoffs at me, then he stomps off to his room, slamming the door behind him. I roll my eyes and flip him off. Deep down, I know he’s right, though I’d never, in a million years, tell him that.

My thoughts then involuntarily drift to Elora. Will they send her again? Probably not. Surely, by now, she’s told them she never wants to step foot in this house again. Hell, who could blame her? I’ve done nothing but give her a hard time since she walked in. If she’s smart, she’ll never agree to come back. But, somewhere inside me, hope springs. What is it about her that feels different? She’s beautiful. Actually, she’s more than beautiful, but she’s kind too. She’s observant and seems to anticipate my needs before I know what they are. Hell, she even cooked my favorite meal without even knowing it. I bow my head. I can’t get too excited about this girl, after all, what would I possibly have to offer her?

Michael struts back into the kitchen and begins to heat up leftovers from yesterday. Thank God she made so much.

“Well, despite you being a giant douchebag today, Elora has agreed to come back and work here. I’m not sure how much extra they offered her, but I’m sure it was well worth it. I know it was worth the groveling I had to do on your behalf to get her. And, you’ll apologize and be nice to her, damn it,” he says, while taking his plate out of the microwave. He begins to eat while staring at me and smirking.

“What?” I snap.

“If you’re so independent, why don’t you heat up your own dinner?” He raises his eyebrows in anticipation of my response.

“You know I can’t reach the microwave.”

“I know. That just proves my point. You need her, Logan. And, to top it off,
I
need her.” My brow furrows, and an odd sensation creeps in. “To keep cooking meals like this,” he says, then he takes a bite, thoroughly enjoying his dinner, and the fact that he’s right.

“Fine. Whatever. I’ll just eat cereal.” I roll toward the cabinet to grab a box.

“Dude, shut up. I was just messing with you. I’ll do it for you.”

And, that last, little, five-word sentence, is the crux of my problem.

I hate my life.

ELORA

I
reach for the doorbell, then I remember my scolding from yesterday. Instead, I grasp the knob, twist, and push. The door creaks slightly as I open it.

“Hello? It’s me, Elora,” I say, as I step inside. There’s no response, but soon I hear him rolling down the hallway.

“Morning,” he says, his voice is monotone, and his expression, as always, is hard to read.

“Morning,” I say, keeping my voice void of any emotion. “Eggs again today?” I take off my coat, lay it over a nearby chair, and walk to the fridge. I’m trying hard to ignore my instant urge to leave.

“Yes, please.”

Yes, please? Well, that’s something.

“Fried?” He nods, and I nod in return.

In silence, I begin to make his breakfast, when I notice he’s not reading the paper, as he usually does. He’s sighing a bit and looks fidgety. What’s he up to? Suddenly, he turns his chair to face me.

“I’m sorry about yesterday…being gruff with you and asking you to leave, I mean. It wasn’t very nice of me, and…I apologize.” His sincere eyes meet mine, and it occurs to me, that this is the first time he’s ever spoken to me in a normal tone of voice. I nod my head slightly.

“Thank you. Apology accepted. Shall we start over?” I walk over to him and extend my hand. “Hi. I’m Elora,” I say with a genuine smile. He smirks slightly.

He has a great smirk.

“Logan,” he simply says as he shakes my hand.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Logan. If there’s anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.

His face turns sullen, and he nods gravely.

Did I say something wrong?

Slowly, he turns back to the table and picks up the paper.

After setting his breakfast in front of him, I begin the kitchen clean up.

“This is good,” he says without prompting, and I’m taken by surprise.

“Uh, thank you. I hope I put the right amount of pepper on it this time.”

“Yes, it’s fine. Thank you.” He opens his mouth, as if to say more, but closes it again without another word.

Looking for a topic of conversation, I open the pantry.

“You know, you’re getting low on some of your groceries. Does Michael do the shopping?”

“Who else would do it?” he says, sarcastically, then seems to recover his manners. “He has been, but he hates it and rarely finds the time.”

“I could do it for you,” I say without thinking. “I mean, I
am
doing most of the cooking anyway. I could go, if it would help.”

He thinks for a moment.

“I guess that’d be fine. When do you want to go?”

“I’ll go after my shift here. I’ll wait until your brother gets home and—”

“No, do it during the day,” he says in a rush, as he interrupts me. “I can manage without you for an hour or so.”

“I’m not sure I’m supposed to—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupts again. “I’ll be fine. I’m not an infant.” His tone is chastising. Even though I didn’t mean to imply he’s helpless, I bow my head anyway, knowing I’ve struck a nerve. Then, his face suddenly softens. “I’ll get my credit card.” He wheels himself out of the kitchen and toward the bedroom. He’s gone only a few minutes, when he returns with the plastic card and hands it to me. “Get whatever you think you’ll use in a week.” I nod.

“Okay,” I say, then grab a pen and paper in an attempt to make a basic list of items. It’s also to keep from making eye contact with him. I quickly jot down milk, bread, and coffee. Then, it occurs to me. I don’t know if he drinks coffee. My curious face must be cause for him to inquire.

“What is it?” he says.

“Um, do you drink coffee?” My voice sounds timid.

“Not usually, but sometimes. If we’re almost out, get some.” I nod again. “Michael mostly drinks it and trust me when I say, we’re
all
better off if he doesn’t run out.” He chuckles at his own little dig at his brother’s expense, and I automatically look at him. The faintest of smiles graces his lips and for the first time, I see a tiny glimpse of the man in the picture.

“Okay then, I think I wrote down everything you’re low on. I have an idea for a couple dishes I’m going to make for you, so I’ll pick those items up too. I won’t be gone long.”

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere,” he says, then he rolls back down the hall.

The grocery store isn’t busy, so I breeze down each aisle with ease. The fact that I know the layout like the back of my hand gives me a lot of time to think about things. Logan’s moods have been all over the place today, going from angry to smirking in the blink of an eye. I can’t say I’ve seen him actually happy yet, but the small hints of a different Logan lead me to believe there’s a more pleasant part of him in there somewhere. I wonder what it’ll take to bring the rest out.