2. Logan
2
LOGAN
Pick up the fucking phone, Ian. Please.
The silent plea must have done something, because on the tenth ring, Ian answers with a growl.
“This better be fuckin’ good or I’m going to murder you.”
In the background, I hear his wife slap him.
“What, Chloe? They called the house at four in the morning. I think that deserves at least a little bit of an ass-kicking if it’s not an emergency.”
“Who would call in the middle of the night if it’s not an emergency, Ian.” Chloe’s voice snaps at him, and then I can hear her hit him with what I’m assuming is a pillow from the soft thunk .
“It’s me,” I finally say when I’ve had enough of their lovesick bickering. Although, it’s not like I actually needed to tell him who it is, because he could look down at his screen and see my name. “I need to talk to you as soon as possible.”
Ian sighs, and I can hear shuffling on the other end of the line as he gets out of bed. “Do I have time to take a shower first?”
“Yeah.” I pause, trying to decide if I should just come out with it and tell him or wait. “It’s Poppy. Other shit, too. But Poppy.” Again, it’s not like I actually need to tell him that, because all of my problems revolve around that woman and the feelings that I’ll have for her until my last breath leaves my body. “I’ll be at your office.”
“Shit.” Ian sighs again, and I can practically see him rubbing a hand down his face.
“You regret taking me on as a patient yet?” The question comes out even though I didn’t think it would, which just goes to show just how out of control I am.
I can’t even bite my fuckin’ tongue, and it has everything to do with Poppy. The redheaded goddess, who with one sentence, managed to destroy me the same way I’ve been hurting her since we were eighteen.
“Not a chance,” Ian grunts. “See you at the office. You better get me coffee.”
The audible click in my ear tells me that he hung up, and I’m left in nothing but the silence of the cool morning breeze blowing through the trees that line the street.
With nothing else to do, I turn and walk up the sidewalk to the only coffee shop in Birch that is open, thanks to the lobstermen who need their coffee before heading out to haul for the day.
The silence and walk will be good for me, to calm the blood racing through my veins and the adrenaline that demands I turn around and march back into Poppy’s house, refusing to let her leave. Insisting that she stay in the place where we were supposed to have our life together.
Not that she will get far when she goes.
If she goes.
I may not be able to face my demons, but I’ll follow Poppy to the ends of the earth just to make sure I know she is safe.
That’s a lie.
I’ll follow her because I can’t breathe if I don’t know she’s okay.
I can’t function if she’s not close by.
Not anymore.
“Two coffees again today, Logan?”
I look up from my feet, shocked to find myself standing in the coffee shop already, directly in front of the owner, one of the girls who used to hang around my little sister constantly. But that was before… Before the beginning of the end.
She watches me with the same sad eyes that I’ve seen on every face of every person who knew my sister, Charlotte, before she died.
“Hey, Leah.” I hesitate, not sure if I remember her name correctly.
Really, though, I want to walk the fuck out and not look back. It figures that on a day when I’m already in crisis because of Poppy, I have to see someone who brings the memory of my little sister’s death flaring back to life.
That has been, and always will be, my life.
Can’t really say I have no luck, because I do. It’s just the shittiest luck imaginable.
“Yeah,” I go on like I haven’t just had a poleax driven through my sternum at the thought of Lettie. “Two large black coffees.” I pause for a second. “You know what? Throw in a bagel also.” If I have to be in crisis, I’m going to eat a carb, too.
“Sure thing.” She smiles at me then, her mouth lifting into what should pass as friendly but comes out looking constipated instead.
“Thanks.” I hand over a twenty and wave her off to keep the change.
As soon as my order is ready, I practically bolt out the door, needing the open air to help me chase away the demons.
“Bye, Logan,” Leah calls at my back with the door shutting and cutting off anything else that may have been said.
A feeble wave is all I can manage.
What made me think, with everything going through my head, that I would be able to handle going into the coffee shop?
