LOGAN

Luckily, there’s hardly any traffic at this time of night, but the downpour isn’t helping me get there any faster.

Kayla’s voice sounded strained as if she was in trouble, and as soon as I heard it, my heart raced with panic. Is she hurt? Is she safe? Will I make it in time? All questions swirling around in my mind causing me to panic before I even know what’s going on.

Turning onto Spencer Ave, I see her car and do as she said and park behind her. Once I turn off the engine and look around, I realize it’s nearly impossible to see anything with the dimmed street lights and rain.

I get out of the car and struggle to keep my head down and out of the rain as I scan the area searching for her. The streetlights are no help, so I follow her directions and find the Oak tree across the street. Right as I’m about to text her, I hear a dog howling about fifty feet away.

Squinting, I can see a silhouette in the distance and jog toward it. 

“Kayla?” I shout, getting closer and now seeing two silhouettes. Who the hell is she with?

“Logan!” she shouts. “He tried to kill Herman!”

“What? Who?”

Before she can respond, the scene I walk into answers it for me. An old man is pointing a rifle right in Kayla’s face.

“What the fuck?” I approach slowly, trying to gauge the man’s moves. “Put your weapon down, sir. I’m with the Sacramento PD,” I say firmly, but as calm as possible.

“She’s a trespasser,” he states. “And a thief.”

“Okay, hand me your weapon and we can talk this out,” I tell him, holding my hand out so I can slowly attempt to grab it from him. “Hand it over slowly.”

“He tried to shoot Herman!” Kayla screams. I still don’t know who Herman is, but when I look behind the guy, I see a dog tied up.

Motherfucker.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to back away from the woman and the dog and surrender your weapon.”

“Fuck you,” he spits back, his body shifting and now pointing the gun at me. I can see the rage in his eyes as his entire body tenses.

“Good. Point the gun at me. Not at her,” I say calmly, motioning to Kayla with my facial expressions to get the fuck out of here. I widen my eyes and tilt my head to the side, but she ignores me. Instead, she runs to the dog and kneels beside him.

Goddammit.

“Now lower your gun,” I demand. “Let’s walk away without anyone getting hurt, okay?”

I reach my hand out farther and the old man takes a step back, straightening his gun. “Don’t come any closer, pig.”

My jaw tightens at the realization that this guy is completely unhinged. I keep one eye on Kayla, hoping she’ll take advantage and escape, but knowing her, she won’t without Herman.

“Kayla,” I mutter between tense lips. “Get out of here and call 9-1-1.”

“I need to untangle him first,” she says over her shoulder.

I can tell the old man’s patience is running out. “Kayla,” I repeat, low and firm. “Go. Now.”

“I’m not leaving without Herman!” she cries out stubbornly. The rain has us all drenched, and even if I wanted to attempt grabbing the gun from the old man’s hands, the risk of slipping in the process is too high.

“I’ll make sure Herman is okay,” I promise her, hoping it comforts her enough to finally get herself out of here.

“You ain’t taking my damn dog anywhere,” the old man hisses, turning his body toward Kayla. The gun is no longer in my face and with only a second to react, I leap for it. My fingers slip on the barrel, and I lose my grip. It gives him time to steady himself and secure the gun in his hands.

Everything happens in a blur. So fast, yet in slow motion. Kayla’s screaming, Herman’s barking, the old man is cussing.

The metallic sound of the gun going off startles all three of us. The deafening sound has my ears ringing almost immediately. Realizing what just happened, I quickly drop to my knees and wrap my arms around the old man’s legs. In one smooth motion, I pull him down until he loses his balance and falls to the ground.

I reach for his gun and throw it out of his reach. Before he can regain his footing, I flip him over onto his stomach and secure his arms behind his back. I dig my knee into his lower back to keep him down.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” Kayla asks, frantic from the ground where she’s kneeling by Herman.

“I’m fine.” I try to sound calmly. “It fired behind me.”

Kayla works at untangling the dog, but between her shaky hands and the rain slowing her down, she struggles with the leash.

“Just take off his collar,” I tell her. I know she’s scared, but I need her to get out of here. “Get him in your car and go home. I’ll meet you there.”

“What about you?” she asks, finally freeing Herman.

“I’ll meet you there!” I repeat. “Go!”

I watch as she leads Herman to her car and once she’s a good distance away, I release the old man. He doesn’t jump up right away, but I stalk toward his gun anyway. I take the shells out of the chamber, stuff them into my pockets, and toss the rifle on the ground.

