“You don’t have to tell me everything. But you can’t hold back from me.”
She lets me go and steps back, her breath rushing from her. I can feel the blast of it against my chin. “You mean like you’re holding back from me.”
I jerk her back to me, and she pushes away. She’s irked. I try to explain. “If I ever get to f**king be inside you, I want to know what to call you. I want to at least know your name. Because when that happens, you’re going to f**king own me.” I tip her face up so she’s looking at me. “Do you understand?”
She looks unsure.
“You’re going to own me.” I jerk her h*ps to mine, letting her feel how much I want her. “And there’s nothing I want more.”
I step back, brush her hair from her face, and open the door, tugging her by her fingertips until she follows me. She’s dragging. She tugs on my hand until I look at her.
“I want everything you want,” she says. She’s not looking me in the eye. So, I wait for her eyes to open. They finally do. She meets my gaze. “I do want everything you want. I just can’t have it.”
I lay her hand on my chest, and spread her fingers over my heart. “You already have me.” I laugh. “You had me from that first moment in the shop.” I hold up my arm, so she can look closely at her tat. “I’m wearing your f**king brand, damn it.” I tip her face up to mine. “What are you afraid of? You’re hiding from something. I know it. But I don’t know what.”
She bites her lower lip between her teeth and worries it. I tug it free with my thumb and lean down, sucking it between my lips. She steps onto her tiptoes and growls against my lips. I set her back and away from me, and I can feel the rumble in her chest as she moves.
“I’ll tell you. I can’t tell you everything. But I can tell you some of it,” she says.
My heart swells. I take her hand and lead her into the apartment. The whole place is quiet. Everyone is already in bed. “Want to take a shower?” I ask her. She sweated the night away.
“I thought you wanted to talk,” she says, looking everywhere but at me.
“I do.” And I don’t. Now I’m really afraid. “Take a shower and then we can talk until the sun comes up, if you want.”
She nods and bites her lower lip, which sends a kick straight to my gut. Then she turns from me. Suddenly she spins back. She grins and jerks her thumb toward the bathroom. “You want to join me in the shower so we can talk in there?”
Something tells me that if we end up in the shower, we won’t be doing much talking. “We’ll talk when you get out.”
Her bottom lip pokes out. But then she shrugs and says, “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
Emily
I shower quickly, trying to put my thoughts in order. I have to be really careful about what I tell Logan, mainly because there are so many people looking for me. I still see the lost posters at times. And there are news blasts sometimes with pictures of the old me. They’re of the me who had dark blond hair, pretty headbands, and shoes that cost more than the Reeds’ monthly budget. I ignore them, telling myself that person no longer exists. It’s easier that way.
I miss home with the longing of a toothache. But I’ve been gone so long now that I can’t go back. I left out of anger. And I can’t go home out of shame or necessity. I will only go home when I’m strong enough to stand up for myself. And I haven’t felt like that for quite some time.
I wrap a towel around my head and one around my body, and I step into the bedroom. Logan’s reclining on the bed wearing nothing but his boxers. He tosses me a clean shirt, and I pull it over my head. He closes his eyes as I slide his shirt on and step into my panties. I can hear the hiss of his heavy breaths across the room, and it’s a heady feeling to know how I affect him.
“You still want to talk?” I ask. “Or are you too tired?” I shake out my hair and run a comb through it.
“There’s no way you’re taking back your offer,” he warns. “You can’t tease me like that.”
I laugh. “I’m not taking it back. I just thought you might want to wait until tomorrow.”
He sits up and crosses his legs in front of him. I crawl onto the bed and mirror his position.
His gaze darts down to my panties, where he can probably see the strip of fabric between my legs. But I still sit criss-cross-applesauce. He groans. “You’re killing me here.”
I tug his shirt down over my knees. “You’re making me spill my guts. You can take some torture, too.” I glare at him until his gaze becomes indecipherable. “What is it?” I ask.
He heaves a sigh.
I hold up a hand to stop his melancholy mood. “If you could do anything, what would it be?” I ask.
His brows shoot up. “We’re supposed to be talking about you.”
“We will,” I warn. “I promise. Just tell me, if you could do anything, what would you do?”
He doesn’t even blink. But his eyes darken, and he says, “I’d lay you down, move your panties to the side and slide inside you.”
I freeze. My gut clenches and my belly quivers and my face heats up. I want what he wants. I want it so badly.
He laughs. “Oh, you meant the thing I want second-best?”
“That’ll do,” I croak.
“I’d go back to college,” he says over his laughter.
“Back to college? When were you in college?”
