Chapter 15
Kyle
It’s past midnight when we arrive at Logan’s place.
The single-storey duplex clearly used to be one bungalow that has later been converted into two separate homes, but it comes with a bit of lawn and its own driveway.
We’re close to the stables, and I won’t need to help him up a flight of stairs, so there’s nothing to complain about.
Logan’s tired and doesn’t fight me when I help him out of the vehicle.
He’s not used to the crutches, but I’m positive that with arms like his, those won’t be an issue.
I whistle at Jekyll, who leaps out of the seat, yawning.
I walked him while Logan had his leg worked on, and all he needs now is sleep.
“It’s messy, I wasn’t expecting guests,” he mumbles in warning, but I couldn’t care less.
I’m happy he’s only got a small fracture and sprain, and that I won’t be sleeping in a car tonight. Just as Logan told me, the chill is prominent at night time, and it even drizzles a bit us as we make our way to the door.
“That’s okay, I can clean up tomorrow, if that makes you more comfortable,” I tell him and rush to the door with the keys he’s given me.
The bag containing everything I chose to take from my old life hangs over my shoulder, but I try not to think about the way Logan stared at me when he realized I’d followed him here.
I’m not stupid. Of course I knew he might not be happy to see me, but I guess considering that he was interested in men, single, and seemed to really like me, I did expect him to take it a bit better.
Still, whether it was because of the freak accident or not, he’s agreed to let me stay at his place, which will offer us ample opportunity to spend time together.
I’m sure he will like having me around, once he realizes I’m not a psycho who’s come here to stalk him.
Despite his claims about the apartment being messy, when the light switches on, all I see are clean lines and wood. Even his shoes are all neatly stacked in a box-like organizer attached to the wall. Then again, this is only the hallway.
I place my bag on the floor and leave Jekyll to roam as Logan approaches the entrance, wary of every bump in his way.
Logan is too focused on learning to use the crutches, so he doesn’t look my way, but I get all these protective feelings when I see him struggling. I won’t say it, because he wouldn’t appreciate my concern, but I yearn to take care of him.
“Just one step…” I say absentmindedly as he pulls himself up the step into the apartment.
“I know. It’s my house,” he grumbles.
I close the door behind Logan when he makes his way down the corridor. I know I shouldn’t feel so excited about the prospect of staying with him, cooking for him, and all that, but my life has been shaken to its core within the last week. His home and his presence smell like safety.
Jekyll is right back with us, happily wagging his tail.
“Are you hungry?” I ask as Logan moves past me, careful of his foot, which is encased in a plastic support boot.
“I need a shower first,” he mumbles, so exhausted I wish I could take him in my arms and carry him to the bathroom, but the last thing I want is to take away his dignity, so I lock the door and glance at the two doors ahead.
“Sure. You have a tub or a shower?”
“Shower, so if you could…” He takes a deep breath and won’t look me in the eyes. “There’s a plastic stool in the kitchen, so if you could bring me that.”
“Oh, of course,” I say and walk through the first door.
It’s a living room/kitchen combo, spacious but minimalist when it comes to decor.
There are barely any non-essential items in sight, though I spot a little bookshelf, which also houses DVDs, close to the large flatscreen TV, and there’s cushions on the dark blue, velvety sofa.
The kitchen has the same white subway-type tiles and light gray cupboards as any other new home I’ve recently seen my friends move to, but it’s not only pristine but also has a fresh flower standing in a jar on the counter.
I would have decorated a bit more, but with Logan clearly being a minimalist, his apartment still feels lived-in.
I find the stool and head to the other door in the hallway.
My host sits on a king-sized bed covered with the most flamboyant item I’ve seen here so far—a large quilt of fabrics in all colors of the rainbow.
Again, it seems he either has very little stuff, or hides it all in cupboards and closets made of pale wood.
There are multiple small light fixtures around instead of one big lamp, which creates a cozy atmosphere very much aligned with everything that might be going on in Logan’s bed.
I meet his gaze. “What help do you need?”
I can see the struggle painted all over his face.
He doesn’t want to ask for any assistance, but is calculating if he can do it all on his own without further embarrassment.
