14. Logan
logan
My arm won’t stop throbbing, pulsing like there was a damn heart right there in my forearm.
“Fucking hell,” I say to it, pulling up to the house and sliding out of the truck.
It was late.
Later than I anticipated being gone, and I was nearly positive that Lue was going to be in bed already. Which was fine, except that I left all of that responsibility on Thea, which isn’t fair in the slightest.
The little light on the porch is on, but beyond that, it looks like most of the house lights are turned off.
I scuff my boots against the porch, my forehead sweating slightly at the exertion, and I let myself into the house.
There’s noise coming from the TV, and when I enter the living room, Thea is there, tucked up in the corner of the couch, her feet under her and a blanket resting over her lap.
She looks at home, and although I am in a lot of pain, I take a second to admire the way she looks in my home, the way she fits here.
Her eyes move and latch onto mine in surprise, her mouth hitching into a bashful smile. “Oh, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I’m sorry, I lost my damn phone.”
“Oh, it’s okay.” She stands, folding the blanket and putting it back on the couch. I still haven’t moved from where I lean against the hallway wall. “Lue ran off to bed a little bit ago, said she has a strict bedtime.”
“Self-inflicted strict bedtime,” I clarify, wondering how I got the most obedient kid.
“That’s cute.” She comes and stands in front of me. Her hair is down from the bun it was in earlier, and I have to hold back the urge to dive my fingers into it and pull her into me.
“Thanks for watching her.” I finally bend, ripping off my boots. When I use my right forearm, I can’t stop the groan of pain when I do so.
“Hey, you okay?” Thea’s hand rests on my shoulder, and I look up at her, panting and feeling more pathetic than I have in a while. “Logan, you’re sweating. What’s wrong?”
Her cool hand brushes over my forehead, and I lean into her touch. “Nothing, just got a scratch on my arm.”
Her brows furrow, and she grabs my arm, sliding my long-sleeve button-up out of the way. A soft gasp escapes her. “Logan, why didn’t you go to the ER?”
“It’s not that bad,” I say, wondering for a moment if I should have said something to CT or Stetson about it, but I brush aside the thought.
“This looks bad,” she says, grasping my other hand and sliding our fingers together. She tugs me into the house. “We need to clean it. ”
“Thea, you’ve already done so much for me,” I say, and I wonder for a minute if I just slurred my words.
“Hush,” she says quietly, leading me to the very back of the house where my room is, as there’s an en suite attached to it.
“Did you snoop through my house?” I ask in jest.
“Of course I did,” she answers quietly and leads me into the bathroom. “You left me here alone for hours, what was I going to do, not snoop?”
“Fair enough,” I reply and dutifully sit on the closed toilet where she sets me.
“Where’s your first aid kit?”
“In the main bathroom,” I answer, my eyes pinched shut. I didn’t think I was so badly injured that I was getting loopy, but I did have my horse spook on me, and there was the slight chance I had a minor concussion.
I hear her come back just as I’m trying to peel my button-down shirt off.
“Logan.” Thea’s voice is scolding, and I pause.
“What?”
“You need to hold still.” She sighs. “I haven’t had a chance to see how bad it is. There’s still a chance you need to go get stitches.”
There was absolutely no way in hell I was getting stitches, but I’ll let her have her fantasies for now.
“What happened anyway? Why didn’t Dani or CT or Stetson tell you not to drive?”
I shrug. “Didn’t tell them I hurt myself.”
“Well, how did you hurt yourself?”
“Did you see that lightning storm?”
“Yes, it shook your house,” she answers, her concentration on taking my shirt off. I really wish it was under different circumstances.
“Yeah, well, it may have spooked my horse, and I may have lost my footing, and I may have fallen and sliced my arm on some fence.”
Her head is close to mine, close enough that I can smell the scent of her soap or shampoo or lotion—whatever it is, it’s addictive.
Her honey eyes connect with mine, and I fight the urge to lean forward and press my lips to hers.
“You may have?” She asks the rhetorical question and shakes her head.
Peeling my shirt over my shoulders, her hand glides over my skin, and I can feel every inch of her body that is touching mine. I try desperately to think about anything else.
The feelings I’m resisting are challenging me in ways I’ve never felt challenged before, but I wasn’t going to spook her.
No, Thea needs me to chill. She needs me to be able to resist her, to not act on those instincts, to keep her safe and protected, even from myself.
She lifts my arm up and sighs. “I still can’t tell if it’s too deep.”
“It’s not,” I assure her.
Her eyes meet mine, and she looks confused for a moment before she shakes her head and grabs a rag, running it under the water before gently cleaning my arm. It doesn’t feel great, but I take deep breaths to keep from moving.
“Does that hurt?”
