AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Bella stiffened, but considering what she’d been calling Sarah in her head, she decided to keep her mouth shut this time. She ducked into the cab and sat back against the bench seat.
“Where to, ma’am?”
“Make a trip around Central Park, please. I have a phone call to make before I figure out where I’m headed.”
“Can do.”
A fresh coat of powdery snow softened the dirt of the streets and made the white twinkle lights that capped the canopy of trees seem just a little more pure. She refocused her attention on the inside of the cab and her phone.
She brought up her contacts and tapped on one of the last names she ever thought she’d call.
Five
Logan slammed on the options button of his treadmill. His legs were shaking from the incline he’d set it to. Mile eight had left him weak as a kitten and yet he’d gone another two miles as punishment for the weakness.
The unit slowly declined and his speed gradually lessened as he stared out onto the city streets. His apartment was dark, save for a single rope of white lights that lined his huge bay window.
Zeke had tried to festive out his apartment and had managed the single perfect line of lights before Logan had come home. He didn’t give two shits about the holiday season on his own, and he should have pulled them down when he got back from Colorado, but he found he liked the soft glow.
It pushed back the shadows at night. And it reminded him of the lights that decorated the gazebo in Winchester Falls. Perfect tiny lights that could be fireflies on a hot summer night. And he tried not to think about how much those memories revolved around her.
He slowed to a walk and finally shut down the treadmill. He pounded one bottle of water and refilled another. Bent at the waist, he dragged in a lungful of air. He loathed and obsessed over running. It killed his body. His age came screaming to bear as his knees and shins reminded him that he’d bulked up too much. He was usually a steady, lean one-seventy but he’d put on over twenty pounds of muscle once he’d stopped drinking.
Without the alcohol taking up space in his belly, he’d turned to food. And if he didn’t hit the weights he’d have been in real trouble during the tour.
Now he ran to cut some of the bulk.
And to make sure he could take the damn stage without dying in a two hour set. Touring was coming up soon. The album was due to drop in May with a summer tour to follow. His body might be in fighting shape, but his mind was beyond fucked.
With infinite patience, he stretched out his muscles until another flush of sweat coated him. A fine film of snow started to fall as he finished. The quiet of snow always soothed him. Maybe if he sat in his steam shower for a few, he might just be able to blink out and sleep for a few hours.
He sucked down another bottle of water, pausing at the threshold of his master bath when his buzzer went off. “Fuck.”
He so didn’t want to deal with anyone. The intercom shrilled to life. “Mr. King? Mr. King, are you in?”
The worry in the voice made him reply. “I’m here, Henry.”
“Sir, a woman was here and I turned her away, but I think she snuck through with the Anderson girls.”
Logan sighed.
“Shall I call security up?”
“No, Henry. It’s fine. I’ll take care of it.” He swiped a towel over his chest. His address wasn’t exactly public record, but he’d lived in the village long enough that people knew the apartment and staked it out on more than one occasion. He’d contemplated upping security in the building, but Aimee had held off for months now.
Well, beyond the flowers anyway.
He just hated the idea of someone constantly hovering around him. His electronic security was top of the line and that was enough.
Usually.
His phone vibrated and jumped along his bookcase. He grabbed it as he moved to the door. Lindsey York? He hadn’t talked to her since the summer.
He frowned and opened the text message.
Sorry.
What the hell did that mean?
