Indestructible (27 page)

“She was going to tell you—today, actually. She was scared before—thought about leaving, but we talked it out. She wanted you to know. Something must have changed last night, but I can bring her back. I know I can.”

“Why would she leave, huh!?
Is
there even a sick aunt!?” Caleb yelled, his body struggling against the strength holding him pinned against the wall.

“No, she’s not sick. And honestly, I don’t even know if that’s where Hilary went. I’m trying to reach her, and I’ll keep trying. I won’t give up. You have my word. I’ll do everything I can to stop her from—”

I inhaled sharply, regretting what little I’d said.

Caleb went still. “Stop her from what?” His eyes went dark. “Answer me!”

“She won’t do it. I know her…she won’t.”

“Ah, Christ, no!” Caleb closed his eyes. His body went slack, and he slid to the floor slowly. Jax let go, but Logan went down on his knees beside him as Caleb continued, his voice distant and shattered.

“No. No, she can’t. Fuck! She wouldn’t. She knows me! I let her in, God damn it!”

“We’ll bring her home,” Logan told him.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, choking on a sob.

Logan looked up at me, and the disappointment that met my gaze wrenched my gut. This wasn’t my fault, but what was I supposed to do? I needed to talk to Hilary. She had to come back home. I’d go find her and bring her back myself if I had to.

Jax moved my way. “You might want to leave now,” he whispered.

Leave?
Was I being dismissed? One more look at Logan, who was occupied with reassuring Caleb, confirmed just that. Apparently I’d done enough.

Without another word, I trudged up the stairs to Logan’s room and packed my bag. It’d been the longest week of my life, and I was due back to school in the morning. Playing house had officially ended.

With my bag full and slung over my shoulder, I looked once more around Logan’s room. Would I ever be welcome there again? Would he not trust me now? He had to understand why I couldn’t tell him.

The longer I stood there waiting, the more I realized Logan wasn’t going to come up and ask me to explain so he could hear my side. Not yet, anyway.

With tears welling up in my eyes, I made my way downstairs and out the front door. It was time to go home.

Chapter Nineteen
Searching

Sadness shadowed me for the rest of the day. I paced, cried, and dialed every member in Hilary’s family tree until I finally got the number of her aunt in Ontario.

The woman answered on the second ring, and for the first time that afternoon I breathed easy. I slid down onto my couch, allowing a thread of optimism to peek out only to have it beaten back into the submission of despair as soon as she began talking.

A state of somber wistfulness crept through me as Hilary’s aunt dutifully explained she hadn’t heard from her in over a week. Whether that was true or not, I was forced to either accept defeat or fly there and search her house myself. I stressed the importance of her calling me if she heard from Hilary, then rattled off my number. After a curt goodbye, the phone fell from my hands and the tears resumed.

Hilary had yet to respond after more than twenty texts and numerous calls. Either her phone was off or she was too ashamed to answer. I hated that she’d left me in such a bad position, but as much as I tried, I couldn’t squelch the worry I felt for her. Where was she? Was she safe?

Exhausted, alone, and completely useless, I curled my knees to my chest and rested my head on the arm of the couch. I sat there motionless until my gloom flowed out and the wave of anger rolled in.

Hilary was the one responsible for her actions. This was about everyone else, not me. I’d gotten the crap end of the stick once again, but this time I was throwing it to the ground and stomping away. I had my own things to worry about—the first being my job, which I was due to return to the next morning.

I dropped my legs to the floor and sat up, allowing my body time to absorb the newfound strength revitalizing my limbs. I smiled to myself, picturing my class of kindergarteners that would be awaiting me in the morning. That was my only focus.

I skipped lunch and spent the evening preparing everything I needed for my class. At sunset, I crawled into bed with a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich and glass of milk. I plugged my phone into the charger on the nightstand and checked to confirm there’d been no activity on it. Logan had gone about his day without even sending a text.

I finished my snack, debating sending him a goodnight or ‘I love you’ text, but decided against it. Instead, I lay there and closed my eyes, allowing my grief to stew.

As if punishing me, sleep evaded me throughout the night. I tossed and turned until finally finding my mind’s reprieve through rounds of online solitaire.

I eventually managed to doze off for a few short hours, only to wake with a second wind dragging me out of bed. As dawn approached, I was dressed in jogging clothes and pulling on my boots—the same boots Logan had insisted I not remove when he’d encased my body with his on his front porch a week earlier.

My teeth dug into my bottom lip to cease the trembling. It was too soon for us to be at odds, and I despised what it did to me. The dull ache was unavoidable when the enormous weight of reality set in and I saw exactly how deeply rooted Logan was in every piece of me. It was downright terrifying.

I wrapped a scarf twice around my neck and walked outside, grateful for the earbuds that sang out tunes of independent women rather than failed love affairs. The sky was clear with no falling snow, but the air was frigid and chilled me to my bones. I welcomed the sun as I set out down the empty road, finding warmth in my long strides.

I hit the shower the moment I returned home, emerging with clear thoughts and enthusiasm to start the day. With a towel around my body and one in my hands, working through strands of hair, I stepped into my bedroom humming a cheerful melody.

“We need to talk.”

I jerked back, my breath stolen and eyes wide. Logan was sitting on the edge of my bed, watching me.

Dropping my gaze to calm my traumatized nervous system, I gradually composed myself enough to be able to at least pretend to appear cool. When I did, I was fully able to take in Logan’s tight features and stern eyes.

He didn’t look happy; in fact, he looked exhausted. He wore a crisp black suit, his tie not yet in place, shirt collar opened. His hair was noticeably tousled and slightly damp, as though his hands had done nothing but run through it since he’d showered.