He looks up at me, but doesn’t react. I walk away without another word and jog toward my car. I’m completely drenched, but I don’t have time to think about it because I need to get to Kayla’s house and find out what the hell she was thinking.

I’ve been to Kayla’s house before for a Christmas in July ugly sweater party she’s hosted before, but never alone. I knock on the door, and after a minute when she doesn’t answer, I let myself in and find Herman laying on a blanket in her living room. There’s a towel on the floor next to him that looks to have been used to dry him off. He looks to be fine, but I can tell he’s scared by the way his ears pull back.

“It’s okay, buddy. You’re safe now,” I tell him, petting him slowly.

Standing up, I scan the rest of the house for Kayla, but I can only assume she’s drying off and changing.

“Kayla?” I shout out.

Three dogs come barking and charging at me before I can stop them from going for Herman. He buries his head behind my legs and the dogs continue growling and sniffing both of us.

“Kayla?” I shout again, louder this time.

“Sorry! Coming!” She storms in with a small towel in her hand and her hair pulled down. She must’ve been drying it because it’s not nearly as drenched as it was before. “Adam! Phillip! Kristoff!” She snaps her fingers, grabbing their attention and directing them out of the room. She follows behind and I hear a door click before she walks back out.

“Sorry,” she says and it’s when I finally notice she’s no longer wearing her dark hoodie. She’s in a pair of short basketball shorts and a white tank top. “Their bark is much bigger than their bite. They’re protective is all. They’ll warm up to you eventually.”

I don’t mean to, but my eyes lower down her body and it’s not hard to notice she’s not wearing a bra. In fact, her white top is see-through from the rain leaking through her hoodie. Blinking, I direct my eyes back up to her face and purse my lips.

When I don’t speak, she takes a step closer.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” The concern is evident in her tone, but the realization that she’s the one that could’ve been hurt hits me.

“Kayla...” I begin, stepping toward her and closing the gap between us. She looks up at me with wide brown eyes and it takes everything inside me to not rub my fingers along her cheek. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“What?” she asks, taken aback. “I can explain everything. It’s not what he made it sound to be. I wasn’t stealing him, well...” She pauses, fidgeting with her fingers. “Technically, I was, but I had a legit reason for it.”

My blood is boiling at thinking about what could’ve happened if I hadn’t made it there when I did. My heart hasn’t stopped racing since the moment I got her phone call.

“I don’t care what your reason is, Kayla. Do you know how stupid that was? Do you know how much trouble you could’ve been in had I not shown up when I did?” I ask, my voice rising. “Have you lost your freaking mind?”

“Okay, yes, I know!” she shouts back. “But I couldn’t just leave Herman there to die! Every time I walk pass that house and he’s tied up, he has no food or water, no room to run, and he’s always tangled up. I warned the owner and—”

“You what?” I interrupt, my brows shooting up.

“I-I knocked on his door and said that if he couldn’t take care of his dog, I’d find him a home.”

Frustrated, I brush my hand through my hair and mutter curse words. “Christ, Kayla.”

“What?” she shoots back defensively. “He was neglecting him! It’s eighty plus degrees out and he’s laying out in the beating sun with no water. What would you expect me to do?”

“Why didn’t you just call the cops? Or tell me? Or hell, what about Drew? You had alternate options, Kayla!”

“Okay, I know!” She throws her arms up. “But in the moment of seeing him once again tied up, tangled and scared, I snapped. He could’ve choked himself on that short leash or starved to death, and I wasn’t about to just walk away and wait for the proper authority to arrive. Dog rescuing isn’t exactly at the top of their lists,” she spits out.

My jaw ticks, pissed that the old man would do that to an innocent dog and pissed that Kayla went about this all wrong. I know she’s passionate about animals, especially dogs, but the fear I felt when I saw the owner point his rifle in her face is unparalleled.

“He could’ve shot you. He could’ve killed you. He could’ve shot and killed you and no one would’ve ever known,” I ramble, my mind going wild with the possibilities. The thoughts run through my mind and it’s not until she grabs my hand and presses it against her chest that I realize I’m pacing back and forth.

“Logan,” she says softly. “I’m sorry. It was dumb and impulsive and you’re completely right about everything. I should’ve called for help first. I thought I could just sneak into his yard and take Herman without being noticed. I didn’t think about the consequences or the man coming out with a gun, obviously.”

Her words comfort me some, knowing that she was just trying to help the dog, but I’m still worked up. The way her heart is beating against my palm sets my body on fire, and I hope she doesn’t notice the way my body is reacting to hers.