Her whispered words feel close, and I realize I closed my eyes to focus on not getting fidgety about her rubbing on the wound. “Yes,” I answer honestly, even though something in the back of my mind tells me to lie.
I can hear the smile in her voice. “I’m surprised you said yes.”
“I’m a man, but I can still feel pain.”
Thea pauses, and I open my eyes. She looks at me for a moment, studying me like I’m going to be her next project.
It would probably be inappropriate to beg for that, wouldn’t it?
To tell her she could study me anytime she wanted, in any place she wanted.
To say that I wish I could have her all to myself so I could return the favor and beg to see every inch of her the way she sees every inch of me.
“Bend over.” Her words jolt me from my fantasy, and I blink at her.
“What?”
She smirks, and I see a bit of her sass coming out, but she shuts it down. “I need your arm to bend over the sink.”
Gesturing to the sink, I followed her instructions and let her run water over my arm, thankful that it’s not quite burning yet.
“You seem stressed.” I glance up to see Thea watching me closely.
“I’m not.” But I was dying of heat, and my head was swimming.
“Logan, I really think I should take you to the ER.” She continues to look at my arm, worry lines stretched across her face.
“I don’t want to, I have Lue. I’m not going to drag her out.” My words trail off, and distantly, Thea tells me to hang on a minute.
She disappears, and I lean against the counter, my T-shirt still on but feeling too hot. I start to struggle to pull it off .
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, leave that on.” Thea readjusts it onto me again and then settles me back on the toilet lid. “Just stay still, I’m going to wrap this up.”
“Wrap it up?” I ask, wondering what she’s talking about. How long have I been in this bathroom?
“Hold tight, Logan.”
For a few long minutes, or maybe more time than that, she disappears, leaving me on my own in the bathroom.
A distant beeping noise wakes me from a fitful sleep. I’m not sure where it’s coming from, but opening my eyes seems to be a trick these days.
I feel a dull throbbing coming from my right arm and an intense throbbing coming from my head, but I hear voices around me, and I desperately want to open my eyes.
A hand lays on my left, and I wrap my fingers around it. Maybe it’s Lue or my mom?
“But he’ll be in and out…” The words faded again as I tried to open my eyes.
“Yes, he’ll need…”
But I just can’t focus.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” My brother’s voice jars me all the way awake, and I look at him, surprised.
“What the fuck, Stets, why are you holding balloons?”
I lift my left forearm over my eyes, blocking the light and the shininess of the balloons .
“They’re get well soon balloons! I thought you’d appreciate the gesture.”
I blink and look around. I’m in a hospital room—there’s a curtain to my right and a ton of noise coming from behind another curtain.
“How did I get here?”
“Well.” Stetson moves, setting his balloons down and leaning against the bottom rail of the bed. “Mommy dearest got a very interesting phone call last night from a very worried girlfriend of yours.”
I close my eyes as memories from the night before hit me. Thea looking at home in my house, Thea leading me to the bedroom—I really like that memory—Thea rubbing at my arm, and then…nothing.
“I had no idea you two were sleeping over at each other’s place officially.”
I roll my eyes and immediately regret the action, grabbing at my head. “What the hell happened?”
“Well, apparently when you fell the other night, it was a hell of a lot worse than you let on. As in, you whacked your head and split your arm open and didn’t tell anyone.” He gives me a look that makes me feel guilty for lying. “Why the hell didn’t you say anything?”
“I really didn’t think it was so bad. It only started hurting when I got home.” True. I knew I hurt my arm, but I didn’t think it was that bad. My head, well, I had hoped that wouldn’t be so bad.
“Well, Dani and CT are pissed at you and said you’re not allowed at the ranch for at least a week, longer if the doctor claims it’s necessary.”
My stomach curdles. “A week? ”
“Yup.”
Fuck. I had bills to pay and clients to please. A week out meant placing shit on hold and not making progress with the horses I currently had in training.
“Don’t worry, bro. We’ll help you out.”
I knew Stetson meant it, and I appreciated it. The problem was, I was just as bad as Thea when it came to accepting help.
“So, Mom came and brought me to the hospital?”
“No, that was Thea. She called Mom to come watch Lue. Then she brought you, got you checked in, and then waited to make sure you were good. When Mom came this morning with Lue, she left. I just swapped with Mom so she could take Lue to rehearsal.”
Fuck me. Thea was probably mortified, and Lue was likely freaked out. I glance down at my bandaged arm.
“What’d they do here?”
Stetson grins. “Thirty-two stitches, bro. Looks like that fear of needles has been conquered.”
I blanch. “Thirty-two?”
“They said it was too deep to just wrap.”
“I don’t even remember getting them.”
“Ah, well, I guess that fear is good and alive.” He slaps the bed railing rhythmically. “You ready to bust out of here?”
“Yes, for the love of God, get me discharged.”
And get me home so I can see what kind of damage I caused.