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I close my eyes as a wave of nostalgia hits me. Hearing him say the childhood nickname he gave me at the tender age of seven—when I was going through myTinkerbellstage—brings back more memories than I could count. One of them being the nickname I also gave him. Logi Bear.
Snapping myself out of that trip down memory lane, I pin him with a glare. “Don’t call me that.”
He releases a sigh. “I’m sorry. I just wish you would talk to me. I miss you so much, baby and—”
“Can we please not do this right now?” I cry. “Jesus, Logan. I just can’t, okay? It’s not the right time to talk about this.”
“And when would be the right time?” he snaps back. “When you finally decide to pry yourself away from that four-eyed freak and remember who your friends are? He seems to be the only one you will make time for anymore.”
“You’re one to talk,” I fire back. “Every time I see you now, Hadley is latched on to you like some kind of bloodthirsty leech. You don’t even sit at the same lunch table as us anymore.”
“Because I knew it made you feel uncomfortable.”
“Oh, so you thought sitting withherwould make me feel better? Wow! What a brilliant idea. I never took you for a genius, Logan. Bravo,” I respond sarcastically, with a slow clap.
“You’re not even there half the time anyway. Do you think I don’t know you’re spending half of the lunch period with Mason fucking Reynolds?”
“I’m not fucking him.”
“I’m not fucking Hadley.”
“Bullshit!” I scream. “You’re a goddam liar.”
“And so are you! I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He wants you bad, Ava.”
“No, he doesn’t,” I argue even though I know it’s a lie. “We are just friends, and even if something was going on between us, it would be none of your business anyway.”
“Like hell it isn’t,” he snarls.
I flop my head back and run my hands over my face. That lingering stress headache building in intensity and pounding in my ears. “Can we just drop this, please?” I practically beg, my energy suddenly depleted. “Please, Logan. I really can’t do this right now. Nothing is going on between Mason and me, okay? Just drop it already.”
He lets out a long sigh, but the tension radiating off him still lingers in the air. I return to gazing out the window, making a mental note to Google teleportation when I eventually get home and somehow find a way to invent it.
I wishI could say I was relieved when we finally arrived at the hospital, but the fact of the matter is I’m going from one shitstorm and heading straight into another.
We head straight to the emergency reception desk and are quickly guided down a long hall that opens up into a large treatment area with beds lined up along the room’s walls.
At this point, we no longer need the lovely nurse who has been escorting us to my mother anymore. The screaming banshee behind the closed curtains of bed number eight has made her location known, and the nurse gives us a sympathetic look before she tucks tail and runs in the other direction.
Smart woman.
“I will have you know, my husband is partners in one of the top law firms in this country,” she yells at the poor soul stuck behind the curtain with her. “And I have every intention of suing this entire hospital for emotional distress if you don’t sign those release papers now!”
“Please, Mrs. Richards. If you don’t calm down, we will have no other choice but to sedate you.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” she growls. “You come anywhere near me with one of those needles, and I will press charges against you for assault.”
Logan looks at me as we stop just outside the curtain and gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. As much as I hate him right now, I can’t deny that having him here does make me feel a bit more at ease.
Pulling the curtain back, my stomach rolls when the pungent smell of whiskey wafting in the air overwhelms my senses.
Looks like my mother hit the hard stuff today. Which would explain why she ended up here. Stepping inside, my mother’s bloodshot eyes land on mine, and my heart sinks when I spot the bandage across her forehead. She is undoubtedly drunk, but she usually doesn’t start drinking until after lunch. It’s unusual for her to start this early.
“Well, it’s about time,” she barks, her gaze softening when she spots Logan behind me. “Logan, darling. It’s so good to see you.”
“Hi, Mrs. Richards,” he greets her with a curt nod.
“Well, I’m glad you have finally come to your senses, Ava,” she points out, looking between us, and I know instantly what she is referring to.
