Torn from You

I did? Shit.



“I hate you being alone. I should be with you.”



“Alone? Who said I’m alone.” I needed to stop him from saying things like that to me because it lit me up inside and I liked it, but it also scared me because every step closer to Logan meant uncertainty.



Silence. I could hear what sounded like his jeans as he moved.



“Sculpt?” My heart started pounding—hard. Despite knowing we weren’t together, I still was glad he called. It must be that middle-of-the-night stupidity taking over my mind.



His voice was low and angry. “Jesus, Eme. I’m telling you how I feel. Trying like hell here and you’re slexing with—“



“Slexing?”



“Yeah. Sex then sleep. Slexing.”



“Well I’m not slexing or having sex, I’m just sleeping. Well not anymore, but I was, and it was a good dream.”



He swore beneath his breath then what sounded like a groan. “What was it about?”



“What?”



He sighed and over the phone it came out rough and sexy. “Dream, Mouse. What was it about? I want to know everything about you, Eme. Even your dreams.”



Oh. Crap. I scrambled for something to say and came up nothing. So, I wisely moved on. “Listen, Sculpt, I was thinking and—”



“Baby, stop with the Lego building.” His voice was demanding and harsh, and the butterflies airlifted. Was it from being turned on, or was it from my hint of fear? Or both? Why did I like it when he sounded like that?



“Maybe us talking isn’t such a good idea.”



Silence.



“Did you take anything in that I said yesterday?”



“What?” I pictured him scowling and his hand clenching the phone.



“Emily?”



“Of course I listened to you.”



“So you heard that part where I said I loved you?”



Yes. And how he missed me. And I wanted to let him in—but it made me feel exposed.



“I’m not chasing after just some chick I want to fuck. I’m chasing after a woman I love who isn’t letting me in.”



“God, Sculpt. I’m pretty certain you don’t have to chase any woman.”



I heard a loud bang. “I don’t give a fuck about other women. Are listening to me?” I was, but I was ignoring the parts about how he was chasing after a woman he loves. “What do you want me to do? What do you need from me and you have it.”



I threw off the covers and sat up.



“What happened after I left, Sculpt?”



“No, Eme. This isn’t about that. You’re trying to push me away, because you’re scared of how you still react to me. You’re changing this into something else.”



“Sculpt—”



“Emily, fuck. Tell me. Just tell me what the hell is happening in that head of yours.”



I was so pissed off from him pushing me that I couldn’t stop the overflowing words. “Do you want to know what it felt like when I saw you again? The anguish. The pain. The feeling like I was free-falling off a waterfall in the scorching heat. Like I lost my breath. A stupid tingling in my skin that felt like I’d been set on fire. The deep ache that refuses to go away whenever I think about you. Oh, and the butterflies in my belly, they go into a freaking frenzy every single time I hear your damn voice, but I’m uncertain whether all that is because I’m turned on or because I’m scared. Or what I’m scared of. I feel it all hanging around my neck like a cowbell. It’s a reminder of how much I loved you and feared you. And how stupid I was to want you at the same fuckin’ time. I want that out of me. I never want to feel helpless again. I feel like I’m out of control and only you know how to stop it and I hate that.” I took a deep breath.



Silence.



More silence.



Then ...



“I’ll be there in a few hours.” I could hear him moving around. Rustling. A zipper.



“What?” I threw my legs over the side of the bed and got up and began to pace. “No. Why would you do that? You were just here. Don’t be ridiculous.”



“Fuck. I shouldn’t have left. I should be there with you.”



“Logan. Seriously—no. Please. I don’t want you catching a flight just to come here. You’re with the band. Doing what you’ve always dreamed of. You’ll ruin your chances if you leave. Logan, think about what you’re saying.” God, was Logan crazy? No, he just went after whatever he wanted.



Silence.



Then, “Call me Logan. No more Sculpt.”



Mistake. Twice I’d done that.



“Eme?”



I closed my eyes. “Yes?”



“Did you hear me?”



“Yes.”



“Say it.” It’s that voice, the one I yearn for. And that terrified me because I felt ... God, it made me feel whole again.



I sunk down on the bed, lowered my head into my hands. “Logan,” I whispered. I imagined the corners of his lips were edging up, and damn if I didn’t want to see it.



“Dream sweet, Emily.” Then he hung up.



I fell backward onto my bed, phone held to my chest with both hands. Dream sweet, Emily.



Chapter 19



I threw a flake of hay into Stanley’s stall for his night feed. He was a big Clydesdale cross that had several open wounds on his back from an improperly fitted harness when he used to pull a wagon far too heavy for one horse. His owner sent him to slaughter two weeks ago where Hank had seen him and picked him up.



Stanley and a few other horses with injuries came in the barn at night until they healed. We didn’t have wolves, but there were coyotes prowling at night.



“You already did that.” Kat was sitting on the cement floor with her sketch pad on her bent knees.



