Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
Logan
I stare at the computer screen, trying to make sense of the jumbled mess in front of me.
10100101
Are those even numbers anymore?
The digits blur, shifting and rearranging into nothing more than meaningless symbols. I blink repeatedly, but they don’t settle.
Office noise hums around me—a cacophony of ringing phones and muffled conversations drifting through the cubicles, but it feels like I’m listening with my head underwater.
I should be working. I should be moving files, approving loans… doing something. My hands won’t move. They hover over the keyboard, almost as if they’ve forgotten what to do with the keys. I can’t remember the last time I typed anything.
Can’t even remember the last time I breathed.
My lungs expand, sucking in air, but it’s painful.
Everything is painful, right down to the simple act of existing. The blood pumping through me cuts like barbed wire and my skin is too tight. I wish I could rip it off.
How long until the clock runs out so I can finally be at peace?
A sharp knock on the wall of my cubicle jerks me back into my body, but it takes a second for my brain to process that someone’s calling my name. The world moves like molasses when I glance up from my monitor—and immediately wish I hadn’t.
My wife stands at the entrance with her arms crossed, looking one wrong word away from throwing a punch.
The green flannel she’s wearing hangs open, nothing but a black sports bra beneath.
It leaves her smooth stomach and glittering belly button ring on display.
My sad, neglected dick twitches at the sight.
Taylor stands next to her, grinning sheepishly with his hands shoved into his pockets like a kid caught in the cookie jar. I’ve seen that look on his face before, and my stomach drops. “No.”
Tay blinks. “Logan—”
“No,” I repeat, gripping the edge of my desk with white knuckles as my surroundings come into focus. The lights are too bright, too loud. “Whatever you both want, count me out of it.”
He blows out a breath, dragging an inked hand through his hair. “Logan, man, we’re not here to fight.”
“Speak for yourself,” Salem scoffs.
I attempt to level her with a glare, but there’s no heat behind it. I don’t have the strength anymore. “If this is about the divorce papers, they’re at my apartment.”
Somewhere. Maybe. I think I saw them beneath five empty pizza boxes piled up from this week.
Taylor steps into the cubicle slowly. “Huck’s worried about you. He says you haven’t spoken to him since Matty and Xed’s wedding.”
Salem tilts her head, cold eyes sweeping over me. “Apparently, you need a fucking babysitter.”
Tay elbows her, but she doesn’t even seem sorry. My chest hollows out as I huff a dry laugh, rubbing a hand over my face. “Well, it certainly won’t be you. I’m an adult. I don’t need supervision. Tell Huck I’m fine. I’ve just been busy.”
Busy trying to blink out of existence.
Taylor shuffles in place uneasily. “Logan, come with us.”
“What?”
“Come with us on the tour,” he says, nodding toward the exit. “Just… Get the hell out of Utah for a while.”
Salem sighs, reaching up to adjust the messy bun on top of her head. “Or stay here for all I give a shit.”
Inhaling slowly, I try to rein in the storm that’s been brewing inside me for days, weeks—hell, maybe my whole fucking life. “And do what, exactly?”
“Help manage the tour…” Taylor trails off after a grimace. “With us and Devon.”
My lungs cease to function. Every muscle in my body locks up, bristling at the sound of his name. I shake my head so fast that I grow dizzy. “No. Absolutely not.”
“That’s what I said, too.” Salem glares sideways at Taylor. “And yet, here I am.”
Tay gives me a look that I hate—the one with those pouty aquamarine eyes that get him everything he wants. “Logan,” he pleads, holding my gaze. “You need this.”
“What I need is for all of you to leave me the fuck alone,” I snap, barely hanging onto my patience.
Why can’t they just let me wallow in misery?
Salem growls in frustration before grabbing Tay by the arm. “See? Told you he wouldn’t come, now let’s go. He’s a waste of time.”
That comment fucking hurts, but I just glower at my screen as they turn away, eager for the moment when I can curl up under my desk and scream into my arms.
Been doing that a lot lately—new hobbies and all that.
Just as they’re about to leave the cubicle, a tall figure steps in front of them and blocks their exit. Whatever self-pity I was feeling quickly morphs into hatred when my dad—my adopted dad—steps inside. His mere presence seems to suck all the oxygen from the room.
I don’t even need to check to know the look on his face—I’ve only seen it a thousand times over the last year.
Mostly disapproval, with a touch of anger because I’ve hardly spoken to him or my mom outside of work since the night I found out the truth: They gave Devon up to my grandparents as teenagers only to adopt me five years later.
I brace myself as his sharp gaze sweeps the room, landing first on Taylor, then—
Oh, shit.
Salem.
The shift is instant. His face hardens, lips pressing into a thin line.
I can feel the disgust radiating off him in waves.
They never liked her, my parents. Granted, we secretly dated, but once Taylor let it slip that we were together, they had even more reason to hate her.
And because we were living together ”in sin,” they forced me to propose.
