29. Love Me
“What do you mean?”asks the old officer as he leans over the counter.
“I...I was the one who set Derek Gracen’s trash on fire—accidentally. And—and I stole his pigs. Not accidentally.”
I’ve already told him this, but he keeps staring at me as if we’re speaking two different languages, and I don’t have time to chat. I need to confess, and I need Logan to be out of here immediately. I need him home with Paco and Lola. With all of his animals. I need him free, because if there’s someone who would die in lockup, it’s Logan. He’d perish, like a flower with no water and sunshine.
“You,” the policeman insists. “You did all that.”
“Yes, me.”
“I thought we arrested Coleman.” He looks to the right, through a door that leads into a small room. “Hey—Harper! Get back here!”
Harper. That must be Connor.
He steps out of the room, pulling up his beige pants, and pins his eyes on me. “Sugar High. What can we do for you?”
“She says she’s here to confess about that whole Gracen thing,” the cop at reception explains. “I thought you got Coleman for it.”
Connor exhales, and noticing the coy grin on his face, I know he won’t take this seriously. “We did. He sold us a plausible story too, I’m afraid.”
I swallow hard, wishing Josie were here. Even though I’m not her biggest fan right now, I have a feeling she’s the only cop in this station who would be interested in hearing what I have to say. “But you know it wasn’t him.”
He shrugs. “I know no such thing.”
Goddammit. After Kyle came to the hotel, I sent him to the farm and came straight here, but I didn’t consider the resistance I would meet at the station. Connor is perfectly happy framing Logan for this—he doesn’t care what actually happened.
“The cab driver,” I blurt. “I—I took a cab to Derek’s place. I don’t know his name, but his parents live on the same street as Derek’s parents, and?—”
“Yes, we already talked to him. His records show he drove you to Derek’s farm, but he swears he dropped you off at Logan’s. That you gave him the wrong street number.”
What?! Why would he do that?
“He also said that when he was laid off from his last job, Logan provided his family with fruit and vegetables—sometimes even money.” He looks around before whispering, “Let me give you some advice, all right? Go home. Don’t tank your career. Logan will take the fall, and it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it. The only reason we didn’t arrest that hillbilly before is because we didn’t have enough proof.”
“Do you have it now?” I ask with an impatient gesture. All they have is a cab driver whose records reflect he’s lying, and a scrunchie that obviously belongs to me.
“We don’t need it. He confessed.”
“Well, I’m confessing too! And you’ll see, my story is much more convincing than Logan’s. You have to take my statement—you can’t just—you know what,” I continue, my voice rising as panic stings my throat. “I want to talk to the captain. Or sheriff. Whatever you have here.”
“Fine, fine. Calm down.” He rubs his head, then, with a long sigh, grabs a form and begins filling it out. “Rob, is the interrogation room free?”
“What’s going on?”
I flip as I hear Josie’s voice, and if it wasn’t for the fact that she wants to declare her love to the man I have feelings for, I could hug her. “Where is he? You have to take me to him—it was me, Josie. It was me all along. Logan didn’t?—”
“Stop talking,” Josie says as she raises a hand. Turning to Connor, she sighs. “Why didn’t you tell her?”
Tell me? “Tell me what?” My head bobs from one officer to the other. “Somebody speak!”
“Stop screaming in a police station,” Josie whispers as she approaches. Her hand cups my shoulder, and she studies me with big, worried eyes. “Look, Logan was arrested this morning, but then...he had some sort of attack. We thought it was a heart attack, and we called the ambulance. He’s at the hospital right now, but they assured us it wasn’t?—”
“Take me there,” I say, my body shaking so hard I can barely speak. I can’t believe I left him behind. I can’t believe I broke his heart, and now he’s at the hospital, waiting for the police to book him as soon as he feels better. “Please, take me to Logan.”
She nods, but before we can step toward the exit, Connor says, “I’ll come with you. Check on our inmate-to-be.”
Over my dead body.
* * *
“Big guy with a scowl?” the nurse asks as she points to the right. There’s a blend of antiseptic odors and bustling activity in the ER, making it feel terrifyingly real. “He’s right there. If you could convince him he should spend the night here, that’d be great. We didn’t manage.” The young nurse takes a step forward, then seemingly changes her mind. “Oh, and if you happen to know what he’s allergic to?—”
“Strawberry,” Josie says without skipping a beat.
