Chapter 26
-Hailey-
I jolted upright with a gasp, tangled in the sheets.
The room was dark, but I could still smell the gunpowder, still feel the kick of the Glock in my hands.
My skin was clammy with sweat, and my heart was pounding like I’d just run a mile.
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and checked the time. 3:17 AM.
1 65 Jouchers
I swallowed hard, pressing my palms to my eyes. The nightmare clung to me like a second skin – Matt’s face, the blood, the way his body hit the floor.
Over and over.
I reached out to the other side of the bed, and my fingers brushed cold sheets.
Logan wasn’t here.
The emptiness hit harder than the nightmare. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, my feet hitting the floor with a soft thud. I shivered.
I grabbed one of Logan’s hoodies from the closet and pulled it on over the t–shirt and boxers I was already wearing. It smelled like him – leather and smoke – and it comforted me, but not enough.
His boxers were too big, even rolled down. They hung low on my hips, but I didn’t care. I needed to find him.
The hallway was dark, but the faint hum of voices and laughter drifted up from downstairs. I followed the sound, feet cold on the hardwood.
my
bare
The clubhouse was alive, even at this hour. The air smelled like spilled beer and cigarettes. The jukebox was blaring some old rock song, and the guys were scattered around the room. Playing pool or darts, leaning against the bar with drinks in
hand.
Logan was at the center of it all, sitting on the edge of a pool table with a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was laughing at something River said, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
I hesitated in the doorway, suddenly self–conscious. The sweatshirt hung halfway down my thighs, but I felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with how little I was wearing.
Logan’s eyes found me almost instantly. Like he’d sensed me before he saw me. His green gaze cut through the haze of smoke and noise, locking onto me with an intensity that made my breath hitch.
But there was something hollow in it, too.
He took a swig from the half–empty bottle of whiskey in his hand, and his mannerisms told me he was drunk but not sloppy. Just… quiet. Distant.
The guys, however, didn’t share his restraint.
“Well, helloooooo,” River drawled, leaning against the pool table with a shit–eating grin. “Look who decided to join the party.”
A chorus of whistles and hoots erupted from the others. Scarlett gave me a soft smile from behind the bar, her glass raised
in a mock toast.
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I ignored them. My focus was entirely on Logan. He didn’t react to the noise, didn’t so much as flinch. Just kept staring a hole in me like he wasn’t sure I was real.
I crossed the room, bare feet sticking to the floor, and stopped in front of him. “You planning on drinkin‘ til sunrise?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light… teasing.
He took a slow drag of his cigarette, his eyes never leaving mine. “Maybe,” he said finally. His voice was like gravel.
The word was clipped. Dismissive. I felt it like a slap.
“Just checking,” I said, forcing a smile. “Seems like you’re trying to break some kind of record.”
He shrugged, looking away as he took another swig from the bottle. “Maybe.”
The guys were still watching us. I felt their eyes, and the laughter died down as they caught the sudden tension in the air. River raised an eyebrow, glancing between us, but he didn’t say anything.
I reached out, my fingers touching his arm. “Logan… are you okay?”
He froze for a second, his jaw flexing. Then he shrugged me off. “I’m fine.”
“No you’re not,” I insisted, my voice going softer.
When he finally looked at me again, his eyes were dark. “What do you want me to say, Hailey? That I’m fuckin torn up about it? Yeah, I am. You shouldn’t’ve had to do it. It shoulda been me.”
I shivered, pulling the hoodie tighter around me. “Logan—”
“I should’ve handled it,” he interrupted. “I knew what he was capable of. I knew he’d try somethin‘ stupid. And I still let you walk in there—”
“Stop,” I said, cutting him off. “It’s not your fault. I made the choice. I pulled the trigger.”
His jaw flexed again and he took another drink. “Yeah. And now you got that shit in your head forever.” He reached up and mussed my hair, and the touch sent a current through me.
I reached out again, but he jerked away like my touch burned him.