By the time I make it back down the road to the building housing Ian’s office, the one right across the street from the Birch Harbor Police Department, I have sweat pouring down my face, and my pulse races through my veins like I’ve just chased someone through the woods at midnight without a flashlight to guide my way.
My hands tremble, and any second I know I’ll drop the fuckin’ coffee that caused the entire panic attack that starts at the bottom of my feet and climbs up my body into my spine.
“Took you long enough.”
The sharp bite in Ian’s voice is barely enough to drag me out of my head, at least long enough for him to take the coffee that is still in danger of tumbling out of my hands. Without another word, he turns and walks into the building, leaving me to follow at my own pace.
At least I’m not about to dump hot coffee on myself.
Normally, I stand out front, biding my time while I try to collect myself long enough to put the crazy that lives in my head aside. But I can’t. Not when I’ve had the worst night of my career, followed by the threat of Poppy moving, again. And then, seeing one of Lettie’s best friends just sent me over the edge. Literally and figuratively. I can’t hold my shit together. Not without help.
I’m so deep in my head that I don’t even know I’m walking into the building until I find myself staring at the door to Ian’s office.
“Are you ready to talk yet?” Ian holds the door open, waiting for me with zero judgment in his eyes.
“No,” I tell him honestly. “But that shouldn’t stop me, right?”
With a smile that turns my stomach sour and definitely doesn’t reach my eyes, I walk by him into the office and plop down on his couch with my legs hanging over the side. Once there, I cross my hands over my stomach and close my eyes, breathing deeply for the first time since I left Poppy’s house.
“Please tell me that you didn’t get me out of bed at four in the morning so that you could sleep on my couch, when you’ve got a key to the building so I know for a fact you could have just let yourself in.” Ian slurps his coffee loudly before letting out a content sigh. “Although the coffee is welcome. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
“I was the first one on the scene last night,” I start, halting as images start to replay in my mind.
So much blood.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” Ian doesn’t raise his voice above a whisper.
I swallow the sharp retort I have sitting on the tip of my tongue. I wouldn’t have called if I didn’t need to. But of course, I don’t fuckin’ want to talk about it. If I had my way, I’d bury the thoughts and memories and never have to deal with them again. Like a normal person.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.” I feel like I’ve swallowed a rock, and I run a hand over my beard, unsure if Ian can see it trembling or not. “We went overseas, and I thought that was the worst it could get. Watching my friends die and taking the lives of those on the other side. I thought we’d come home and any violence here would pale in comparison.”
Saying those words feels like a betrayal. Ian has been my therapist since I moved back to Birch County, and I’ve never admitted my feelings about serving in the Marine Corps. Not to him. Not to anyone.
“If it’s this bad, why would we have even gone over there? Why try to help there when it’s ten times worse in our own backyard?” I stop then because a dead little girl’s red hair haunts my vision. To escape, I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling tiles.
“I walked into the living room, and a little girl no older than eight or nine was lying on the ground, with her red hair draped over the chest of a boy who looked just like her. I didn’t realize, until I was already in the room, that their eyes were open and they weren’t breathing. That’s when I saw the blood. Little pools, already absorbed into the carpet all around them.”
Stopping as I remember the unmistakable squishing sound that escaped when I stepped too close to the bodies, I struggle to keep a tight grip on my control. When I hear, rather than feel, my knuckles crack, I know it is futile.
“They were cold, and I could see the fear permanently etched on their faces, and all of a sudden all I could see was Lettie. Dead at the hands of a monster. When I couldn’t hear anything else in the house, not even the sound of a fan blowing into the silence, I moved toward the kitchen to clear it, calling in for backup as I went.”
Pausing again, I scrub both hands down my face in a ridiculous attempt to figure out exactly what I’m feeling.
Settling on the harsh reality, I swallow down the rest of the doubt. “He used a gun on the children, but a knife on his wife. The kitchen should have been white, but it was covered in streaks of red and looked more like a Jackson Pollock painting than a kitchen. And her head… He’d almost removed it completely with a butcher’s knife. There was so much… violence. So much death, Ian. I thought for sure I was hallucinating. But I wasn’t. His face was gone. He shot his face off, after destroying his family. He could have left. Just walked away. Instead, he stole their lives.”
