“Oh, he’s cute.”
That’s the first thing my mom says when she opens the door for us. Cue the embarrassment, and Mom is saying it to embarrass me considering she’s already met Logan twice. It’s better than when Dad called him a jackass for the first time.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Logan says with a smile, making me want to roll my eyes.
“Can we come in, Mom?”
She steps aside for us. “Logan, I’m so happy to officially meet you and spend some time with you today.” Glenn walks around the corner. “Logan, this is Glenn. Kayla, you remember him, right?”
“Yeah, nice to see you again,” I say.
“We’ll start dinner in a few minutes, so let’s sit in the living room for a bit first.”
We follow Mom and Glenn into the living room. They sit on the couch, not an inch between them, and I pull Logan to sit on the loveseat next to me. Mom peppers Logan with all sorts of questions, which he happily answers, of course. When he casually mentions that his brother-in-law plays for the Carolina Rebels, that brings Glenn into the conversation. Apparently, he’s a hockey fan and loves to play golf, too.
Logan then asks Glenn the same kind of questions Mom just asked him. Glenn is a professor at Whaley Jones University. He talks in depth about his classes, making me want to doze off a few times. Hopefully I won’t have a class with him at any point. His voice is a bit on the monotone side.
It’s a bit weird to be around Mom and to not argue with her. It’s nice. This is how it’s supposed to be, how I’d like it to be, but how it normally isn’t because Mom and I usually find something to argue about. Moving out of this house was probably the best decision I’ve made in a while, aside from letting Logan take me out on a date.
“Why don’t you come help me with dinner?” Mom asks.
I’ll gladly take a reprieve from her boyfriend and his stories about playing golf. Mom takes items out of the fridge and tells me to turn on the oven when she realizes Gregory neglected to take the trash out.
“Will you take it out for me, Kayla, while I get started on this?”
“Sure.” It doesn’t take but a second to pull the bag from the bin, tie it, and walk out the back door. The trash can sits on the far side of the house by the gate for the fence. As I toss the trash into the can, I realize the gate is open. Mom normally keeps it closed. I walk over to shut it.
The next thing I know, a hand covers over my mouth and a big body presses me against the fence. My body freezes in terror and my blood runs cold when he clearly sniffs my hair. The fight or flight response kicks in and I struggle against him, pushing back, elbowing, trying to move my legs, but his body never budges and he has me completely pinned.
“It’s good to see you again, Kayla. You smell so good. No need to struggle,” he grits, pressing me even harder into the fence and holding one of my arms behind my back; the other is stuck between my body and the fence. “I’m glad we ran into one another. You must get rid of that guy, Kayla. We can’t be together until you do. I’m tired of waiting.” He uses his body to hold my arm behind my back and brings his hand up to run it down my cheek. Vomit rushes to my mouth, especially when he puts his mouth against my ear. His voice turns mean. “I could always get rid of him for you. He’s not good enough for you. Yesterday proved that, didn’t it?” Back to sweet as his presses his hips against me. “I’ll love you right, Kayla. Come with me. Let’s go somewhere nice and quiet to talk. We didn’t really do that yesterday, not like I wanted.” He starts to drag me toward the opened gate. Where is he taking me now? “We’ll have lots of fun,” he promises.
The gag is too strong this time and vomit rushes out of my mouth, running into his hand and seeping through his fingers.
“Kayla?” Mom calls.
“Bitch,” he mutters, shaking out his hand. The screen door creaks and he takes off running out the gate as I lean over to puke again.
“Kayla!” Mom rushes over. “The trash doesn’t stink that bad, does it?” she asks as she rubs my back.
“He.” A dry heave seizes my stomach. “Was.” I sob, tears streaking down my cheeks, as my legs give, sending me right down into my own vomit. “Here.”
“What?” Mom asks with confusion.
“Stalker,” my voice warbles out.
Mom gasps. “Glenn!” she shouts. “Glenn! Get out here!” She pats my cheeks. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you? We need to get you out of these clothes.”
All I can do is cry in answer and shudder at remembering what happened. He was almost like a completely different person today. Glenn and Logan rush out the back door. Logan nearly knocks Glenn over in a rush to get to me when he sees me.
“The stalker was here,” Mom tells them. “I can’t get her to tell me anything else.”
“Come on, baby,” Logan says softly, scooping me up in his arms. “Call Brent for the number to the detective working on her case. We need to update him,” he says over his shoulder.
I bury my face into his neck and let him carry me away. My entire body feels like it’s a weak, trembling mess. He was in the backyard! He had me pinned against the fence! He touched me again! He had his, his ugh! It was pressed against me, all hard and disgusting. He was going to take me somewhere again! After such a good day with Logan, why did this have to happen?
“Hey, hey. Calm down, sweet cheeks. You’re hyperventilating and panicking.” He sets me on my feet and I realize we’re in my old room. “Deep breaths.” Logan takes loud deep breaths. “I’m going to get you out of these jeans, okay?” He looks at me, waiting for permission. “Deep breaths,” he reminds me. He breathes like he wants me to and I nod. Whether that’s in acknowledgment that I should breathe properly or permission for him to help me change, I don’t know. Logan takes it for the latter.
