Page 23

Chapter 23

Evie

No one has asked me that before. That's why my heart stutters, and my lungs find it hard to keep their rhythm.

Who takes care of you?

I take a slow, deep breath to try to bring it all back to normal. It only works somewhat, but I stare into his deep blue eyes.

I gather the iron in my blood and I make steel out of it, and it strengthens my voice.

"I take care of myself," I say.

He leans a little closer. "That can't be easy."

"It's not, but I don't know another way. That's why once in a while I will get a particular piece of bad news— too many fires at once— and I crumble. I hide for a little while."

The whole time, I know I should keep going, but it's like my body has flamed out and it won't move, no matter what I do. So I take my sick days and turn off my phone. I disconnect the buzzer. Rot on the sofa for three days. It's not rest, because my brain keeps screaming at me that I should be doing something. That I should work and do more. But I just can't do more.

Eventually, the screaming wins the battle. I manage to pick myself up, and go back to the grind.

"It's fine." I shrug. "I'll get over it by Monday."

"What happened?" His voice is soft. Careful. "What triggered it this time?"

Like he could read my mind and he heard everything I didn't say, and he wants to know more, but he'll be gentle with it.

My chest swells. It's a feeling I've had before with him, when he undoes the layers of my answers, and finds ways to reach even deeper. It's a raw sensation, rooted in the discomfort of doing something new.

I'm going to answer, and that's something I never do… because I don't let anyone ask.

He asked.

I take another deep breath. "The day Selena and your agent invited me to the gala— that night, my parents called. The letter they got from the bank… well, things are… bleak."

In his usual approach, he doesn't say anything, hoping I'll add more in the space he leaves open for me.

"We may lose my childhood home." I stare at my lap. "We've had to negotiate a payment plan a few times with the bank. We haven't been able to keep up with the pace they want. We've been making inquiries to see if we can negotiate something else. The letter said they won't consider it."

He rubs his lips, like he's holding back thoughts. Overwhelm builds inside of me, seizing my throat and forcing me to stop talking. The frown that always marks his face almost disappears, and he surrounds my shoulders with an arm.

He pulls me close. "Let me help."

"Logan—"

"I'm not offering to pay the debt off yet, so don't panic. But I could loan you some—"

" Yet ?! You can't— I can't— I couldn't do a loan—"

"Okay, I guess that's a no for now. It's fine. We don't have to talk about that yet—"

He sees my panic, and changes tactics before I can protest again.

"But what if," he says, "instead of hiding in your apartment and scaring the shit out of me, we get you to the gala? My treat. At least take that."

"Logan…"

"Take a break. Take some help. No one can do life alone."

I pace my breathing, in the hope it will keep my feelings in check. The emotions that underpin everything are still raw, and they bring a new ache to my chest.

Shadows cross his eyes, frustrations he's not sharing. I'm about to ask when he says more.

His eyes lock on mine. "Let me show you that you can let someone in. That someone wants to help. My actions are much louder than my words."

"Aren't you a loner, too?"

"I'm insufferably picky. Not the same. I didn't fit with my previous team, so I didn't get close. But I like the guys here, so I'm changing that. I'm in sports, Evie. Of course I know we all need a good team."

"So you'll let the guys close? Really?"

"Hey, don't sound so suspicious." His voice mocks offense. "I'm in the group chat now. I'm going to Damián's for Christmas dinner. I think I'm killing it."

A reticent smile appears on my face. "Fair. You win."

"Let a few people in, Mystery Girl. I'll handle the gala stuff. We'll start there."

I chew on my lip. Half my heartbeats drum to warn me, reminding me this is a risk. That I'm jumping off a cliff and I don't know if there's a parachute in this baggage I carry with me.

A nod is all I manage.

"Excellent." He pulls me closer. "Now I need you to know something."

I stare at him.

He smirks, dives for my neck, and takes a deep breath .

"Logan! Oh my god." I push away.

He keeps me close, strong enough not to strain despite my efforts. "You smell good, Evie. Maybe a little musky, but I don't mind it too much."

"Unbelievable."

"Fight me all you want. I like it, and it doesn't change what I think."

"Why would you say that?" I laugh.

"Because I want you to let me run a bath for you, but I don't want you to think it's because I'm sensing the fumes." His voice remains deadpan.

"Stop!" I say, but my laughter doesn't go away.

"I'm not even trying to get a peek. I have an amazing memory of that night, you know? I don't need to update the image in my head to remember the details."

"This isn't funny!"

"For once I have a weekend off, and only a half day on Monday. I can't think of anything more fun to do with my free time, than getting you naked and in the water."

"You're the worst."

"Incorrect. I'm the best. I'm so selfless I'm not even going to try to join you. I'm going to let you relax."

"Logan—"

"Remember how I like the guys so I'm getting close to them? I like you too, so this is what you get. You're stuck with me now."

Tenderness still swirls inside, when Logan tears me away from my sofa nest. He leads me to the bathroom, where he filled my basic, formed plastic shower-tub combo with water and bubbles.

"I had to use your body wash for the bubbles." He delivers me to the middle of the room. "I don't know how long they'll last. Now undress, get in, and call me if you need anything. "

I don't plan to do any of those things until he leaves, but I keep him with me for a second longer.

"You've been bossy since I first met you," I say. "But I'm not complaining today. Thank you."

A corner of his lips tilts upward, but he says nothing. He nods and leaves, closing the door behind him.

I let myself melt into the water. I sink into it, holding my breath for a good fifteen seconds before I come out again. The sigh that leaves me takes some of my worries away, my chest lighter than it's been the past few days.