Ian doesn’t say a single word, which is probably for the best, because I’m ready to start diving into the real issues.
“The woman could have been her twin and her daughter. Our daughter .” I close my eyes at that admission. “Like an idiot, I couldn’t stay away from her after that.” Swallowing down the complicated feelings I’m already having, I finish. “I wasn’t going to stay, but she’s a magnet I can’t fight the pull of. She’s the only thing in this entire world that can chase away my demons.”
“We talked about that, Logan.” Ian’s voice cuts through my inner destruction. “You know that the longer you play games with her, the longer it’s going to take both of you to move on. To live.”
“I don’t want to live without her, Ian.” For a fraction of a second, I regret saying those words aloud. I want to take them back, to hold on to the only weakness I have. And then the familiar weight of what I’ve done for the last decade comes rushing back. “But I know I can’t have her because I’ll destroy her. It’s one hell of a problem, isn’t it?”
“Is it?” Ian starts to tap his fingers against the glass table at his side. “I wouldn’t think it’s a problem, so much as you’re being too stubborn to see exactly what she means to you and what you should do about it.”
“I know what she means to me.” My heart, which has just gotten back to almost normal, begins to dance in an unsteady staccato in my chest. “She’s everything, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her. Even follow her to whatever godforsaken town she moves to, if she decides to leave.”
I don’t need to tell Ian the things I would do for Poppy. He knows, just like I know that he’d kill for Chloe and that I’d help him get rid of the evidence.
“Is that true, though, Logan?” Ian keeps tapping the table, and I think about breaking his fingers to make him stop. “I know exactly what you’re willing to do for her, probably better than anyone else in your life. Maybe it’s time you think why you’re willing to follow her away from Birch. Why you’re willing to uproot your life to be close to her. But you’re not willing to give her the only thing she’s ever wanted, as far as I can see. That makes it very clear that there’s something you won’t do for her. And that’s the difference between you and me, I guess. When I lost Chloe, there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for a second chance. I want you to think about why you won’t give Poppy what would make her happiest.”
“I know why,” I say. The words burn as they come out, and I can feel fire chewing its way from my gut up through my chest until it settles at the base of my throat. “I’ve never stopped loving her, Ian. She’s the sun and the moon and every single star in the sky as far as I’m concerned. You know that. But the last time I let myself have her, I got her killed.”
The worst moment in my life was watching the life leave her eyes. And that’s something Ian won’t ever understand.
“We’ve gone over this, too.” Ian sighs deeply, but he stops tapping the table. “It’s not your fault the two of you were mugged. That the attacker shot her. In fact, you’re the reason she was rescued. At eighteen years old, you knew enough to save her life. You need to start working on forgiving yourself, Logan.”
Sitting up on the couch and swinging my feet so that they’re resting on the floor, I turn to stare at my friend. My confidant. The man who’s been there for me when no one else would be. When no one else could be. Telling him what I’ve hidden in the depths of my black soul means that I am going to lose him as a friend.
I guess it’s a good thing that he’s my therapist, too. Because today’s apparently the day to share things with him that I never have before. First, my feelings about serving. Now this.
“I feel like I might as well have pulled the trigger myself,” I admit. “The man who shot Poppy… I didn’t stop him. I couldn’t stop him. I was so young and stupid that I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t chase him down and make him pay for what he did. I should have, and I didn’t. Instead, I barely managed to keep her alive. It’s all my fault.”
Before I can see the judgment in Ian’s eyes, I get up and walk out.
Maybe now he’ll understand that I don’t deserve her. That there is no world in which I can have Poppy and the life I dream about every single night.
Instead of going home to a dream come true, I walk into the nightmare that became my reality the day I felt the woman I love die in my arms.