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“You get paid four thousand dollars for one job?”
He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug and guided me into the hallway with a hand on the small of my back. “I could get myself killed doing some of this shit, of course I have a high fee.”
Killed. I paused and looked at him, silent as the blood rushed in my ears and a tingle shot down my spine. I’d always believed that what Logan did for a living was admirable and sweet, but I never truly thought of how dangerous it was. He himself just revealed that he could get himself killed doing this and I never even considered that. I never considered what would happen if he got hurt. Or worse.
“Hey, hey,” he said and leaned in, cupping the back of my neck and bending so we were eye level with each other. “It’s a figure of speech, J. I’m not going to die.”
I crossed my arms and glared. “Are you lying?”
Logan scrubbed a hand over his face and then scratched his chin, clearly not impressed with my lack of hustle to get downstairs. I watched as he placed his hands on his hips, a stern look on his face. “Yes. I could get hurt doing this. Just like you could get hurt doing your job.”
“I couldn’t-”
Logan held up a hand. “Bullshit. You could get bit by a dog, or a horse. Or one of those girls you work with could run you over because you breathed the wrong way. But you do your job because you love what you do. So do I, and I do it as safely as possible. Now, will you please march your ass downstairs and argue with me later?”
My spine was straight and it was clear we were both angry. Maybe he was a little more angry than me. “This isn’t over,” I said and then turned on my heel and marched downstairs with my hands balled into fists.
“Really looking forward to the rest of my fucking night,” he mumbled.
The first thing I noticed about Melanie was that she was shaking. Hard. Her tear streaked face looked up at me and her gaze was filled with so much sadness. She couldn’t have been older than nineteen and her thick black hair fell around her face in waves.
But the thing that really struck me as odd was the fact that Melanie was wearing designer clothes. There was a part of me that felt uppity and naive for thinking that all addicts wore ratty, ripped clothes and didn’t own a hairbrush. But how was I supposed to know? The closest thing I’d ever come to knowing someone who did drugs was Logan, and that was only a little weed when his RA kept him up.
“Who are you? Are you a doctor?” Melanie asked when she spotted me.
She was sitting directly on the edge of the couch, like she could bolt at any moment. Slowly, I moved to the opposite end of the couch and sat down, giving both Melanie and myself space while Logan watched from his place on the stairs.
“I’m Juliette. I’m Logan’s… friend.”
“You do what he does?” she asked as her teeth chattered.
I shook my head. “No, I work with animals. That one,” I pointed to Sadie, who was resting her head on her paws and watching Melanie curiously. “Is mine. Sadie, come here.”
Sadie rose and then yawned, shaking her head back and forth as her collar jingled. She walked across the living room and then stopped in front of Melanie, lifting one paw and resting it on her knee.
I watched quietly as Melanie reached out to pet the top of Sadie’s head. But soon enough she was petting her and crying all over again. Hard, body shaking sobs that she tried to hide behind her hand, but Sadie was too quick and leaned forward, licking Melanie’s tear stained face while the girl cried like tomorrow wasn’t coming.
Quickly, I made my way into the kitchen and grabbed a cold bottle of water and a bag of pretzels for Melanie. I’d never dealt with someone who was going through withdrawals, so I had no way of knowing how to care for someone who was, in fact, going through withdrawals. But everyone had to eat, right?
I went back into the living room and offered her both, but she waved off the pretzels and took the water as she sniffled and tucked her knees up to her chest.
“Do you maybe want to call your parents?” I asked softly.
Melanie shook her head. “No. No, I can’t talk to them. They must hate me so much for this. But I want to get better, I do! I’m trying.. It’s just so hard…”
Logan moved from his place on the stairs and came to stand in front of her, arms crossed over his chest. “You parents don’t hate you. They wouldn’t have asked for my help if they did and you know it.”
“Can I call them?” she asked in a voice that was so small and quiet, I barely heard her.
“After you get settled at Haven House, you can. There’s a bed waiting for you. Me and my friend,” he gave me a pointed look and my eyes shifted to my lap. “Are going to drive you most of the way there, and then we’ll meet up with my friend, Tanner, and he’ll bring you the rest of the way.”
Melanie was nodding her head, but it was clear that she wasn’t comprehending everything. Logan, thankfully, could tell and crouched down in front of her, shooing Sadie away and then giving the girl a hard look. “When was the last time you used, Mel? I need you to tell me.”
She was crying again, her face and hair a mess as she rocked back and forth
. Her hands were tucked between her knees and she didn’t respond to Logan’s question.
“Melanie,” he started again, this time his voice low and firm. “When was the last time you used?”
