Page 82 of The Cutting Edge
"What did you just say?" demands Logan, his nostrils flaring like a bull’s.
“This doesn’t concern you,” Brent says.
“Oh, it fucking concerns me,” says Logan. “I have a mother, and a sister, and a daughter, and a girlfriend, not to mention a sense of common fucking decency, so it very much concerns me. Don't you dare touch or speak to Coco, or any other woman, that way ever again. Decent men don'tsaythat shit, and the fact that you are here,saying that shitto someone I care about,very muchconcerns me.”
Brent is completely taken aback, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him look threatened.
“The only guys who use words like that are incels, impotents, and idiots. You’re so fucking weak or stupid or both that the only way you can think of to try to not feel like such a failure, or assert some kind of bullshit power over women is to denigrate them. Those words are the language of fucking losers.”
“Calm down, man…" says Brent, which he instantly realizes is a mistake. Logan steps forward aggressively like he’s just grown a foot taller, the muscles in his chest rippling beneath his t-shirt. If he suddenly turned green, and started roaring and bursting through his clothes, I would not be surprised in the least.
“Don’t be condescending, you fuck. I am justifiably pissed. Is there anything that comes out of your mouth that isn’t complete garbage? Let me help you. Apologize to Coco, or we’ll have a less pleasant conversation until you do. Your call.”
He looks up at Roosevelt and Emmanuel, “Hey man, I’m a customer. You going to do something about this?”
Roosevelt responds with a hard look in his eye. “If I were you, I’d do what the man says.” Emmanuel nods.
Brent's eyes narrow. "You have no idea who you're messing with."
"And you have no idea how much I'd relish the opportunity to show you." Logan takes another step forward, crowding into Brent's space now. He's a good head taller, all hard muscle and intimidation.
Brent blanches but tries to stand his ground, reaching for Logan. Big mistake. In a flash of movement, Logan grabs him by the shirt and slams him up against the wall.
"Sorry, Coco" Brent sniffs in my general direction.
"I strongly suggest you leave. Now." Logan's voice is a menacing growl. "If I ever see your face again, if you ever go near Coco again, I will end you. Are we clear?"
Brent whimpers, nodding frantically.
Logan releases him with a shove. "Get out."
Brent scrambles to comply, nearly tripping over his own feet as he hurries out the door. The bell jangles in the silence left behind.
My heart is pounding, a riot of emotions churning inside. But when Logan turns to me, face creased in concern, I feel only warmth and a bone-deep relief.
"Are you alright?" he asks softly, reaching out to brush my cheek.
I nod, blinking back tears. "I'm okay now."
Logan pulls back to peer down at me, brows knitting together. "You're crying. Did he hurt you when he grabbed you? Say something else?" His jaw clenches, eyes glinting with suppressed fury. "Because I'll go after him right now if he did."
I shake my head, swiping at my eyes. "No, no. I'm just..." Overwhelmed. Grateful. Still reeling from how quickly things spiraled out of control.
How quickly Logan leaped to my defense.
He cups my face in his hands, wiping away the tears with the pads of his thumbs. The gesture is so tender it makes my heart ache. "That was him, right? The ex you told me about who cheated on you the night before your final skate at the Olympics? You don't deserve to be treated that way. No one has the right to treat you, or speak to you like that, least of all him."
I nod yes. "I know," I whisper. And I do.Now.It's a lesson I should have learned a long time ago.
One finger tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. "You are amazing, Coco. You're strong, talented, caring—" His eyes soften, an emotion I can't quite name flickering in their depths. "—and you deserve so much better than that asshole."
Heat rushes to my cheeks at the praise. "Thank you," I murmur. I want to tell him how much his words mean to me, how they're balm for old wounds. How I'm starting to believe them because he says them.
But I can't find the words. So I do the only thing I can think of—the only thing that feels right.
I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his.
For a breathless moment, Logan goes utterly still against me. Then a low sound rumbles in his chest and his mouth moves over mine, transforming into something hungry and deep and toe-curlingly sweet.