He scrubs a hand down his face. “Before Matt got sick. I had a scholarship.”
“But you had to come back home because of Matt and his cancer?” I lay a hand on my chest. My heart is breaking for this family. For Logan.
He shrugs. “We had to get some loans against the shop to pay for his treatment. And then he couldn’t keep doing tats because of the germs. So, we couldn’t pay the loans. Pete and Sam weren’t old enough to work there. Not doing tats.”
“What school did you go to?” I ask.
“NYU.” His brows furrow. “Why does any of his matter?”
“You gave up your scholarship for Matt. For your family.”
He shakes his head. “I got a deferment. I didn’t give up. I can go back once things are good here.”
“Did it cost a lot of money for Matt’s treatment?”
He nods. But he doesn’t elaborate. I can guess what a lot of money is to them.
“I wanted to do that, too,” I say quietly. No one knows this. No one else knows I had dreams once. “Well, not to NYU. I wanted to go to Julliard. But my dad said it was a worthless endeavor and he refused to pay for it.” I hold up a finger when he opens his mouth to protest. “But he was willing to pay for a wedding that cost four times what Julliard ever would.” I shake my head.
Logan looks a bit shell shocked. “A wedding?” he asks.
I nod, looking up at him from beneath lowered lashes.
His breath hitches. “Please tell me you’re not married.”
I shake my head. “No. That’s why I’m here.” I scoot forward so my knees are touching his. I don’t touch him anywhere else. But I need a connection with him. “My father arranged a marriage for me. That’s all I was good for, being on the arm of a senator or a high powered attorney. I had no worth of my own, aside from being someone’s arm piece. Since I can’t read, that was supposed to be my future.”
“But you said no.”
I nod. “I said no. And he didn’t like it. So, he went on without me. The wedding was planned. The dress was purchased. The church was decorated.”
His brows shoot toward the ceiling. “But you ran away.”
I nod, biting my lower lip. He pulls it free with the pad of his thumb and strokes across it. I kiss his thumb, and he leans back. “I ran away,” I confirm. “On the morning of the wedding, I ran away. I took a bus from home to here.”
“With nothing.”
I show him my empty hands. “I took some clothes, my guitar, and bus fare.”
“Where are you from?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I can’t tell you.” Yet. I know I’ll tell him eventually. But I can’t risk him calling my family. I can’t risk them finding out where I am. My father is one of the richest men in the country. He would spare no expense in bringing me home.”
He nods. He’s not happy about it, but he understands. “Julliard, huh?” he asks, smiling. His thumb trails across the back of my hand.
“Julliard,” I say with a smile. “I struggle with reading,” I admit. “But Julliard didn’t care. I even auditioned for them without him knowing. They wanted me. And offered special services for my dyslexia. But my dad found it to be a worthless endeavor. He’s of the opinion that I can’t learn. Anything.”
“Your dad is an idiot.” Logan says it deadpan.
I laugh. It’s a watery sound. He believes in me. Logan believes I could do it.
“What’s stopping you from going now?”
“My social security number,” I explain. “My father is looking for me. And I’m afraid he’ll force me back there if he knows where I am. He can track my movements if I go to the doctor or get a bank account or register for school.”
Logan shakes his head. “You’re an adult. You’re not under your father’s thumb.”
“I know.” I’m starting to realize that. “I don’t think I’ll ever go back.”
“Do you miss them? Your family?”
I miss them like crazy. “Almost every day.”
“Your dad?”
I nod.
“Your mom?”
I nod, and tears prick at my lashes when I think of her. But she didn’t help me when I begged and pleaded for her to do so. She sided with my father.
“Siblings?” he asks.
I shake my head. “My parents didn’t have more children. I’m their only one. Poor things got gypped, huh?”
“Don’t say that,” he warns sharply.
“It’s the truth. I’ve never been what they wanted.”
“What did they want?”
Someone else. “Someone who can read. Follow in their footsteps. Someone who doesn’t struggle to read street signs or financial statements. I can’t do any of those things.”
“Have they ever seen you play?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Not like I played tonight.”
“Then they’re even bigger idiots than I thought. You were amazing tonight. You had the crowd eating out of the palm of your hand.”
“Thank you for saying that.”
His eyes narrow. “It’s the truth.”
“I appreciate you so much,” I say. I know I’ve only known him for a few days, but it feels like forever. “Did I tell you enough?” I ask.
“Not by a long shot,” he says with a laugh. “I want to know everything.”
Maybe someday. “Can we take this slow?”
I can’t give him enough info that he could contact my parents. Because I’m afraid he would, thinking he was helping me.