Chapter Twenty-Five
Twenty-Five
Baby
He must be working late. I know they were in a time crunch on this last job, so that tracks. It’s why he was called in on a day he doesn’t usually work. So, yeah. Logan’s probably busy.
But it’s also possible that he’s ignoring me as payback for all the times I didn’t respond to his texts.
I blow out a heavy breath and toss my phone toward the foot of my bed. I have an exam in my macroeconomics class tomorrow—the last test I have to suffer through before the break—and that’s what I need to be focusing on. Instead, I’m creating problems out of nothing.
I can’t seem to focus no matter how hard I try.
There’s too much on my mind, and all of it is so wholly and completely mind-numbingly ludicrous that I can hardly stand it.
There are people actually suffering in the world, and I’m wallowing in blonde-boy-induced misery—and for what?
I saw him this morning. I’m not his keeper.
I don’t need to know where he is every second of every day.
But knowing that doesn’t stop me from wanting to.
And on top of all the uncertainty, I just miss him.
I need to get a grip, relax. Turn my phone off and take a puff—or five. So, that’s what I do. It’s not until the scent of it creeps below my door and summons Cade that I remember I was supposed to be studying.
“Try again,” I order when he barges in.
Cade takes a single step back and shuts my door. A second later, I hear him knock.
“Come in.”
“You’re such a pleasant person, Baby.”
“I know.”
He waves his arm through the air as he walks in, but he’s overreacting. The room has a vent. Plus, the cracks surrounding the door. It’s not like I’m in here hotboxing. “Feeling good?” he asks as he sits on the side of my bed.
I think about it for a moment, take stock of my body and everything I’m experiencing. I giggle.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Cade?”
He raises his brows, urging me to ask away.
“Did you ever think you were straight?” It seems like a weird question, but I can’t say that I ever did myself.
My parents made sure all sorts of relationships were well represented in my upbringing.
Movies and media pushed heteronormativity, and they weren’t having that.
I saw men and women together as much as I saw straight couples.
They presented those things to me like it was nothing, and to me it wasn’t.
It just was. Love is love—they made sure I knew that.
I didn’t realize there were so many people who thought differently until I started school.
“I guess I did, at first. I mean, it didn’t last long.”
“How’d you know you liked guys?”
“I chased boys around playgrounds as much as I did girls. I didn’t realize what it all meant until they started making my dick hard and… I don’t know. I guess I took that as a sign.” He holds his hand out, silently asking for the one thing people who aren’t Logan always want when they’re in here.
“I make Logan’s dick hard.”
He blows a laugh out through his nose. “Good for you, buddy.”
I frown at the hand he still has outstretched. “Here, you can have it.” I reach for my phone while he moves to my beanbag chair. It takes forever for it to turn back on, and when I finally manage it, it’s not even worth the hassle. There are no missed calls or messages from Logan.
“Are you guys exclusive?”
I open my mouth to tell him we are, but don’t know for sure if I can. “I think so.”
“You should ask him.”
I lift my head and get stuck blinking over and over, my eyes too dry to let me get a good look at Cade. “Ask him what exactly?”
“Come on, you know.”
I’m too busy rubbing my eyes to tell him that I definitely don’t, but he catches on himself.
“What are we—the question that either ends the relationship before it starts or marks the beginning of one.”
Well. Wording it that way pretty much ensures I’ll never ask.
“It’s either that, or you stay in this weird limbo until he decides without you.”
The only comfort I can take from this interaction is that Cade’s not exactly an expert on these things—he married his stepbrother afterall. “I don’t think I can take relationship advice from someone whose marriage may not even be legal.”
“Shut up—it is. I looked it up before we tied the knot.” He scowls at me, clearly not appreciating the topic being joked about. “I’m not as dumb as you think.”
“Oh.” I hold my hands up. “My bad, Cade. I wasn’t privy to your genius.”
“You know what—fine. Don’t ask him.”
I make a mental note not to tease him too much about this. The way it happened, so suddenly and in Vegas, makes it easy to downplay, but they did it because they wanted to. Saying sorry might be the nice thing to do, but I decide to change the subject instead.
“What does it mean if he ignores my texts?” Expert or not, Cade’s all I have at the moment.
“I don’t know. In Nic’s case, it usually means he wants me to come find him.”
“How?” I’d like to do that—go to wherever Logan is right this very second.
“I have his location.” He holds his phone up. “Nic tried to turn it off once, but he didn’t know I had an AirTag in his glovebox.”
I might be too high to properly assess this, but that’s wild. Might even be somewhat toxic. "You’re kind of crazy.”
He shrugs. “Crazy about my husband.”
It doesn’t seem real. They live in a shared apartment and go to school.
I don’t know. I guess it’s kind of sweet that they wanted it badly enough to just up and do it. I wouldn’t, but I can understand the urge.
“Your brother.” I have to add that. It makes me feel better.
He shrugs again. “Yup.”
I still think they would make bank doing porn.
∞∞∞
The later it gets, the more I understand Cade.
Logan’s always home by now. He did reply and tell me that his boss decided to take them all out for drinks, but that was a while ago.
