Page 54 of All Bets are Off

I go to Logan’s room to wait for him.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Logan

I’m not drunk when the taxi drops me off at home, but I’m not sober either. I’ve had a lot of beer over the last several hours, trying to drown my frustration and sorrow. It didn’t work, of course.

It’s fucking hell to have my mom treat me the way she does, especially knowing we don’t have much time left together. If I’d only known months ago this would happen—I would have made time to visit her. Told her so many things. But that’s not the way life works. We need to treat every day like it’s our last. Let those we love know how we feel. How many times have I heard that? But I never applied it to my own life. Thinking of West and the way I spoke to him earlier, I just want to see him.

The light is on in the office, and I know it’s Jase. I’m not sure if he has trouble sleeping or if he’s just a workaholic, but he always seems to be up no matter what time it is.

“Logan?” he calls to me as I cross the foyer to the stairs. Taking a detour, I walk down the hall to where he stands in the doorway of his office.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. Just worn out.”

He looks like he wants to ask me about my mother’s appointment but changes his mind. Pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, he hands it to me. “I found this in the mailbox today.”

I unfold it. It’s a note written in block letters.

No one can love W like I can. Leave, or else.

I look up at Jase.

“It could be from the person who shot at you,” he says.

“Don’t say anything to West about this.” I shove the note into my pants’ pocket.

“Logan—”

“Just don’t, Jase. He’s finally relaxed about it. Besides, I’m pretty sure the person who sent this note isn’t the same person who shot into our yard.”

“Okay,” he says reluctantly. “I’m trusting you know what you’re talking about.”

“I do.”

Upstairs, I pause in the doorway of my bedroom. Leaning against the door frame, peering into the dark room, I can just make out West’s shape in my bed. I don’t turn on the light, not wanting to wake him.

I shouldn’t have run out on him tonight. It’s not his fault my mother can’t stand the sight of me and for some reason adores him. I’m actually glad she has him to love her during this time—it would be worse if she didn’t recognize anyone.

Stripping off my clothes, I head down the hall for a quick shower, and, when I return and slip into bed, West is awake.

“Sorry. I tried to be quiet,” I say.

He sits up. “Are you okay? You turned off your phone.”

That was a dick move on my part. “Yeah. I’m sorry I did that. I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts.”

West studies me like he’s trying to read my mind.

“I love you,” I blurt out.

“I love you, too,” he says quietly.

“I mean. Of course I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I also love you. You’re always in my heart. More than a friend or brother. I want you to know that, no matter how you feel, I will always love you and we will always be okay with each other.

I watch West’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Eyes sincere, he says, “I feel the same way, Logan. I love you more than I love anyone else in this world. And I’m sorry you’re going through this. I want you to know that, even though Gloria isn’t my mother, I’m hurting along with you. And I’m here for you if you need me.”

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