Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
Logan
The rest of the week flies by, but I hardly remember a goddamn thing.
One show blurs into another, day after day, while I struggle to hold the most basic of conversations. Talking becomes a chore. If it weren't for Salem forcing us all into a routine every morning, I’d never leave the RV.
Sleeping is non-existent. Not when Devon wanders in late every night higher than a kite, collapsing next to me reeking of Marijuana and booze.
Not when my wife is still sleeping in the bed of Taylor’s truck.
Shifting on the mattress to get comfortable, I blink at my laptop, thankful that Dev isn't here yet.
Everyone's relaxing after a day of sightseeing since we're taking off for Kentucky tomorrow—more stuff I zombied my way through.
Some movie plays on the small TV that I can't be bothered to pay attention to.
Can't pay attention to anything anymore.
Salem’s itinerary for the trip stares back at me, as do cities, budgets, and schedules that I've read over a dozen times already, but the information won't stick.
I can't fucking focus. All I can think about is the disappointment in Taylor's eyes this afternoon when he'd tried to talk to me over lunch.
“We brought you here because we needed you,” he'd said. “Needed our business manager. Salem’s been doing a lot of shit herself. Come on, man.”
His words were gentle, but I read between the lines: “Start pulling your weight." And I'm trying. First order of business is to find a way for Arya and Dev to be useful. If I could just fucking focus.
The screen door whines on its hinges, and I tense, expecting my adopted brother to stumble in. When I glance up, though, Salem stands in the doorway, scratching at her arms. A crop top hugs her frame, belly button ring glittering above the hem of her sweats. My chest tightens at the sight.
“I have to drive tomorrow,” she mumbles, eyes red and tired. “And I’m sick of feeding the damn mosquitoes. Can I…” Hesitating, she bites her lip. “Can I switch with you or Dev? Just for tonight.”
I swallow hard, forcing my gaze back to the screen. “Sure. He's not here right now, so…”
She tiptoes in, slipping off her shoes before crawling into the other side of the bed without looking at me.
For a while, there’s nothing but background noise—her soft breath, the TV I'm pretty sure everyone fell asleep to, the hum of the RV’s generator outside.
My pulse pounds in my ears, but for the first time all week, I feel like I can finally think clearly.
The words on the screen start to make sense, so I pull up a document and start making notes.
Eventually, the mattress dips. I glance over to see Salem propped on an elbow, peeking at the laptop.
“What’re you working on?” she asks softly.
“Our itinerary. Seeing if the sponsors are happy, reviewing what we've spent so far, checking profits. Taylor's been on my ass about it.”
She hums, resting her chin on her arm to watch. “I didn’t know you handled all that stuff.”
With a shrug, I fight the urge to lean into her warmth. The clean, fruity scent of her body wash is doing ungodly things to my dick. “It’s what I was hired for.”
“Hired?” She snorts, giving me an amused smile. It feels like a gift. “We practically took you by force.”
A strand of hair falls over her shoulder, soft and tempting. I can't stop myself from tucking it behind her ear, thankful that my laptop covers the evidence of what her presence does to me.
“Maybe,” I whisper, shifting closer, “being taken by force is exactly what I want.”
Salem inhales sharply, pupils blowing wide. Her beautiful lips part, drawing my attention south, and the visceral need to taste them again has me leaning in.
She arches up, her mouth barely ghosting over mine in the most tender of kisses. Her hand flutters to my chest, moving down my stomach…
Right as the screen door bangs open so hard it rattles, waking everyone in the RV.
We jerk away from each other, both of us snapping our attention to where Devon stumbles inside, tripping over his untied laces.
“Fuckin…shit,” he shouts, nearly faceplanting into the fridge. I can smell the vodka practically seeping out of his pores.
Christian stirs in his bunk, long hair mussed as Arya groans beside him. “Bro, are you serious right now?”
Taylor rubs his face, already muttering curses under his breath as Huck sits up with a tired sigh. “Dev, what the fuck, man?”
Devon ignores them all, his bleary eyes landing on me and Salem. My stomach drops when his face twists into an ugly sneer.
“Well, look at you two,” he slurs. “All domestic n’ shit. Adorable.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Salem spits, shooing him away. “Take your drunk ass outside. Some of us actually have to work in the morning.”
Dev scoffs and crosses his arms. “I heard the sex gets worse when you give ‘em a ring. That true?”