She said no, by the way. Only to fuck Devon and then beg me to marry her in Vegas afterword.
Bunch of fucking hypocrites. All of them.
Salem, to her credit, doesn’t even flinch. She tilts her head casually and observes the man in front of her. “So. You must be Mr. Peterson.”
Dad’s nostrils flare, anger flickering across his brown eyes. “And you must be the mistake my son almost made.”
That causes me to flinch.
Salem just snorts. “I think it’s the other way around.”
Dad doesn’t answer, only turns to me with a clipped tone. “Logan, your little friends need to leave. This is a business, not a strip club. We’ve work to do.”
I grit my teeth before letting out a sharp exhale. “They were already on their way out.”
“You have responsibilities, son. This—” He gestures at them like they’re dogshit on his shoe. “—is not one of them. I’m fed up with you slacking off.”
Salem smacks her lips and nudges Taylor. “Jesus, the whole family has a stick up their ass.”
“Shut the fuck up,” he mutters, glancing between us like fists are about to fly.
My dad doesn’t even glance at them, his gaze locked on mine, but he’s staring through me. He’s looking instead of seeing.
Something ugly twists in my chest.
“I’m not a kid,” I grit through my teeth.
He huffs, raising a brow. “No? Because you’ve certainly been acting like it, son.”
And that’s what finally does it.
I bark out a sharp laugh and shake my head. “Wanna know what’s funny? You keep calling me your son when we both know I’m not. I never have been.”
The room goes so silent you could hear a pin drop.
Salem stiffens while Taylor’s eyes widen, whispering something under his breath.
My dad’s—no, Joel’s jaw tightens. “Logan—”
“You’ve always treated me like a fucking burden!” Years of resentment bubble up to the surface. All this time I’ve spent trying to be something he’d be proud of, only to be a disappointment. “I’ve always been a project you got stuck with, and I’m so fucking tired of it.”
His expression doesn’t change, save for… something flashing in his eyes. Guilt? Shame? I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t care.
Grabbing my jacket, I shove my arms through the sleeves before pushing to my feet. “I’m quitting.”
His jaw nearly drops, matching my friends’ expressions. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes. I am. Effective immediately.” I brush past him, knocking his shoulder harder than I need to.
He calls after me, but I don’t look back. I have nothing more to say to him. To anyone.
I just want to go home and rot.
Salem and Taylor follow me into the elevator, silent as they study me, but I don’t look at them. I close my eyes and lean back, twisting that forsaken metal band on my left ring finger like it means anything.
Tay is the first to speak. “Well, that was… fucking badass. Do you feel better?”
Honestly, I just feel numb. Not good, not bad, not anything.
When I don’t respond, Salem’s soft sigh fills the elevator. “Does that mean you’re coming on the tour?”
My eyes fly open to find her focused on where I’m fiddling with my wedding band.
I should say no. I should tell them both to go to hell and leave me in my perfectly lonely, miserable bubble.
But I don’t.
Because as much as I don’t want to see Devon—as much as the thought of being anywhere near him makes me want to puke—I can’t sit in another office again. I can’t be chained to a desk for the rest of my life. I’ll lose my fucking shit.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I watch the numbers on the elevator tick down, poetically synonymous with my descent into damnation.
I should say no.
Instead, I find myself nodding, not in control of my own body anymore. “Sure. Why the hell not?”
They both blow out a breath—relief from Taylor, annoyance from Salem.
The elevator finally dings on the ground floor, and not a second too soon. When the doors slide open, we step into the lobby in silence. Warm Utah sun hits my skin the moment we exit the building and like a moth to a flame, my eyes find him immediately.
Devon leans against the side of an RV, one boot crossed over the other with a cigarette glowing between his fingers. His face is illuminated enough to highlight the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes flick up and lock onto mine like he’d known exactly when we’d appear.
The air shifts, shame tightening around my lungs so tight I nearly choke.
At first, no one says anything.
Then Salem boldly slips past me, shoulder-checking Devon’s arm as she passes him. He doesn’t take his eyes off me.
“Look who finally decided to show up,” Dev drawls, smoke curling around his words. The casual tone is betrayed by the steel in his gaze.
I swallow, fighting the urge to retreat into the elevator and press every button just to get away from him.
“Not for you,” I mutter, catching the way Taylor frowns in my peripheral.
Devon’s lips twitch, but there’s no smile there. Just a flick of ash onto the pavement. “Didn’t think it was.”
Tay steps forward, sensing the growing animosity like a storm brewing. “Okay, let’s family bond later. Logan still needs to get home and pack.”
Salem nods, wary eyes bouncing between me and Dev.
Hesitantly, I move toward the RV, heart pounding. My pulse rushes loud in my ears, adrenaline surging through my veins like I just stepped into a cage with a lion—a hungry one.
Devon doesn’t move. He just watches, a taunting smirk curling the edge of his pierced lips. When I open the door and climb inside, his voice chases me, low enough to reach only my ears: “This is gonna be real fucking fun.”