I would gladly undress him, but I can’t promise I wouldn’t perv on him.
I’ve had several wet dreams about him since the wedding, and I still haven’t seen him completely naked.
“Just put the stool in the shower, I’ll manage.” He points to the door on the other side of the bedroom. “There’s spare blankets and pillows under the TV, you can use one to make a bed for Jekyll.”
Just as he says that, my dog comes into the room, wagging his tail, and it melts my heart to see Logan extend his hand for Jekyll to smell. This guy might want to present himself as all cool, but my dog is never wrong in assessing people, and he was friendly toward Logan from the moment they met.
“Is there anything I can cook for you now?” I ask after leaving the stool inside the spacious walk-in shower.
He sighs, pulling himself up with the crutches. “I don’t know. Something light and quick, I guess. Just take whatever you need from the kitchen.”
I nod and walk out, leaving him to shower.
Jekyll yawns and jumps on the sofa, but I don’t want to abuse Logan’s hospitality, so I use one of the blankets to prepare him a bed close by.
My dog does not like being banished from human seating, but this isn’t our house, and he begrudgingly follows my orders.
A quick browse through the cupboards and fridge tells me Logan even has some frozen meat ready, but it’s late, and I decide it’s better to settle on something light simple.
I cook water for the pasta I intend to make and decide on the ingredients for a sauce.
I intend to use canned tomatoes, and while I can barely find any spices, there’s more than enough dried basil and garlic to whip up a nice dish.
I’m also happy to find some bacon. Its label suggests it comes from a farmer’s market, so while Logan doesn’t seem to cook much, he does care about the quality of ingredients.
I’m not surprised to find protein powder either, because muscles like his don’t grow out of thin air.
I almost burn the onions when my mind drifts off to how hot his abs looked when he fucked me last time.
I manage to save them at the last moment, after Jekyll alerts me to them starting to burn.
I’ve trained him in all sorts of ways, so he can sense smoke, as well as take my laundry into the washing machine.
I bet I could teach him to help Logan out too.
My mind stalls as I think about the man whose space I’m invading, and I’m assaulted by a painful sense of inadequacy. What the hell was I thinking?
Yeah, he did seem nice, but we did not know each other well. Of course he wouldn’t be happy to see me out of the blue.
I shut my eyes as the garlic becomes fragrant.
I have burned all bridges, and my mom went crazy after I decided not to marry Madison.
I don’t have anywhere to go, so I’ve reached out to the one person who might understand me and provide some guidance.
Maybe it’s not a healthy way to think, but I really sense we might be a good fit, and it’s not just because I find him insanely hot.
So yeah, his injury was a terrible accident, but since it’s not that serious and he should be back to running around as usual within a couple of weeks, I can’t help but think of it as a blessing in disguise.
I can now make myself useful and show him that I am someone who he can rely on and whose company he might enjoy.
I just need to keep a cool head and let things develop.
Though a part of me dreams of him taking charge, like he had the two previous times.
The remaining vegetables go in the pan, followed by the bacon, and within twenty minutes, dinner’s ready.
I start worrying the food will get cold, but the shower finally turns off, giving me hope we’ll get to eat before that happens. If Logan wasn’t so proud, I would have helped him wash, and then maybe one thing would lead to another, and—
Logan walks into the living room with the help of his crutches. He’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, but I do notice it’s not some baggy old thing with holes but a white top that is tight enough to accentuate his shape. Maybe I’m shallow, but it’s yet another reminder of why I’m here.
“Smells good,” he says, making his way to the kitchen at a slow pace.
“Where do you want to sit?” I ask, putting the pasta in two bowls.
His brown hair is damp, and I’m sure it smells of some fantastic shampoo.
I already love his home. It’s light, and modern, and clearly belongs to an adult man, which feels refreshing after spending my whole life in my parent’s farmhouse.
He stalls half-way to the kitchen, staring at the barstool by the kitchen island, but he must know it won’t be comfortable for him in his state. I’m itching to help him out, but he didn’t seem eager to be fussed over, so I bite my tongue.
“I think it’s gonna be the sofa,” he says and changes course. The T-shirt looks as glorious on his muscular back as it does stretching over his pecs.