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“Really. Can you show me the messages?” Todd turns the screen of his laptop my way so I can read the comments he has filtered into a single list. I read through the first few that sound vaguely familiar but nothing unusual. Until I reach a DM he has highlighted from a few weeks ago.
You’ve come a long way. Up there in Times Square like you deserve it. You don’t.
I remember reading this one. “I just thought this was from a regular troll.” I swallow the bile back down in my throat. “What happens next?” I ask with a distinct wobble to my voice.
Todd begins to pack up his things. “Well, I’m going to look into your other social media accounts, check the incoming call history on your cell over the last couple of months, to see if I can find any more hits. When did you say you moved back to Manhattan?”
I tell him the exact date I arrived back in the States. I can’t believe this has been going on for more than a few weeks.
He hoists his bag over his massive shoulder. “Good, I’ll go back probably only a couple of months prior and if I don’t find anything suspicious, I’ll concentrate on the more recent activity. Whoever this is, they don’t seem to be very sophisticated in covering their digital footprint. I’ll be in touch.” Logan sees his friend out and I hear them talking low in the hallway for a few more minutes.
When he returns, I’m standing staring out the window. My mind whirs with what ifs. Logan comes to stand at my shoulder, but not touching me.
“Are you okay?” he asks for the second time today.
I still don’t really have an adequate answer when I turn my head to face him. “I think so. It’s a lot to take in.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets, and I wish he would use them to warm me up instead.
I want to be held safely in his arms again.
I want him to wrap me in his warm embrace and chase away the cold dread that’s like ice in my veins.
I shiver.
And instead of the hug I desperately need, he says, “I’ll make a fresh pot of coffee,” then walks away leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Chapter eighteen
Logan
City lights from the nearby buildings appear muted through the rivulets of water running down the outside of the window. It started raining a couple of hours ago, soon after Allie took herself off to bed. Rain blown by the wind continues to hit the window with a soft pitter-patter. It’s a moonless wet night that suits my somber mood.
Usually, I enjoy standing here alone with my bird’s-eye view of the busy city street below. But since my night on the sofa with Allie, this room in particular holds a lot of new memories that make me feel uncomfortable.
It’s why as a general rule I don’t bring women back to my apartment. I don’t need ghostly reminders of what we did in this room when I invariably move on.
Allie is different from all the others, but still, the sentiment is the same. Every time I sit on my sofa I’ll remember. The way her soft skin felt like velvet under my touch. The way she moaned out her pleasure. The taste of her orgasm on my tongue and the way her walls squeezed my fingers so tightly. She was everything and more in those exquisite moments.
But then I had to go and ruin it all by running away the next day to the beach house.
Did I have a good reason for doing that? Not really. I’d promised Hunter a few weeks earlier that I’d help him with his new boat that’s moored not far from the beach house. But he would’ve understood if I’d canceled.
Instead, I used it as an excuse to take off without any warning. It was a bad move. She knows it and I know it. I had her trust, then went and blew it. Now she’ll always wonder if I can be counted on to be there when she needs me. I feel like I’ve failed Allie when all I wanted to do was help.
Today, sitting with her while she talked to Todd was too little, too late. I could hear the tension in her voice, see the stiffness in her posture, and her eyes narrowing when she looked at me.
I was right to not go all the way with Allie the other night, whether she believes that or not. Allie and I have been a long time coming together. Now it feels like we’re on the precipice of something real and I don’t want her past or anyone else to screw it up for us. We need to take this slowly, and what happened on the sofa was not slow.
What I don’t seem to be able to figure out with Allie is whether she’s mad at me for not fucking her or she’s angry because I disappeared the next day?
One of my many flaws is that I don’t let people in easily. I can count on one hand the people I consider close friends, excluding family members. Allie is one of that small group. Everyone else in my world is on the outer edges. Maybe it’s a glitch in my personality, but it works for me. My tough, impenetrable exterior shell has had no cracks in it until now.
After Todd left, she took herself off to her room, leaving me to fill the hours with work in my study. Then tonight I stupidly thought we might share a meal like we’ve done in the past and maybe talk about what happened between us the other night. But instead, we ate our takeaway in virtual silence, and as soon as she was done, she disappeared to her room again. It feels like this situation between us is in some ways worse than when she first moved in. At least then we were communicating even if the words weren’t exactly nice.
I pour myself another whiskey and drop into one of the single armchairs. Fuck, I can’t even bring myself to sit on my own sofa anymore. I’m pathetic.
***
