Chapter 17 Gwendolyn #2
I think for a second. “Wait a minute. In middle school, she showed up to school one day with a black eye. That was you, wasn’t it?”
Kennedy’s eyes twinkle with mischief.
“How did you not tell me?”
“I didn’t want you to hear the vile things she was spouting. We knew the truth. Mom and Dad loved us more than anything. But she was so cruel. So she had a little meeting with my fist, and she never brought it up again.”
I break out in a slow clap, and Kennedy responds with a small bow.
“Well, it’s a little late now, but thank you.”
She waves away my words. “Don’t worry about it, Gwen. I would do it over and over again for you. Which means if she tries to start anything with you because of Logan,” she brushes her knuckles over her chest as if to polish them, “I’m ready to throw down again.”
“That’s very sweet of you, but I think I can handle it. Besides, nothing is happening between us. It’s strictly professional.”
“Gwen?”
I hum in response. Tightening my lips together in preparation for whatever lie I need to tell. To Kennedy and to myself at this point.
“Don’t lie to me. It’s okay if you still have a crush on him or maybe one is bubbling back up. I mean, I definitely cyber-stalked him after family dinner the other night, and wow has he grown up nicely.”
I glare at my sister before I can school my features. She giggles, pointing at the screen. “I knew it! Don’t worry, little sis. I’m not coming to steal your man. I’ve got enough of my own problems with the men of Willow Grove to last a lifetime.”
“Nothing is happening between us,” I mutter, pretending to brush away a speck of invisible lint on my arm.
“That blush on your cheeks says otherwise.”
I slap my hands on my cheeks to cover them up, causing her to laugh again.
And the sound is so nice that I can’t help but reciprocate until we are both doubled over.
I only stop because a noise echoes through the hallway.
Kennedy catches my questioning look toward my front door and immediately sobers up from our giggle fit.
“What’s wrong?”
I shake my head, still focused on listening through the walls and into the hallway. That’s when I hear another bump, this time clearly on the wall outside my apartment, followed by a muffled curse.
“I think someone’s outside,” I whisper to my sister as I get to my feet and tiptoe to the door.
“Take me with you!” She whisper shouts. I reach back to grab my phone, sending a playful glare her way.
“You going to punch my intruder through the phone, sis?”
“If I have to.”
I continue my trek to the front door, making as little noise as possible as I stand on my toes to get a look out of the peephole.
“I don’t see—oh!”
“What is it? Don’t leave me hanging. Do I need to call 911? Or Jackson?”
I shush my sister as I peek back through the glass again.
Just in time to see Logan pick his head up and look right at the door.
I know he can’t see me, but my heart rate picks up as our eyes meet through the door.
He’s leaning with one arm against the wall opposite my entrance.
The white button-down that always sets off his natural tan in a delicious way looks more wrinkled than it was when I saw him earlier.
The first few buttons are undone, showcasing more of his defined chest than I had been privy to, well, ever.
His hair looks like he’s spent the last few hours running his hands through it and pulling at the roots.
But it’s his eyes that give me the extra pause. They’re glassy. Red rimmed like he’s been rubbing at them.
“Is he drunk?” I whisper mostly to myself as I actually forgot Kennedy is on the phone with me until she speaks up.
“Who is drunk?”
I jump out of my skin at the reminder she’s still on the call. Looking at the screen, I relax my grimace to ease her worry. “Just my neighbor,” I say. Not that she knows exactly who my neighbor is and she wouldn’t be finding out in this moment. “I should go check on them. I’m going to let you go.”
“Gwen, you better take me with you! Or I will call Jacks.”
I roll my eyes. “He’s harmless, trust me. I’m just going to make sure he can find his apartment. I don’t want him sleeping in the hallway.”
“Fine, but you better text me when you’re done so I know you are safe. Better yet, send me a selfie.”
“Anything for you, sis. Love you!” I disconnect the call quickly after she repeats my goodbye and pocket my phone in my hoodie.
Taking a deep breath, I reach for the door, quickly ripping it open.
Though I should have checked the peephole first, because his drunken fist almost connects with my face.
He’s leaning heavily against the doorframe, staring quizzically at his fist. Probably wondering why it didn’t actually touch the metal of the door until his unfocused eyes snag on me.
Logan’s lips curl in a dopey smile that would usually have me reciprocating, but his feet seem to give way at the same time. I reach out to stop him from hitting the doorframe with his face, my hand taking the brunt of the force between his cheek and the metal.
I must wince, because suddenly Logan’s happy face morphs into pure concern. He tries to reach up and grab the hand still on his face, missing a couple of times before finally sticking the landing.
“It’s fine, Logan.”
“Shh, let me look,” he slurs. Bringing my hand close to his face, he squints one eye and examines the red mark forming along the back of my hand.
I try to pull away, but he tightens his hold.
Then, ever so gently, he leans his face down.
When his lips connect softly with my skin, an explosion of tingles erupts where we touch.
I inhale sharply, his eyes jumping up to meet mine at the sound. Whatever he sees within them has the dopey look returning, his hazel eyes swirling with intensity.
“Hi,” he breathes out, which only makes me even more aware of the scent wafting off of him.
“Logan,” I start. He nods as his gaze tracks around my face, down to my lips, the tips of my hair over my shoulder, then back up once more. I dip my head to stop his visual exploration from going any further. “How much have you had to drink?”