The space between the tub's edge and the wall is small, but the right size to rest against. I lean my head back and take a slow, deep breath.

Logan and I are getting close. Where I could have doubted it before, confused it for familiarity due to how close we work together, I can't lie to myself about it after today.

The way he showed up. The way he stayed.

The fact we're joking about our one-night-stand, but nothing has changed.

How in all his directness, he said with his whole chest that he wants to help, treat me to the gala— whatever that meant— and get close to me. He said I need to let people in, and he offered to step up in that regard.

I chew the inside of my cheek. It takes effort to keep my breath even, when it wants to race again.

What am I supposed to do with all of that?

If I tried to stop it, he would insist. Yet all I feel is weightlessness, because when it's hard to ask for what you need, having someone who wants to be there without being asked… someone who is willing to poke at your walls, when you're too set in your ways to invite them in… it's a gift.

Friendship may not be such a terrible idea. Trust has built between us. He earned it with his bluntness and consistency .

I let the warmth of that seep into me, right through my skin from the water around me. Time goes by unchecked, because this is something I've hungered for, and I'm letting myself count how long it will last.

My movements are minimal for a while longer. The water starts to get cold, and a shiver runs down my spine.

I sigh and blink a few times to come back to reality. I remain in the water for now and wash thoroughly, scrubbing my skin clean. It's time for my hair, ahead of emptying the tub and rinsing it all away with the shower.

Except I discover my shampoo is done. I forgot to replace the bottle earlier in the week, before I went into crisis mode and into my bog woman era.

I purse my lips and think. My options are getting out of the tub, half-drying myself, running for the bottle and coming back, and managing alone. Or I could call for Logan, since he's here in my apartment and could help.

He has seen me naked, even if it's been years since. I'll still do my best to cover up, but he told me to call for him if I needed anything. I don't have to make a big deal of it.

"Logan?"

I stir the water, to build the bubbles around me again. It works— minimally. Enough that I don't think I'll flash him by accident.

He doesn't hear me so I call again. I start to worry that he left without telling me, and I'm about to try for a third time, but he enters the bathroom before I can.

He doesn't hesitate, his movements assertive like we do this all the time. His eyes survey the scene quickly, and if I hadn't been paying such close attention, I would have missed the hungry look that flashes across his face.

He locks it down tight, and limits his gesture to raising a questioning eyebrow.

"I ran out of shampoo." I hug my legs, hoping it covers my breasts more effectively than the flimsy suds.

I'm naked in here, after all, and the brief desire he revealed settled too well in my lower belly .

I lick my bottom lip. "There's a new bottle in the hallway closet. Do you mind getting it for me?"

He nods and leaves, only to return within a minute, bottle in hand. The lid is open, and he brings it to his nose.

"Mmh." His brows relax to a nearly neutral state. "It smells good."

I take an arm out of the water and ask for the bottle. "Thank you."

He shakes his head, ignores my hand, and kneels next to me by the tub.

"I'll do it." He squirts a bunch into his hand and frowns. "Is this enough for long hair?"

Despite my thoughts earlier, my first instinct is to panic.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"What does it look like?"

"You can't wash my hair." I rest my arms on the side of the tub, letting the formed plastic cover me.

I keep my arms close to me, letting them block the view of my breasts. The water is high enough that he'll only get to see the curve of my back, disappearing into bubbles at my mid back.

I'm hoping it comes across like a power pose, as if I'm a powerful CEO rather than a naked woman in a tub.

He shrugs. "I can, and I would like to."

"It's too much."

It's touch, and I'm starved for it. It's a whole new level of intimacy between us, when I'm just getting used to the idea of friendship. It might confuse my skin, and tempt me with being caressed by Logan again. Held and manhandled by him.

I can't accept touch, if I'm hoping for friendship. And it won't be friendship, if I ask for touch.

He may be good at reading my thoughts, but he doesn't this time.

"Too much, what?" He rubs his hands together, to spread the product between his palms. The arch of his eyebrow is challenging .

Carefully, he runs his hands over my wet hair. His dark gray eyes follow the movement, rather than inspect me this time.

A shiver runs down my back and I arch like a cat.

Touch, or friendship? It's hard to decide, when his hands are on me and they unearth tingling sensations all over. The kind that makes me think of bodies rubbing against each other.

The marks he left in my memory, that night we had together. They light up and blink steadily, like they're warning me something is changing, and I better pay attention. They want me to remember how good it felt to be in his arms.

I can't let myself crave his arms.

"You wouldn't do this for the guys," I finally argue.

If he's friends with them, I'm pretty sure he doesn't touch them like this.

His fingers stall at my nape.

He looks into my eyes again, hands cradling my head. "Preferential treatment for someone I've slept with."

"I'm serious, Logan."

His brows furrow. He works the shampoo into my hair, firm fingertips massaging my scalp.

I bite my lip not to moan in pleasure, and wait for his answer.

"I think I'm serious, too," he says. "It feels natural. I'm not questioning it."

I watch him for a couple of minutes. The concentration on his face, the sweetness of the gesture, and how it makes me want to melt into the water again and let him pet me for a while.

"Let's not question it, Evie." His voice is deep. "Can it be enough that I want to?"

With his fingers working magic on me, I can let it be okay for now.

Touch, or friendship? I'm not sure what I need from him the most.

I nod and sigh, and rest my chin on my hands. He washes my hair with care, and I pretend I'm not scared that I need both of those at all.