Logan Kade
Page 45
I can send you one right now.
If you do, I can’t promise what I’ll do with it.
I suggest banners, maybe even fliers. Everyone should know it by sight. ;)
I typed back: It should have its own fan group.
#Logansdick I’ll get Nate to be the admin for it.
We kept going back and forth, and it was late when we finally stopped, and my sides hurt from laughing, and my cheeks hurt from smiling.
And they didn’t really hurt, not at all.
Logan texted a few times during the next day. Cain won, he wanted to share with me. The rest were jokes throughout the day. I was drifting off to sleep when my phone lit up. When I saw the first text, I laid back, already smiling.
If I weren’t in a hotel with Nate, three hours away, this would be a booty text.
I typed back, Are you drunk?
Yes. If I weren’t, I’d probably be driving to your house instead.
That’d be good with me. My dad’s gone tonight.
Shit. Because of the game, right? Fuck. See? I should’ve asked you to come after all.
I paused. He had thought about asking me? I sat there surprised for a moment. That’s okay. I needed to get a lot of stuff done. I applied at Pete’s Pub after all.
You did? Did you get the job?
Trained tonight already.
Fuck yeah! Wait. Are you a server?
A bartender.
Even better. Shit, I gotta go. Nate’s going to take my phone away. I’ll call you tomorrow.
I typed out a goodnight and left the phone on the nightstand. Sinking into my covers, I didn’t even try to hold back the smile on my face. It felt good to have that excited feeling in my belly.
“Eric!” I would’ve screamed, but I couldn’t. Another gunshot sounded from farther down the hallway. I crouched on the floor and looked down the corridor, holding my breath. They hadn’t come around the corner. There was still time. I reached out my hand. Eric stood frozen over me. He’d started to bend down to help me up, but then that shot went off. He couldn’t move. He just stared right where they were going to come from.
“Eric,” I whispered. My hand reached for his.
He still didn’t move.
I was growing panicked. “Eric! Please.”
One more gunshot.
“Eri—” I started again, but he looked down. The fear in his eyes was stark.
I knew. Even before he started to shake his head, I knew. I felt it in my bones, and it chilled me. He was going to leave me here.
I tried to push myself up from the floor, but I couldn’t. My knee wouldn’t work. “Eric. Please.”
His eyes went flat. His head shook from right to left, and he began to move backward. He almost melted away from me. He moved so softly, like a ghost. I barely heard him when he said, “I can’t. I…I can’t, Taylor.”
“Eric!” I hissed, sitting up as much as I could. “Help me!”
He was my first kiss.
He still shook his head. He was so far away now, almost to the front desk.
He took my virginity.
He was the first guy to hold my hand, the first guy to take me to a dance, the first everything. He was the first one I’d loved.
“I’m sorry, Taylor.” His hand trembled. He paused at the door, just before slipping outside. “Please forgive me.”
He was the first guy to abandon me.
I woke up screaming. I’d thrown off my covers, and my entire body was drenched in sweat. I jerked up to a sitting position and grabbed my knee. I could still feel the pain there. But no, I was in my bedroom. I forced myself to look around. The window was open. A soft breeze whooshed through the room. I drew a shuddering breath as my heart pounded in my ears.
It was a dream.
My mind felt jumbled. It hadn’t been just a nightmare this time. There were other thoughts mixed in I rubbed my hands on my face and rocked back and forth for a moment. I needed to calm down. Pressing my forehead to the backs of my knees, I drew in air. I felt something cool against the backs of my hands. It wasn’t sweat. It was tears; I’d been crying.
No one was home. It was just me.
“Mom,” I whispered to myself. I wanted her here. I wanted to feel her arms around me. I closed my eyes, imagining the touch of her lips to my forehead. No matter the nightmare, no matter my age, she always took care of me. I turned to my side and grabbed the blanket. My hand formed a fist around it, and I imagined it was her hand. She sat next to me. She was still my mom.
But she wasn’t here. She was gone.
ALREADY?
LOGAN
I glanced at my phone on the way home and frowned at the blank screen. Well, it wasn’t completely blank. There were texts there, but none from Taylor. I texted her that morning and a few more times since we started home.
My dick was hard just thinking about her.
If I were someone like Nate, I’d be insecure—worried she must’ve changed her mind or there was another dude. He thought things like that, but that wasn’t me. I glanced down at my man and felt him nod in agreement. We were both confident. It wasn’t me.
Something was wrong.
“What’s wrong?”
I looked over at Nate in the driver’s seat. He volunteered to do the last leg because Sam was sleeping in the back, all curled up with Mason. Both Nate and I knew Mase wasn’t going to drive. It was only three hours, but he was tired, and he should be. He kicked ass on the field. I should know. We coordinated a drinking game that corresponded with anything he did. If he scored a touchdown? Two shots. If he blocked another guy? One shot. It was our fucking luck that he’d had the best damned game of his life.
