Wild (The Ivy Chronicles #3)(70)

Logan frowned, his forehead knitting with concern. He didn’t see the sucker punch coming, but I screamed as Harris’s fist connected with his cheek.

Logan slammed into the wall and I forgot all about my fall and shaking limbs. I attacked, jumping on Harris like a monkey. I clawed his face, leaving bloody scratches. I didn’t stop there, raining my fists on any part of him I could reach. Face, shoulders, chest.

I was still cursing him when Logan peeled me off. Gasping, I looked around. The lobby was suddenly full. Waitstaff, gawking restaurant goers. And two uniformed Muskogee police officers, their steel-eyed gazes fixed on me.





Chapter 23

ARRESTED FOR THE SECOND time in less than two weeks. That had to be some kind of record. Of course, I wasn’t alone in that ignominious distinction. Logan was with me. We sat side by side, hands handcuffed behind us on a bench inside the county sheriff’s office, and shared a smile. He shook his head at me and leaned in to press a kiss on my lips, forgetting about his bottom busted lip. He hissed.

“Oh, baby.” I pressed a tiny butterfly kiss to his mouth.

He chuckled against my mouth. “Remind me to bring you to my next bar brawl, tiger.”

Harris made a sound of disgust and leaned back on his bench across from us, beating his head on the brick wall. He was handcuffed, too, but they made a point to put distance between us. I didn’t care if he was watching though. I didn’t care that I was arrested. I was happy.

Deputy Milo Henderson was my second cousin. He’d grown up with my mother, and besides seeing him around town all my life, I saw him every Easter at Aunt Charlene’s. He pushed through the swinging doors and I breathed a sigh of relief, ready to explain everything that had happened. And then my mother and father followed, entering the room behind him. Of course he had called them.

Logan must have heard my swift intake of breath. “Georgia?”

I sent him a reassuring glance and rose to my feet. “Mom—”

“Georgia!” She pushed past Milo. After sweeping me with her stare, presumably to assure herself that I was all right, she flicked her gaze back and forth between Logan and Harris. Her lip curled as she assessed Logan. He was sporting an angry split lip with one black eye. He’d never looked hotter. Or more dangerous.

My father turned to Milo, motioning to me. “Are the handcuffs necessary?

Milo stepped forward, uncuffing me first, then Logan, then turning to Harris. “I just got off the phone with the manager. I convinced him not to press charges against any of them.”

Harris stood, flexing his shoulders and angrily brushing his hands down his starched button-down. “Don’t come crawling back to me, Georgia. We’re through.”

“Harris, don’t be hasty.” Mom made a move toward him. “This was just a misunderstanding. I’m sure tomorrow you’ll feel—”

“Sweetheart.” Dad reached out and placed a hand on Mom’s shoulder. She swung a bewildered glance at him. “Enough,” he said, his voice firm even though his look was gentle.

Mom stared at Dad, her mouth working for speech. I could have hugged my father right then, so grateful that he had decided to shake off his usual apathy.

Harris brushed past Mom and walked out of the station without another word.

Mom stared after him for a moment, as though he were her last great hope for me. Turning, she found us all staring at her. She fixed a plastic-looking smile to her lips and patted her cousin’s arm. “Well. Thank you so much, Milo. We really appreciate it. I promise you won’t be seeing Georgia in here ever again. We’ll have a stern talk to her as soon as we get home. We’ll get her straightened out and on the right path again, I promise.” Mom laughed awkwardly. “You would have thought we’d have had this trouble with her in high school, not now.”

I bristled and rubbed me newly freed wrists, hating that she was talking about me like I was a delinquent fifteen-year-old.

She faced me again, sent Logan a dismissive look, and then, taking my elbow, tugged me forward. “Let’s get you home, Georgia.”

I dug in my heels. “Mom, this is Logan.”

Her eyes narrowed on me, refusing to glance his way and acknowledge him. She was never this rude, which only told me she didn’t think he was deserving of good manners. “I know who he is. He showed up at the house and spoke with your sister. She lied and told me he was a friend of Jeremy’s. I’ll be taking that up with her later.”

So that explained all the texts and calls from my sister. She had told Logan where to find me.

“Now let’s go home, Georgia.” Her clasp tightened on me, growing more determined.

I pulled my arm free and moved to Logan’s side. “I’m not going home with you, Mom.”

Her panicked gaze flitted from me to Logan. “W-what?”

“I’m going back to Dartford. I’m going to finish my degree there, and when it’s done I’m going to look for a job that best suits me . . . which I doubt will be in Muskogee.” I looked up at Logan and wrapped my arm around his waist. He in turn wrapped his arm around me. “And I’m going to be with my boyfriend.”

Logan stared down at me with such pride in his eyes. The pride I had always been looking for from my mother but never found. It was there, given so freely in his gaze.

“Georgia.” Mom had moved closer to whisper her words, clearly embarrassed that others were listening. “What are you doing?”