Logan Kade (Fallen Crest #5.5) (18 page)

“Yeah.” I stood. “I’m good. The bonfire’s still a go?”

“Yep.”

I watched Nate getting into his car. Sam rounded to the passenger side. “Can you guys even drive?”

“Nate and I didn’t drink tonight. We just let the others think we were.” He winked. “It’s easier to win that way.”

I shook my head, not really surprised at all, and stepped into his side. His arm came over my shoulders as naturally as breathing. As we walked to Logan’s vehicle, Nate drove past. Both he and Sam waved.

When we got in, Logan asked, “What was going on with you and Sam?”

I paused. “What do you mean?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I know when Sam’s just delivered a bomb. I can recognize the look by now. #Chickshowdown. It’s hot, but seriously, I know she said something. What was it?” All his joking and teasing vanished. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about her. Mason, Sam, and me—the three of us have been through a lot. She’s been put in the hospital because of us, stuff like that. I could tell she was paying more attention to you than she normally does to girls I bring around, but it’s just because she’s protective of me. That’s it. I’m the same way with her.”

“Yeah.” I willed the tension in me to dissipate. “You guys all love each other. That’s obvious.”

He didn’t let up. His eyes only narrowed. “What’d she say?”

I shook my head, my hands lifted from my lap. “Nothing. She just said that if I hurt you, she’d become my worst enemy.”

His head back moved an inch. “That was it?”

I nodded. “Yeah. That was it.”

“Oh.” He shrugged that off, starting his Escalade. “That’s nothing then.”

“That’s normal for you guys?”

He pulled away from the curb. The glow from Nate’s rear lights was still visible, and he headed toward them. “Oh, yeah. Hospital visits. Car wrecks. Car explosions. Fights. Lots of fights. You’d be surprised what our normal is.” He smiled to himself. “Good times.”

I sat back, stunned, and then I remembered—I still hadn’t met his brother.

#RIPROARINGDRUNK

TAYLOR

Nate was in the back building a fire when we got to the house. I knew it was late, and I could have checked my phone to find out the time, but I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to think about anything. I just wanted to be. Reminding myself to focus on the moment, I looked around at Logan’s place. They had a nice setup, an
impressive
setup. The house was big, so I knew the back would be nice, but when I stepped out there, I was still taken aback.

In the corner of a massive porch was a fireplace made of all different colored rocks. Around it were a bunch of padded benches, but Nate had started our bonfire in the yard, farther down from the porch. They had a huge circular bricked area with an oversized metal container right in the middle. Nate piled wood there, and as Logan shut the door behind me, Nate lit a match. He flicked it on the pile and
oomph
! Just like that, the entire south section of their backyard was bathed in light.

When it settled, Nate spread his arms wide, grinning from ear to ear. “We got ourselves a bonfire.”

Logan’s hand rested on the small of my back, and his other held two beers for us. “We’re coming. Where’s Sam?”

Nate waved at the house. “Mason was awake when we got home, so she went with him.”

“You want anything to eat?”

I glanced up. Food hadn’t entered my mind all night, but at Logan’s question, I realized I was ravenous. “Yes, please,” I told him. “Can I help with something?”

He nodded in Nate’s direction. “Head on down. There are blankets down there and more beer, if you need either. Nate will set you up.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to make some food for us. Be down in a few.”

It felt a little weird. I associated bonfires with party atmospheres. With only a few people, it seemed intimate. Nate was rummaging in a storage bin a few feet from the bonfire. I didn’t want to feel an intimate vibe with him. Logan now represented my comfort zone, and that in itself should’ve been an alarm signal. Instead, I focused on making it until he returned..

“Hey,” Nate said as I approached. “Blankets are in here if you get cold.”

I looked at the raging fire. “Don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

He laughed, sitting down on one of the benches. “Yeah, but you’d be surprised how chilly it can get when the fire fades.”

I frowned at him. Was he trying to tell me something?

He noticed my look. “What?”

I shrugged, sitting down on one of the farthest benches from him. “Nothing.” I shoved my hands into my pockets and hunched over. “Logan’s making us food?”

“Yep. He does that. Chef Logan. That’s all we’ve been hearing lately. It’s annoying.”

Oh. “Do all of you guys live here?”

“Yeah.” Nate hunched forward too and poked the fire with a stick. “We had a different house closer to campus last year. Since Sam’s living with us now, Mason wanted something more private and secure.” He used the stick to wave over the backyard. “You can’t see it, but there’s a perimeter around the house. Anyone we don’t know steps over it, and we all get alarms sent to our phones.”

I looked around, but this was the outskirts of town. The backyard was trees, and that was what filled up the front yard, too. “Who are you guys?”

Nate grinned. “We’ve had our fair share of enemies; I guess I can say that much.”

“You can say that and more.” Logan joined the conversation as he arrived, holding a pan in front of him with an oven mitt on his hand. He set the pan down on a brick near the fire, taking the bench between us. “I made quesadillas. And see?” He pointed to a platter with three smaller cups. “Dip.”

“You made the dip?” Nate sounded impressed.

“No.” Logan shook his head. “But I put it in those little things. Chef Logan always makes it right for my man-husband.” He winked at Nate.

“I’ve told you...” Nate rolled his eyes, but grinned as he reached for a quesadilla. “You need to stop trying to get into my pants, Logan. Mason’s made it clear. Our romance is strictly forbidden.”

Logan gave a low, smooth chuckle.

Even his laugh was infectious. It slid into me, warming and relaxing me all at the same time.