“I can’t even begin to imagine what could’ve happened if you didn’t call me,” I tell her, my voice breaking with each word. Now that we’re out of that situation and I really have time to process it all, I’m overcome with fear and anxiety.

“I’m sorry, okay? I should’ve thought it through.” She surprises me when she wraps her arms around my waist and pulls me against her chest. I wrap my arms around her and tighten my grip. Feeling her against me feels much better than it should.

I feel her body shiver and the fast beating of her heart against my chest. I know how she feels for me, but I can’t cross that line with her again. Needing to break the obvious tension between us, I loosen my grip and wait for her to do the same.

“Perhaps tonight was a bad time to wear white,” I tease, pointing my eyes down to her chest.

Her eyes follow, dropping them to where her nipples are hard and evident through the thin fabric. Her eyes widen and she quickly covers up her chest. A smile plays on my lips at the way she acts embarrassed.

“Apparently, I’m just full of bad choices tonight,” she mutters, mostly to herself, but blushes when she catches me watching her.

“Well, sometimes you have to make the bad choices to figure out what the right choices are,” I tell her, the seriousness in my tone letting her know I can’t stay mad at her, even if she nearly got us killed. Ever since meeting Kayla, she’s been a good friend to everyone that’s lucky enough to know her. She volunteers, does good deeds, is passionate about helping others, and sometimes I wonder if she’s too good to be true.

Of course, she is. She’s Kayla Sinclair. Gorgeous goddess with the biggest heart there is.

I’m losing myself in my thoughts as I stare into her eyes. My hand brushes along her cheek and cups her face. She looks up at me, her big brown eyes beaming into mine, and I lose all train of thought. I’m completely mesmerized by her. She leans her body into mine and without realizing it, I take a step closer to her and bow my head down. She tilts her head up and I slowly bring my lips toward hers. She smells amazing and looks gorgeous, drenched and all.

Our lips are so close, I can feel her breath against my skin. I remember the way her lips felt pressed to mine last time and it overcomes all my willpower to pull away. Her eyes close and in a moment of weakness, I lean even closer toward her. My top lip barely brushes hers when a loud bang pulls us apart.

“Oh my God.” She jumps, startled. She looks around and sees Herman sniffing around the lamp he just knocked over. It takes me a second to collect my thoughts. I don’t move or say anything, because anything I say right now will hurt her.

She turns back toward me, our bodies still close, lips nearly touching again, and before she can take another step closer, I exhale and take a step back. “I’m sorry, Kayla. I can’t.”

I close my eyes briefly, not wanting to see the disappointment on her face.

“Why?” she asks, so softly, I almost don’t hear her. “Why won’t you give us a chance?”

I open my eyes and see the pain in her features. I wish I could explain. I wish I could tell her, but I know if I do, she’ll try to convince me it won’t bother her. But I know better.

“I’m not the right guy for you, Kayla. I can’t be what you need,” I tell her sincerely, although saying the words aloud rips me apart.

“What does that even mean?” I can hear the anger in her tone.

“You’re such a good person. You deserve someone just as amazing and without a complicated history. I can’t offer you that.”

She lowers her eyes and bites down on her lower lip for a moment. She’s soaking the words in and I can tell she’s not happy with my explanation.

“Is this about Skylar?” she asks, looking back up at me.

“How do you know about Skylar?” My jaw ticks. I haven’t told anyone about her except Drew when we were partners

“I just do.” She shrugs, but I know there’s more to the story. “So, is that the reason? You think because you’re a single dad, you aren’t good enough for me?” I know she’s trying to be sensitive, but it’s not that simple.

“You don’t know anything about her or my past and it’s best it stays that way, Kayla,” I say firmly.

“Why won’t you tell me then? What are you afraid of?” She studies me and I know she’s trying to figure me out.

“This is exactly why we can’t get involved. I don’t share my past with anyone. Skylar is my number one priority. I’d be an awful person to be with and like I said, you deserve so much better than that.”

She blinks and licks her lips. She’s nervous.

“Don’t you think I should be the one to decide that? Whether I deserve better or who I decide is good enough for me?”

“Of course, but that’s not the point.”

“Then what is your point?”

Falling in love with Kayla Sinclair would be reckless. Allowing her to fall for me would be dangerous.

“Just trust me, okay? It’s not the right time for me to date anyone, and if we were to get involved, I’d just fuck it up and everything would be ruined.”