If you do, I can’t promise what I’ll do with it.
I suggest banners, maybe even fliers. Everyone should know it by sight. ;)
I typed back: It should have its own fan group.
#Logansdick I’ll get Nate to be the admin for it.
We kept going back and forth, and it was late when we finally stopped, and my sides hurt from laughing, and my cheeks hurt from smiling.
And they didn’t really hurt, not at all.
Logan texted a few times during the next day. Cain won, he wanted to share with me. The rest were jokes throughout the day. I was drifting off to sleep when my phone lit up. When I saw the first text, I laid back, already smiling.
If I weren’t in a hotel with Nate, three hours away, this would be a booty text.
I typed back, Are you drunk?
Yes. If I weren’t, I’d probably be driving to your house instead.
That’d be good with me. My dad’s gone tonight.
Shit. Because of the game, right? Fuck. See? I should’ve asked you to come after all.
I paused. He had thought about asking me? I sat there surprised for a moment. That’s okay. I needed to get a lot of stuff done. I applied at Pete’s Pub after all.
You did? Did you get the job?
Trained tonight already.
Fuck yeah! Wait. Are you a server?
A bartender.
Even better. Shit, I gotta go. Nate’s going to take my phone away. I’ll call you tomorrow.
I typed out a goodnight and left the phone on the nightstand. Sinking into my covers, I didn’t even try to hold back the smile on my face. It felt good to have that excited feeling in my belly.
“Eric!” I would’ve screamed, but I couldn’t. Another gunshot sounded from farther down the hallway. I crouched on the floor and looked down the corridor, holding my breath. They hadn’t come around the corner. There was still time. I reached out my hand. Eric stood frozen over me. He’d started to bend down to help me up, but then that shot went off. He couldn’t move. He just stared right where they were going to come from.
“Eric,” I whispered. My hand reached for his.
He still didn’t move.
I was growing panicked. “Eric! Please.”
One more gunshot.
“Eri—” I started again, but he looked down. The fear in his eyes was stark.
I knew. Even before he started to shake his head, I knew. I felt it in my bones, and it chilled me. He was going to leave me here.
I tried to push myself up from the floor, but I couldn’t. My knee wouldn’t work. “Eric. Please.”
His eyes went flat. His head shook from right to left, and he began to move backward. He almost melted away from me. He moved so softly, like a ghost. I barely heard him when he said, “I can’t. I…I can’t, Taylor.”
“Eric!” I hissed, sitting up as much as I could. “Help me!”
He was my first kiss.
He still shook his head. He was so far away now, almost to the front desk.
He took my virginity.
He was the first guy to hold my hand, the first guy to take me to a dance, the first everything. He was the first one I’d loved.
“I’m sorry, Taylor.” His hand trembled. He paused at the door, just before slipping outside. “Please forgive me.”
He was the first guy to abandon me.
I woke up screaming. I’d thrown off my covers, and my entire body was drenched in sweat. I jerked up to a sitting position and grabbed my knee. I could still feel the pain there. But no, I was in my bedroom. I forced myself to look around. The window was open. A soft breeze whooshed through the room. I drew a shuddering breath as my heart pounded in my ears.
It was a dream.
My mind felt jumbled. It hadn’t been just a nightmare this time. There were other thoughts mixed in I rubbed my hands on my face and rocked back and forth for a moment. I needed to calm down. Pressing my forehead to the backs of my knees, I drew in air. I felt something cool against the backs of my hands. It wasn’t sweat. It was tears; I’d been crying.
No one was home. It was just me.
“Mom,” I whispered to myself. I wanted her here. I wanted to feel her arms around me. I closed my eyes, imagining the touch of her lips to my forehead. No matter the nightmare, no matter my age, she always took care of me. I turned to my side and grabbed the blanket. My hand formed a fist around it, and I imagined it was her hand. She sat next to me. She was still my mom.
But she wasn’t here. She was gone.
ALREADY?
LOGAN
I glanced at my phone on the way home and frowned at the blank screen. Well, it wasn’t completely blank. There were texts there, but none from Taylor. I texted her that morning and a few more times since we started home.
My dick was hard just thinking about her.
If I were someone like Nate, I’d be insecure—worried she must’ve changed her mind or there was another dude. He thought things like that, but that wasn’t me. I glanced down at my man and felt him nod in agreement. We were both confident. It wasn’t me.
Something was wrong.
“What’s wrong?”
I looked over at Nate in the driver’s seat. He volunteered to do the last leg because Sam was sleeping in the back, all curled up with Mason. Both Nate and I knew Mase wasn’t going to drive. It was only three hours, but he was tired, and he should be. He kicked ass on the field. I should know. We coordinated a drinking game that corresponded with anything he did. If he scored a touchdown? Two shots. If he blocked another guy? One shot. It was our fucking luck that he’d had the best damned game of his life.
