Torn from You (26 page)

And yet, that wasn’t fair. I knew it. He did
fight for me, but it was in another way. He fought for me more than
I ever could’ve imagined. Maybe it was partly guilt that kept me
pushing him away, because I had no right to hate him, and I had.
I’d said some horrible things to him, and now knowing the truth,
the words had to have hurt him. Maybe in his own right, he’d
suffered more than I had. He’d grown up in that place, and still,
he managed to be strong and determined and fight for what he wanted
in life.

Kat put her hand on top of mine. “I saw the
way he looked at you at Avalanche.” She leaned back on the stool.
“He loves you. I don’t think he’s ever stopped.” The corners of her
lips lifted. “We only have one life and ... well you never know
when it will end. So, I’m thinking you should just fuck him and see
what happens.”

I spit up my coffee, spraying it onto the
countertop.

She laughed and shrugged. “Just kidding—kind
of. Okay, not really. Emily, I’m here for you and will be behind
you one hundred percent. I’m also your bestie and will tell you
what I think whether you want to hear it or not. Doesn’t mean I
don’t love you, just means I care. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t say
shit. Okay?”

My phone vibrated on the counter between
us.

Kat peered at the screen. “Sculpt. Huh. He
got your cell number?”

I titled my head and gave her a
so
what
look. I picked it up, plugged in my password, and read the
text.

You sleep okay Mouse? xxx

“What did he say?” Kat asked.

“He asked if I slept okay.”

“Are you going to reply?”

Was I? It was no big deal really. Texting
was impersonal. But somehow it felt real personal. Logan made it
feel that way. Even via text I felt the protectiveness about him
that I craved. Was I pathetic because I desired that? But when I
went to type a message back, my hand was trembling.

Fine thanks. You?

As soon as I hit send I knew it was stupid,
and I couldn’t take it back. Of course he didn’t sleep well. He had
a flight yesterday to Chicago then had a gig and was probably up
all night.

Slept on the plane. Call you later. Miss you
Eme.

How could I not melt after reading that? I
closed my eyes imagining his deep voice whispering those words in
my ear, and shivers sprinkled like rain drops across my skin. God,
he was hundreds of miles away, and I still felt him.

I texted back.

Okay.

No x’s and o’s. No emotions. Simple. Why did
it feel anything but simple?

The day was therapeutic, and I nearly forgot
all about Logan. Nearly. He only popped into my head, oh, about a
thousand times. Havoc felt my tension on the trail ride, prancing,
spooking at everything and anything.

The entire day was exhausting mentally, and
when I finally crashed in bed it was with my phone sitting in my
hand.

I jolted awake to my hand vibrating. Without
opening my eyes, I answered my phone.

“Hello?”

“Mouse.”

“Logan?” I sat upright, suddenly wide awake.
Then I realized I just called him Logan, not Sculpt, and wanted to
kick my own ass to the curb. “What time is it?” I fell back against
the pillows, looked at my phone’s time—one in the morning. I sighed
putting the phone back to my ear. “I should hang up on you.”

He chuckled and I knew I wouldn’t, not after
hearing that sexy graveled sound. Logan rarely laughed, but when he
did it was like a hit of something sweet. And damn, I forgot how
hot his voice was on the phone. I could picture him lying in bed,
his sexy bedroom hair splayed on my pillow, eyes tired and
lazy.

“Wanted to say goodnight, Eme.”

Oh. “I could’ve used that hours ago.”

“Eme?”

“Yeah?”

“Wish I could be there with you.” He paused.
“I loved that. Us. Together every night. Feeling you next to me. I
hated waking every morning knowing what I had to do. Knowing you’d
hate and fear me when all I wanted to do was protect you.”

Oh God.

“I’d watch you sleep for hours. Your nose
would twitch whenever I stroked your hair and you’d smile then moan
and cuddle closer to me.”

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.

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.