“I wish you could see what I see.” She places the palm of her hand against my chest, my heart beating rapidly. “You have a kind heart. You’re a protector. You’re always here when I need you. Whether you see it or not, you’re a good soul, Logan Knight.”

––––––––

KAYLA

It takes all the strength inside me to keep my emotions at bay. Tears are threatening to pour down my cheeks, and my body is trembling with anxiety at the way Logan continues to push the idea of us away. I know he’s fighting his feelings for me. I can see it in the way he looks at me, the way he touches me, the way he tenses anytime our bodies are close. He’s scared, I can see that; I just wish he’d trust me enough to confide in me and let me be there for him.

We pull away, and I know the conversation is over. He’s said what he needed to say and so have I. If and when there ever is a right time for us, I can only hope he’ll be open enough to tell me. Every time I decide I need to get over him and move on, his charm and sweetness suck me back in without him even trying.

I’ve locked my three dogs in my bedroom to give Herman some space. I can’t imagine he’s used to being around other dogs since he was always tied up all day long. My dogs can be a bit territorial and overwhelming. I’ve set the food and water dishes out for him but he has yet to go over by them. I lay out an extra dog bed, but he only sniffs it and sits next to it rather than on it.

“Do you think I should take him to a vet?” I sit down next to Herman and pet him softly. His fur is filthy and mangled up with dirt. It’s obvious he didn’t get regular baths or even brushed. “I doubt he’s had any shots or deworming treatments.”

“It probably couldn’t hurt,” he says, taking a seat on the couch and keeping his distance. “Do you plan on taking him to the shelter? Wouldn’t they have a vet on staff?”

“They do, but I’m afraid what will happen if I take him there. He’s not a young pup and there’s already so many dogs waiting for a forever home.” I rub his ears, wishing I could take him in myself.

“You think they’d euthanize him if he doesn’t get adopted?” The concern in his tone is evident, and I wonder if I’ll be able to find him a home in time.

“Only if a dog is really sick or bites a person.” I cringe just thinking about it.

“So that’s why you’re so passionate about volunteering there, isn’t it?”

I smile, nodding. “Yes. I want to find them all homes before it ever has to resort to the extreme. Problem is, there aren’t enough volunteers, not enough donations, not enough resources, and not enough homes willing to adopt. People want purebreds and puppies.”

“Sounds like you’re doing all that you can though.”

“It doesn’t always feel that way.” I frown. “I know a thing or two about what it feels like to not have a place to call home.”

“What do you mean?”

I swallow down the insecurity I feel whenever I talk about my past. Even though Logan is fighting his own battles and we’re nothing more than friends, I can’t help but feel safe whenever I’m around him. He makes it feel safe to talk about.

“I grew up in foster homes for as long as I can remember. I don’t remember my mom or dad. I don’t know if I have any biological siblings. I don’t know my grandparents or aunts or uncles. I was juggled from foster home to foster home and I never really felt like I had a home,” I admit, feeling a sense of relief as I say the words aloud. I don’t talk about my past, mostly because I hate the look people give me. The exact look Logan is giving me right now.

Pity.

“Wow. I had no idea.” I can tell he doesn’t know what to say. Another reason why I don’t talk about it. It usually makes people uncomfortable.

“I haven’t talked about it in years. Not even to Courtney and Viola,” I confess, feeling a bit guilty about not sharing it with two of my closest friends.

“Really?” He arches a brow.

I shrug. “It’s just easier to pretend it never happened.” At least that’s how I prefer it.

“How many homes were you in?” he asks, watching me intently.

I suck in my lower lip, feeling ashamed, even though I know I don’t have anything to be ashamed for. I just know once people realize how fucked up my past is, it changes how they see me.

“Sixteen total.”

“Oh my God.” His voice rises an octave. “Why the hell did they move you around so much?”

I shrug, pretending it didn’t bother me. “Let’s just say the system is less than perfect. Homes that were eligible at first became no longer eligible once drugs and abuse were apparent. Some families got pregnant and no longer had room for a foster kid. Some just didn’t want to anymore. Some died.”

“Died?” He gasps and then inhales a deep breath. “Drugs, abuse, and death,” he says it like a mantra. “So fucked up.”

I nod in agreement. Living it was even more fucked up.

