Page 29 of Logan
And you don't even care
I'm heavily broken
And I don't know what to do
Can't you see that I'm choking
And I can't even move
‘Heavily Broken’ - The Veronicas
I look at myself in the dressing room mirror, and for a second, I almost do not recognize the woman staring back. She looks bolder, sharper, more dangerous than the one who walked in here a few hours ago.
My hair is loose tonight, falling in soft waves that frame my face and cascade down my back. Every movement makes them shift and catch the light, and I know the effect is deliberate. My eyes are outlined in a thick sweep of black liner, the smoky edges making the hazel stand out, pulling focus exactly where I want it. My lips are painted a deep red, lined so precisely theylook fuller than they ever have. There is nothing accidental about any of this.
I am not here to blend in.
I am here to be unforgettable.
Because I know for a fact that Logan will be in tonight. He is scheduled to drop something off for Allison and pick up a deposit for the bank. Which means he will have to look at me. And when he does, he will see exactly what he walked away from.
I am going to make Logan Pearce regret the day he decided to fuck with me.
The night starts out the way most do. The music pulses low in my bones, a steady beat that vibrates through the floor. The scent of liquor and perfume drifts through the air, mixing with the faint burn of cigarette smoke that always clings to certain customers.
I can already tell my extra effort is paying off. More heads are turning when I pass. The men are leaning in closer when they talk to me, their smiles wider, their tips heavier than usual. I can feel the weight of their eyes and I let it linger on my skin like a slow burn.
I carry a tray over to the bar, and Shaina’s eyes lock on me instantly.
“Girl, you are looking hot enough I’m considering switching teams.”
Her comment makes me laugh, the sound a little sharper than I intend, and I grab the drinks, letting the condensation from the glasses cool my fingers before I turn to deliver them.
I do not see him at first.
I feel him.
The air changes when Logan walks into a room. It is not something I can explain, but my body reacts before my brain does. My shoulders tense. My skin prickles. My pulse stutters. It is showtime.
I can feel his gaze on me without turning around, like heat pressing into my back. I lean forward over the table I’m serving, my hair slipping over my shoulder as I laugh at something one of the men says. Their jokes are ridiculous, but I play along, resting my arm casually along the back of one’s chair. When his fingers trail lightly down my arm, I don’t pull away. I don’t call for security. I simply smile, sweet and slow, before moving on to the next table.
It is not about the man touching me.
It is about knowing Logan saw it.
On my way past the bar, I catch him in my peripheral vision. He is in his usual spot, a glass of soda in front of him, his expression unreadable but his attention unmistakably locked on me. I give him a small smile and an almost playful wave before weaving my way toward another group of tables.
By the time I return to the bar with a few more orders, Shaina is grinning like she has been waiting for this exact moment. “Mac, have you seen my brother? He hasn’t looked away from you yet. If this was a damn cartoon his jaw would be on the floor with steam coming out of his ears.”
I laugh again, and this time a few of the guys at the bar glance over at me.
“I need to run to the back for a minute, can you cover the bar?”
“Sure. Can you drop these at table twelve for me?” I ask, passing her the tray.
“Gotcha, girl!” she calls over the music, heading toward the tables with the same confidence I wish I actually felt.
I start at one end of the bar, checking on customers, topping off drinks, and making small talk where it is wanted. My movements are smooth and deliberate, but every step brings me closer to where I know he is.
