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“Let’s not forget the award I was offered for best in town. Guess these hands are that good.” Mark grins, wiggling his fingers.

Who’d give this man an award?

I pass him a suspicious look while Crew throws his head back in laughter, and Logan draws his brows together.

It’s Lana’s turn to throw Crew a pissed off glare for laughing at her insufferable date.

“Sorry. Continue, Matt.” Crew grins over his beer.

“It’s Mark.”

“Ah, right. My bad.”

Apparently, I’m not the only one who finds this man unbearable. He’s annoying and full of himself. Witnessing Lana and Mark together doesn’t make sense. No way she finds this man desirable.

My speculation is correct because when she passes me a, what the fuck glance, I know it’s not going to end well for our man of the hour. Mark may get the boot after all.

Cold hands touch my body, and I go rigid. The water I switched to almost drowns me as I choke on it and my muscles lock in place rendering me immobile.

The rough, unwelcome massage to my scalp is like someone burning me with a cigarette.

Had I not been in my previous situation, I might shrug this off as no big deal, but there’s a heavy anxiety I gain from men touching me and it’s crippling.

“Now doesn’t that feel good?” Mark asks in a seductive tone, causing the blood to rush to my feet.

The silent elephant tension is obvious, and my sight grows blurry.

“Stop. I think she gets the point,” Lana commands, nearly clawing his eyes out.

He drops his hands like they’re on fire, a theatrical confused expression flashes across his face. “Felt great though, didn’t it?” He lost any seductiveness to his voice, but that doesn’t make me feel any less uncomfortable.

Lana’s eyes widen in shock like she couldn’t believe her boyfriend just inappropriately touched her best friend. Also, during this fucked-up interaction, Logan moves closer to me. His towering presence is more than welcoming but it’s not enough. I need to get away. I need room to breathe.

“I’m going to the restroom,” I blurt out, and before I know it, I’m maneuvering through a couple standing by the single bathroom door. When I reach it, I scurry inside, locking it with force, taking the heavy weight off my body as I lean against the sink.

The loud pounding in my ears becomes quieter as I take long controlled breaths. It happened before when a customer first got touchy with me. Jason said it was all part of the business. That right there should have been my first sign.

A knock sounds. “Sora. Are you okay?” Lana asks from the other side of the door, her voice shaken with worry.

“I just need a minute.” Maybe I’m more messed up by Jason than I thought. All this coolness and collectiveness is only a front.

In the mirror, my reflection reveals a changed woman. The braver me, despite the trauma left behind. I will survive. These memories won't haunt me forever and I’ll make damn sure of that.

I’m fine.

As soon as I swing the door open and take my first step out of the restroom, my face collides with a hard object. But before I can stumble back, a muscled arm wraps around my waist, and my hands are left pressing against a solid chest.

Oh.

I look up at Logan, whose face is setting me on fire.

His touch is blazing. It happens so fast that my body doesn’t have time to react.

If it had, my knee would have slammed into their balls.

But knowing it’s Logan… his touch is the only one I can handle.

His warm embrace doesn’t make me want to flee.

In fact, it’s quite the opposite. I find myself wondering what it’d be like to fully melt against him.

What a psycho way of thinking. I barely know the guy.

Logan takes a step back, letting me out of the warmth of his body. “Wanted to see if you were good.” He rubs his neck with a tough shyness, and his other hand finds the inside of his jean pocket.

He came to check on me.

“I’m better.” I huff out a breath. “Just needed a second to collect myself.” It’s only when my back hits the hard wall, I realize I subconsciously backed into it.

Logan’s eyes soften, almost in sadness as he slightly tilts his head, moving back to allow me more space.

I’m not afraid of him. I don’t want him to think I’m afraid of him.

Sure, I don’t know him like that, but my gut instinct isn’t sending off any red flags.

No sirens going off and any human being would assume he’s a decent person.

He steps aside allowing me to go first and I throw him a soft smile.

Back at the table, Lana's eyes hint at annoyance or most likely anger. Crew, unexpectedly still present, reclines back, arms crossed, as he observes them. Mark hasn’t done an excellent job of winning any of us over tonight.

“I’m going to head back to the bar. Anyone want more drinks?” Mark asks, scanning us, but his gaze ends on me.

“No,” we all say together.

I glance Lana’s way. “Tonight was fun, but I think I’m going to go. I’ll see you back at your place.” The night was fun, and a well-needed distraction, except for when it became sour, and the distraction turned into a bad trauma episode.

I snatch my purse off the table while Lana sends me an apologetic smile.

Mark takes a quick stride, placing his body in front of mine. “The night’s early. Why don’t you stay a little longer?”

My internal rage boils, about ready to erupt but I feel someone step up behind me. I turn slightly, peering up at an alarming-looking Logan. His mouth is straight, eyes are dark, and he stands tall and tense.

When he slides past, placing himself in front of me, our arms brush together. “Move,” Logan demands in a bone chilling voice and we all can’t help but stare in total stunned silence.

The surrounding crowd is still loud and lively, but right now, it’s as if they have stilled. Mark’s throat bobs as he shuffles aside without hesitation.

Logan turns, allowing me to lead like he had by the bathroom, and I feel him following close behind me. Only when we’re outside does he hold out his hand. “Give me your keys.”

My eyes widen as I stare at him. Not sure if it’s shock or admiration for what he did for me. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I’ll just call an Uber—”

“I’m driving you. Give me your keys, Sora.” His words are demanding, but the only thing I hear is my name as it rolls off his tongue.

I clamp my mouth shut, dropping my keys into the palm of his open hand. A silence falls upon us as we begin our jaunt home. I lay my head on the cold glass window, staring out.

“You still haven’t gotten your new tires.”

His observation takes me by surprise, but it’s been what? Days. Give me time, buddy. “It’s definitely on my to do list.” Once I accumulate money. Going from dirty rich to barely making ends meet is a lifestyle change. But new tires will be first priority. I think.

Logan grunts beside me, making a right down our street and his truck comes into view. Crew must have driven them tonight.

Outside my car, I stroll toward Lana’s steps, only to stop when I hear Logan answer a phone call. I want to thank him. Not only for driving me, but for helping me back there. He’s a crutch I didn’t know I needed.

He tells whoever is on the line he’ll be there in ten. Girlfriend? No. It’s likely a customer requesting assistance. That is his job.

“I need to go. You gonna be okay?”

I nod. “I’ll be fine. Thank you… for tonight.”

He halts with his hand resting on the driver's side door frame, and his shirt lifts giving me a perfect view of some of his strong torso.

“Sora?” He says my name in question, and I meet his gaze.

“If he touches you again, tell me.” Without giving me a chance to respond, he gets in and drives away.

The chains on the tow rattle into the distance.

The air is thicker, chillier, but my body heats in places I don’t think possible. I blow out a huff of breath.

Logan is naturally intense.

When I go to unlock the door, the tall wooden oak slinks open, beating me to it. My muscles lock up, sending a sickening swirl in the pit of my stomach.

I know I locked it before I left.

The kitchen is dark with zero movement or noise, so I continue inside, advancing with measured steps.

Maybe it’s a faulty lock, or I did just forget to lock it. But that meant I never pulled the door shut either. There is no way.

I flick on the light. Nothing appears noticeably touched. No obvious sign of burglary. I make my way upstairs, checking the bedrooms and bathroom. Good here too.

Okay.

Everything is okay.

There might have been a break-in, or it’s just my imagination. I’ve been on edge and the stress is taking a toll.

My sleep outfit is soft against my skin and after gulping down water and aspirin, I tuck myself into bed.

Tomorrow is always another day.