Logan mirrored Nate, kicking his legs up on the corner of my seat, and the two began talking. I tuned them out to stare at the fire, but I couldn’t tune out Logan’s feet so close to me. I felt the stirrings of things I shouldn’t be feeling. Images of going to Logan, sinking next to his side, feeling his arm around me, or—I closed my eyes; the images were vivid now. Kissing him. Touching his face. I held my breath. It was so temping to go over and sit next to him. His arm would go around my shoulders. I could lean in. Then…

I was burning up, an ache building between my legs.

Logan and Nate talked and laughed. I was holding myself back from jumping Logan. And then I was somewhere else. Eric and I had been laughing together in bed that morning...

“Come on.” He’d poked me in the side as he lay next to me, our naked limbs tangled together. His mouth rested on my shoulder, and his lips had grazed my skin as he added, “We should get up if we’re going to stop and see your mom when we get home.”

I didn’t have a chance to respond.

The poke had turned into a tickle, and soon Eric was on top of me. All the laughter and shrieks soon transformed to moaning. He’d slid back inside me, and we’d stayed in bed for another hour.

I gripped my plate on my lap and stared into the fire, but I was back there. I remembered when we’d pulled up to the hospital. Eric held my hand as we walked in. We didn’t stop at the front desk. I’d grown up visiting my mom at work. The receptionist waved as she saw us go past, down the hallway. That was when we heard the first gunshot.

“Taylor?”

I started. My hands jerked, and the plate went flying. “Shit.” I reached for it, but Logan got there first, his eyes on me.

“Bruce, you okay?”

I relaxed instantly. It was stupid, but my last name put distance between us. It gave me space to think, feel, breathe. I wouldn’t do anything stupid. I nodded, relaxing the rest of my body as best I could. “Yeah. I’m good.”

It was probably obvious I wasn’t. After a brief moment of silence, Nate coughed and stood up, his plate in his hand. “Think I’ll head to bed for the night.” He picked up the empty quesadilla platter and his beer, as well as the one Logan had emptied. I had a beer in front of me, but I hadn’t touched it.

He paused, looking down at it, but moved past. “’Night, guys.”

I wanted to disappear.

If Logan waved or any silent messages passed between the two, I didn’t see it. My head was firmly folded down, my chin against my chest. Once I heard the patio door slide open, then closed, Logan adjusted his legs. His feet rested next to mine, and he tapped my shoe with his.

“Hey,” he said. “What’s your damage?”

My head flew up, and I was ready to fight. But I stopped as soon as my eyes found his. He’d delivered no derision with that phrase. I’d reacted too soon. He was steady, calm, and waiting for me to answer. He’d just been trying to lighten the mood.

“Sorry.” Even my jaw was tight. Goddamn. My hands had balled into fists. I forced them open. “I have these moments where…”
I go insane.
“I remember things…from before.”

“Yeah?”

God. A storm of everything ravaged me. Guilt. Shame. Anger. Betrayal. And, I swallowed tightly, even relief. I survived. My mom hadn’t. And I was sitting here, trying not to kiss this guy because he could break me.

What the hell was I doing?

“Hey.” Logan leaned closer. His elbows rested on his knees. His head came close to mine, and his fingers tapped my leg. “Look.” He straightened. “I know some shit went down last year with your mom. I’ve got no idea what, just that something happened. If you think I care what it is, you’re wrong. I can see it’s hurting you. That’s the only thing I care about. So if you want to talk, I’m here. If you don’t, I don’t either.”

The more he said, the more tension left me.

His voice softened. “We’ve all got shit in our past.” He gestured to the house. “Those people in there? Mason, Sam, even Nate—they’re my family because we’ve had our own battles go down. I love my parents, but I didn’t grow up because of them. I grew up because of Mason. So whatever went down with you last year—I don’t know what I’m saying. I guess you can hold on to it if you want, if that does something for you. Fuck.” He expelled a breath. “I don’t say shit to anyone either, so who am I to encourage all the sharing?” He stood, holding his beer bottle so tightly his knuckles were almost white. “I suddenly want to get rip-roaring drunk.”

I expected him to pass by, head for the house, and my gaze went back to the ground. But his feet never moved away. I looked back up, and he held his hand out to me. “You coming?”

I couldn’t look away. “To get drunk?”

He shrugged. “For whatever, but yes, I’d prefer if booze was involved.”

I looked up into his eyes then. The storm that raged in me was there too. The joking, playing side of him was gone. This was the real Logan, and there was a whole lot of darkness there. I took his hand, felt myself standing with him, and I followed him inside. Everything said yes to me. Yes, I wanted to hold his hand. Yes, I wanted to get drunk with him. Yes, I wanted to tell him what happened. Yes, I wanted to go wherever he was taking me.

I stopped thinking. I would probably regret it, but I was done thinking, analyzing, worrying. I was done being afraid. I was going with the feels, and as Logan went inside, he grabbed a bottle of Jack. The feels would be dangerous to me that night. I embraced them.

Logan went upstairs, then up a second flight of stairs. He had the entire third level as his bedroom. He’d set up a small living room in the corner with a massive television screen mounted on the wall. A video game console sat halfway between the television and the couch. Logan nudged it back toward the wall and sank down on the couch.

I stood in front of him. He gazed up at me, our hands still laced together. My heart beat so fast.

Nothing was said, but I felt him. I felt that he wanted me. I wanted him, too. The air was thick. I felt it pressing down, but it didn’t bother me. All I could feel was the desire to touch him, to taste him.