Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
Elizabeth
My fingers are cramped up around the small pencil I am holding.
Once Mona put the idea in my head, that’s all I could think about.
Drawing. I rushed to the kitchen and started digging through the junk drawer until I was able to find a small pencil.
That was at least four hours ago, and I’m still going strong.
On the flip side, I can’t feel my fingers anymore.
I am so much into my own head that I don’t even realize that someone is knocking at the door. At first, I think it just a dream, or maybe I’m hallucinating. God knows, I’m tired enough for that.
“Elizabeth,” someone calls out. “Are you home? It’s Logan.”
My head snaps back at hearing his name. Logan is here.
The pencil drops from my fingers and rolls down to the floor.
I watch it as it hits the tile with a soft clinking noise.
That’s when I realize that my back is sore and my neck feels stiff.
I stand up from the chair to make my way to the door, where Logan is apparently waiting.
Oh my God, I think to myself. I’m moving like I’m a hundred and two. The closer I get to the door, the worse it hurts. My hips are as numb as my fingers. And my hands are shaking when I attempt to undo the lock.
“Jesus, are you okay?” Logan asks when I finally manage to open the door and he sees me. I feel self-conscious about it as I bring a hand to my hair to touch it, shocked to find that it feels like a knotted mess.
“I’m fine,” I assure him, but even my voice sounds off. The back of my throat feels dry to the point where I can barely make out words. “I was drawing,” I explain.
Logan’s eyebrows go up in surprise. “You’re drawing?” he asks. “You look like you’ve been through war.”
I bring my other hand to my head in an awkward attempt to cover my hair with both arms.
“I was in the zone,” I chuckle nervously. “I didn’t even hear that you were at the door.”
He nods at me in concern. “That explains why it took a while for you to open for me. I was getting worried out there. I could tell you were home, but when you didn’t answer, I thought you were hurt or something.”
“No, not hurt,” I chuckle. “Just… in the zone,” I repeat.
Suddenly, I realize that we are standing in the doorway. It looks dark outside, which makes me wonder what time it is.
“How come you’re already back from D.C.?” I ask.
“We flew back home right after the press conference was over,” Logan tells me.
I frown in surprise. “That had to have happened really fast. I thought it would be hours after the game that you’d be back here.”
“It has been hours, Lizzie,” Logan explains, his tone, gentle, and maybe a little bit amused.
“What time is it?” I finally ask but not prepared for what he says next.
“It’s almost three in the morning, Lizzie.” He looks down at the ground with a bashful expression on his face. “I rushed here straight from the airport. I didn’t want to go home to my house. I wanted to be with you.”
I stare at him for the longest time, and I’m sure he’s wondering if I am even capable of processing what he just told me, or if I’m even happy that he’s here. When everything finally clicks together, I gasp in shock.
“Oh my God, you must be so tired.”
I grab him by the arm and pull him inside the small apartment before pushing the door closed. I never let go of him as I bring him all the way into my bedroom. The place is small, so it doesn’t take us long to get there.
“What are you doing, Lizzie?” Logan laughs when I stop in front of the queen size bed and push at his torso for him to sit down. He goes with it and sits on the edge of the bed.
Honestly, I’m not quite sure,” I tell him. “I feel so tired. I’m just running on instinct right now.”
As I’m talking, and totally without thinking, I start pulling on my clothes. My leggings go down my legs first, and I’m relieved to feel the cool air against my skin. I have no idea why I didn’t put shorts on when I first got home. This is no weather for leggings.
“Lizzie?” Logan stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You’re getting naked,” he makes sure to inform me.
“It really is the best feeling in the world,” I laugh. “I feel so overheated, and I have no idea why I put on heavy clothes when I got home from work. The weather in Austin is killing me, Lo. I don’t know if I can handle this. Any of this,” I open my arms wide as I say it.
Logan watches me, and I don’t know if I’m dreaming, or he really looks apprehensive as he takes me in. I would have thought that he was happy to be here. After all, he is the one who came to me, not the other way around.
“When you say,” he starts, “that you can’t handle any of this, what exactly do you mean, Lizzie?”
His question snaps my sluggish brain from its tired mode. Unfortunately, it is very short-lived. I understand what he’s asking me while at the same time, I don’t know why he’s trying so hard to find out what my problem is.
“You really hate it here,” he says, and I could swear there’s just not only devastation in his voice, but also a little bit of desperation. “What can I do to make it better for you?” he asks.
With slow movements, I manage to pull my T-shirt over my head. I drop it to the floor and look down my body. I am left in only my bra and matching panties. From the way, his eyes run up and down my body, I can tell that he likes what he sees, and I hope he will take advantage of it, and me.
“You can get in this bed with me,” I tease him, pulling the comforter on my side of the bed. I take a moment to smile at the fact that I assigned him the other side, even though he hasn’t spent the night here very often.
I don’t wait to see what he’s doing, instead I slip under the covers and sigh when I feel the cool pillow under my head.
“This feels so good,” I moan as I rub my face into it. I then look at Logan. “It’s your turn now,” I smile at him.
I don’t know if it is my smile or something else, but the determination on his face tells me that he’s not going anywhere.
The realization brings me peace, and I take a moment to appreciate his beautiful body as he removes his shorts and the T-shirt he has on.
Like me, he doesn’t take his boxer briefs off.
Instead, once everything else is off, he lifts the covers on his side and slips under.