“Don’t,” he snapped, shoving off the pool table and turning his back to me. “Just… don’t.”
The guys exchanged uneasy glances. River cleared his throat, trying feebly to lighten the mood. “Alright, lover boy. Take it down a notch or two.”
Logan didn’t respond. Just stalked toward the bar, his shoulders tense, still clutching the bottle.
I stood there frozen, and I felt the tears on my cheeks before I knew they were falling. I wiped them away quickly, hoping no one noticed.
The room suddenly felt too big, the noise too loud. My chest ached like someone had reached in and squeezed my heart.
Logan was at the bar now, with his back to me. I wanted to go to him, to wrap my arms around him and make him see that it wasn’t his fault. But the way he’d jerked away from me….
Ruby appeared beside me, her hand sliding into mine. “Hey,” she said softly. “You okay?”
I shook my head, my throat too tight to speak. She squeezed my hand and led me to the far end of the bar, where Scarlett slid a glass of water and a glass of whiskey toward me without a word.
“Logan,” Scarlett said, sharp and cold. “You’re being a complete dickhead.”
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He didn’t look up. “Yeah? And?”
Scarlett’s jaw tightened. “And you’re gonna regret it when you sober up.” She glanced at me, her eyes softening. “Go upstairs. Hailey. Get some rest. I’ll handle him.”
I nodded, but I didn’t move. My feet felt rooted to the floor. I couldn’t leave him like this. Couldn’t let him spiral deeper into whatever darkness he’d found.
I chugged the glass of whiskey and headed toward Logan, the floor still tacky under my feet.
“Logan,” I whispered, sliding onto the stool next to him. “Can we go upstairs and talk? Please?”
He didn’t look at me, just stared at the half–empty bottle in front of him. His jaw was tight, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the glass. I could feel the tension radiating off him.
“Logan,” I said again, softer this time. “Please.”
He exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping just a little. “Fine,” he muttered, finally turning to look at me. His green eyes were dark, haunted, and I could see the shadows lurking there.
I nodded, relief flooding through me.
He stood and grabbed the bottle off the bar. I followed him as he led the way upstairs, the weight of his silence pressing down on me. The clubhouse noise faded behind us as we climbed the steps, replaced by the creak of wood and the faint hum of the heating ducts.
When we reached his apartment, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, leaving it open for me. I followed, closing the door softly behind me. The room was dark, the only light coming from the streetlamp
ide the window.
Logan dropped onto the couch, his bottle hitting the coffee table with a loud thunk. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and ran his hands through his hair.
I hesitated before sitting down next to him, leaving just enough space between us so he wouldn’t feel crowded.
“Talk,” he said, his voice rough. “You wanted to talk, so talk.”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. “I just… I need to know you’re okay. That you’re not blaming yourself for what happened.”
He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t, Hailey. Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” I asked, my voice breaking.
“Act like I didn’t fuck up,” he said, his tone harsh.
“Logan, you didn’t-”
“I did,” he interrupted, his voice sharp. “I let you walk in there.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, getting irritated now. “You didn’t let me do anything, Logan. I was doing it with or without you.”
“Sure you were”
My chest ached, the weight of his guilt crushing me. “Logan, it’s not your fault. I made the choice to go in there. I pulled the trigger. You didn’t force me to do anything.”
He shook his head, his jaw clenched so tight I thought it might crack. “It should’ve been me.”
Chapter 26
“Stop saying that,” I said, my voice breaking. “You didn’t deserve that burden. It was my mess to deal with.”
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He shrugged me off, his shoulders tense as he collapsed backward into the couch cushions. I stared at him for a minute, then glanced down at my feet. They were still sticky and gross from the clubhouse floor.
Without another word, I snatched the whiskey bottle from the coffee table.
“I’m gonna shower,” I muttered, already halfway to the bathroom.
“Shouldn’t’ve gone down there barefoot.” His tone was different… his voice was almost soft. “What were you thinking?”
I ignored him. The bathroom door clicked shut behind me.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