I scramble out of bed, my fists curling at my sides. “Don't fucking talk about my wife that way.”
“I was talking about you,” he snickers.
Huckslee climbs over Taylor with a growl. “Dev, seriously, cut it out. Go to sleep.”
Devon gazes around the RV with something dark glittering in his amber eyes. “You know, I actually have another question for your wife. I'm curious.”
“Dude, stop,” Huckslee warns, rushing to put himself between us as Tay and Christian slide out of bed. All three look like they're bracing for a fight.
Of course, Dev doesn't listen. Because he's a fucking asshole.
“Tell me, Salem,” he says, lazily grinning over Huck’s shoulder. “Who's cock tastes better? Mine, Logan’s, Taylor’s, or Christian’s?”
A flash of red is all I see as Salem blurs past each of us before we can move. Her fist connects with Devon's jaw so hard that he drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes. And doesn't move.
Completely out cold.
We pull off the highway just past sunrise, the gas station bathed in golden, early-morning sunlight.
My stomach’s been twisted in knots all night.
After Salem knocked Dev on his ass, we left him there to sleep it off.
Huck threw a blanket over him, which I personally think was more than he deserved.
His words rattled around in my head over and over, preventing me from enjoying the fact that Salem was actually sleeping next to me for once.
She even ended up on my pillow, her forehead pressed to mine…
just like before. I’d give anything to go back to how we used to be.
Sometime in the night, Devon awoke with a soft groan, but other than grabbing a water bottle from the fridge before passing out on the floor again, he caused no other issues.
But the silence this morning is unbearable. I can’t take another mile of it, of sitting across from where he’s slumped in one of the bunks, his bare, inked chest on display. Even with his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, I know they’re on me. I can feel them.
The moment Salem throws the RV into park, I’m out the door, heart pounding in my chest. Luckily, this gas station isn’t big—just a small establishment in a small town with a single-stall bathroom.
I lock myself in there, pacing while I try not to puke.
One glance in the mirror tells me how haggard I look, sallow skin and three days' worth of stubble on my chin.
Dark, haunted eyes gaze back at me, and they stare for a long time, trying to recollect who the man in the mirror is, this…
ghost that no longer exists. A phantom with my face.
A heavy knock pulls me from my thoughts, and I sniffle before washing my hands. With one last glance at my reflection, I grip the handle to open the door—and come face to face with all my issues.
“Done yet?” Devon asks, tongue poking at the hoop through his lip. “Or do you need help with your dick?”
White-hot anger pierces through the fog in my head. “Don’t you ever talk to Salem again like you did last night.”
A smirk slowly crawls across his mouth. “Or what, little bro? You gonna pray for me? Have her punch me again?”
I grind my molars, clenching my fists. “I’m serious. Keep her name out of your fucking mouth.”
“You know what I think you’re really mad at?” he asks, leaning forward enough that his breath brushes my cheek. The scent of cigarette smoke and aftershave floods my nostrils. “I think you’re pissed that I know what your wife’s pussy tastes like, and the fact that she begged me to eat it.”
My arm pulls back as I launch with a growl, aiming for his smug face. The asshole sidesteps quickly, somehow fast enough to grab my wrist and twist it behind my back. His free arm wraps around me, pinning my body to his chest.
“If I were you,” he whispers, his lips brushing my earlobe, “I’d fuck one of her exes for revenge. Oh, wait…” Devon pauses with a chuckle that makes bile rise in my throat. “You already did.”
Vomit threatens to spill from my mouth, but I swallow it down, gagging as I wriggle in his hold. “You’re… sick.”
His teeth sink into the sensitive skin beneath my jaw as he presses his pelvis into my hips. “I’m what they made me. And so are you.”
My body reacts to the position he has me in, to the feel of something hard pressing against my ass. Shame weakens my knees when my cock starts to thicken against my will. And like the coward I am, I freeze, unable to move until he places a surprisingly tender kiss on my neck before letting me go.
“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, gently nudging me out of the bathroom so he can take my place. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
The door shuts softly, lock engaging. I stare at the handle for a long moment, blinking as my brain tries to catch up with what the fuck just happened. At some point, my feet move of their own volition, carrying me toward the RV although I have no memory of leaving the gas station.
And when we finally get back on the road, with hours of driving ahead of us, I don’t even remember curling up against the passenger seat, or falling asleep with memories of Salem haunting my dreams.