After Saturday, it was a hell of a lot harder to concentrate around Logan. I was pretty sure those loaded stares and tense moments had been all in my mind, and the more the week wore on, the more I convinced myself I’d imagined them.
Tried to, anyway. It was a challenge when I kept catching Logan’s eye. When we kept meeting—and holding—each other’s gazes over our low cubicle wall. When all he had to do was walk past my desk and I’d forget whatever I’d been saying into the phone or typing into an email. God, I’d never envied Diego for the high walls around his desk, but I sure as hell did now. If I had any hope of being productive ever again, I needed some sort of buffer between me and Logan.
Then one morning, a glance at the calendar brought me up short.
June sixteenth.
Graduation day. The day I was supposed to put BUD/S behind me and move on to the real training. I was supposed to be one step closer to being a SEAL, but instead I was lucky if I could take a few steps to the copier without pain.
My lust for Logan evaporated. I still couldn’t focus on my job, but it wasn’t my sexy coworker screwing with my head now. Every time I saw that damn date, I felt worse. My whole body felt ten times heavier than usual. Like instead of a plastic walking cast on one leg, I had concrete blocks around both. I had a to-do list twelve miles long, but all I wanted to do was find some dark corner, curl into a fetal position, and cry. I was out of fucks to give for how manly it wasn’t to have a breakdown. I wanted to cry, damn it.
But not here. Not now.
Just hold it together for a few more hours. You’ve got this.
Yeah, right.
At least the office was quiet today. Sarah was running classes down at the security building. Diego was up in Washington doing some training at Lewis–McChord. It was just me and Logan.
And didn’t that drive it home how out of sorts I was today? It was me and Logan. Alone in the office. And I . . . felt nothing. I didn’t want to flirt. I didn’t look at him. I didn’t fantasize about him. I just kept trying to work while the date pounded itself into my skull every time I had to sign or stamp something.
June sixteenth, and I’m here. In Oregon. Behind a desk. With a boot on my leg.
Twice I went to the men’s room under the pretense of needing to take a piss, but I really just needed a second to collect myself.
I alternated between numb and wanting to puke or cry. Sometimes it was a weird combination of all three. Like I couldn’t feel anything, but I hurt like hell at the same time. It didn’t seem possible, but there it was. I needed a fucking drink. I needed—
“Hey, Casey?” Logan’s voice startled me, but I tried to hide it as I turned around. How long had I been standing here at the copier, staring into nothing?
Eyebrows up, I said, “Yeah?”
He tilted his head. “You okay today?”
I dropped my gaze.
His chair squeaked. A second later, he was at the doorway to his cubicle. “Casey? You all right?” His soft tone damn near broke me. I was so brittle today, and I wanted—needed—to break, and his genuine-sounding concern might as well have screamed permission to do it.
Not here, though. Not in my goddamned office.
Leaning against the copier, I took a deep breath to pull myself together. “I was supposed to graduate today. From BUD/S.” I ran my fingers over the bare spot on my blouse where that coveted gold trident would never be. “It’s . . . just kind of hard to deal with today, I guess.”
On some irrational level, I expected Logan to roll his eyes and say That’s it? That’s why you’ve been a wreck all day?
He didn’t, of course. His expression softened even more. “Oh shit. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” My shoulders sagged. “I mean . . . I guess it’s really over. For real.” Of course it had been since the second those bones had snapped, but today added some finality that I couldn’t quite swallow.
My throat was getting achy, and of course my coffee cup was on the other side of the office. And, when I got to it, it was empty. Damn it. I picked it up in a shaking hand and nodded toward the coffeepot. Neither of us said a word while I went over and poured and polluted some coffee, and I tried not to let the trembling show while I took a sip.
Standing across from me in the narrow aisle between cubes, Logan gently broke the silence. “I don’t know what to say, but I think you’ve got every right to feel like this. I can’t imagine anyone who went through all that would be in a good mood today.”
