Page 17

Chapter

Seventeen

I stepped through the front door, dirty and dishevelled. Logan sat on the couch, arms crossed, face stormy. My stomach dropped.

"Where the hell have you been?" he snapped. "I've been waiting for hours."

Logan was here. In our house. I blinked, wondering if all the cleaning chemicals had gone to my head. “How—I’m sorry, you’ve been here for hours?” I glanced down at my grimy clothes, suddenly self-conscious. Great first impression after not seeing him for weeks. Rob brushed past me, kicking off his shoes.

Logan tensed. “So you two are just hanging out now?”

I motioned to my clothes. “Does it look like we were hanging out?”

"She left her violin in the arts centre. I had a key,” Rob explained with a shrug before ducking into his room.

I hung up my coat and took off my shoes. “I helped him with his shift because he was doing me a favour. The Outlaws have conditioning assessments tomorrow.”

Logan barely acknowledged our explanations, his jaw working.

I walked closer and stopped in front of him. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were coming. You should have told me." I tried to keep the accusation out of my voice. Apparently not very well.

"I wanted to surprise you!" Logan threw his hands up in exasperation. "I got in late last night, had stupid press releases all day, then showed up here at eight o'clock to an empty house. Surprise!"

The sarcasm stung. I bristled. "Well if you’d let me know, I would've made sure to be here." I put out a hand, resting it on his shoulder. “I love surprises. I’m sorry I was an idiot and left my violin on campus.”

Rob made a noise behind us, but thankfully, Logan didn’t notice. The room to his door was still open.

Logan ran a hand through his blond hair, deflating slightly. "I just missed you so much, Shar. I couldn't wait to see you and now . . ." He gestured vaguely.

My anger faded, replaced by guilt. Here he was, so eager to please. And I welcomed him by picking a fight.

"I missed you too." I slipped my hands around his waist. He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close. I breathed him in, but couldn’t fully relax. Not with Rob standing right there.

Rob reappeared and shuffled around the living room, obviously trying to make himself invisible. When he crossed behind us toward his bedroom again, Logan cleared his throat.

"What, no warm welcome? Afraid you'll miss your beauty sleep, Thompson?"

Rob paused, his jaw clenching. I rested my cheek on Logan’s chest and braced myself for a dig. To my shock, he simply shook his head.

"Conditioning at the crack of dawn. Then an exam in physics." Rob's tone remained neutral. "Sorry I can’t be around."

"Sure, man. You do you." Logan wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, and I almost flinched.

Rob’s eyes flared, his jaw tightening. “I’m assuming press means you didn’t get cut.”

I shot him a sharp look. Was that really necessary? He just shrugged, unrepentant.

Logan chuckled. “Nope. We leave for Europe on the third.” His energy returned like he’d just gotten a jolt of caffeine. “Can you believe I get to play there?” He ran his thumb over my skin. “Insane.”

Rob was so still, I forgot to breathe. "Insane.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Congrats, bud. Glad it’s working out.” He turned and stalked to his bedroom, and I exhaled, finally sinking against Logan.

"You didn't have to snap at him like that," I chided gently once Rob's door clicked shut. "He's been helping me out. Cut him some slack."

Logan at least had the grace to look chagrined. "I know, I know. I'm sorry." He took my hands in his. "It's just been a stressful trip and I wanted everything to be perfect and now it's all . . . not."

I softened, squeezing his hands. Logan was back, his blue eyes pleading. But something felt different. Like I was looking at him from the other side of a pane of glass. Like if I tried to push through, everything between us would shatter.

He leaned into me, a tired smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Have I mentioned that I missed you? Because I did. A lot."

"Once or twice." I grinned as his lips found skin. "But feel free to keep reminding me."

He pulled me to our room, our fingers intertwined. He flopped onto the bed with a groan, burying his face in my pillow. "Mmm, smells like you."

I chuckled, settling beside him. "I hope so. It is my pillow."

He rolled over, pulling me into his arms. I nestled against his chest, breathing him in. I frowned. “Did you change your cologne?”

Logan tipped his chin. “Different deodorant. Why, you like it?”

I nodded. “It’s nice.” I didn’t like it. It was too . . . sharp. In your face. I reached up, threading my fingers in his hair. Something inside of me was pushing away from him, and I needed it to stop.

"Let's just stay like this forever," he mumbled. "Screw Europe. Screw everything else."

My heart clenched. If only it were that simple. "As tempting as that sounds, I don't think your coaches would appreciate our life choices."

He huffed a laugh. "They'll live." His arms tightened around me. "At least we have all day tomorrow. Just you and me. No interruptions."

I stiffened, my hand stilling in his hair.

Logan pulled back, frowning. "What? Don't tell me you have plans."

"I . . ." I bit my lip, averting my gaze. How could I put this without sounding like a complete jerk? "I have to prepare for my audition on Wednesday. And the Christmas concert is coming up.”

His frown deepened. "Seriously? I'm only in town for one day, Shar. One day before I'm gone for who knows how long."

Guilt gnawed at my stomach. He was right. What kind of girlfriend was I, prioritizing rehearsals over our limited time together? But the piece Ms. Franck had given me was insanely difficult. I needed every spare second to practice if I wanted to nail it. Him being here meant I was losing out on tonight.

