Page 27 of Embattled Return

Logan didn’t go very far. He knew he was probably overreacting to Marigold’s words. She was young and had no idea how many men were left by women in the military.

Amber, his ex, had texted him that they were breaking up. At first, he’d laughed. The laughter had faded when she’d reiterated her position that they would be better off apart. Logan had been in Walter Reed at that time, unable to walk from the injuries to his legs. He was, quite literally, about to undergo his tenth surgery at the time. Logan had been in shock for the better part of a week, not understanding how the woman he’d loved had turned on him so thoroughly. It wasn’t until a week later that he realized how royally Amber had fucked him. When he’d been deployed, he’d given her access to his accounts for shared living costs. They’d been living together at the time, for more than a year. By the time Logan had realized she was still using the account, she’d taken almost thirty thousand dollars. Logan had immediately messaged her, asking her what the hell she’d been thinking. Her response had been that the money had been for pain and suffering as she got over their broken engagement.

Logan had had to have a hospital liaison investigate whether or not he could file charges on her. He could, but it would have been an uphill battle proving that she wasn’t allowed to have the money since he hadn’t taken her off the account when he’d returned to the states, regardless of the fact that he was drugged into a coma because of the burns on his legs. Rather than engage in a lengthy civil court battle, he wrote off the money as a hard learning experience. The retirement account was untouched and he had a small savings account she hadn’t known about. He would be fine as long as didn’t live beyond his means. The biggest expense he had right now was the hotel.

Logan wasn’t surprised when Marigold slipped onto the stool beside him. Of course, she chose his damaged side. Logan knew she deserved an explanation. He’d kind of gone off on her.

“My fiancée screwed me over when I came back from deployment,” he admitted. “It’s still a little raw. Sorry I snapped.”

“I’m sorry I probed,” she murmured. “I didn’t know.”

He shrugged, drawing on the straw of his ice water. He’d realized when his head started to swim that he needed to lay off the beer. It was a bad idea to drink it anyway considering some of the pain meds he was on, and the company he was in.

His father had always complained that the Army had done him dirty, looking for a reason to discharge him for being injured on the job. He’d thrown out his back lifting a crate, or something. The reasoning just didn’t hold water, though. The military dealt with thousands of soldiers injured on the job. What was one more? According to his father, when they’d done a random search, they had found a pain pill in his pocket. Logan had always thought there was more to the story, though.

Logan thought they discharged him because of the addictive personality he had. At home, when Dad ran out of pills to treat his ‘bad back’, he’d moved onto alcohol. And their lives had been hell. They’d always struggled for money and food because first priority had always been liquor to control their father’s pain. Because when he was in pain, he was an abusive asshole.

Logan did not want to follow in his footsteps in any way, shape or form.

“I need to clarify, too, though,” she continued, voice hesitant, “that I don’t believe your scars are as bad as you think. So, I didn’t honestly think it would be enough reason to cause a breakup.”

Logan felt his face flush and he clenched his jaw. Why did she have to keep at him?

“They’re bad enough,” he snapped.

One of her hands rested on his right wrist. “They’re not. I promise you.”

Logan was shocked speechless as she leaned against him and rested her lips against his rough cheek. Her warm breath tickled the hair at his ear. “I promise,” she whispered.

Her voice and movement sent chills up the right side of his body. It made the skin on his lower leg and thigh hurt as it tried to respond the same way as the rest of his body. Logan drew in a sharp breath and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Why did you do that?”

If she gave him some bullshit response about his ego or some shit...

“Because I wanted to. You smell...” she paused, her nose burying behind his ear. “Well, you smell like something I want a candle of.”

Those damn goosebumps erupted in another wave down his body, sending sharp awareness throughout. Logan closed his eyes as he savored the reaction of his body. It was startling, feeling something so pleasurable. His life had been made of pain for so long, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to feel excitement, and arousal.

It scared him how much that single touch rocked him.

Pull away, damn it, he pleaded with her, then was almost gutted when she did. Her brilliant green eyes had gone dark and she blinked a few times before she met his gaze. “Sorry,” she murmured, her voice husky. “I don’t know why...”

Marigold sat back in her chair and her hand left his wrist. Logan didn’t know whether to curse or cry in relief. His body was ricocheting from pleasure to fear to pain and excitement. It had been so long since he’d felt a woman’s touch... even before his fiancée had thrown him over, he’d been on deployment for almost a year.

Logan was intrigued in spite of himself. That was desire he’d seen in her expression, he would bet money on it. Did cripples turn her on? Or was she one of those few people actually able to look past the exterior. She was so young...

“How old are you, Marigold?”

She snorted. “Think I don’t know what I’m doing? I actually do. I’m twenty-four.”

Fuck. She was a year older than he was. He frowned, trying to reorder his thoughts. The arguments about her age just went out the window and he wasn’t sure what he was left with.

“If you want to get out of here we can,” she said eventually. “I can take you back to the hotel or we can swing by my apartment building and talk to my landlady.

That had been one of the things he’d been out here mulling. His money wasn’t going to last forever and if he could save a few bucks on the hotel, it might be worth it. “If you don’t mind, can we swing by your place? I’ll pay for gas.”

She waved a hand, her naturally painted nails catching the light. “I’m not worried about that. I’ll charge it to John,” she grinned, leaning in to brush his arm conspiratorially.

Slipping off the stool, she pulled on her jacket. When she struggled a little, he reached out and adjusted the arm for her. That shocked him a little, because he’d been in his own head for so long that other people’s struggles never even occurred to him. Why was he so conscious of her?

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