Strawberry?!
“Great. Thank you. He was too worked up to talk.” She walks away, and as Josie walks in the direction he pointed at, I tug at her hand.
“What?”
“He’s not allergic to strawberry.”
“Uh, yeah. He is.” She looks past me, probably checking to see if Connor is still taking a call outside of the ER. “It’s not a severe allergy, but before he found out, he ended up at the hospital because of it.”
But he’s been... he’s been eating my strawberry candies. A lot of them. Even if it’s not a severe allergy, why would he do that?
“Come on, let’s go.”
Josie walks and steps back once she notices I didn’t follow.
Maybe he doesn’t want to see me.
Maybe I’m the last person he wants to see, seeing as he was arrested because of me right after I dumped him.
“Prim?”
Plus, I have no idea if Josie talked to him already. If they’re together. She could have told him this morning. She could tell him right now, or tomorrow, or?—
“Prim.” Josie’s hand clasps mine, and with an encouraging tug, she says, “Come on. Let’s go see him.”
“I—I think I need a minute.”
She nods. “Okay. I’ll try to talk some sense into him. You...take your time.” I nod, but she hesitates. “He needs to see you.”
Once she disappears behind the blue curtain, I slowly step closer.
“...no need.”
It’s his voice.
I bring a hand to my mouth and exhale. He’s speaking, and he sounds normal. He really is okay.
“Logan, the doctor thinks you should stay. Stop being stubborn and?—”
“It’s just because my heartbeat is slightly elevated.”
“That sounds like a good reason!”
“It’s not, trust me. My heart is fine. I just need to get this over with. Let’s go back to the station, book me, and I’ll pay the bail.”
Exhaling, I take a step forward. There”s no way I”ll let any of that happen, and Josie”s here. As an officer, she won”t be able to ignore it if I confess.
With my heart in my throat, I pull the curtain open, my eyes landing on Logan, sitting on the hospital bed with no shirt and part of his tattoos covered by cables and electrodes attached to monitors around him.
“Primrose,” he breathes out, but his voice is drowned out by the machines’ beeps, which go from a soothing, stable rhythm to a rising, irregular cacophony.
The blinking light on the screen to his right turns red, and on the monitor, the numbers rise and rise until his heartbeat reaches one hundred and twenty. Unable to say a word, I meet his gaze.
Is his heart...beating faster?
For me?
“Are you okay?” he asks, and if I had the ability to utter a word, I’d point out the absurdity of him asking me that question. But his heartbeat is at one hundred and forty now, and genuinely worried about his well-being, I point at the screen.
“Should I leave?”
He swallows, a pink hue spreading over his neck and cheeks as he shakes his head, then takes the pulse ox off his finger and throws it to the side.
His heart beats for me.
So fast, so honest.
I rush to his side, then awkwardly set a knee on the bed and try to climb in, his hands gripping my hips to help me up just at the right moment. My face sinks into the crook of his neck, and throwing my arm over him, I feel his heart pounding against my chest.
His heart is my favorite thing about him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers into my hair, and my hold on him tightens. I don’t care about anything else right now but the fact that he has feelings for me. And feelings that actively modify your vitals are feelings you can’t argue with. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
I can feel it in his quavering voice, and smiling against his skin, I nod. Today, he had his first panic attack without me around. He must have been so scared. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I swear.”
He smiles softly, then his eyes dip to my mouth, and answering his silent question, I press a kiss on his lips. I’ve missed them so much.
Josie coughs. “Um, so...I’m sorry to interrupt, but you both don’t seem aware of what the other has been up to, so I figured I should catch you up.” She points at me, then at him. “You’ve both confessed to the same crime, then sworn again and again that the other was not involved.”
“You what?” Logan hisses.
Right. I nearly forgot to scold him about that. “Why would you confess, Logan?”
“Jesus, Primrose. Why would you?”
“Because I can’t let you go to prison for my crime, obviously,” I whisper.
His chin jerks back. “Well, same!”
