Chapter Fourteen
Logan
Maybe you shouldn't come back
Maybe you shouldn't come back to me
Tired of being so sad, tired of getting so mad, baby
Stop right now, you'll only let me down.
‘Shouldn’t Come Back’ - Demi Lovato
One week.
That is how long it has been since I had her in my bed.
Since her nails dug into my shoulders and her voice broke on my name like she was coming apart for me.
One week since she said she was mine.
I have stayed away from the club every night since, doing everything I could to put distance between us. I told myself it was better for her. Better for me. Safer. Cleaner.
But tonight, I do not have a choice. Landon had other shit to deal with and could not come in to collect the deposit. The officers handle that kind of money because of the risk involved.
All I need to do is go in, grab what I came for, and get out.
No detours.
No slipping into old habits.
No getting caught in her orbit.
I park my bike, but I do not move right away.
The engine ticks as it cools, the sound like a clock counting down to something I am not ready for.
I grip the handlebars harder than I need to, my leather gloves creaking.
It would be so much easier if I could just be with her.
If there was not this minefield between us, if the weight of what I carry did not make me poison for her.
When I finally get off the bike, the air smells like rain even though the sky is clear. It should calm me. It doesn’t.
Inside, the lights hit me first, flashing over the crowd and bouncing off sequined costumes. The bass from the music thuds low in my chest. I scan the bar and see Shaina working alone. That means Kenzie is on the floor tonight. The thought makes my jaw clench hard enough that it aches.
Allison never should have let her do that.
Not in those tiny shorts that look painted onto her skin.
Not in that top that pushes her breasts together like an invitation to every lowlife in here.
I tell myself to focus on something else, but my eyes find her without permission.
She moves through the crowd with easy confidence, smiling just enough to keep their wallets open.
Get a grip, Logan.
I force myself onto a barstool. Shaina slides a glass of soda across the counter without a word. She has not spoken to me since she took Kenzie in, and we blew up about it at family dinner.
That argument still plays in my head.
“It’s not your fucking business!” I slam my hands on the table, doing everything I could to keep from yelling louder.
“Sit down.” My father didn’t raise his voice. He never needed to. His presence carried weight, the kind that kept people in line. “What were you thinking, Shay?”
Shaina shot me a look like I was the lowest kind of idiot.
“It is not my fault my brother keeps stringing that poor girl along. He wants her, then he doesn’t.
He pushes her away, then fucks her, then leaves her at his place like she’s disposable.
She needed someone, and I like her.” Then she turns back to me.
“If you don’t want her, then let her go before you run her out of town again. ”
She storms out, and my father’s eyes go to mine. “She may not have said it kindly, but she isn’t wrong. I told you the other day, Logan. You need to make a choice and live with it.”
I nod, but it didn’t satisfy him. “If you care about her, why fight it?”
I take a deep breath and tell him everything. The real reason we were not together. He listens without interrupting, and when I finish, he only repeated the same thing.
Make a choice.
Live with it.
Back in the present, I try to keep my gaze on the shelves behind the bar, but she pulls me in again.
She is not just working tables; she is flirting, leaning close, laughing at their pathetic jokes.
Letting them think they have a shot. Every time she bends over, I want to tear my chair apart.
I grip my glass so hard the condensation runs down my wrist.
When Shaina disappears into the back, Kenzie slides behind the bar. She moves like she owns it, all self-assured control and deliberate sways of her hips. By the time she reaches me, I have lost the thin thread of patience I walked in with.
“Can I get ya anything else?” Her hand rests on her hip, the casual stance daring me to say the wrong thing.
“What the hell are you trying to prove, Kenzie?” My voice is low, clipped, each word pushed out past the tightness in my chest.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, and I told you my name is not Kenzie anymore.” She turns to leave, but I grab her arm.
“No touching the workers. Or have you forgotten your own rule?” She arches an eyebrow, mocking me with that calm stare.
I keep my hand where it is. I am not ready to let go yet. Not ready to lose the one point of contact I have had with her in a week. She calls for Hank without breaking eye contact.
Hank appears at the bar, glancing between us. Kenzie smiles at me, then tilts her head toward him. “Hey, this customer needs a reminder not to touch the girls.” She gestures to me like I am any other asshole in the room.
