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“You’re fucking joking, right?” I was hysterical. Any hope of staying calm that may have clung to my nerves had flown away with the words. “We just fucked back there and left this place open to an attack and you don’t think this was my fault?”
“Our.” Logan ran soft, even circles on the center of my upper back, keeping his breathing even with the movements. In any other circumstance, that would calm my anxiety. It would make the feeling that my chest was going to burst subside. It would’ve centered me.
I needed him to panic. “Excuse me?” I sucked in a deep breath, closing my eyes and pressing the pads of my pointer finger and thumb against them until white stars danced behind my eyelids.
“I said our. It was our fault.” He stared at me. I wanted to slap him. Would he stop looking so calm if I did?
“What the fuck ever, Logan. What do we do?”
I didn’t wait for him to answer before I jumped up from the ground, rushing to the register. As suspected, the drawer that would’ve held the cash for the night was gone. A fresh rush of panic pumped through my veins.
The world spun. I couldn’t breathe. The lights dimmed.
Closing my eyes, I braced myself against the solid wood of the counter. The wood that was now tainted with the reminder of the man’s threat. I regretted again that I didn’t tell someone the man was becoming a problem. I could handle it on my own.
I thought I could handle it on my own.
I grabbed a rag, dropping it on the counter briefly before Logan hurried over and snatched it from me. “What are you doing? We’re calling the police.”
“Logan. This was our fault!”
He scoffed. “We did something stupid, but this”—he gestured around at the damage—“wasn’t our fault.”
Nothing could stop the wave of tears that flooded down my cheeks. I closed my eyes again, dropping my head back, and when my knees started to buckle, I prepared myself to hit the floor. I braced for the sharp pain of shards of glass cutting through denim and sore knees.
When I didn’t hit the ground, my eyes widened. Logan wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled my neck, bringing me close to him. He shook like me, but he tightened his hold as if he didn’t feel the same crippling terror.
His shirt soaked up my tears when I pressed my face against his chest. Logan cradled the back of my head, gently running his fingers through my hair and shushing my whimpers. When he dialed 911, I listened as the phone rang before the operator picked up. He was calm when he told her about the damage, that someone had come in and vandalized the bar.
Logan reassured the woman the bar was empty now and we were safe, but I didn’t feel comforted when she said the police were on the way. What were we going to tell them? That I’d spit in a man’s face less than twenty-four hours ago, so he’d come back and trashed the bar today?
He tucked his phone into his pocket. “I need to call Auston too.” It was the first time he had sounded scared, and my stomach sank.
“I’m going to lose my job.” I looked at Logan. “I’m definitely going to have to move back.”
I tried to pull back when he tightened his hold, flattening me against his chest. “You’re not losing anything. Not this job. Not your home in Grand Rapids. Not me.”
The glass shattered on the ground around me felt like a warning for what would come, and I closed my eyes. Until the sound of approaching sirens broke the silence, I focused on the muscles rippling in Logan’s arms and his even breaths on the loose hairs on the back of my neck. I couldn’t be so sure that I wouldn’t lose him, but I sank into the temporary comfort of his promise.
Chapter 31
Logan
The officers that showed up at Pour Decisions weren’t like the ones in any of the TV shows I’d ever seen. They scanned the bar, taking note of the damage and whispering to each other. One approached Simone, his posture towering over hers. She didn’t look scared. Instead, she shrunk in on herself as if she were ashamed.
Simone followed the officer to a spot against the counter, while the officer that introduced himself as Sheriff Roans pointed to the booth we stood by. I sat, telling him about every detail. I told him about the man that had come in more than once and his veiled threats, and I told him about the way we hadn’t heard anything.
“So, let’s get this straight,” he said, rubbing his temple. “You didn’t hear any of the breaking glass or furniture or talking because you were in the closet having sex?”
Watching Simone blush let me know they were asking her the same questions. I ached to wrap my arms around her. I wanted to know how hard her heart was beating, having to share her shame with the officer. I wanted to feel how much shame she had towards me.
I gulped and nodded, returning my attention to Sheriff Roans. “Yes, sir.”
I hadn’t heard Auston walk in the front door. “Excuse me?” He was angry, and when I turned around to face him, his arms were crossed in front of his chest. “You want to tell me why I got a call the bar was vandalized, only to find out it was because you were fucking the bartender you claim to hate?”
“Look—”
He shook his head and walked away, not waiting for my response. Next to me, Sheriff Roans cleared his throat, but my eyes locked on Simone. She moved her hand to wipe a tear from her cheek, and my thumb twitched. When she glanced up and met my gaze, she quickly looked away, directing her attention back to the writing on the bar. She cringed.