His hands are gentle as he unbuttons my wet jeans and tugs them down. “It’s on your shirt, too,” he says. I gather enough wits to remove it for him. “Are you hurt?” I shake my head in reply. “Step out of those jeans while I find you some clothes.” He stands and wipes my tears away before moving over to my dresser. A moment later, he hands me an old pair of jeans and a T-shirt from my closet. He doesn’t help me dress and being allowed to do it myself somehow steadies me.
“He was about to take me somewhere,” I whisper. My heart still pounds in my chest just as hard as when I was outside.
“Did you get a look at him this time?”
“Not really. He was behind me and then when he went to run, I had to throw up again. I think he has brown hair, though.” I take a breath as I slip my shirt on. “He was strong. My struggling didn’t faze him at all and I couldn’t budge him.” Logan grabs my elbow when I lose my balance stepping into my jeans.
“Why were you outside?” His question is calm and curious.
“Mom wanted me to take the trash out. I noticed the gate was open and I guess he was hiding on the other side of the trash can because he grabbed me when I went to close the gate.” I step out to brush my teeth, but quickly return to my room. I plop down onto my bed now that I’m all fresh again. “I don’t feel well, Logan.”
He sits down next to me and pulls me into his lap. “You’re all right, sugar. We’ll sit right here until you feel better. You’re safe. This’ll end soon.” He doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know when this will end, if it’ll ever end!
He rubs my back and we sit in silence with my head on his shoulder. I need all the comfort I can get. My heart gradually slows to a normal pace with every glide of his hand. But when I hear footsteps running toward my room, the erratic pace returns, my hands turn clammy, and my body tenses.
Until my daddy flies into the room.
“You okay?” He rushes over and kneels in front of us. He grabs my shoulders and it’s like I’m five again with Dad checking me over with great exaggeration to make sure I’m okay in an effort to get me to laugh. Only this time, he’s serious with his check. He takes my chin in his hand and turns my face this way and that. “You’re okay?”
“She’s shook up,” Logan answers. “Not hurt.” He tells my dad what I told him and I watch the color drain from my dad’s face. They don’t even know what he said to me!
Dad pulls me right out of Logan’s lap and tugs me into his arms. “Need to hug my little girl,” he whispers to me.
I hug him just as hard. “You didn’t have to rush over here.”
He scoffs as he pulls away. “Don’t be silly.”
“Hey.” Mom appears in the doorway. “Taylor is here to talk to you, Kayla.”
He comes to stand behind Mom. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.”
Mom moves out of the way and when she doesn’t reappear, I’m guessing she returns to the kitchen. Taylor pulls out the chair at my desk and takes a seat with a small notepad in his hand.
“Can you tell me what happened?” he asks.
I glance at my dad and then at Logan. He wants me to repeat everything with them in the room? I don’t know that I can manage it. Hell, I don’t really want to do it at all.
“Would you two step out and give me some time alone with Kayla?” Taylor asks. Logan and Dad look at me, waiting for me to shoo them out instead. When I don’t ask them to stay, they begrudgingly shuffle out of the room. “Your mom said you were taking out the trash,” Taylor says to get me started. Slowly, I tell him every detail of my terrible encounter. The disappointment that I didn’t see more of him than I did rolls off Taylor in waves, especially since they weren’t able to find anything from the phone number he’s using. I don’t know what he expected me to do, but obviously, I should’ve done more. “Thank you for your time, Kayla.” He stands and walks out, running into Dad and Logan as soon as he opens the door.
Dad walks him out while Logan steps into my room.
“Can we go by my dad’s and then to your apartment?”
Logan holds out his hand. “Let’s go, baby.”
Mom will probably be disappointed, but I want to go home with Logan. The last thing I want to do is suffer through a dinner with her boyfriend. Taylor is gone by the time we reach the living room. My parents and Glenn stand around awkwardly and look relieved to see us.
“Sorry to do this to you, Ms. Murphy, but we’ll have to come back another time for dinner,” Logan says. “Kayla isn’t feeling well.”
Mom fusses over me until Logan says a final goodbye for us. Dad follows our lead. We stop at Dad’s long enough for me to pack clothes, Logan and Dad hovering like I might faint at any second, and then we stop at Bagels and Butts to pick up some food.
“You’re too quiet,” Logan says once we’re at his house and in the kitchen, eating.
“Don’t feel like talking.” Don’t really feel hungry either.
Logan’s phone rings and he frowns. “My mom.”
“Talk to her.” He eyes me skeptically before ultimately answering. He might as well talk to her. I’m not being talkative and since he’s giving her a chance, he shouldn’t ignore her calls just because of me.
Life went from being normal with nothing too exciting happening to fantastic and exciting as I met and got to know Logan better to being a complete nightmare. I don’t understand how any of it happened or why. All I want right now is for it all to go back to normal, plus to have Logan still around. He’s the peace among the chaos in my life right now. There’s no way I would give him up.
