AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I cross my legs trying not to think about the possibilities. What were we talking about again? My mind jumps back into this moment after taking a short, dreamy detour.
“We probably got angry with Hunter because he was always getting killed quickly. You remember how hopeless he was at Call of Duty.”
Logan’s smile transforms his entire face. He really is incredibly good-looking when he isn’t scowling. Is that indent in his left cheek a dimple? I’d forgotten about Logan’s dimple.
It would be so easy to fall for Logan when he’s like this.
Chapter ten
Allie
Freshly brewed coffee wafts up from the coffee maker I’ve just turned on. Why is it that coffee always smells better first thing in the morning? Or maybe it’s just today it smells extra good. Last night’s dinner with Logan was an unexpected treat. Surprising, because who knew Logan can cook, but what was even more amazing was his pleasant, comfortable conversation. I find myself becoming more attracted to him by the day now his people skills have improved. I always thought he was easy on the eyes and at one point he was fun to hang out with.
Ever since his apology after his overbearing behavior that night at the bar, it feels like he’s been making an extra effort to act like a reasonable human being again. We’ve slipped into a routine that works. He has put his usual grumpy self aside and I can be my naturally optimistic self without condemnation. He’d call it my Miss Sunshine attitude, and I like the nickname he’s adopted for me. For the first time in years, our banter is fun and lighthearted rather than toxic bordering on mean.
On autopilot, I grab my unicorn mug from the cupboard and a plain black one for Logan. When I’ve filled my mug with steamy dark liquid, leaving his empty, I hold it up to my nose and breathe in. Delicious. This is a habit I just can’t break. I love the strong bitterness; it’s like my version of smelling salts and one of life’s little pleasures. When my lungs are filled with the glorious scent, I top the mug off with a dash of creamer, and my mind moves on to my plans for the day as I pull out one of the barstools at the counter.
Today, I’m meeting three of my closest modeling friends for lunch and I’ll be asking them to be the promotional faces for my business launch. I’m sure they’ll agree, no questions asked, but I’m also hoping they’ll have some great ideas for the studio’s launch. Between them, they have years of fashion industry experience that I can tap into.
From down the hall, I hear the faint sounds of a shower being turned on. A visual of Logan standing naked under the spray of water pops into my head. This is a recent development and one of the consequences of spending time with the new improved nicer version of the man. Thoughts of him are infiltrating my head more frequently than ever before.
Back in high school I often imagined Logan and I together but as I got older, those romantic schoolgirl fantasies faded. Now they’re back and not just as late-night musings when I’m lying in bed alone. The difference this time is that I can’t stop myself from thinking of him naked in the shower, or in his bed down the hallway doing wild sexy things to me.
The first sip of coffee hits my taste buds and I force my dirty mind back onto my plans for the day. Brushing the hair back from my face, I unlock my cell and go straight to the messages. A private number text grabs my attention first.
I know who you really are! And soon you’ll pay.
The cell phone slips through my limp fingers, clattering against the cold granite countertop. A tsunami of shame washes over me and I’m thrown instantly back to a time that I’ve spent years trying to forget. My happiness leaches from my body so suddenly I nearly black out. I slump down over the counter, my cheek pressed to the cool stone.
No, no, no, runs on repeat through my head.
The specific words I know who you really are trigger thoughts that are best left locked away. Words that remind me of a different life, a different place, and a different time. When I first discovered the safe loving family I thought I had wasn’t what it seemed. Instead, it was a carefully crafted blanket of lies, woven tightly together with threads of deception and duplicity.
Memories pushed down into the far recesses of my mind are now rearing up like a monster from the deep, filling me with fear and threatening to destroy the life I fought so hard to build. The person I’ve created from the ashes of a childhood that turned out to be completely fake.
Please don’t let those words mean anything. I send out a silent prayer to the universe, hoping that somehow this time my world won’t crumble around me.
How could anyone really know the truth? I’ve told no one, not even Katie and Sarah. Nobody knows.
Still, the fear clutches at my heart, squeezing tightly and I can’t catch my breath. I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of lies. I wrap my fingers around the edge of the countertop in a vice-like grip, hoping the solidness of the granite will center me. Remembering to use the yoga techniques I’ve learned to calm me when I feel overwhelmed.
Slowly. Breath. In and out. In and out. I focus on these safe words as they run through my head repeatedly.
“Morning, Sunshine.” My head jolts up. Logan has just walked into the kitchen, his hands winding the blue silk strip of his tie into a perfect knot. I focus my eyes on his hands until they freeze, mid-wrap.
“Allie, what’s wrong?”
My eyes rise slowly to meet his, and a little of the fog of fear that grips my body is slowly released at the reassuring sound of his deep voice. He steps closer. “Seriously, what’s up?” he persists. I sit up straight, trying to pull myself together. I’ve held tightly onto my secret for so long, I can do it again.
I clear my throat. “Sorry …” I stutter out past the hard lump of fear still wedged in my windpipe. “Ahem, really it’s nothing.”
His head tilts to the side and he leans toward me, his hands brace against the counter, only inches from mine.
Panic has my heart racing as I try to think of what to say. “Really … it’s nothing,” I stutter, then clearing my throat, continue. “It’s just a nasty text message from an unknown caller.” I close my eyes briefly and take a deep breath before continuing. “I get these sometimes when I do a big campaign. People can be really horrible. It feels like the social media zombie apocalypse has been woken from the dead and they have one goal. To destroy me.” I know I’m rambling, but it’s hard to stop when he looks at me so intently. The dark intensity of his eyes, filled with questions, is not diluted by his glasses this morning.
A frown draws his eyebrows together and a muscle twitches at the corner of his left eye. A familiar sign of tension in him. “What did the message say?” he asks in a calm clear voice that cuts through the roaring in my ears and the pounding in my chest.
I slide my cell across the countertop for him to read the text himself. It can’t hurt, and saying those words out loud is impossible. I don’t even want to look at them again.
