Logan

 

 

I stare down at the whimpering asshole in front of my boots and all I feel is annoyance. He’s two weeks late with his loan payment and begging for mercy.

“Get the fuck up,” I tell him.

He stands on trembling legs, no doubt believing he’s in for a world of hurt. And normally he would be. I left Prairie two hours ago, standing in her kitchen where her soft lips were so damn close to mine and I’m fucking pissed that I have to be anywhere other than with her right now. I got the text from Zavier to collect from this gambling junkie and for the first time since I got out of prison, I wanted to say fuck it and walk away from my job. I wanted to let Zavier deal with his own bullshit. But I knew I couldn’t. 

“Please, I’ll pay next week, I swear,” he whines, his nose dripping blood and snot onto the dirty linoleum floor of the dive bar bathroom where we are currently having our little meeting.

I grab him roughly by the collar of his shirt. “Don’t make me come back here. Pay the fucking loan or I swear to God you’ll get more than a couple hits next time.”

“I swear, I swear I will,” he grovels. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Get the fuck out of here,” I growl.

The door swings shut behind him and I check the time on my phone, seeing another message from Zavier.

Z: Is it done?

Me: Gave him an extension.

My phone begins to ring as I knew it would.

“Yeah.”

“Remind me who is in charge, Logan,” Zavier drawls.

“You’ll get your money next week, what fucking difference does it make?”

“The difference, is that I run a business, not a charity.”

“I’ll collect next week,” I say.

“I certainly hope so,” he cautions. “I must say I’m disappointed in you Logan. Only six months on the job and you’re already losing your edge.”

“I’m not losing anything, you’ll get your damn money,” I say, leaving the bathroom and heading for the front door.

I end the call before he can respond.

 

*

 

It’s dark by the time I get back to my apartment. One collection turned into two, the last of which took me two Goddamn hours just to track down. By the time I got the payment back to Lou at the club and was subjected to another one of Zavier’s drawn out lectures on the importance of business, the sun was just beginning to go down. I’d texted Prairie then and told her that I had to work late. She said she understood and we could talk tomorrow. I thought about calling her on my way home from the club, just to hear her voice, but I’m wound up and I know I’d be shitty company. And that’s not what I want for us. I knew the minute I left her apartment this morning that I wouldn’t be able to walk away again. Fuck nobility, I’ll figure out a way for us to be together and keep her safe. I have to.

When I reach my floor, there’s a young guy standing at my front door holding a shoebox in one hand and a bike helmet in the other.

“You looking for me?” I ask.

“Uh,” he looks down at the box. “Logan Mackenzie?”

“That’s me.”

“Cool, man. I just need a piece of I.D. and a signature and I’ll get out of your way,” he says, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket after he hands me the box. I sign my name and inspect the small package as I walk through the door and head for the fridge. I grab a beer and bring the box with me to the couch. I don’t know how, but I know it’s from her. When I peel back the tape and lift the lid, I see a note on top of a pile of unopened envelopes and my stomach drops.

Logan,

I don’t know what’s going to happen between us, five years is a long time…I know that. But seeing you after all these years has given me hope, I won’t deny that. Hope that maybe all is not lost.

I’m not giving you these letters to make you feel guilty for sending them back to me in the first place. I’m giving them to you because the words written on these pages were only ever meant for you. It’s your choice what you do with them.

Prairie

 

I reach for the stack and take the first one from the top, not knowing if they’re in any specific order. I read the next one and the next one, until I’m halfway through the pile. Some of the letters are filled with plans for the future, for our future. Some are just filling me in on random things that are happening in Prairie’s life. Her roommate, her classes. Mundane, everyday occurrences that paint me a picture of Prairie’s first year at college. I realize that she did in fact put the letters in order and when I reach the last one in the pile, it’s dated about six months into my sentence.

Logan,

I don’t know what I can say at this point that I haven’t said already. You keep sending my letters back and I don’t know what to do anymore. Why don’t you want me to keep writing? Why don’t you write me back? Why don’t you let me visit?

I know you won’t answer those questions, I know that I’ll get this letter back just like the rest. The only conclusion that I can come to is that you think you’re saving me by pushing. I understand that. I understand you. Because I love you, Logan. I love the good parts and bad parts and the parts that you think no one ever could. I’ll keep telling you that until you believe me.

I still think of that day at the swimming hole when you gave me my very first kiss. That was one of the best days of my life. I knew in that exact moment that I would give my heart to you. How could I not? I haven’t kissed anyone since then. I miss you more than words can describe, and I think about you every day. When you’re ready, I’ll be here.

You’ll always have me Logan. Always.

Love, Prairie

 

I stare at the words until I can’t see straight, regret sitting heavy in my chest. I know at the time I thought I was doing the right thing, but I’m ashamed of how careless I was. How could I have pushed her away like that? The one person who gave a shit about me.

I promise myself now that I won’t make the same mistake twice. If she’ll give me another chance, I’ll give her everything that I have to give. And even then, I know it won’t be enough…but I have to try. If it means I can have her again…I’ll do whatever it takes.