My heart plummeted, body begging to run to him—to pull him into my arms, where he could bury himself in my warmth and love. Purely instinctual yet wild flames burned furiously to life in my chest, rooting me in place despite my unwavering need to apologize for keeping a secret from him.

My chin rose. “Then you should have come by yesterday,” I said bluntly, turning away to open my closet door.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Hilary?” His voice was rough and impatient.

My back remained to him as I pulled out a dress, appraising it for longer than necessary. “Seriously, Logan, we need to do this later. After school.”

“No, I want this settled now.” The anger in his tone sparked my own.

I reared back. “I’ve been here the last twenty-four hours waiting to talk to you and explain. I didn’t sleep at all, actually—spent a lot of last night feeling like crap—and now I need to get ready and go to school. I can’t be a mess on my first day back!”

With slow, deliberate movements, he stood and made his way toward me. When he reached out, I stepped aside. I couldn’t bear his hands on me. I ached for them too much.

It didn’t stop him. He captured my hands, holding them in his despite my every attempt to tug them away. “Cassandra, just tell me why you kept this from me. Do you not trust me?”

My brows shot up. “Are you seriously asking me that after everything we’ve been through? Screw you!” Fully insulted, I was successful at tearing myself away that time.

“What am I supposed to think? You kept a huge secret from me, which makes me wonder what others there might be.”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell, Logan!” I all but screamed. “It was between Caleb and Hilary. You think I
liked
not being able to confide in you? I wanted to—God, I’ve never been more torn. She’s my best friend. If I told you she was thinking about running off to hand his child over to strangers, you can’t honestly stand there and expect me to believe that you’d have been able to keep that from him.”

“For you, I would have.”

I snorted and rolled my eyes. “Right, I forgot—you’re a saint. Never hidden anything from me, correct?”

His head tipped slightly to the side, eyes locked fiercely on mine. “I’m far from a saint, but I tell you everything you
need
to know.”

“
Need
to know?” My voice shot up an octave. “Is that some new rule your arrogant ass created just to piss me off?” My words were explosive as I stepped into him. Despite his towering height, I felt anything but intimidated. “Well, then let me make myself very clear when I say you did not
need
to know
Hilary’s secret. But me? I
did
deserve to know that you were paying guards to beat the crap out of Kurt—especially considering the reason he attacked me was because of it!”

I blanched the moment the words rolled off my tongue, and his eyes flashed. No longer were they bright blue, but almost black as his pupils dilated.

My body went slack on a heavy sigh, no longer able to hold the pressure of my defensive stance. “I didn’t mean you’re to blame, just…”

My attempt to backtrack faded as I watched Logan’s lips part, his expression shifting to almost impassive. Any spark of concern that’d leaked through his features was now gone, leaving no signs of regret. And the longer he remained silent, the more loudly the truth rang between us. The allegation of the guards was true.

“I didn’t pay them,” Logan said roughly.

I needed more. “But—”

“Kurt had to be punished for hurting you that night outside Haven. I called in a favor. That was all.”

“A favor?” I whispered. “From a
guard
?”

“Yes.” He reached for me again, but I scooted around him and across the room, in need of air. “I never considered it a secret from you, Cassandra. He hurt you that night, and—”

“What about the other day?” I interrupted.

“When?”

“You were having lunch with those two guards. Why?” My voice trembled. I was afraid of his reply.

He shook his head. “I didn’t ask them to touch Kurt. I swear to you. I just wanted them to help me get on the visitors’ list.”

“You want to go
see
him!?” I blew out, outraged.

Logan advanced toward me. “I needed him to know, to fully understand, that if he ever comes near you again, I will kill him.”

I blinked, tears brimming in my eyes at the wrath radiating off him. “He can’t hurt me. He’s locked up.”

“For now. But one day, he’ll get out, and I don’t ever want you worried about him coming for you again.” His thumb grazed my jaw gently. “I’ll always protect you with everything I have, Cassandra. I’ll fight dirty if I have to, and I’ll never apologize for it.”

“Logan…” I murmured, closing my eyes as I sagged against him.

“When it comes to your safety…I may not always be upfront with you if I think it will protect you not to be, but I’ll never lie to you.”

What did that mean? He’d lie by omission? It wasn’t how I preferred communication to work in our relationship, but for the moment, I’d let the subject drop. We’d tackle that issue when I wasn’t on a timeline for work, because something told me it wouldn’t be an easy battle.

His arms encased me, drawing me in, palms splayed flat against my backside. “You have to trust me.”

“Ditto,” I whispered, resting my head against his hard chest. He smelled like my Logan: of soap, mint, and virility.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again. “I’m sorry. Natasha’s been under my skin; I want her gone, and adding the Caleb and Hilary shit just overloaded me. I should have never allowed you to walk out yesterday. That was my fuckup, but Caleb and I had some things to finish up before he could leave.” He tilted my chin up with his fingertip. “I spent the night regretting not stopping you. Never again. Forgive me.”

I smiled, moistening my lips. “You know I do. I love you. Just tell me one thing.”

“Anything.” He was already pressing his lips to my cheek, peppering kisses down toward my neck.

“Can I bitch slap Natasha the next time I see her?”

He pulled back, his brows lifting in amusement. “Bitch slap?”

“You heard me.” I grinned, biting my bottom lip to contain my giggle.

“I love it when your gorgeous mouth surprises me. Such a naughty little angel.”

“She was pissed, and you know why,” I said, still smiling as I thought about the enormous painting hanging above his fireplace.

“Yes, I imagine I do, but I don’t care. I hung that canvas hoping to surprise you when we woke. Never imagined the day would take such a dreadful turn.”