He attempts a shrug, but it throws him off balance again. This time I’m not quick enough to stop his shoulder from slamming into the edge of the door. He doesn’t feel it right now, if the lack of reaction is any indication, but I bet he will tomorrow.
“Dunno, like one?”
“There’s no way you had one drink. Unless it was one bucket, you smell like a brewery.”
He shakes his head. “One bottle. Of bourbon. Stole it from my dad’s office. Felt appropriate.”
At the reminder of his dad this morning, I want to hide my face. Not that he can see the redness overtaking my skin, because his eyes are now half open as he nestles his head into the crook of the doorframe. A small yawn leaves his mouth, prompting me to jump into action.
“Nope.” I put his arm around my shoulder, angling him in the direction of his apartment door.
It takes him a second to catch on that I’m trying to move him, which is almost comical because I think I could push a car better than I could push a drunken Logan down the hall right now.
I nudge his thigh, trying my damndest to not focus on the hardness beneath his slack, urging him to take a step.
He shuffles his way a few feet down the hall, his other hand supporting most of his weight so he doesn’t crush me. When we finally make it to his door, I prop him against the wall.
“Can you get your keys out for me?”
I look up at his face to find him staring down at me again. He doesn’t make a move, just keeps looking, until I speak up again.
“Logan?”
“Huh?”
“Keys? Where are they?”
Patting at his pockets like a fumbling toddler, he eventually produces a keyring that only holds two silver keys and a car fob.
No extra frills or fun, I think to myself.
For some reason, that makes me a little sad.
I think about my own keyring, full of keychains loved ones have picked up for me here and there.
They always remind me that no matter how bad some days can be, someone loves me enough to think about me in their special moments.
I juggle with making sure he stays upright, knowing if he meets the floor he’s just going to be staying there, unless he can crawl into his apartment.
I finally get the key into the hole and twist the door open.
The door swings open to reveal a dark apartment, the only light filtering in is from his balcony door lighting the way.
It felt weird to be in here, seeing my place mirrored but without all the trinkets that make it feel homey.
I manage to shuffle Logan to his couch, dropping him unceremoniously onto the cushions before bounding into the kitchen. I find a clean glass quickly, filling it with water and rushing it back to him as I watch his heavy eyelids drift closed.
“No, you don’t,” I grab his shoulder, pulling him upright.
His eyes reopen and immediately land on me again.
“Gwen, when did you get here?”
I chuckle as I pass him the glass. He downs it quickly as if he had been desperately thirsty. “Since you showed up drunk on my doorstep.”
He sighs heavily. “I wanted to see you, but I didn’t want you to see me this way.”
My chest warms at his admission. I perch myself on the edge of his coffee table.
“Why are you like this on a Monday night, Logan?” I nudge him with my knee that is resting on his to get his attention, which is wavering between staring at me and staring at a blank spot in the air.
His voice is low when he finally responds. “I should never have come back.”
My lips part in shock, unsure how to reply. He doesn’t give me a chance, anyway. As if the dam has broken, he continues to talk.
“He wants me to be him. I can’t be him. And he can’t accept that.
I was so happy being far away from this place and all the reminders.
I knew this,” he waves a heavy hand around the room before dropping it to the couch, though I know he’s talking about beyond these walls, “was inevitable. But, fuck, it’s not what I want. ”
I lick my dry lips, feeling bold enough to ask the first question popping into my head.
“What do you want?”
His eyelids were drooped so low that I almost think he’s sleep talking, until he slowly opens them again. They land on the hand I had not realized I placed on his knee. I start to pull away, but he slides his over mine.
“Freedom. Passion.” His head lolls to the side, where it’s lying against the back of the couch, but he keeps his gaze locked on me as he says the next word. “Love.”
A flurry of butterflies erupts in my stomach, traveling throughout my body with such force I feel like I could float.
He’s talking in general, not about you, I remind myself.
But damn if I don’t take that simple word to heart. I’ll chastise myself for the galloping speed it takes on later when I can’t sleep at three in the morning and dissect everything we have ever said to each other.
“You’re allowed to have that, Logan.” My voice is a whisper, and I worry he doesn’t hear me as he continues to stare for another few beats.
His eyelids slowly blink and I know I’m losing him, so I adjust him enough to lay on his side on the couch.
Not the most comfortable position fully clothed while knocking on thirty’s door, but it’s the best I can do with the muscles I don’t have.
After locating a blanket on the loveseat, I drape it over him, tucking the edges around his body the way I always loved for Ophelia to do for me.
His breath has started evening out, slowing to a relaxed state by the time I’ve got him situated as best I could.
Making my way to the kitchen, noting again that there was barely any personality anywhere in his place, I search the cabinets until I find a bottle of aspirin. I take out two and place them on the coffee table in front of his face to find whenever he finally wakes up.
Deciding I did the best I could, I start to walk away and head back to my place when a hand gently grabs at my fingers. His eyes are still closed, sleep overtaking his features as they soften out.
His mumbled words could be anything and I almost wish they were, because I think what I heard might be the worst thing he could have said.
“I wish I could have that with you.”
I stare down at him, not wanting to even breathe just in case he says anything else. But his hand falls away and a soft snore starts to build within him, signaling he was finally out like a light.
And I was buzzing brighter than the neons down at Daisy’s.