Rob's words from the other night echoed in my mind. Logan Kemp always gets what he wants.

I'd brushed it off then, chalking it up to Rob's general dickishness. But now, with Logan's expectant gaze boring into me, I wondered if there wasn't a kernel of truth to it.

Logan sighed, his handsome face pinched with frustration. "Fine. Whatever. I guess I'll just entertain myself."

Okaaay. That stung. I felt the pull to drop into our normal pattern. Stage one: Logan tells me what he wants. Stage two: I adjust my life to make it happen for him. Normally, I wouldn’t have even hesitated. I would’ve cleared my calendar without telling him I’d done it. But tonight, for whatever reason, giving up everything tomorrow made me want to stab a fork into my eye.

I swallowed hard, my pulse rushing. Open up. Tell him the truth. “You know how important this is to me." Saying it out loud felt like stripping down and standing in front of him naked.

"More important than me, apparently," he muttered.

A door slammed down inside of me, and he felt it. My body tensed. My skin flashed cold.

Logan slumped. "Shit, Shar, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that." He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'm just . . . I'm just really damn tired."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "I know. It's okay." Even though it wasn't, not really. But I plastered on a smile anyway, determined to salvage what was left of the night.

“Come here.” He shifted me higher on his body, his hands going up the back of my shirt. He kissed me, his fingers finding the clasp on my bra.

If I couldn’t give him the time he wanted, I could at least give him this.

_____

The sounds of a garbage truck outside our window roused me from a fitful slumber, my head fuzzy and thoughts muddled. I blinked blearily in the morning light filtering through the blinds. Logan's arm tightened around my waist, tugging me closer.

"Morning, beautiful," he mumbled into my hair, voice gravelly with sleep.

I tensed, the events of last night rushing back in stark clarity as I stirred, my legs tangled with Logan's under the duvet. He stretched beside me, his arm grazing my shoulder, and pressed a lazy kiss to my bare skin before rolling out of bed.

I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes, still cocooned in warmth, reluctantly slipping out from under the covers. Logan was already up, rummaging through his small carry-on suitcase on the floor. His clothes were neatly folded, his toiletry bag perched on top from using it last night. It was so strange seeing his things packed up and not settled next to mine.

We moved through our quiet morning routine, brushing our teeth side by side in the washroom. His arm grazed mine as he rinsed his brush, and for a fleeting second, things felt normal.

I thought of Rob. How I told him he could use the washroom if he wanted, then realized I’d never actually talked with Logan about the plumbing situation. How long had it been? I’d completely forgotten about it since Rob was doing his level best not to intrude.

"D’you know what’s crazy?" I said with a mouth full of toothpaste. "Rob’s washroom is broken.”

Logan frowned. “What do you mean, broken?”

I shrugged, spitting in the sink. “There’s a leak. It’s been off-limits since you left. He had to phone your dad to get the plumber out here. They came, but they’re still waiting on a part to fix it."

The furrow in Logan’s brow deepened. "He’s been using your washroom? Like, coming in here to shower?”

I nodded. "I never see him. He never even leaves his towel in here.” Truthfully, the only evidence of his presence was a damp bath mat every once in a while. And the scent of his body wash.

Logan’s jaw tightened as he fumbled with his belt, muttering something under his breath.

My patience frayed. "Are you seriously pissed about this? What did you expect him to do—bathe in the Bow?"

Logan exhaled. "I just don’t like the idea of him being in our space."

"It’s a washroom, Logan. Not sacred ground."

He peed, then repositioned himself in his boxers. “Are you two friends now?”

I scrubbed my face, then dried it with a towel. I didn’t know how to answer that. Were we friends? We weren’t enemies anymore, I was fairly sure of that. “I think he’s being nicer. I thought we talked about this? That you asked him to lighten up?”

Logan washed his hands. “Yeah. Right.” He slipped past me and back into our bedroom, pulling on his pants and a clean shirt.

I put on moisturizer and exited the washroom. Even though I knew it wasn’t my job to improve Logan’s mood, I still wanted to. “I could help you make pancakes.” I walked up behind him, pressing against his back and curling my arms around his middle.

He didn’t hug me back. "I was thinking we could grab lunch and hit the German Christmas Market. They’ve got that mulled wine you loved last year."

I dropped my arms as he moved toward the bed to grab his watch off the nightstand. I turned and walked back into the washroom, picking up his bracelet from the shelf and attaching it around my wrist.

"I’m not sure I’ll be able to do the market, but lunch sounds great.” Logan paused, holding his toiletry kit. I swallowed hard. “I thought we talked last night . . . I need to rehearse today. I have an audition tomorrow morning."

His expression darkened. "It’s our one day."

A belt seemed to tighten around my chest, and air refused to fill my lungs. "I know. But you keep making plans without asking what I need."

His eyes flashed. "So, this is my fault now? I’m supposed to just . . . what? Sit around while you play violin all day?"

The words hit me like ice water, cold and cutting. I’d never been short with him, and now here I was ready to spout off. It’s our one day.

Ugh, I wanted to scream at him. Why was he doing this? Making me the bad guy?

I needed air.

I pulled on my joggers and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

“Shar—”

“Don’t.” I jerked my hand back when he tried to grab onto me, then I picked up my violin case and stormed out of the room.