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“It’s fine,” I say, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “I mean, it’s notfine. It’s honestly terrible, butI’mfine. I can look out for myself.”
I squeeze Logan’s hand again and can practically feel the tension radiating from him like summer heat steaming off the pavement. I need to bring him back down, so I grasp for the only potentially humorous story I can think of.
“I only had to use pepper spray once. Did you know it affects the person spraying too? Especially if you’re in a car.”
Logan groans, looking caught somewhere between laughing and throwing furniture. “That’s terrible. You actually had to use pepper spray?”
“I know it sounds extreme but when I said no and he didn’t—”
“No,” he interrupts. “If some guy didn’t listen to you saying no to kissing or whatever else, I fully support the use of pepper spray.”
“Just not in a car,” I add, smiling.
Logan doesn’t smile back, and I worry I’ve really ruined this date.
Fake date.
Whatever. Real or fake, I ruined it by oversharing.
But then Logan lifts my hand to his mouth. Our eyes meet, and he asks, “May I?”
I swallow past a very inconvenient lump in my throat. “Yes.”
What I’d like to say instead isalways.Anywhere.
The kiss he places on my knuckles is achingly tender. I don’t know how it’s possible to feel so much from a kiss on the part of your body that has so few nerve endings. But I’m feeling A LOT.
“I’m sorry, Parker,” Logan says then.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re not, like, the representative for all men.”
With his free hand, he drags a hand down his face. “I know. I just hate thinking about any guy treating you like that. You deserve better.” He pauses. “Also, if you have a list of their names and last known addresses—”
I cut him off with a laugh. “Nope. Not worth it. We’re turning that bad boy image around. Speaking of … want to tell me why you got into a fight in the grocery store with a fan?”
Groaning, Logan leans back, covering his face with both hands. This means I’m not holding his hand anymore, and I try not to feel disappointed by this. But then he drops his hand to my calf again, and all is right with my world.
“Anything but that.”
Well, okay then. He opened that door nice and wide for me. Still, I hesitate for a moment before asking, “I know you chalked your leaving up to being a stupid kid, but I know there had to be more. Did something push you to go? To cut us out of your life?”
Logan stiffens and his fingers tighten around my calf. He glances at me quickly, then away, attempting a small smile that looks more like a grimace. “You don’t pull any punches, do you?”
Instead of telling him not to worry about it or giving him an out, I chew the inside of my cheek and wait. Even though we briefly talked about him leaving and he already apologized, I still don’t understand what prompted his sudden departure. I know it couldn’t have just been to get a fresh start.
Logan sighs, absently running a hand through his hair while his other slides up my leg, finally resting on my knee. He still doesn’t look at me.
“As you know, I spent a ton of time at your house when I was a kid. Mostly because things at home weren’t good.”
This much I know, though Logan talked very little about his home life. His dad was never in the picture. From what I gather, his mom was disinterested at best. Looking back now with older eyes, I might be a little less forgiving and call her neglectful.
“You and Brandon always made me feel welcome,” he says. “Your mom too.”
“She still loves you.”
And she’s not the only one.
I tell that pesky voice to shut it.