“I never had emotional attachments to anyone. I learned not to at a young age. Foster kids were coming and going. Just long enough to form a bond and then one of us would have to leave. The first time I allowed myself to get emotionally attached to anything was to a dog named Bruno. He was a male Border Collie. The sweetest dog ever. My foster family was horrible. I was the only one who remembered to feed and water him. They treated him like trash and when my social worker came for a surprise visit, I pretended everything was just fine so she wouldn’t transfer me again. I knew that if I left, Bruno would end up dead.”

“So, you stayed in a bad situation for his sake?”

“Yeah, I did. I couldn’t just leave him.” I shrug, knowing I would still make the same decision all over again. “He was the reason I survived that place as long as I did. He’d sleep in my bed with me and I’d just pet him until we both fell asleep. I talked to him all the time since no one else cared to listen and believe it or not, dogs are great listeners.” I smile. “We only had each other when no one else cared and it was something really special. It was the first time in my life where I felt like I could survive this. I would come out on top and be a better person for it.” I exhaled, all those feelings from years ago resurfacing. “Sounds corny, right?” My cheeks heat up at the intent way he’s looking at me.

“No. Sounds brave actually. You’re an inspiring person, Kayla.” His voice is low but steady, and I know he’s being one-hundred percent genuine as he looks me in the eyes.

I lower my eyes and shake my head. “I just did what I had to do to survive.” Shrugging, I look back up at him and see the sadness in his features. “I could’ve used an advocate while I was growing up to ensure the best possible lifestyle for me, but it’s not always the case. Same with animals. They need someone to look out for them, and I like being that someone for them. It gives me a purpose when I never felt like I had any as a child.”

He flashes a small smile and I watch as his tongue slides over his bottom lip as if he’s holding back something he wants to say.

“I like that. Really says a lot about who you are deep inside. I see a lot of kids that don’t come out of the system as adjusted and smart as you. You’re the exception.”

I wish that were enough for him to see that we could work if he’d only give us a chance, but just like before, he shuts that part of his heart down.

I stand up and grab the food and water dishes. I set them closer to Herman to encourage him, but he doesn’t budge. Either he’s used to scrap food or doesn’t have enough energy to even try and eat. I kneel next to him and pet him slowly. I’m getting more and more concerned as he lays next to me and I watch as his breathing rapidly increases.

“I think something’s wrong,” I say, pressing my hand to his chest. “His heart is beating really fast and I’m worried he could be dehydrated.”

Logan bounces off the couch and kneels by Herman and me. He places a hand on his body and feels the slow rhythmic movements of his breaths.

“It’s possible,” he says, concerned. “We need to get him to drink something.”

“I brought the dish closer to him but he doesn’t seem to have any interest.” I rub around his belly and feel how swollen it is.

“What about calling an emergency animal clinic? They have a couple around here, I think,” he says, which then reminds me of Christian. His clinic isn’t open twenty-four hours, but he did say I could call him. I’m not sure I want our first phone conversation to be about a dog I stole and then explaining all that to him. Not to mention, he’ll probably think I’m insane for waking him up at midnight because of said stolen dog is not drinking.

Just as thoughts of Christian and his perfect smile invade my mind, Herman sits up and his upper body jerks. Before I can move, he throws up all over the dog bed I placed out here for him.

“Shit,” I blurt out. “Are you okay, Herman?” I rub his back and speak in soft tones. “Vomiting is a symptom of dehydration. I think I might know someone I can call.”

Even though calling him this late at night is going to be awkward and uncomfortable, I know letting Herman suffer is not an option.

First impressions be damned.

It’s obvious Logan is confused as soon as I hang up the phone with Christian. He narrows his eyes at me as he listened to me ramble on like a complete airhead. I’m sure I sounded like a crazy dog lady, but I had no idea if he’d remember me so I had to remind him I was the one who walked right into his groin and got our dog leashes tangled up.

I probably could’ve worded that better.

Either way, Christian got the gist of the story and told me he’d meet us there right away. Luckily, it’s not a far drive because it’s still raining outside, and I don’t need to have a repeat of the wet t-shirt contest.

Logan offers to drive us there and I take him up on it so I can lay in the back with Herman. My concern increases when he vomits once more in the vet parking lot.

“Poor baby.” I try consoling him. “Let’s go get you checked out and get you feeling better, okay?”

Christian greets us at the door and smiles as we walk through the door.

“This is my friend, Logan,” I introduce. “Logan, this is Dr. Wyatt. The vet.”

They give a firm nod at each other and I can tell they’re sizing each other up. If this wasn’t an emergency, I’d be secretly hoping for a wrestling match of some sort.