The words were more comforting than I’d expected them to be. I put my coffee cup down and sighed. “Yeah, I know. And it’s not just today. I mean, it’s worse because today was supposed to be . . .” I rubbed my eyes. “The thing is, ever since I broke my leg, all I’ve been focusing on is recovering. But now that it’s getting better, I’m . . .” I sighed. “I’m fucking lost, man. I don’t know what to do now. All my life, I just knew that was what I would do—becoming a SEAL—and now that it’s gone . . .” I don’t even know who I am anymore. Wincing, I shook my head. “God, that sounds pathetic.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
I was about to say something, but then Logan put a hand on my arm. I froze. The warm weight of his touch jarred my foundation.
Please don’t take it away.
For a second, I thought he might speak since I’d forgotten how. Instead, he pulled me into a hug. It caught me by surprise, but not in a bad way. Squeezing my eyes shut, I put my arms around him and tried to force back the ache in my throat. How he’d known this was exactly what I needed, I had no idea, because I sure as hell hadn’t realized it until I was wrapped up in his embrace.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
I swallowed, trying not to let go of the tears that had been threatening all damn day, and managed a quiet “Thanks.”
He held on a moment longer, solid and warm and perfect against me. Then he loosened his embrace and slowly started to draw back. I couldn’t resist turning toward him a little, stealing a breath of his scent because why the fuck not, and our cheeks brushed.
We both froze, halfway between holding on and letting go, his face warm against mine as a slow, ragged breath drifted across my jaw. He didn’t move. I was afraid to. What the hell were we doing? Because this wasn’t a friendly, comforting hug anymore. My heart was going crazy, and as close as we were standing, he might’ve been able to feel it.
I pressed against his cheek. He pressed back. His five-o’clock shadow scraped as we both drew away a little, and then instead of rough stubble there were soft lips. Soft lips against mine. Tentatively at first—a cautious corner-to-corner brush—before one of us turned and the contact was suddenly full and deliberate. No tongues, but . . . Oh. God.
I hadn’t been laid in a long time, and couldn’t remember anyone ever kissing me like this. Firmly, but not forcefully. Slowly, but not lazily. My whole body threatened to melt, and I decided I didn’t mind if it did as long as he didn’t stop because this felt a million times better than mourning my trident.
His hand moved from my back to the nape of my neck, then up into my hair. I gripped the back of his shirt, using it to hold him against me, and tilted my head as I nudged at his lips with my tongue. He hummed softly as I deepened the kiss. His fingers twitched against my scalp. Holy fuck. This was . . . not what I . . . It wasn’t . . .
It was so good.
All day, I’d felt like shit when I’d felt anything at all, but now I was wrapped up in Logan’s arms and a long kiss, and . . . whoa. I felt amazing. Like the rest of the world was still out there, and it was still June sixteenth, but I was kissing Logan, so it all hurt that much less.
He broke the kiss as gently as he’d started it. Our eyes met, and something zinged through me. A thrill, and arousal, and . . . Oh shit. Our surroundings were coming back into focus. The office. Where we worked. Together. Because we were coworkers. Crap.
Logan gulped. So did I.
Casually, we moved farther apart. I broke eye contact and tugged at my camo blouse and my sleeves, trying to give my hands something to do that wasn’t grabbing Logan and going back for more.
“Um. Sorry.” Logan coughed. “That wasn’t . . . I didn’t . . .”
“It’s okay.” I couldn’t look in his eyes as I took another step back. “It’s . . .” It’s the first thing I’ve felt today that didn’t hurt. “It’s okay.”
“Is it?”
Our eyes met again. His were full of nerves and fear, like he was terrified he’d gone too far. Which he had. We both had. I couldn’t say I regretted it, though.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said quietly. “We should, um . . .” I looked around, desperate for a diversion. “I need to get downstairs for my class.”
Logan nodded. “Right. I’ve got . . .” He gestured at the training records he was still going through.
We met each other’s gazes one more time, held them as if studying each other for confirmation, and then, without a word, moved to our respective desks. I didn’t need to be in the classroom for another twenty minutes, but I headed downstairs anyway before things could get any more awkward.
God help me when I have to come back to the office.