Page 33 of Logan
When I turn back toward the club, I see Shaina leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. She’s not smiling. “That wasn’t just about him,” she says quietly.
I don’t answer.
Because she’s right.
It wasn’t just about him.
It was about every man who thinks they can take what they want. About every time I’ve let Kenzie think I wouldn’t fight for her. And it was about the fact that no matter how much I’ve tried to stay away, I can’t stomach anyone else touching her.
Not now.
Not ever.
Chapter Fifteen
Logan
Don't run away
Just promise me you will stay
Will you love me?
Everybody's got a dark side
Do you love me?
Can you love mine?
‘Dark Side’ - Kelly Clarkson
I stand outside the club, the bass from the music inside thudding through the brick wall behind me. The night air bites just enough to keep me sharp, but my hands are still restless at my sides. Every nerve in me is strung tight, because this is it. No more waiting. No more excuses.
I’m going to put it all on the line tonight.
She is going to forgive me and say yes.
Or she won’t.
Either way, I’m done dragging this out.
The door swings open and a wash of warm air and cigarette smoke rolls out with it. Shaina and Hank step into the lot, Kenzie between them. My chest kicks like someone landed apunch when I see her. Even with exhaustion written across her face, she’s still the most magnetic thing I’ve ever seen.
I push off the wall and step forward, and both women clock me instantly. Shaina’s eyes narrow, sharp and protective. “Lo—”
“I need to talk to her.” My voice is even, but it costs me. “If she wants to go to your place when I’m done, I’ll take her or call a car.”
Shaina’s gaze flicks to Kenzie, some silent conversation happening between them in that quick glance. Kenzie doesn’t say anything, but the tiniest nod passes between them. They hug, and Shaina leans in. “Call if you need me,” she says quietly before stepping away with Hank.
Now it’s just us.
I close the distance slowly, careful not to spook her. She looks worn down, like the weight of all our back-and-forth has finally taken its toll. “What is it, Logan?” she asks, her voice soft but guarded.
“I’d really like to do this somewhere other than a parking lot,” I admit. Gravel shifts under my boot as I nudge at it, hating how much distance she’s keeping from me. “If you don’t want to, I understand. I want to talk. I want to tell you everything.”
She studies me for a beat, her shoulders tight. Then she shrugs. “Fine. Where did you want to go?”
“I’d like to just take you to my place,” I say, keeping my tone careful. “If you’re not comfortable with that, just tell me where you’d rather go.” I nod toward my bike.