“Thank you again for seeing us so late. I didn’t know what else to do,” I say as he leads us into an exam room.

“Not a problem at all.” He takes the leash from me and leads Herman to a scale. “The pups and I were just watching a documentary on the history channel,” he tells me, and I notice Logan rolling his eyes behind him.

I narrow my eyes at Logan, letting him know I saw that. He stands tall with his arms crossed over his chest and legs parted as if he’s supervising the scene. Logan’s guarded by nature, especially being in the profession he’s in, but if I’m reading his body language correctly, I’d say he’s a little intimidated by Christian.

Not that I could really blame him. Christian is one of those hot doctor clichés that you only see on Instagram with a six-pack of abs and perfect smile to boot. He’d be the cover model for Vet Weekly, if there were such a thing. He has kind, blue eyes that remind me of the summer skies and although this is only our second time meeting, it’s easy to tell he’s a kind and genuine person. And bonus—he’s an animal lover.

Once he finally gets Herman to cooperate and stand on the scale to get his weight, he starts checking him over.

“Oh okay, good.” I flash him an over-the-top smile knowing Logan will be watching our interaction. I’m tempted to text Courtney and update her on all the news, but she’ll reply with a thousand questions, and it’d just be easier to tell her over the phone or in person.

“I’m going to take him into the procedure room and hook him up to an IV to get some fluids back in his system. His heart rate is staggered, which is most likely from being dehydrated. I’ll give him some vaccinations and deworm him right away, too, since you said he most likely hasn’t been.”

“Great. Thank you, Dr. Wyatt.”

“Please, call me Christian. Dr. Wyatt makes me think of my father.” He smiles and winks at me before grabbing Herman’s leash and walking him out of the room.

Once Logan and I are left alone, the air is thick with tension. I’m not sure what to say considering the heavy conversation we had earlier, but he’s made it clear as day that we’re just friends so why is he acting like a jealous boyfriend?

“So how do you know this guy?” Logan breaks the silence finally. He’s looking at me like an overprotective father.

“I don’t really. We met the other day when I was walking the dogs. Our leashes got tangled up and that’s really it.” I shrug like it’s no big deal.

“How’d that end up with him giving you his phone number?” His stance stays tense, his body language saying one thing but his words from earlier saying another.

“What’s with the third degree? We met. We talked about our love of animals. It was brought up he was a vet, and I volunteered at the shelter and he gave me his card. What’s the big deal?”

Before he can respond, Christian returns with Herman and already he’s looking so much better.

“Hey boy,” I coo softly and kneel to pet him. “You feeling better?”

“He did great,” Christian tells me, kneeling beside me and petting Herman. “He started drinking water on his own and took a few bites of food. I think he’ll start to regain his strength within a week or so, but keep an eye on him. I’ll have you come back in for a follow-up appointment, but if he throws up again or stops eating, call me right away.”

“I will. Thank you again.” I smile, taking the leash from him. “I’ll call in the morning to make that appointment.”

Logan follows me out with Herman and helps him get settled into the car. He’s not talking or looking at me, and I have a feeling he’s more upset about the Christian thing than he’s letting on. As I buckle myself in, I glance over at him and see his jaw is tense and he’s keeping a straight face. Anger starts to burn through my blood because he has absolutely no reason to be upset with me about meeting Christian. Being upset about stealing the dog in the first place I can understand, but after telling me he’s not in a place to date and that I deserve better, his reaction doesn’t justify his actions and that pisses me off.

The last thing I want to do is fight with him, but I don’t deserve the cold shoulder he’s giving me. We don’t speak the entire car ride back home and even once parked in my driveway, he doesn’t look in my direction as he helps get Herman out of the car.

“I can take it from here,” I bite out, snatching Herman’s leash from his fingers. “Thanks again for helping.”

I take two steps toward my front door before Logan grabs my other hand and spins me around. “What’s your deal?”

“My deal?”

He parts his lips, runs his tongue over them, and then closes his mouth.

“You’re the most confusing human I know. You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to have me? Am I right?” I blurt out without thinking. “You’re mad Christian gave me his card and that I called him tonight.”

“Yes, I mean, no. I’m not mad. I...”

“Then what?”

He inhales a deep breath, and I know he’s at a loss for words.

“Nothing. It’s nothing. Let’s get Herman back inside.” I unlock the door and step inside. There are so many words I want to say but I decide to drop it because I’m way too tired and emotionally exhausted from this entire day.

But now I’m not so sure we’ll ever be able to get back to being friends.