Page 24 of Edge of Forever

He’d sleep and then he’d plan a way to take care of Aimee.

For good.

Ten

Glass shattering.

She flinched.

That sound…that sound and the heat.

She tried to pull away. The snapping blast.

Hurts.

Logan?

No. Not Logan.

She reached for her—for the twisted and crumpled woman.

For Nic.

Nichole.

A red tissue paper haze. Glass.

Hurts.

Eleven

Logan walked out of the bathroom with a new pair of jeans on and a sweatshirt from the first Winchester Falls festival he’d done. The warm memories and worn cotton helped ease the itching skin of his back.

The little rips and tears from the glass were healing. His butterfly bandages had fallen off in the shower and he didn’t bother looking for their replacement. The water had run clear—now he just had to worry about Izzy’s cuts and bruises. The burns that kept her poor fingers so still and raw. The tears on the inside that matched the outside.

A stash of K-cups and an individual coffee cup maker sat on the small dresser at the back of the room. He picked out a dark roast, tuck

ed one of the colorful mugs under the tap and poured out a bottled water into the chamber.

He wicked the last of the water out of his hair and scrubbed his fingers through the spiky ends. He must have washed it three times. Now he actually felt human again.

Logan picked up his mug and sipped the dark brew. A million times better than the sludge he’d been drinking from the coffee machines.

Izzy had slept through the night. Zeke had stayed, then had traded with Christian at midnight. He’d tried to stay up with his bandmate, but the migraine hangover had put him under again.

Julian had showed up in the morning and was still sitting next to her, reading On the Road from his battered copy. His drummer read the book at least twice a year without fail. Looked like he was going to share this round with Izzy.

The oddly paced novel was disjointed and ugly, beautiful and crazy. It suited Julian and his personality. He’d wear a suit with a grungy pair of boots. He was slick and opened his mouth and a southern accent slid out that devolved into creative swearing the more he drank.

Besides Zeke, Julian was his favorite person.

Lost to the story, he didn’t notice Logan come up next to him. He abruptly stopped narrating. “Look at you, the lost hobo no more.”

“One layer of grime too many, son.”

“Truth.” Julian stood and tucked the book in his back pocket. “Your girl turned her head to me as I was reading, but didn’t stir beyond that.”

“She loves her books.”

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