Page 101 of Hearts Storm

BREX

I’ve decided to take your silence as a good sign. Crossing my fingers you two are “making up” for lost time.

I send a quick text to Sasha, letting her know I’m fine and that I will tell her everything at work tomorrow. Since I don’t have to be back here at the station for work until Monday, I picked up a couple of extra pole dancing classes to teach.

Brex can wait. Best if Logan and I tell him the good news together.

Tucking my phone away, I smooth my hands down the front of my dress and make my way downstairs. The hallway leading to my room is dark and quiet, the night crew’s soft snores drifting from their bunks down the hall.

Bare feet padding against cool tile, I move as quietly as possible, hyper-aware that the alarm could sound at any moment.

Flicking on the small lamp beside my bed, I move over to the small dresser and pull out a pair of LFSR sweats and a T-shirt.

Putting on the sweats, I pull the soft cotton shirt over my head. The fabric is loose and comfortable, a stark contrast to the slinky red dress now hanging over the back of my desk chair.

I tiptoe out of my room into the dimly lit hallway, the emergency exit sign at the end casting a faint green glow. The only private bathroom is at the end of the hall, past the communal showers and locker room.

Softly clicking the door shut behind me, I flip on the light. Flinching at the sudden brightness, I turn to face the mirror above the sink.

“Oh. My. God,” I whisper-chuckle when I see my reflection.

My lipstick is smeared, streaked across my left cheek and the corner of my mouth. My mascara has migrated south, creating a pair of raccoon eyes that make me look like I’ve just survived my own horror movie marathon.

A soft, disbelieving laugh escapes. I look… well and truly fucked.

I grab some paper towels from the dispenser, dampen them, and get to work on the train wreck that is currently my face.

Just as I’m taking one last look, my phone pings.

LOGAN

Parking lot. Back door.

Two minutes.

I rush back to my room, grab my dress, clutch, and shoes, slipping quietly out the back door to where Logan is waiting for me at his truck, passenger door open.

“Come on, Angel. Let’s get you home, yeah?”

forty-three

We’re both quiet on the drive home. Logan keeps one hand on the steering wheel, resting the other on my thigh, tracing lazy circles. Every pass sends little sparks shooting up my leg and straight to my core, which is still throbbing.

Definitely going to be feeling it tomorrow, that’s for sure.

Headlights sweep across the front of my cottage as we pull into the driveway, and Logan cuts the engine.

“I’ll walk you to your door.”

I nod, and we both climb out.

His hand finds mine as we cross the gravel path and up the steps to my front porch, waiting patiently as I search for my keys.

Pushing the door open, I turn to face him. Barely there moonlight catches the sharp angles of his jaw, shielding his eyes in shadow.

“Stay with me.” The words come out before I can stop them.

Surprise takes over before his features settle into something warm and open. “Yeah?”