I finish eating before Logan since he’s on the phone and leave for the bedroom. With the way things have been lately, focusing on school hasn’t been easy. It’s like I’m working three times as hard to get the same results as before, which is why I’m studying and working on schoolwork right now. Plus, it’s a distraction from today.
School doesn’t seem important anymore. Leaving the safety of Logan’s apartment to attend classes tomorrow seems idiotic and unimportant. Nope. Not doing it. I don’t care what happens. School is too risky. Suzanne and Dax can’t be with me all the time, and they shouldn’t have to be either. I shouldn’t have to be lying on my boyfriend’s bed, staring at the ceiling, worrying about all of this either. Life is as unfair as it comes.
“Hey, sweet cheeks.”
I glance at Logan, but as he walks over to lie next to me, I look up at the ceiling again. “How’s your mom?”
“She’s good. It slowly gets easier to talk to her.”
“That’s good.”
Logan rolls onto his side and props his head in his hand. “How are you doing?”
“Fine. I think I’ll stay right here until this is all over.” I slide my gaze over for his reaction.
The corners of his mouth tip up. “Right here?” He points down at his bed and I nod. “No more school? No leaving to see your dad at his shop? No listening to your mom and her boyfriend while he tells boring stories about how awesome he can play golf?” I giggle, making him smile. “I get to keep you in my bed all to myself? I won’t mind, baby.”
I laugh. “My dad would disapprove. You’re supposed to tell me that’s the coward’s way out and I’m supposed to keep life normal and not let him interrupt it.”
Logan shrugs. “You’re experiencing this more than any of us. I’m not telling you what to do. You’re smart and I believe you’ll do what’s best for you.”
I’m glad he believes in me because I’m not so sure I trust myself to make the right decisions. Right at this second, fear controls me more than my smarts. Or maybe both have a hold of the controls.
“Would a baby cheer you up?” Logan asks. “Syd can bring Andrew over here. Savannah too. Just need to decide if you want crying or talking or both.”
And let him watch those cute little kids come into this apartment? No way in hell. I’m not subjecting Sydney or her kids to being watched either.
“I just want you.” I roll over and slam my textbooks closed. If I’m not going to school tomorrow, there’s no need to study.
“Then I challenge you to a card game. Let’s go.” He rolls out of bed and walks out of the room without waiting for me or seeing if I’ll follow.
A card game? He thinks I want to play a card game? With a sigh, I get up, gathering my books and placing them on the floor out of the way. I find Logan sitting at the kitchen table, shuffling cards. Reluctantly, I sit across from him.
“What are we playing?” I ask.
He grins. “Go Fish.”
The eye roll cannot be helped. This is ridiculous, yet I soon find myself with seven cards in my hand and playing the game with him. The first two games, I don’t pay much attention, and Logan wins both. He insists we play another.
“Do you have any kings?” I ask.
“Go fish. Twos?”
I hand over what I have. “Fives?”
“Go fish. Kings?”
Wait a second. Didn’t I just ask him for kings? “Logan,” I begin, very calmly, but very seriously and with narrowed eyes. “Are you cheating?”
“What? No!”
“I just asked you for kings and you said no, but now you’re asking me for kings?”
“Maybe I just got one.”
Smells like bullshit. “Let me see your cards,” I demand and he quickly holds them against his chest.
“No way. That would be cheating.”
I set my cards on the table and walk around behind him, grabbing his wrists. “Logan,” I say sweetly. “Show me your cards.”
“Cheater, cheater, Kayla’s a pumpkin eater,” he spouts.
I laugh and pull at his wrists. He doesn’t try to keep me from seeing his hand. I gasp at the cards. There’s three kings and two fives. “Logan! What kind of person cheats at Go Fish? I can’t believe this!” It’s so outrageous I can’t help but laugh. He was so obvious about it, too! I probably would’ve caught him in the first two games had I paid more attention. And he tried calling me the cheater for wanting to look!
He grabs my hips and sits me on his lap. “You want to know what kind of person cheats at Go Fish? I’ll tell you. The kind of person who wants his girlfriend to laugh like you did when you finally figured it out.”
“You’re a good catch.” I smile.
Logan chuckles. I dip my head and kiss his neck. His phone buzzes on the table. I hear the clank as he picks it up, but more importantly, I feel him tense immediately. He’s reading a text when I lift my head to look at him.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Just as I try to sneak a peek at his phone, he puts it in sleep mode. That’s suspicious. Right? He’s never tried to hide what’s on his phone from me before. Granted, I’ve never tried to look at what’s on his phone before either.
“Logan, are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”
“I don’t want to tell you,” he admits.
“Why?”
“I just got you to laugh. If I tell you this, we’re back to square one.”
My heart falls to my feet, my stomach jumps to my throat, and my blood slows to a crawl in my veins. But Logan doesn’t want down, terrified Kayla, and if something happened, I should know, unfortunately. “Tell me.”
“Brent said you got a new text. It said he left you a present outside my door. Hop up, sugar. Let me get it.”
I’m absolutely terrified to find out what’s outside his door.