I wait patiently as he makes himself comfortable, moving his head against the pillow, just like I did only seconds ago.
“That feels good, right?” I ask him as I grin from ear to ear.
“It feels fucking amazing,” Logan agrees.
“I didn’t realize how tired I was until just now when I got in your bed.
” He turns his head to look at me, a cute dimple, making an appearance on the left side of his mouth.
“I hate to tell you, Lizzie, but I’m so freaking tired, that I can’t think straight.
I want you so badly right now, but I’m pretty sure I will disappoint you if I don’t take a quick nap first.”
I turn on my side to face him and rest my hands under my head. “I’m so happy that you’re here,” I tell him. “I know you weren’t gone long, but I missed you like crazy. I thought about you a lot and about us.”
His eyes look tired and like he’s struggling to listen to my words. I don’t even know what I’m trying to tell him right now other than I am happy to see him. I didn’t expect for him to come here straight from the airport.
“I cried a little bit after your game ended,” I confess.
The worry on his face makes me love him even more than before. “Why did you cry, Lizzie?” he asks.
I take a moment before responding to him. The fact that it’s almost morning and I have to go to work is catching up to me. In fact, this is going to be a huge problem in a few hours. I’m not sure that I’ll be able to get out of bed and make it to work on time.
“I cried because I missed seeing you in the game,” I finally explain to him. “I watched almost the entire game, but I missed the most important part.”
My voice shakes when I confess my sin to him. What is a minor thing to most is a huge deal to me. I hate myself for having missed his first time on the ice while on national television. I can feel my eyes going blurry from the tears that are threatening to spill.
“I’m so sorry I missed it,” I tell him. “I was on the phone with my friend, Mona, talking about you actually, when your text popped up to tell me that you had been in the game for five minutes, I wanted to die.”
Logan brings a hand to the back of my head and starts massaging at the hard muscles in my neck. It feels so good that if I wasn’t crying because I didn’t get to see him on TV, I’d be crying because of how good he makes me feel with this impromptu massage.
“Lizzie,” he tells me in a gentle tone. “It’s not that big of a deal. I’m sure we can find it online somewhere, and we can celebrate it together.”
I shuffle under the covers to get closer to him until I can drop my forehead against his chest. His arms come around me, and I want to sigh in relief.
“It is a big deal, Logan. How many other times you can say that you had your first time on the ice in prime time?”
Laughter rumbles through his chest, making me smile at the way it vibrates against my cheek.
“You’re right about that,” he agrees. It doesn’t make me feel any better at all.
“However,” he continues, “if it makes you feel any better, I was thinking about you while I was out there. I regretted not flying you over to watch that game in person. So, in a way it’s actually my fault that you missed it. ”
Wiping the tears from my eyes, I try not to laugh at the spin he puts on this disaster.
He truly is the sweetest man I know. I love him so much, and the fact that he keeps on coming back to me makes me feel secure.
But every single time he is not with me, all these doubts creep in, shaking me to my very soul.
I don’t even know how to explain it, but when I am with him like this, I feel that I made the right choice by moving to Texas for him. Then, he goes away or, he freezes me out, like he did before, and I panic. Those are the moments when I just want to pack my bags and crawl back to my father.
“Thank you for trying to make me feel better, Lo,” I tell him.
He doesn’t respond to that, just continues holding me while his lips kiss me on the forehead every so often. I don’t think we’ve ever been in a bed and not did the deed. It feels funny, but it also feels right. It’s like we are a real couple.
I relish in his touch, as he runs his free hand up and down my back, then my hip and down my leg. When he gets to my knee, he brings it up and hooks it over his legs. The fit of our bodies is perfect. And I move around a little to try and get as close to him as possible.
My mouth stretches in a yawn so wide that it threatens to crack my jaw. I suddenly feel extremely tired. The more I relax against Logan’s body, the more sleep tries to pull me under. I am at a point where I can’t have a regular conversation anymore. I need rest.
“You have work tomorrow?” he asks.
Incapable of forming words, I just nod against his chest.
“You have to sleep, baby.” Logan pets my head with a gentle touch.
I mumble something in return, but I’m not really sure what I’m saying, so I don’t expect for him to respond, that’s why I’m surprised when he does.
“I can’t wait to see them tomorrow,” he says. “I’m sure they’re beautiful.”
In my sluggish mind, I’m thinking that I must’ve mentioned the drawings that I worked on tonight. The pain in my hands reminds me about my passion for art. The dread I feel at the thought of having to go to work in a few hours reminds me how much I hate that part of my life.
I remain wrapped in Logan’s arms, feeling a lot safer now that he is here. I am scared of what the future holds for us, but I am way too tired to come up with a plan. Besides, I shouldn’t be making any decisions on the fly anymore.
“Sleep, baby,” I hear as if in a dream. Logan’s voice sounds like it’s far away.
I let all my worries float away and enjoy just this moment with him. When he squeezes me closer, I want to do the same, but I am way too tired. He kisses my hair, smoothing back the tangled mess.
Sleep is so much closer now, and my body feels as if it’s floating on a cloud. Logan continues with his gentle ministrations of my body, each second more precious to me than the next.
“I love you,” he whispers in my ear.
Panic envelopes every fiber of my being, but I can’t tell if what I heard is real or only wishful thinking.
“Sleep, baby,” he repeats.
Wishful thinking, I say to myself with disappointment.
That is the last conscious thought I have before I am finally out like a light.