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“I fucking hate him!” I cried, furiously wiping my face. Salty tears and mucus coated my hand as I breathed a shaky sigh. “I thought you were at work.”
Logan glanced around before grabbing the kitchen roll from the side, ripping some off, and pressing it into my hands.
“I was. Come sit down. Do you have any alcohol in here?”
He wants to drink? Now?
“What do you want?” I asked, wiping my eyes and then my nose with the coarse paper.
I bet I look like fucking shit.
“Not for me, for you.”
“Oh,” I whispered, nodding to the fridge. “There’s some wine in there.”
As he walked away, I tried to gather myself, rubbing my hands on my jeans.
What a fucking mess.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
LOGAN
Handing Jessica the glass of wine, I studied her, her eyes swollen with tears and her hands trembling.
I’m fucking furious at that bastard for laying a hand on her but fuming because of his hurtful words.
I drank the wine directly from the bottle, sitting across from Jessica. The bottle dangled from my fingers as I stared at her, her body still jerking with emotion.
“I’m sorry, Logan,” Jessica whispered, her eyes darting up mine. “I didn’t want you to get involved with any of this.”
“Hey,” I said, reaching over to touch her fingertips with mine. “I’d have done that for you regardless of whatever was going on between us.”
It’s true; I would.
I won’t stand for violence against women, and mental abuse has to be the lowest of the low. I don’t know what that bastard would’ve done if I wasn’t here tonight.
“I’m grateful you were here,” she mumbled, gulping her wine. “What made you come?”
I lifted the bottle to my lips, taking a moment to respond.
How do I explain that I don’t know why I came? That I had a feeling possess me so strongly that I had no fucking option but to come to her? That she’s all I think about?
But I couldn’t explain that.
It wasn’t fair of me to try to be her man; she was too fucking damaged by that twat for me to hurt her further.
It doesn’t matter what my intentions are; I fuck everything up.
“They didn’t need me at work,” I lied with ease, leaning over to top her wine up. “So I thought I’d just come early.”
Her eyes flickered with disappointment, and I hated myself.
“Three hours early,” she said, and I nodded.
Was she counting down the hours? Fuck, she’s in deep. But I’m the one that left work early to see her.
“Either way, I’m here now.”
