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I flush scarlet, ripping my eyes away from Quaid finally, to glance at the cab driver, who is staring hard at us through the rearview mirror. There's a glint in his eye that tells me he's enjoying watching us. That's enough to temporarily cool my libido.
Just then, Logan taps the trunk to get the cab driver to open it so he can put his bag away.
The cab driver mumbles something in French and then goes to help Logan load his bag.
Logan gets in the car, and he looks much happier, so much more since I first saw him. It's like there's an inner light emanating from him at twice the brightness as before.
Did he need me as much as I needed him?
I would like to think so.
Logan must notice the sexual tension still threaded throughout the cab. He grins. "What did I miss?"
Now it's my turn to groan and settle myself back in my seat. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."
"I believe we have all summer for that to change," Quaid whispers in my ear, and I cover my face, sure that I'm about to combust.
We stop at Quaid's hotel next, and he gives me a wink before strolling inside.
I turn and look at Logan. "I'm scared I'll wake up and this will just be a dream," I whisper to him.
"Me too," he responds, and we're quiet for the rest of the time as we wait, both lost in our thoughts.
Quaid comes out with his bag. When he's almost to the cab, he stops and rolls his shoulder, an annoyed, pained look on his face.
"He was hurt pretty bad, wasn't he?" I ask Logan softly as I watch him, concerned.
"It was a pretty bad injury, but he could get back to playing shape with enough work. Or at least, that's what I've read," says Logan.
"You've kept up with him too then," I comment.
He makes a noncommittal sound.
"Is he going to lose his chance to play by being here? Am I ruining his career?"
Quaid resumes walking to the car, and the cab driver again rushes out to help him.
"I think that Quaid might have been in danger of losing more than his career before he got that letter," Logan finally comments after a long pause.
"What does that mean?" I ask worriedly.
"Just a feeling I've gotten," he answers, scooting over as Quaid gets in and effectively stops the conversation.
Quaid and Logan chat about random things as we drive to my hotel. I don't think I'm ever going to stop being surprised at how easily we've fallen back together.
Or at least how easily Quaid, Logan, and I seem to have fallen back together.
A sick feeling builds in my stomach when I think about Carter. I knew Carter would be harder. He's always been harder. My betrayal was just another knife wound to Carter's ability to trust, and I'm not sure that three months is enough to heal that wound.
With Carter, it's not about wanting him to fall back in love with me before I die, it's just wanting him to not hate me.
That might be too much to ask.
I think of my father's words again about soulmates. And I wonder, not for the first time, if it's possible to do so much damage to that connection that it's ruined forever.
I just pray that I haven't done that. That me lying now won't do that.
My prayers now don't involve me getting better, I've given up on that. They all involve the hope that after the guys have lived a long and successful life, that I'll be able to reunite with them in whatever is waiting for me when I die.