Hank freezes, his eyes wide. “I… Mr. Pearce…” His voice stutters, and it would almost be funny if I were not grinding my teeth.
Shaina reappears. “We good?”
“Not really,” Kenzie says without missing a beat. “This customer won’t let me go, and Hank is refusing to step in.”
“Stay out of this, Shay,” I warn, but she is already walking away. I start to breathe again, thinking she is going to leave it alone, when pain explodes along the side of my head. My ear is in her grip, and she is dragging me off the stool.
The crowd parts in front of us as she hauls me toward the back. I keep my balance, but just barely, her fingers locked in a grip like steel. When we reach Allison’s office, she shoves me inside and lets go.
“Are you out of your mind?” My voice fills the space, making Allison flinch where she sits behind the desk.
“You. Will. Stop. This.” Shaina jabs my chest with each word. “It is over. It is toxic. It is bad for business. How dare you grab her at the bar? Do you know what kind of example that sets for every drunk idiot out there?”
I look between her and Allison, whose expression has shifted from confusion to anger.
“Tonight’s the night, brother,” Shaina says, her voice sharp enough to cut. “In or out. Claim her or walk away. I used to look up to you. Now I can’t stand the sight of you.”
The door slams behind her, and I barely have time to process it before the crash of breaking glass rips through the music outside. I am moving before I think, tearing out onto the floor.
Shaina and Kenzie stand in front of the bar, both shaken but upright. Hank is shoving some drunk toward the door.
“What happened?” I demand as I follow them outside.
“Asshole grabbed Mac’s ass as she was walking away from him because she didn’t give him her number,” Hank says, breathing hard.
The guy turns his bleary eyes toward me. “He gets it!” he slurs. “That little tease was asking for it.”
Shaina’s voice from earlier echoes in my skull.
How dare you grab her at the bar? Do you know what example that sets?
She was right. All of this is my fault.
“I’ll take care of him, Hank.”
Hank goes back inside, and I decide this prick is about to learn exactly what happens when you cross the line here.
The night air hits like a slap, cooler than inside but thick with the smell of cigarette smoke and motor oil from the bikes lined up in the lot. The drunk bastard stumbles on the curb, still laughing under his breath, and it’s the sound that flips the switch in my head.
He turns, thinking this is a conversation. “Look, man, I didn’t mean nothing by it. She’s just—”
I step in so close he has to lean back to keep from hitting my chest. “Finish that sentence. I dare you.”
His smirk twitches, but he’s too far gone to read the danger. “She was asking for it. Dressed like—”
That’s as far as he gets before my fist connects with his jaw.
The sound is solid, ugly, satisfying in a way that does nothing to cool the burn under my skin.
He staggers sideways, but I catch his shirt before he can hit the ground and slam him against the side of the building hard enough that the siding rattles.
“You ever put your hands on a woman in my club again,” I growl, my voice low enough that it’s more threat than words, “and I’ll make sure you don’t have hands left to use.”
He tries to twist free, but I shove him harder, the back of his skull hitting the wall. The fight leaves him quick when he realizes I’m not bluffing.
“This is her place,” I keep going, my face inches from his. “She’s under my protection. That means you don’t touch. You don’t talk. You don’t even fucking look at her again.”
He nods fast, but it’s not enough for me. I grab his arm, twist it behind his back, and march him toward the edge of the lot. He’s cursing now, but it’s weak, the slurred protest of a man who knows he’s beaten.
At the far end, I shove him forward so he stumbles into the gravel. “Get the hell out of here before I decide to finish this.”
He scrambles to his feet and half-runs down the street, looking over his shoulder like he’s not sure I won’t follow. I watch until he disappears into the dark, my fists still clenched so tight my knuckles ache.
When I turn back toward the club, I see Shaina leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. She’s not smiling. “That wasn’t just about him,” she says quietly.
I don’t answer.
Because she’s right.
It wasn’t just about him.
It was about every man who thinks they can take what they want. About every time I’ve let Kenzie think I wouldn’t fight for her. And it was about the fact that no matter how much I’ve tried to stay away, I can’t stomach anyone else touching her.
Not now.
Not ever.