Logan Kade (Fallen Crest #5.5)(26)

My eyes opened in a flash. Thoughts whirled in my head. I tried to remember…then I did.

I was supposed to watch movies with Jason tonight. I’d just stood up my best friend.

I groaned, falling back against Logan’s chest.





STILL BAD


TAYLOR


Logan’s hand tightened over my leg. “You want me to come in with you?” he asked, right next to my ear.

Oh God. The idea of someone else taking care of my business was so welcome. I wanted to say yes. I’d done so much in the last nine months: arranging all the funeral plans, picking out the casket, burying my mother, being the hostess when people brought food to the house, transferring to Cain U, registering for classes, getting my books, going to school, and even today, looking for a job. It was just life, but it was exhausting. I wanted someone to help me, but it couldn’t be Logan.

I shook my head, feeling weak but determined. “No. I messed up.”

Jason would’ve had a conniption if I sent someone in my place, particularly Logan. I owed him an explanation. He was my best friend.

The girls’ smiles were brighter when they realized Logan wasn’t getting out with me. Both Logan and Nate offered a wave as I stepped back and the car took off. The little flirtation I’d just had with Logan was nice. Hell, it was like dancing with the devil for a moment. It was tempting—the promise of something great—but in the end that was all it was. A dance with the devil. I’d be blind not to see how many girls wanted him. I was also not deaf. I’d heard him at the bar when he said we were friends because we hadn’t had sex. Yet. Sex seemed inevitable when it came to Logan.

“We haven’t had sex, and you haven’t called me an * or slapped me yet, so yeah.” He’d winked at me. “That classifies us as friends in my book.”

Logan slept with girls. They got emotionally attached. He didn’t. Then he was called an * and slapped. That was likely the story of so many, and maybe if there’d been no Eric, or maybe if my mother hadn’t died in front of me, maybe I would’ve turned off my rational side and let myself go down the same path as those other girls.

But there was an Eric who left me, and I lost my mom on the same day. I couldn’t fall for Logan Kade. I understood why girls did, but I just couldn’t. I wouldn’t come back from that if I let myself go. I wasn’t special. I was just like any other girl, and Logan Kade didn’t love. He’d told me that as well.

“If I love you—and don’t get ahead of yourself because that list is really short—then I’ll do almost anything to protect you. Girls drink that shit up...”

The writing was on the wall. “I’m not being cocky when I say that girls like me, they really do like me. I’m funny, sarcastic, quick-witted, and enough of a bad boy to make girls wet. If I like you, I’m loyal to you.”

For whatever reason, Logan liked me. I would take that. I could make do with his loyalty. I remembered how it felt when he’d touched me, how his hands held me and I wanted to close my eyes, sink into him, and let his strength wash over me. That was the dangerous side of him.

I shook my head. The car was long gone, but I was still standing on my front lawn. I had to reset myself, pull out the hooks Logan had put in me. I couldn’t walk in like this with an angry Jason waiting for me. He’d see right through, and when Jason was mad, he didn’t hold back. I needed to wall myself back up so I could handle whatever he threw at me.

I heard the door to my house open behind me. “Taylor?” Jason called.

I felt like I was zipping myself up, pushing all the raw and exposed feelings back inside. I could feel it pulling me together, closing over my head. When it was done, I was okay. I was ready to go.

“Hey. Yeah,” I called. “It’s me.” I started for the door.

Jason gestured inside the house, moving back so I could get through the doorway. His eyes were worried. His face looked strained, and his hands had pulled inside his sleeves. When he did that, he was anxious.

“I used the extra key,” he told me. “Your dad isn’t here.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a question or a statement. I ignored it, going to the kitchen. I expected a note, but there was none.

“There’s no note,” I said.

His eyebrow lifted. “Is there usually?”

No. Not very often. “He’s been trying.”

Jason folded his arms over his chest and sat down at the table. He snorted in disbelief.

“He has been.”

“Not to be an insensitive dickhead, but I’ve only seen one note from your dad.” His elbows rested on the table. He propped his chin on his hands, still inside his sleeves. He watched me.

“Well.” I fell back against the counter, hitting it hard enough that I’d find a bruise there later. I grimaced. “You are being an insensitive dickhead.”

His other eyebrow arched, and he pursed his lips together briefly. “You stood me up tonight.”

I flushed.

“But I don’t think we should be throwing words around,” he added. His eyes went to the window, and an angry glower came over him. It didn’t last long—appearing, then vanishing—but I readied myself. When Jason looked back at me, his face filled with something akin to disappointment. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes locked on me. His hands fell to rest on his lap. “You know...”