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“Logan,” I whisper. I open my mouth, almost choking on the words, but am interrupted by a loudbang. I duck as Logan wraps his body around mine, pressing me deeper into the cab of the truck.
“Fuck!” he shouts, clinging to me tightly. “Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters, his arms banded so tightly around me, I feel like I might snap in half. The sound of an old truck sputtering and then driving away penetrates through the tension.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, trying to free my hands to push him away. He holds me tighter and it’s then I notice that his body is shaking,hard.“Logan,” I call his name, again and again, but he doesn’t respond or let go. I realize that for him, that sound must have been triggering. I don’t know why or what his story is, but suddenly, I need to know. I need to know everything about him. “Logan,” I say softer, soothingly. “Baby, everything’s fine. It was just a truck backfiring.”
Still, nothing.
So, I let him hold me. I rock our bodies back and forth the best I can in his death grip. I hum quietly under my breath, a Portuguese song my mom used to sing to us when we were little. His body relaxes slightly, but he doesn’t release me. Instead, he burrows his face in my neck.
My father has PTSD from the war, and I’ve been around plenty of times for his flashbacks and panic attacks. I’m not sure what Logan’s been through, but I’m pretty sure that’s what’s happening here.
The feeling of this hulking man, wrapped around me and seeking comfort, shifts something in me. It feels right.He feels right.Down to the marrow of my bones, Logan Huxley in my arms feels perfectly, unbelievably right. I want him. I want this. All I can do is hope and pray that when I tell him my secret, he’ll still want me, too.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, but then Porkchop’s there, nudging her body against his legs as she whines. She probes and prods, trying to coax him away from me, or maybe, she’s trying to comfort him. I’m not sure. She’s always been good at knowing when I’m upset and plopping her body on mine, like a weighted blanket.
Something in her actions must finally get through to him, because only a short minute later, Logan’s releasing me. Slowly, he pulls back, his eyes somewhat frantic as he searches my body, and then my face. I’m not completely positive, but I think he’s checking me for injury. I smile at him reassuringly, letting him do his inspection. I have so many questions, but I bite my tongue, knowing it’s most definitely not the time for an inquisition.
“We’re okay,” I say instead. “We’re all good.”
He nods and steps away, saying nothing. Bending down, he pats my dog’s head, letting her nuzzle his hand for a moment before pulling back. “I need to go figure things out. I’ll be back.” Then he turns and walks into my house, like the last twenty minutes never even happened.
Chapter Ten
I’mnotsurehowmuch time passes while I wait for Logan to come back out, but I get lost in my head, thinking about everything he’d done and said. Everything that’s happened since waking up this morning. I’m finding it extremely difficult to wrap my brain around all of it. How did we go from arguing on day one, to a silent yet comfortable existence for the last few weeks, tothis?It seriously makes no sense.
This gives zero to sixty, a whole new meaning.
At some point, the sound of the front door closing pulls me from my wayward and confusing thoughts. Turning, I find Logan storming down my walkway, his arms full of crap. No, not just crap.Mycrap. Throwing the door open, I jump out and barrel towards him.
“What are you doing with all my stuff?” I snap, counting the number of bags tossed over his broad shoulders. There are six. No,seven.Four overnight bags and three totes. Every single one of them is stuffed to the brim. Logan says nothing as he pushes past me and opens the back door of the truck, tossing everything inside. “Logan!” I cry out, my hands flying in the air.
Stupid, pig-headed, good for nothing—
“You’re staying with me. Get in.” His barked command is emphasized by the sound of the door slamming shut. As if his point was made and he expects it to be a done deal, he circles the truck and climbs into the driver’s seat.
Nerves race through my body, culminating in the pit of my stomach and making me feel ill, but I push past the feeling. I shoot a glare in his direction and cross my arms over my chest. My feet stay rooted to the spot as I refuse his demand. Looking up, I see my dog staring at me from the bed of the truck. Her head cocks as though she knows there’s about to be a showdown.
“I’m notstaying with you.”I can’t. I’ll fall even more for you. I won’t be able to come back from it.
Logan lets out a growl that goes straight to my clit. “Get in the fucking truck, Shiloh.”
“No!” I stomp my foot, shooting daggers at the smug jerk.
“Yes!” he snaps back, climbing from the truck. He leans against the hood, his face a mask of irritation.
“I don’t want to.”I want to more than anything, but then you’ll find out that we have no future.
“You can’t stay here.” Logan throws an angry hand at my house as though the structure personally offended him.
“I’ll stay somewhere else.”I have nowhere to go.
Sighing, he spears his fingers through his wild curly locks, and squeezes his eyes shut as he mutters something. It sounds a whole lot likeLord, give me the patience to not strangle her,but the words get lost in the wind, so really, he could have said anything.
“Come home with me,” he says, his voice gentling as he adds, “Please let me take care of you, Shiloh.”
Well, that sounds kind of nice.
My eyes flit to the back where all my bags are as my resolve waivers. “What did you even pack?” I mumble, feeling myself about to give in.