I should get off him, but he only lets me shift to a seated position before he turns to Josie. “Ignore everything she said. It was me who?—”
“No!” I burst, my heartbeat picking up. “No, that’s not true. I was the one who set Derek’s garbage on fire, and?—”
“Bullshit,” he insists. “Why the hell would you have stolen his piglets?”
“Why would you be using a pink scrunchie?”
Connor joins us, a glare directed at Logan, whose lips thin until they’re two straight lines. Turning away from him, he cups my shoulder. “Your life is too important, Barbie,” he says softly. He cups my cheek, sliding his hand under the hair framing my face. “You’ll do amazing things, and you need a clean slate for that.”
My future isn’t more important than his. It’s just not. And I was the one to set that fire, so I should pay the consequences for it.
Folding my hand over his, I stare deeply into his eyes. “So...do...you.”
“For Christ’s sake,” he explodes, throwing his head back on the pillow. “I can’t stand the thought of you in danger—do you get that?”
“Logan, you just had a panic attack. You can’t go to prison, you?—”
“I had a panic attack because I was terrified they’d come for you,” he says as he points at Josie and Connor. His eyes widen as if that’ll help convey the message more clearly. “Do you understand that the thought of it is worse than hurting myself?”
“Do you understand that I loveyou?” I shout back, and just like that, we both fall silent.
I said I love him. Out loud.
I met him precisely two weeks ago, I’ll be gone from his life in four days, and I just shouted at him that I love him.
Through the obvious surprise on his face, he opens his mouth. “I lo?—”
“Don’t!” I squeal as I cover his mouth with my hand. My heart is beating hard and fast, the weight of my fears melting away now that he’s almost said it back.“Don’t you dare. Not here.”
I stare at him and try to breathe in and out. Even though he only said half of it, now I know how he feels, and there’s no coming back from that.
Number twenty-nine. Love me.
“You almost said you love me while gaslighting me,” I say through a half-sob, half-chuckle.
Tipping his head toward Connor, he mumbles, “So did you.”
“You’re still doing it.”
“So—”
“Okay, enough,” Connor bursts as he turns to Josie. “Did you put them up to this?”
“Me?” she asks, planting both hands on her hips. Her green eyes turn a shade colder as she meets her partner’s eyes. “I didn’t do anything.”
“You did—you told them both to confess.”
What is he talking about?
“Connor, quit it. I would never jeopardize my job. And look at them—they have no idea.”
Our befuddled expressions must convince him, because he darts away in a cloud of swear words. After a stiff nod, Josie follows him, leaving Logan and me alone.
Immediately, my body crashes against his.
He almost said he loves me.
“I’m sorry I went behind your back,” I whimper, my body shaking with a mix of adrenaline and pure terror. “I’m so—so...scared.”
“Barbie,” he says, pain bleeding from his words. “You’ve been really brave, you know?”
I look up at him, his thumb tracing my lips. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” he insists. “I might hate that you confessed—might think it’s the stupidest thing you could’ve ever done. But my god, Barbie, was it brave.”
See? I love him. I just do. He’s pissed off, I know he is. And yet he’s complimenting me—telling me I’m brave, which I’m definitely not. I want to be brave for him, though, and not only when it comes to the police. I want to be fearless when it comes to us. “This is yours,” I say as I slide my flamingo scrunchie off my wrist and fit it around his. “Never give it back, please.”
“I don’t intend to.”
He pecks my forehead again and again, the scent of his body wash and fresh grass just about the most comforting cocoon. I could stay here forever, and as happy as I am, my heart also twists at the thought of my imminent departure.
“You know, this doesn’t mean I’m not mad at you,” I scold. “You still should have told me.”
“You’re right, Barbie.” His hold tightens. “But please, come be mad at home.”
Home.It feels like I’m home already, right here between his arms.
“Logan?”
“Yes?”
“Are you allergic to strawberries?”
His lips freeze against my forehead. “Uh, mildly. My throat gets a little itchy—no big deal.”
“But then...” I look up at him. “Why do you keep eating my candy? I only made more because you finished it, then finished it again, and?—”
“Because you keep eating it.”
So? I also talk all the time, cry nearly every day, and wear pink skirts, and he doesn’t do any of that.
