Page 87

As soon as I got home, I ran into the house to find him but he wasn’t there. His bike is in the driveway, and his truck is parked along the street so he’s got to be here. Glass crunches under my feet as I step inside the front door, and tears sting my eyes at the sight before me. Logan is on his knees in the middle of the living room, picking up broken picture frames and tossing them back into a box. There are large holes in the drywall above his couch like someone took a sledge hammer to the wall, and his leather couch has a huge rip right down the center like whoever broke in here tried to cut it in half. My gaze travels up, and I gasp at the message written on the wall in blood red paint.

SHE IS MINE.

“Ali,” Logan growls, jumping to his feet and stomping over to me, not even noticing the photos that he’s stepping on. He yanks me into his chest and hugs me hard, his large arms binding around me like a vise as he kisses my forehead and lets out a breath.

“Logan,” I gasp, tears threatening to fall as I look at all the damage I’ve caused in his life. All of this – his house and the emotional toll this is taking on him – is all my fault and I can’t help but wonder if he would be better off without me. “I’m so sorry.”

“Look at me,” he says, pulling back, and I peek up at him, the guilt mounting inside me and making me feel two feet tall. “I don’t care about this house, Ali. It’s just a house. The most important thing is that you’re safe.”

He doesn’t wait for my reply before pulling me back into him. I shuffle and my foot hits something on the floor. Glancing down, I pull away from him and grab the photo off the floor, brushing the glass off it. When I look up at him again, his gaze is firmly on me.

“Is this her?” I ask, wondering if I should really broach this topic with him right now but he doesn’t seem bothered as he nods.

“Yeah. That’s Sophia.”

I glance down at the photo again, a small smile forming as I see how happy he looked in this photo, and I wonder if there will ever be a time when we get to that place. He’s been around more lately, and he hasn’t run again, but I still don’t know what he wants from me. I guess I just preferred to live in the moment instead of questioning his motives.

“You look happy.”

He clears his throat. “We were.”

Sucking in a breath, I pluck up my courage and meet his eyes. “What happened to her?”

“I already told you, she died.”

I nod, offering him a comforting look. “I know but I was just wondering how she died…”

He studies me for a long moment, indecision filling his gaze. Oh, God, maybe I shouldn’t have asked that. I have no idea what the protocol is here. Am I supposed to ask about her or just leave it alone? Finally, he drops his head and releases a breath. “She was murdered.”

I gasp and stare up at him but he refuses to meet my gaze, and after a few moments, I give up, handing him the photo. “I’m so sorry, Logan. I shouldn’t have asked.”

He takes the photo and clears his throat again, looking over at the box in the corner. “It’s okay. To be honest, it’s probably well past time that I get rid of this stuff.”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s holding me hostage. All of it – this house, the photos, the damn truck outside.”

I reach for him, grabbing his hand and pulling him into me. This is one time that he needs my comfort, and I’m damn sure going to be there for him. “How do you mean?”

“It was all for her. I bought this house for her, and I fixed up that truck for her. I took the pictures off the wall but they’ve been sitting in that box in the corner for years, and it’s all keeping me from moving on.”

He turns to throw the picture in the box, and I grab his hand. “Stop. You loved her. You can acknowledge that you loved her and move on with your life. You don’t need to hide her photos in a box because she’ll always have a piece of your heart and that’s okay.”

He turns his gaze back on me, something new and different in his eyes as he pulls me into his body and claims my lips in a kiss that has me clinging to him. When he pulls away, he runs the tip of his nose up mine, and it’s so sweet and tender that I lose another piece of my heart to him in this moment.

“Let’s get out of here,” he whispers, guiding me outside as he pulls the door closed behind him. I wait for him to lock up, and then he laces his fingers with mine as we walk back to my house. With each step we take, my guilt grows as I think about all he’s been through in the last month because of me. How can I do this to him? If everything that Mercedes, Carly, and Logan have been telling me are true, this will get worse before it gets better. What kind of person does it make me to drag him along with me?

“Kitten,” he says softly, getting my attention as he opens my front door, and I look up at him. His gaze flicks over my face for a moment, studying me before he reaches up and grazes my cheek with his thumb. “What’s going on in your head?”

I shake my head and whisper, “Nothing.”

As I step into the house and kick my heels off, I can feel his eyes on me, boring into me like he’s trying to tear me apart piece by piece until he finds the answers he’s looking for. Bending down, I grab my shoes and walk down the hallway, resisting the urge to peek over my shoulder at him, but no matter how far I get from him, I can still feel his gaze. The front door shuts, and the lock clinks into place before I hear his boots stomping against the hardwood floors as he comes after me.

I don’t want to do this but I have to. “You should leave.”

He stops, and the house grows deathly silent, the only thing I hear is my heavy breath as I wait for him to respond. “That’s not going to fucking happen.”

“I want you to leave,” I respond, sucking in a breath because I’ve never told a bigger lie than that in my life. I want to see him but if I turn around, I’ll be finished.