19. Alina
NINETEEN
ALINA
TWENTY-FOUR YEARS OLD
“Hey, I think you dropped this.”
I ignore the stranger because I’m too busy digging through my bag while I rush out the front door of the rec center, trying to find my keys. I’m running late to my shift at the diner, and lord knows Patty will yell at me again and I can’t afford to get fired.
“Hey, miss! Wait up.”
Irritated, I spin around, coming face to face with Logan Baxter. I’ve turned so quickly, I stumble, my hands finding purchase on his chest.
My fingers dig in because his muscles are just defined as hell, and it takes me a few seconds for my brain to catch up, realizing I’m basically fondling him in public. My face flushes as I rip them away, and take a few steps back, but I can’t help my gaze from drinking him in because he is a fine specimen of a man.
He’s tall and handsome, and clearly coming from a fresh workout if the sweat making his light brown skin glisten is any indication.
I know him, of course… Well, I know of him.
We went to school together, and by “together,” I mean he was a senior when I was a freshman. Where Reed Stanton was the star quarterback, Logan Baxter was the shining wide receiver.
Logan grins his crooked smile, one that pulls up a notch more on the right, and his dark eyes sparkle with mirth. He reaches out, placing the missing keys in my hand.
“You dropped these.” He trails his brown eyes from my plain ballet flats up to my flushed face. “Alina, right?”
“Uhh…yeah. Yep. And you’re Logan.” I stumble over my words.
“That’s the rumor.”
His laid-back personality reminds me of Jax, instantly putting me at ease.
“Well, thanks for my keys. I would have been up the creek without a paddle if it weren’t for you.” I smile, spinning my keys around my finger.
“Just happy I was behind you.” He grins back, his gaze lighting a fire between my legs.
I shift on my feet. “You work out here a lot?”
He shakes his head. “I’m a personal trainer. This is where I meet my clients.”
“Well, shoot, I can’t believe I’ve never run into you before. I’ve been teachin’ dance here for years.”
“Maybe you’ve never seen me, but I’ve always seen you, Alina Carson.”
“Oh, okay then.” I look away, biting the inside of my cheek.
I really need to get my butt in gear, Patty will be fit to be tied and ready to rake me over the coals if I’m late. It’s hard, though, when Logan keeps looking at me like I’m his next meal.
My heart doesn’t react to his perusal, but my body sure does.
He reaches up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen…can I get your number?”
My brows draw in. “For what?”
Stupid, Lee. Obviously he’s hitting on you.
His grin widens. “So I can take you out.”
“Oh,” I reply, butterflies flapping around in my stomach. “Yeah…yes, that’d be all right.”
I rattle off my number and then my phone’s ringing in my purse, and I cock my head, giving him a questioning look.
He winks. “Just makin’ sure you gave me the real one.”
A few days later, I’m with Becca for our Saturday brunch. After she graduated from FCU, she came home, accepting a social work position at Sugarlake High, and our brunches became a regular thing. She spent her whole life complaining about feeling trapped in Sugarlake, swore up and down she’d never wind up back here, but I guess time changed her mind.
I’ll never say this to her, but I think facing the big, bad world scares her more. Better the devil you know.
She and Jax started forcing these “friend dates” on me when they were fed up with my self-imposed solitude, and normally he’d be here with us, but right now he’s in California working with some fancy producer who hired him to be the car guy on their movie set. I’m so proud of him. It’s what he’s been working toward since forever, but I can’t help feeling like everyone’s life is moving forward while mine moves back.
I’m filling Becca in on my newfound “friendship” with Logan when my phone rings. Eli’s name flashes. Dang. I forgot today was our monthly call. I chew on my bottom lip, deliberating whether to answer or to ignore him and just order another mimosa.
The mimosa wins.
“Who was that?” Becca asks with a mouthful of food.
“Eli.”
She swallows, her fork scraping against her plate. “Oh. What’s up with him lately?”
I shrug. “No clue, you know he doesn’t tell me a damn thing. He’s too busy thinkin’ his money means he’s showin’ up.”
Truthfully, every time Eli and I talk, it turns into an argument. He refuses to stop writing checks every month, and I refuse to let Daddy pour every dime of it down his throat.
“You should just take the money, Lee,” Becca says. “He’s clearly tryin’ to help.”
“He could help by comin’ home,” I snap.
“Have you even asked him why he won’t?”
My eyes narrow, irritation tightening my throat. “Are you seriously defendin’ him right now? Eli, the guy you’ve hated since you were a kid.”
“I’ve never hated him.”
I snort. “Yeah, okay.”
She throws her hands up. “I’m just sayin’. Communication works both ways, girlfriend. You can bitch to me all day long and you know I’ll listen, but at the end of the day, if you won’t even ask him why he’s not comin’ home, then you don’t stand a chance of ever gettin’ him back here.”
I huff out a breath, crossing my arms. “There’s no chance, anyway. He’s happy wherever he is with that girl he’s datin’. What else is there to know?”
The sound of Becca’s fork clattering onto her plate is jarring. She recovers fast, clearing her throat and picking it back up, and I blink at her, trying to figure out why she’s acting so strange.
Before I can ask what’s wrong, she’s onto the next subject like nothing ever happened.
I spend the rest of brunch listening to her telling stories of her college friends, and my heart squeezes at the thought I won’t ever experience the kind of life she’s lived. Even if I wanted to, I can’t leave Daddy.
I’m all he’s got.
Daddy’s what I like to call a cycler. Some days he’s quiet and ignoring me, but overall seems pretty normal. Well, as normal as someone can be with a gallon of whiskey in their belly. Other times he gets downright mean, taking his anger with God out on everyone around him. Once the dust settles—the lacerations barely healed from his cutting words—he’s back to the sullen and distant man I’ve come to know. Those are the days I pray to hear he doesn’t mean it when he says he wishes I’d disappear like Eli. Or that it’s my fault Mama’s dead.
I know it’s the drink talking, not him. I have to hold on to the belief my real daddy is still in there somewhere. But, dang , it’s exhausting.
He’s got cement shoes dragging him under, and I’m the only one left to hold his hand, desperately trying to keep his head above water.
“Hey, Mama.”
There’s no breeze today, the Tennessee heat sweltering on my face as I lie in the summer sun.
“I met a guy. His name’s Logan, I don’t know if you remember him from back in the day, but he’s nice, and I think you’d like him. We’re not datin’ or anything. I’m not interested in that, but he serves a purpose and makes me feel a little less lonely when we’re together.”
Sitting up, I throw my hair into a ponytail, the wispies sticking to the sweat on the back of my neck. “I’m sure you’re turnin’ over in your grave with that information. I’d like to think if it were a different world, I could open up and let him in, but…” I sigh, picking at a blade of grass and twisting it between my fingers. “The truth is, my heart’s still taken by that broody boy who’s bigger than the stars.”
It’s the first time I’ve admitted it out loud: Chase still has a hold on me after all these years. I hate him, but I’d be a liar if I said my heart didn’t still beat for every piece of his damaged soul.
“Anyway. I’m not sure if you have any pull up there, but if you do…”