Page 41 of Whenever You Call

Logically, I shouldn’t have wanted to check up on Logan.

I definitely shouldn’t have been bothered by the way he’d practically run from my home, desperate to get away from me and my touch. I barely knew the guy. He didn’t owe me a damn thing, and there I’d been, pressing myself against him like we were lovers. I’d been an idiot, and I should have cut my losses and moved on from the entire incident once and for all.

But as the night went on, and after Bella returned from her playdate, ate her dinner, showered, and went to bed, I still couldn’t get Logan off my mind. There’d been something in that look he’d given me before he left—I’d seen it. A vulnerability and rawness I recognized in myself. A pain he’d yet to recover from over a decade later.

Was that how long it would be for me to be able to live again? To get over the frustration and shame I carried around with me every day since Cole died.

Or hadn’t I loved Cole as much as Logan had loved his best friend? I’d had another man in my home, cooking, laughing, and teasing me, for Christ’s sake. Had I been wrong in asking Logan here to keep me company?

And if so, why had it felt so right him being here?

Nothing made sense, and a never-ending stream of questions whizzed through my mind while I stared at the blank television screen in our living room, nursing my third glass of wine.

Logan made it quite clear that he didn’t want to carry the burden of having my cell number, and Cole’s voice in the back of my mind warned me about bringing my guard down so quickly… but Logan had only ever given me a reason to trust him, and Cole was no longer around to lecture me about the dos and don’ts of my own life.

Replacing my glass of wine with my cell, I sat back into the thick cushions of my couch and pulled up Logan’s number, not giving a damn about any of it until I’d typed out a message and hit send.

Me: I’ve had enough people trigger me over the last few months to know that I said something wrong. I’m sorry. The last thing I would want to do is hurt you after you’ve been so good to me.

He deserved my apology. I’d pressed on a wound he’d opened especially for me.

I waited and prayed for a response, suddenly needing it like I needed the air in my lungs.

Twenty minutes went by, but nothing came back.

Me: I don’t want you to get rid of my number this time, either. I know you said you didn’t want the responsibility of it, and on top of this sudden responsibility you seem to have for me, I understand that it’s a lot… but I can’t be in any more one-way relationships, Logan. I need this to be a two-way street.

Logan: Relationship?

My brows rose at his quick response and the one word he’d chosen to home in on.

Shit!That’s not what I’d meant.

Me: Friendships, obviously. But any relationship I have of any kind with anyone going forward has to be based on mutual trust. This is me letting you know that I trust you.

Logan: You trust too easily.

Me: Not true. It takes a special someone to earn my trust as quickly as you have. Consider yourself lucky.

Logan: That’s the second time you’ve told me I’m lucky since you met me.

Me: You don’t think you are?

Logan: Only sometimes.

Me: Tell me when.

Logan: Earlier, when I was sitting opposite you, watching you smile. I felt pretty lucky then.

I blew out a breath. An unexpected giddiness tore through my veins that I quickly pushed back down. My dead husband’s ghost lingered behind me, its brow raised and judgment on display, like his nails were scratching down my back in warning.

Still…

Me: Are you hitting on me, Logan?

Logan: Wouldn’t dream of it.

Me: Because I’m a grieving widow with too much baggage…

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