I looked over the stall door and saw the two flakes of hay. Shit. I had. Stanley would have extra tonight, which I’m certain he wouldn’t mind.



I was completely distracted wondering why Logan hadn’t called or texted yet. He always called before ten. Well, every night for the past ten days. I was used to it. I expected it. Shit, I was mad because I noticed that he hadn’t called. Kat noticed that I noticed. And I realized that listening to Logan before bed was becoming something I looked forward to every night.



Last night we’d been talking while I lay in bed, and he was telling me about the last venue they played at and how Ream was giving attitude to a chick who’d been following them. The chick wanted Ream; Ream had her once and now no longer wanted her.



Logan then proceeded to tell me that Crisis fucked anything that had tits and ass. Kite was more subdued about it, but he did it too, just quieter than Crisis. I also found out that they were all coming back to the farm after the tour. They had a celebration bash planned at the end of the month their manager was organizing.



“You talk to Sculpt yet?” Kat was sketching again, trying to act nonchalant.



“Nope.”



“Huh.”



I knew she was waiting for me to say more, but I had no intention of talking about it. Logan was with the band. Or with a chick. Shit. I rested my forehead on the wood beam. Damn it. Damn it. I knew this would happen. I was getting too close again. I was thinking about him constantly. Counting the days until he came home. Home? I sounded like a girlfriend waiting for her boyfriend to get back.



Oh God. This was my home, and shit ... this was Logan’s too. I was working hard to gain my independence from Matt and Kat, and I was feeling like I was losing it to Logan. He was taking it away by making me need him. God, what was I saying? Logan wasn’t making me do anything. It was me. It was my need to surrender to him. He fulfilled something inside me that I was trying desperately to block out and deny.



I felt a hand on my back. “Emily, it’s cool. He’s in a band, they’re unreliable. Shit happens.”



I was trying to convince myself that I didn’t care whether he called or texted. I thought I could get past the intensity between us. I failed. And it had only strengthened with his calls. We talked about everything except Raul and what happened. Mostly the band, his love of motorcycles and my love of horses. It was like we used to talk. We skirted around his mother, but he did tell me her name, Isabella, and that she had long, dark-brown hair with a slight wave to it. Logan also said she had a smile that lit up her whole face like a child opening presents at Christmas. Then he ruined that image with the fact that he rarely saw her smile.



I had to stop thinking about him. “Let’s go to Avalanche,” I suggested.



“What? Now?”



“I’m declaring it a girls’ night.” I needed to go out and forget. Drink. Have fun. “No guy talk. Just the girls.” I stroked Stanley’s muzzle and he nudged my shoulder.



Kat was already on her phone. “Texting Georgie.”



We were showered and dressed within the hour. I wore tight jeans with my red strappy heels and a white blouse that fit snug at the waist.



“Kat. Emily. Looking good,” the bouncer Dan said as he held the door open for us. “You girls hear? Real good band playing tonight. Matt hired them a few weeks ago. Have that Hinder feel.”



“Oh raspy voice. Like it. Wicked. Thanks, Dan.” Kat kissed him on the cheek, and we strolled in, quickly finding Georgie at a table near the stage. She had Raven with her who looked completely out of her element, all curled into herself. Her shoulders were slouched, hands clasped together in her lap; her head was down and her face hidden by her long, stringy hair. I wanted to wrap her up in my arms and just cry for her, but I suspected that would be the last thing she’d want.



We drank, talked, laughed ... well, all except Raven. Although, at the beginning of the evening I did chat with her a few minutes. I was surprised when she initiated the chat, leaning forward in her chair and looking up at me. She had dark circles under her eyes as if her mascara, that she wasn’t wearing, had smudged. She asked where I was living now. I smiled and went to put my hand over top of hers, but stopped mid-approach when she flinched back in her chair.



I told her about the farm and the horses then suggested she come by and I’d take her riding. I thought her eyes would light up at that—they didn’t. Dead. Dull. It was really eerie how she had no emotion except fear. Every movement made her jump, and she looked nervous and uncomfortable. I understood why. I mean I didn’t, but I probably did better than anyone here. It would take a long time before she trusted again. If ever.



Kat and I danced a few times while Georgie stayed with Raven. I was on my fifth cosmopolitan by the time the band came on, and I was feeling it. I mean really feeling it as I danced to the music, letting myself get lost in the beat.



The band rocked. The lead singer was a thirty something blond with piercing blue eyes and a deep voice that gripped the music like he was part of it. We danced, drank, and laughed until my sides were hurting.



The band finished, and we were on our last drink as Matt had cut us off—to which we all laughed hysterically. He rolled his eyes and walked off giving Brett the cut sign over the throat. Brett and I met eyes then we both laughed. I nearly toppled off my chair and suspected I would’ve if it hadn’t been for the hand grabbing my arm and holding me upright.