Page 28 of Secret Baby With My Brother's Best Friend

"Logan introduced me to them last year," she replied, and I felt a rock twist inside my stomach. Did he? Were they together? Kelly seemed to read my expression, catching the discomfort on my face as she quickly added. "Logan and I are just friends—best friends, actually," she grinned, nudging him in the waist.

"That's nice," I forced myself to say, though it couldn't have been further from the truth. The fact that Kelly was Logan's best friend unsettled me, evoking emotions I'd rather not acknowledge. It wasn't a feeling I welcomed—but rather one I despised. "I think I'll go get a drink," I mentioned, rising from my seat.

"Want me to come with you?" Logan offered.

A part of me desperately wanted him to accompany me, but I found myself uttering the opposite. "Nah, I've got it," I said, forcing a wry smile before making my way into the house alone. Navigating through the gathering, I found my way to the kitchen and hastily poured myself a beer, downing it in a single gulp.

"I think a girl who can drink is a sight to die for," I heard a voice say from behind or beside me—or maybe both. I turned to my side and discovered a pale, skinny young white guy with his brown hair looking like it had never seen a comb. He was dressed in a buttoned-up shirt underneath an oversized red coat, ripped pants, and a pair of dirty sneakers.

"Although, I think beer is boring. I have something stronger," he said, flashing me the hip flask inside his coat pocket. "This is the real stuff. I can share if you want," he offered.

"Nah. I'll stick with beer."

"Good choice," he slipped the flask out and took a sip. "I'm Jason," he smiled, moving beside me and making me uncomfortable with his presence.

"Okay," I replied with a huge amount of disinterest, pouring myself another drink and taking a long sip from the cup.

"You don't care," he barked a laugh. "I like your dress," the stranger complimented casually.

"Thanks," I muttered tersely, still wishing he'd leave me the fuck alone already.

"Undeterred, Jason leaned closer and asked, "Can I at least get your name?" His persistence was starting to wear thin on my patience.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, I considered for a moment. Giving him my name didn't seem like a big deal, so I reluctantly replied, "Harper."

"Nice to meet you, Harper," he said. "Enjoy your drink," he added with a mischievous grin and left the kitchen.

Finally, I thought, emptying my beer cup in one gulp. I refilled my cup and ready to leave the kitchen to return to Logan. But as I stepped forward, a sudden wave of drowsiness washed over me, causing me to stumble. I quickly grabbed onto the kitchen island to steady myself, feeling disoriented and confused.

My eyelids grew heavy, and I closed my eyes momentarily, trying to shake off the lethargy. When I opened them again, everything was hazy, and the room was spinning so fast I couldn't keep up. My feet were weak, and the more I tried to stand upright, the more my feet sank into an invisible hole. It was becoming increasingly clear that I couldn't bear my own weight for much longer.

As the room continued to spin, my last bit of strength failed me. I stumbled forward, losing grip on the island and trying to find balance quickly. My hands flailed in a futile attempt to find something, anything, to hold onto, and I tumbled to the ground. But before I could hit the hard kitchen floor, I felt two pairs of arms catch me just in time.

I looked up, and my vision blurred, but through the haze, I recognized the face staring back at me as I had only seen it minutes before. "Jason?" I quizzed, just before the darkness enveloped me, and I blacked out.

I woke up on the floor, my head throbbing mercilessly as if a stampede had run over it. The room was no longer spinning, but my surroundings remained blurry, making it difficult to focus. I didn't know how long I had been out. The last thing I remembered was Jason telling me to enjoy my drink before leaving me. The hip flask came to mind. Could he have?

"I'm going to kill you!" The voice pierced through the fog of my thoughts, filled with rage and fury. I recognized the unmistakable voice as Logan's, and it sent shivers down my spine. I swirled my head to the side and caught the blurred view of Logan some distance away. He had someone pinned to the floor and was raining punches on him so hard. I recognized the coat. He was beating up Jason. Why? What was going on?

I pulled myself up, and Kelly rushed to me, assisting me to my feet. "Are you okay?" she asked, worry etched on her face as she held onto me, but I didn't answer. My interest was hinged on the scene before me.

"What's going on? Why is Logan beating someone up?"

Kelly turned to the scene, and Logan's friends intervened and pulled him off Jason, but he wasn't making it any easier. She turned to me. "Logan caught him trying to take advantage of you while you were passed out. He got mad and threw a punch," she said, darting her eyes back to the scene and then back to me. "I've never seen him that mad, to be honest," Kelly met my gaze, and she smiled.

My eyes drifted to Logan. He was still fighting his friends to get back to Jason. My eyes went down to his bloodied fist, and the sight of him hurt made my chest tighten. His fist was poorly bruised, and he didn't seem to care.

Logan came up to me a while later. The party was back in full swing, and I had a bit of a headache and was feeling nauseous with the after effects. Others were asking about my condition. But Logan was extremely worried and didn't seem to be in the mood to chat with anyone, nor was I. "Are you okay? How's your head?" he quizzed, concerned.

I nodded. "I'm okay."

“Well Bradley, asked if you wanted to file a police report? You are within your rights to do so.” I could tell that Logan was upset and his nostrils were flaring. The thought of waiting for the police to show up, and then sitting for the next several hours giving any statement, literally made my head spin. “I won’t file a report. You gave him an even better punishment”, I said while staring at Logan. "We should go then. You need to get some rest," he said, taking off his jacket and handing it to me to wear it. He was almost like a different person, and the sincerity in his eyes was undeniable.

The drive back to the hotel was fast and silent. I was still groggy from whatever was given to me. The fresh air coming through the window was exactly what I needed. I could see Logan was fuming from the events. I was extremely appreciative but very vulnerable at the moment. I wanted to help his wound, so as we made our way inside, I quietly followed him back to his room, and I would not take no for an answer.

Chapter Sixteen

Logan

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