Page 90 of A Dash of You

I’m unable to speak as I peer over his shoulder.

“Sora. Your keys.”

Finally snapping back, I dig inside my small bag for the duplex keys. When I find them, I place them in his outstretched hand.

“Stay here,” he commands, then turns, making his way to unlock the door.

Stay here. Yeah right.

I follow close behind, Logan cursing when he notices. “I’m coming. Deal with it,” I bite back.

He goes first, flicking on the light, and I let out a horrid scream. At the back door, Fred peeks in through the window with his tiny ears. Jesus, who knew an adorable, fuzzy creature, could also be so terrifying.

When Logan opens the balcony doors, Fred scurries away, and Logan checks over the railing. “The loud bang was the trashcan falling.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “Fucking Fred,” I curse, holding my chest.

Logan comes back inside, locking the door. “I’ll let you get some rest.”

I go to tell him goodnight but nausea swirls in the pit of my stomach and I take off for the bathroom, barely making it before my stomach empties into the bowl.

Great.

With my hair being swept up, Logan’s hand rubs circles on my back.

When my stomach finally stops hating me, I rest my arm on the seat, laying my forehead down. “They just keep coming, don’t they?” I ask, not having the strength to lift my head.

“What’s that?”

“The mortifying moments between us. I’m a magnet for disaster.”

Logan says nothing. He just continues to hold my hair, but I muster up what little strength I have left and lift my head. It’s official, Logan has seen me at my absolute worst.

I’m now seated in front of the tub, my back resting against the cold finish. “Do you like her?” I let the alcohol speak for me.

“Who?” Logan peers down at me, appearing like a giant.

My neck strains upward to see him. How does he do that? Make every room smaller. “Claire. Do you have feelings for her?”

His eyes narrow. “No, Sora. I don’t have feelings for Claire.”

I try to find a hint of lie behind his words, but there’s nothing. He’s perfectly still, without a tick of guilt.

“But you two have a song,” I groan.

A song!I want to yell.

“We were kids. Our fathers were good friends. They used to play music at her dad’s farm, and we danced. It’s nothing.” Still no emotion behind his words.

That’s good. But the thought of her witnessing Logan growing and maturing into the man he is now made me loatheher even more. She got to be there for him at his happiest moments and possibly his saddest ones.

“She’s pretty and must be smart if she has her own business. You two would make a great couple.” Saying that aloud makes me want to empty my stomach again.

“Are you finished?” He crouches down, and I can’t help my body’s response. It’s betraying.

“With puking? Yes. But—”

“Good.” He snakes one arm around my back and the other under my knees, effortlessly lifting me like he has done before.

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