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I reached out and hugged her. She rested her head on my shoulder. “I know you have,” I said quietly. “And he knows you have, too. What happened to him… it’s not easily overcome. He’s got quite a bit of healing ahead of him still.”
She nodded in understanding and pulled back from me. “I need to get to class. See you at lunch?”
I nodded. She waved and spun around, heading for her first class of the day. Sighing, I did the same, heading in the opposite direction of her. I just hoped Logan did okay without me or Ezra by his side at all times.
This would be the biggest test for Logan… aside from therapy.
* * *
I leaned back in my seat, my thumb slowly scrolling through social media. Normally, I would do homework during my free period, but I didn’t have any. Everything was already done, so I was bored out of my mind.
I paused on a post written by the local police department, my eyes almost bugging out of my head at the first line.
Richard Wall, age 49, has been arrested by local law enforcement. A warrant was put out for his arrest four weeks ago after attacking and hospitalizing…
The text cut off there with the “see more” button highlighted in gray. My feet hit the floor with a thump, and I quickly took a screenshot of the post before sending it to Logan.
Spencer: Look what I just saw.
Spencer: [image]
Logan: Where are you?
Spencer: Library
Logan didn’t respond after that. I frowned at my phone and drummed my fingers on my thighs, wondering why he hadn’t responded. Had I triggered him?
My stomach churned. Oh, God. What if I’d triggered him? What if he was somewhere right now, spiraling? Having a panic attack?
Spencer: Logan?
Guilt swarmed in my gut, and immediately, I wished I could take that message back. Why hadn’t I thought about what I was doing before I sent him that fucking picture?
“Hey, pretty boy.” I jerked my head up, surprised to see Logan standing over me. My eyes widened.
“What are you doing here?” I asked quietly as he grabbed my hand and tugged me up from the chair.
“Needed to see you,” he told me as he grabbed my bag in his other hand and then led me to a quiet corner of the library. Then, he dropped my bag at our feet and backed me up into the corner, pressing his body against mine. I moaned when his tongue probed between my lips, and I easily submitted to him, letting him take over and lead me as he wanted.
“Touch me,” he begged, his breath panting across my lips.
Fuck, I could’ve cried.
I swept my hands under his shirt, and he sighed, pressing his body harder against mine. Our teeth clashed as the kiss turned more aggressive. His hand latched around my wrist when I neared the top of his jeans, and my heart jumped into my throat, terrified I’d just triggered him.
Until he wrapped my hand around his aching cock through his black cargo pants. A hot tear ran down his cheek and dropped onto my nose. I reached up with my other hand, swiping his tear away, my own tears burning in my eyes.
“Logan?” I croaked.
He sniffled. “You’re touching me,” he rasped. He thrust into my hand, his cock jerking with the movement. He kissed me again, and my mind went blank. Trusting him to know his limits and to tell me when to stop, I unbuckled his pants and slid my palm into his boxers, wrapping my fingers around him.
He quietly moaned and began to thrust into my hand, our kiss growing sloppy as he chased his release. Our tears mixed together on our cheeks, tasting salty on our lips. But this was a huge moment in Logan’s recovery.
He was letting me touch him—more than he had been. He was letting me touch him intimately. He was hard for me. He hadn’t been hard since that moment in the shower weeks ago.
“I love you,” I whispered, my voice cracking on the word ‘love’.
He moaned and spilled into my fist, his hands coming up to cradle my cheeks, his fingers spearing into my hair. His forehead rested on mine, both of us panting. “I love you, too, pretty boy. So goddamn much.”