He’s hung out with people after work before, which he has every right to do, but god.
Not for this long. Lately, we’ve been operating like magnets of sorts.
We go and do the things we have to—work or school—and then come back to each other. Usually.
I told him to have fun, but part of me hopes he’s at least a teensy bit miserable without me.
The text I’m looking at now popped up over an hour ago and doesn’t tell me anything—I most your.
I have no clue what that means. I asked him, but I got no explanation.
My moms have sent me goodnight messages.
Audrey has a whole wedding to worry about and was sending me memes.
. But from the person I really want to hear from, I get a riddle that’s impossible to solve.
On the plus side, I feel insane enough that I have no other choice but to ask Logan if he likes me. Hopefully I word it better than that. I know that he does, but I don’t know what something like means to him. He might not want a relationship.
So, I’m going to ask. I’m sitting on the couch at two in the morning because I’m antsy as hell, worrying about a guy who’s hardly thought about me since he left—I’ve got to end my suffering.
I sit up when I hear the unmistakable sound of a key struggling to find its way in the lock on the door. Fucking finally!
“Whoa.”
“Where have you been?” I instantly know that he’s drunk. I’ve never seen it on him before—he’s typically my designated driver—but it’s glaringly obvious. “My god,” I groan as he leans onto me, his body slumping into a heavy hug where one hand clings too tightly to the back of my shirt.
“Hey, Baby.”
“Ugh.” I don’t get how he can sound so charming in a moment where he can’t remember that he weighs two tons more than I do. “I really hope you didn’t drive here.” I try to step back so I can look around him for his truck, but he follows my steps. “Logan!”
“Sorry.” But he chuckles, sounding not at all apologetic as he traps me in his arms.
“How’d you get home?” It’s like talking to a wall—a wobbly, beer-scented wall.
“You smell good,” he mumbles, and I’m just surprised he can smell anything apart from his own sweat. He’s lucky he’s so handsome. This wouldn’t be as sweet if it were some other man trying to smother me.
“Logan, really.” I crane my neck, still needing to know. “How’d you get home?”
He doesn’t answer. It might make me morally corrupt, but I kind of appreciate all of the attention I’m getting—severe drunkenness aside.
His lips are wet, sloppy, and very uncoordinated, but the riot of messy kisses he’s smothering my neck in has me forgetting why I was mad at him just moments ago.
His hands are clumsy and kind of clammy, but they’re all over me, so it’s easy to forgive.
He’s moving quickly, a pace I’m struggling to keep up with. I just barely break free enough to push the door shut, and locking it is apparently out of the question entirely. With the way he’s trying to corral me back towards the bedrooms—his or mine—it’s clear what he has on his mind.
I yelp when he picks me up, and before I can worry that he’s going to drop me, my back is being pressed against the wall. It’s like our roles have been reversed—my gentle giant, who is usually in complete control, is going wild. I can’t even breathe enough to try to talk some sense into him.
A part of me was worried that he’d somehow forgotten me—outta sight, outta mind. And maybe that was the case, but it’s the end of his night, and he’s here with me. His overall lack of coherence ruins my plans to define our relationship, but I decide it can wait.
My legs lock around his waist, adding a wicked bit of pressure against my budding erection that forces me deeper into submission as he rallies up the coordination to carry me to my room. When we get there, he tries to set me on my bed gently, only to end up falling on top of me.
I can’t believe this is turning me on—he’s more animal than man at the moment.
There’s a heap of plushies under my back, making it impossible to be comfortable, but there’s nowhere else I want to be.
He’s way too handsy, and anytime his kisses start to feel good, he’s moving on to somewhere new.
I shouldn’t like this as much as I do. But he’s so zeroed in on me—and all while totally blitzed—that I’m finding myself grateful.
His fingers curl roughly in my hair, dragging a whimper out of my mouth that finally has him remembering I’m delicate.
He rubs his forehead into the crook of my neck, taking the time to draw in some much-needed breaths.
I don’t say anything as he settles down, choosing to simply enjoy all of his gooey affection.
He hums, a sound oozing satisfaction as he melts against me.
It almost feels like I don’t even have to ask him, like there’s no need for an actual definition.
He’s all about me. Logan’s hammered, struck dumb and ungainly, and still treating me like I’m his.
It feels like I could blurt it out, tell him that I love him—I’m almost positive he’d just say it back.
He mumbles something incoherently against my collarbone, and I laugh.
“What?”
He turns his face so he’s free to speak, but possibly forgets that he’s supposed to.
“What’d you say?”
He sighs dreamily, his big frame smothering me in the best way. “Mm, Liz.”
I freeze, my hands going rigid on his ribcage. I’ve felt this before—this gut-punch feeling knocking me breathless. The last time I heard that name was right after Christmas.
He feels heavier all the sudden. I start to ask him what he means, but he snuggles in closer, suffocating me. When he places one final kiss on my shoulder, I realize he thinks I’m her.
I can feel my heart pounding against my chest, beating so hard it’s like it’s trying to force him off of me. Cade asked if we were exclusive and I genuinely thought that we were.
I guess there’s no need to ask him anymore.