Chapter 15

Hannah

By the time I finish straightening Logan’s house and making sure everything’s nice and put away, I run my fingers through my hair and head upstairs to find him still asleep.

When I got here to check on him, he was just getting in too. His mood was off and he didn't look at me or stay downstairs to talk. Instead, he grabbed a bottle of water and headed upstairs. I was confused so I worked until I finished reviewing the reports and organizing Austen's schedule.

There’s nothing out of place in his bedroom. It’s fairly simple with a king-sized bed, a dresser, French doors, which lead outside to a balcony, and two nightstands, one on each side of the bed. I don’t see any pictures. The walls are bare and white. There’s no personality or anything that shows who Logan is.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, I look at how much pain he’s in. He’s lying on his side, facing away from the balcony, and one muscular arm is covering his face while the other is tucked underneath his pillow. His brows are tight and close together. An idea hits me, and I pull out my phone, open my music app, and play a song that might help him relax. I’m not sure why I pick this song, but the lyrics are so powerful and have so much meaning that I hope whatever it is he’s looking for he’ll find it.

The song reaches the chorus, singing about being a mess and jumping in, and when they get lost, they’ll be found. I notice Logan relaxing, the tension swimming away from his body.

Music is the gateway to our soul. With music, we’re able to feel the energy, the words which can cut us deep, make us realize and believe, and heal. Whatever mood I’m in, I always have music around me whenever I can. In the car, getting ready, relaxing, working out, or simply sitting around doing nothing at all. The words from the song have more power than people believe, and I think with music, Logan can heal from the demons that haunt him.

Not wanting to be a creep, I head back downstairs and pull out chicken and vegetables from the fridge to make something for him tonight.

The chicken's in the oven and I have the vegetables on the warmer. It smells good in here and honestly I'm about to wake Logan up so we can eat. I turn around when I hear someone clearing their throat from behind me.

“What the hell are you doing?”

His gravelly tone throws me off. “W-what?”

“I asked you, what the hell are you doing?”

His questions baffle me. I’m helping him like I have for the past few days since he was released from the hospital. His face is completely blank and expressionless.

“I don’t understand your hostility right now. Is something wrong?”

He pushes against the wall and saunters toward me. His brows dip together and he narrows his dark-brown eyes at me.

“I don’t need you to come to my house and fix shit. I’m fine. Know your place, Hannah. You’re my father’s assistant. That’s it. An employee. I know what you’re fucking doing, and it’s not going to work.”

“Wait, what?” I’m thoroughly confused and experiencing some whiplash with his moods. “I’m your friend. We’re friends. What am I doing that’s gotten you to stand there and accuse me of something that I’m apparently doing? What am I missing?”

“You’re never going to be Shannon!” he roars, and comes close to me, giving me little room to move away. I'm caged like a helpless animal and I'm not sure what to anticipate. I jump back and cover my mouth to suppress the yelp erupting in my throat. As soon as her name slips from his lips, he flinches and shuts his eyes.

Shannon.

I remember Paige saying her name, so she obviously meant something to him. I wonder if this is someone he's lost.

Neither of us move. We’re both frozen. My eyes divert downward and then quickly back up to him. I’m trying to figure out why he’s upset with me. His mood has gone from sweet to cold and callous. I’m not a fan of this side of Logan.

“I don’t know who Shannon is, but obviously she meant something to you since you’re acting like this.”

He grunts. “It’s none of your business who she was, just know you’ll never be her. I don't know who the fuck you are or how you knew things about her.”

From the way he says that, I have a feeling she was more than a friend. Possibly a girlfriend or something more.

“What are you talking about?”

“The song! Shannon used to make me listen to that damn song every time we fought.” He laughs—no, cackles. “And now you're having me listen to it?”

“It's a coincidence, Logan. I swear. I had no idea.”

He swings his gaze in a wild arc around the kitchen and then snaps it back to me. “I know what your game is, and you better fucking stop. I don't need you to come over to my house to clean, straighten up, and then sneaking into my bedroom without permission.”

He tosses my cell phone on the counter and the thud startles me.

“Drop the act. No matter what the hell you do, you’ll never replace Shannon, so don’t try.”

My throat closes and my eyes begin to sting. “Where’s all of this coming from? I know you’re going through a lot. All I want is to be here for you and be your friend.”

His sarcastic and deep laugh reverberates in the room. “Everything you’re doing is too much. From staying with me in the hospital to helping out here at my house when I never asked you to. Then you're making me food?”

“I'm only trying to help. There's no game or anything I'm doing that I wouldn't do for a friend.” I keep the pace of my words steady so I don't agitate him more. “Please calm down and listen to me. Listen to yourself. This is so wrong, Logan. I told you, we're friends, and we just said we'd be there for one another.”

He huffs and waves me off. “I changed my mind. I don't want to be your friend. You can leave now. Your games are tiresome.”

“I'm not playing you or any games!”

“I don’t want you!” he roars, and his stance is fierce with fists by his side as his face is inches from mine. “I’ll never want you. To me, you’re an employee. A babysitter. Someone I don’t fucking want. Get the point now?”

“Why are you being so cruel?”

Wetness trails down my cheeks, and for a moment there’s a hint of remorse on his face. I’m fighting to control my breathing and emotions. I tell myself he’s been through a lot and the stress of everything is getting to him. That’s the only reason why he’s being like this. It has to be. How does he go from sweet and loving to this?

I stumble backward. I have to get away from him and give him space. Each word splits through me and tears me apart.

“All because I’m being helpful and nice doesn’t mean anything. Please don’t take my kindness for something that it isn’t, but I’m glad to know how little you think of me. Maybe we shouldn’t even be friends.”

“Exactly. You’re finally fucking getting it.”

“Wow,” I breathe out and shake my head. I race around him and grab my things from the barstool. “I’m an employee and I don’t mean anything. I’ll be sure to not forget this. If you need help, then find someone else because I won’t be answering your text messages. Have a great night.”

I storm out of the kitchen, down the hall, and through the front door. I sense that his eyes are tracking me, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking over my shoulder to let him know I want him to follow me. This is too much, and I’m sick of it. I’m worth more than his punching bag.

When I get in my car, I want to slam my fists against the steering wheel and scream so I can let out my anger and frustrations. But instead, I glance up and see him framed in the front doorway.

Nope.

I won’t lose it. He won’t know the affect he has on me.

When I get home, I strip out of my clothes and climb into bed. I pull out my phone and pick a random song. It’s about not being able to shake off the person and I have to laugh. Literally, a full on belly laugh.

Never again. I will never, ever speak to that arrogant asshole again.