His thumb presses on my lips, pushing the bottom one down. “Your lollipops—they’re strawberry flavored, aren’t they?”
Yes, it’s nearly the same recipe as the hard candy.
When I nod, he cups my cheek. “You’re always eating one, so your mouth...it tastes like strawberry. I couldn’t tell the first time I ate your candy, but I knew it was familiar. And when we kissed again, I figured it out. You smell like it, you taste like it.”
He ate something he’s allergic to because the taste of it reminded him of our first kiss?
“Every time I wished I could kiss you, I ate your candy instead.”
I blink, then blink again, too stunned to say a word. I spent most of two weeks thinking he wouldn’t give me the time of day, while he was dying to kiss me all along? Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t I believe him when he did?
Now we have four days left, and the awareness that we wasted most of our time together is so bitter that no candy could wipe it away.
“Well, I think you’re both free to go,” Josie says as she pops into the curtained area. Though I didn’t think there were any words in the English language that would get me to look away from Logan right now, those do the trick.
“We are?” I ask. “But—but Logan?—”
“No charges will be filed against him.”
What the hell is happening?
Connor comes back, his finger pointed at Logan. “Well played, but just know next time you won’t be this lucky.”
“What the hell is going on now?” he asks, and I share the sentiment. I don’t understand what’s happening, and I’m too tired to guess, so someone better bring us to speed.
“We have no way of proving which one of you did it, the scrunchie bears both your DNA, and the pigs are nowhere to be found.” Her eyes dart to me and quickly move away, and I know she remembers seeing the piglets at Logan’s place. She’s saving our ass. “With both of you confessing?—”
“Shut up,” Connor barks at Josie, who responds with an eye roll.
“Do you need more proof that they won’t turn against each other?”
When Logan chuckles, I watch him with a curious grin. It looks like he just lost thirty pounds of stress, his lips bent into an effortless smile. “You figured Primrose was my one weakness and lied to get me to confess because you have no hard proof.” He laughs even loudly now, pulling my face to his with the usual lack of grace. “Except you’re not my weakness, are you, backpack? You’re my secret weapon.”
I blush, still unsure of what’s happening. But it sounds like we’re not getting arrested today, and the police must be at their wits’ end if they’re pulling crap like that.
“Well, then. If you don”t mind,” Logan says as he wraps one arm around me. “I’d like both of you to leave now.”
Connor is gone in a moment, and after a long look, Josie walks away too, leaving the two of us alone.
We’re together again. We’re free.
We’re so fucking lucky.
“Did you know?” he asks as soon as they’re gone. “Is that why you did all of this?”
I hum, brushing the skin of his hand with my thumb. “I’d love to impress you with my brain, but no. I had no clue.”
“I definitely would have pulled you over my shoulder and spun you around, but...” His hand clasps mine, and it’s like nothing else exists. Like I’m in the moment, at peace, and all those cheesy things people in love say. “Jesus, Barbie. You were willing to get arrested for me.”
“I can’t believe I told you I love you at the hospital,” I mutter, dragging a hand over my face. “I can’t believe you almost did too.”
“Really?” he scolds, jerking his chin down. “Want me to take it back?”
“You can’t?—”
“I take it back. There. Done.”
“Logan!” I smack my fist on his stomach. That was the first ‘I love you’ I got—he can’t unsay it. “You didn’t even say it, and it’s not something you can take back!”
“But I did say it. The first half of it anyway. And now I take it back, like it never happened.”
“Stop it!” I squeal as he traps my arms between us. “Come on, give me back my first half.”
“So that you can complain about me telling you ‘I lo—’ at the hospital? Fat chance.”
“You know what?—”
He lets me go and pulls the electrodes off his chest.
“I take mine back. The full thing.”
He stands and grabs his shirt. Once he slides it on, he shakes his head. “No, you don’t.”
“I do too!”
“Then look at me and tell me you don’t love me.”
I watch him slide his shirt on, speechless for a few moments. I can’t say that—it’s not true. I do love him, and I never want him to doubt it. “I hate you.”
He walks around the bed, and even though I pull back, he presses his lips on mine. I can’t even pretend I don’t want it. “No,” he whispers between my lips. “You don’t.”