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“This is Logan,” Aern explained. “He’s going to be staying with you until …” Somewhere in the back of my mind, Aern’s words were slowly filtering through, but I couldn’t register their meaning. I couldn’t even manage to form a thought. I couldn’t do anything except stare at the chiseled features of the man six feet away from me.
My chest tightened past the point of breathing, but my heart pounded against it nonetheless. It was him. I stared at the sandy blond hair, sun-kissed complexion, and deep whiskey eyes. I had seen them a hundred times; I would know them anywhere. It was him. Not in a vision, but here, in my room, in flesh and blood.Him.
“Brianna,” Aern said anxiously, and I tore my gaze, my very focus, away from its target to look at him.
Concern was plain on his face, and I abruptly returned to myself.
“Did you hear me?” he asked.
I shook my head, took a breath.Oh God, was my mouth still hanging open?I cleared my throat. “Sorry. What?”
His gaze narrowed, but he kept talking. “This is Logan. He’s going to stay with you.”
Logan.Logan. I finally had a name. My eyes were back on his now, I should be saying something.
Suddenly, Aern’s words sank in and I was standing. “He’s going to be watching me?”
“If that’s all right with you,” Aern explained. He glanced at the man, Logan, and shrugged his shoulder when he saw the one raised brow. Aern looked back at me. “He’s the only one I trust, Brianna.”
I nodded. “Yeah, no, it’s fine.”Fine?They were staring at me. I wanted to start all over. More than anything, I wanted another try. Or to hyperventilate. That would work, too.
“Have you been eating?” Aern asked.
The question threw me. And then my gaze betrayed me, flicking quickly toward the covered dishes on the side table.
Aern sighed. “Brianna, you can’t do this.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but it didn’t matter that I wasn’t doing it on purpose.
He pointed at a chair and said, “Sit.” I did as he asked, trying my best not to gawk at the other man in the room. The Logan. A short, breathless laugh escaped and Aern stopped what he was doing to glance at me. I smiled, hoping it didn’t appear as manic as it felt, and he returned to setting the table with my lunch, only shaking his head a little at my erratic behavior.
I watched them as they swept the room, discussing the existing and possible security measures. Aern’s arms were crossed, his gaze frequently coming back to meet mine, but I couldn’t look away.
I picked at the sandwich—prosciutto, oil, and cheese, now lukewarm—but I could barely taste it. He was roughly Aern’s height, but stouter. Or maybe he only seemed so in his dark, military style cargo pants and black T-shirt. There was a nylon belt crossing his waist, and it struck me where I’d seen a similar outfit. I struggled against the bite I’d taken, throat suddenly thick.
I’d forgotten about my attacker. I’d forgotten why this man was here.
To protect me.
I stared at him anew. He might have been the man from my visions, but he was a stranger. I knew nothing about him, and he … well, he would be even less acquainted with me.
The two men gripped each other’s forearms, and my stomach clenched. There was some unspoken message there, some entreaty, some promise, and then it was gone, their connection broken as they turned back to the room.
Logan stepped into the hall to speak with the guards, and Aern sat in the chair opposite me. “Are you well, Brianna?”
“Yes,” I said automatically. He watched me for a moment to be certain I wouldn’t change my answer.
“All right, then.” He stood, placing a hand on my shoulder and looking down at me. “You know how to reach me.”
I smiled. “I have your number.”
The corner of his mouth turned up and he patted my back on his way past. When he reached the door, he called over his shoulder, “Get some rest, Brianna.”
I turned, smiling, and caught Logan coming back into the room.
The intimacy of the smile meant for Aern suddenly felt awkward now, aimed at the familiar stranger, and it faltered, leaving an uncomfortable pause between me and this man who would be my babysitter. ThisLogan.
I cleared my throat, pointed toward the bedroom. “I’m going to lie down.”
He nodded, but said nothing until I’d crossed the room and my hand touched the brass lever.
“Brianna.”
He spoke to my back, but the sound of my name sounded different somehow; weightier, sweeter, moreright, in his voice. I didn’t turn around.
“I’d rather you left the door open, if that’s all right with you.”
My fingers slipped off the lever and I glanced back, only briefly, as I walked into the darkness of my room.
