18. Chase
Chase
Half of Logan’s torso is visible through the armholes in his tank top. I can see snippets of a tattoo on his side, but not enough to tell what it is.
“What’s your tattoo of?” I ask, expecting him to tell me, not pull his shirt up, revealing a hard body underneath as he stands in front of me.
Logan is much leaner than I am. I’m not sure why I assumed that translated to scrawny, but I was wrong. I’m also not sure why I’m mesmerized by the way his ink dances as he moves. It’s not like I’ve never seen people with tattoos before.
“It’s probably my most cliché art, but it’s a compass. I’ve lacked direction for most of my life, and when I was younger, I thought maybe permanently inking one into my skin would help me find my way.”
“The art is incredible. It looks like an actual 3D compass is embedded into your ribs,” I note out loud. “What else do you have?”
His tattoos are a delight to my eyes. This open, intimate tour of them has me eager to know the story behind them all because it isn’t until this moment that I realize I don’t actually know that much about Logan, but I want to.
“Well, let’s see,” he says, holding his right arm up.
“This is the actual ridgeline of Ricochet.” He points to the mountains on the inside of his right biceps that I’ve noticed before.
Putting his arm down, he points to the lightning storm inked into his deltoid first and then to the choppy sea on the top of his right forearm before flipping it over to reveal a blazing fire underneath.
“These are because of my immense love, hatred, and respect for Mother Nature. Nothing is more powerful, unpredictable, and humbling than the forces of nature we can’t control,” he says, his voice laced with awe and wonder.
I sit in total silence, afraid to breathe because I don’t want him to stop, but he drops his shirt, making me think the tour is over. Except then he reaches over his head, pulls the tank top off, and turns around, baring his back to me.
Holy shit.
I set my plate beside me and stand behind Logan. Without thinking, my fingers reach out to trace the incredible lines of the helicopter’s rotor blades as they cross his spine.
Logan shudders beneath my fingers, and I offer a whispered apology as my fingers ghost over his skin.
Far too soon, he slips his shirt back on and turns to face me, his eyes not meeting mine, but focusing on his left arm.
It takes him a second to find his voice, but when he does, he says, “This is from my time flying with the Forest Service. It was my first job, and I thought I was cool as fuck flying the helitack crews into remote areas to fight forest fires.” He chuckles.
“Dude, that is cool as fuck.”
Finally, his eyes meet mine.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. These guys would repel from the helicopter down to some gnarly-ass terrain. I love to flirt with Mother Nature, but I court her carefully. That’s why I love flying. My chopper gives me enough power to dance with her, but also a means of escaping her claws.”
“Why’d you leave the forest service?” I ask.
“Eventually, I lost a good friend in one of the fires, and I couldn’t stay.
That’s how I ended up in Ricochet. From fire to ice.
I needed something totally different.” Logan chews on his bottom lip before admitting, “I excel at running. Every time someone I love gets hurt, including myself, I take that as my sign to move on.”
“That’s how you ended up here, too, isn’t it? Flying for the hospital is dramatically different from both those things,” I observe.
“Yeah,” Logan says, blowing out a breath. “It has its days, but mostly it feels like a cop-out. I miss living on the edge, testing and showcasing my skills as a pilot.”
Wow. I’d wanted a distraction after Kendra’s phone call, and this certainly fits the bill.
“Flying is my way of contributing to society,” Logan continues.
“Whether it was dropping charges so skiers could relax on the slopes and know they were safe, or if I was delivering a group of rappellers to keep the forest and everything in it from burning to ash. I don’t feel like what I do right now matters in the same way.
Especially when I’m just transferring stable patients from one hospital to another.
I know it sounds selfish, but I feel like my skills are going to waste.
I spent years grappling with Mother Nature. This gig feels boring by comparison.”
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Although I’d argue that, on an individual level, what you’re doing now probably has more impact.”
“Maybe,” Logan concedes.
I feel him slipping away from me as though his mind is sending him down the rabbit hole of regret for his life choices.
So, changing the subject, I tell him to open his gifts. They aren’t much. Especially the first one, but if he’s going to allow me to stay with him, I wanted to invest in this space we’ll share as a way to let him know I’m committed.
Admittedly, the second one had more thought that went into it.
After seeing his bare walls, I knew he was actively avoiding himself.
I certainly hope I didn’t overstep, but I want him to process his feelings for Stone so he can finally move on and not be controlled by them.
I’m not even sure the piece is his style, but since he doesn’t seem to have a style, I went with it.
“Open the small one first,” I instruct.
Logan chuckles.
“I don’t think either of these could be classified as small,” he says, reaching for the box.
Once the last shred of paper is littering the floor, Logan looks at me with an arched brow.
“Lamps?”
“Yep,” I say with a grin. “You know, since I’m going to be living here, I thought maybe we could spruce this place up a bit.”
Logan looks around the brightly lit room we’re sitting in, and an expression I can’t quite name crosses his features, making me feel compelled to explain.
“I just thought they could offer softer lighting. Something different from the blazing lights overhead. I didn’t mean to overstep or anything.
I actually really enjoy creating a warm, inviting space.
Nesting, my mom always called it. It sounds so domestic or girly, but I just think it’s important to have a space that you can truly relax in. ”
Shit. I’m rambling again.
“It’s not that,” Logan reassures me. “I like the lamps. It’s…
well, I wasn’t in a super great headspace when I moved in.
This was the only place I even looked at because I just couldn’t be bothered to care.
Then I got busy with work. Then time passed, and although I don’t love it here, I wasn’t sure I’d love it anywhere else, either, you know? So, it’s just been easier to stay.”
“This might be crazy, but we really should look for a new place together,” I suggest. “Some place we can both contribute to.”
“What about Kendra?” he asks.
Jesus. I didn’t even think about Kendra. What is wrong with me?
“Didn’t even cross your mind, did she?” Logan asks.
He’s not being an ass, nor is he judging. He’s just pointing out facts, and how well he knows me, I guess.
“Nope. That’s not good, right?”
“For the relationship?” Logan clarifies, “Probably not. But for you?” He shrugs a shoulder and makes a hmm noise. “Might not be such a bad thing.”
I try not to perseverate on his words.
This is Kendra we’re talking about. We’ve been together forever.
“I think I didn’t think about her because I know we’re not allowed to live together, so I can’t buy a place with her right now anyway.”
Instead of saying anything, Logan just nods slowly, like he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.
Slapping his knee, I push thoughts of Kendra to the side. I still have four and a half years here. That’s plenty of time to buy something with Logan. Then, once residency is over, I can sell him my half or something.
“So, what do you say? Want to try to find a place that’s ours?”
“You’re forgetting one major thing, Dr. Matthews.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Neither of us has time. Especially since after this week, I have to switch to the night shift for three months. But I’m being ungrateful,” he adds hastily. “Thank you for the lamps. They’ll make our current space much nicer.”
It wasn’t a no.