An hour and forty minutes later, we land in Whiskey Run. I try to pull from Logan’s arms, but he holds on to me.
I put a hand to his chest. “I want… I need… to walk out of here, Lo.”
He searches my eyes and nods. He takes a step back, but before he can get too far, I grab on to his shirt. “But I want you with me.”
He covers my hand that is over his heart. “Baby, you can walk out of here, but I’m going to be walking right beside you.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He hugs me to him, kisses my forehead, and then leans back. “You ready?”
I nod, and hand in hand, we walk down the aisle of the plane. All the guys have already gotten off, but they’re waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs. I stop at each of the men to thank them. Zach hugsme. “Skyler is worried about you. Please call us if you need anything, okay.”
I nod as Logan pulls me back into his arms. He guides me to his waiting truck and calls to Zach, “You need a ride?”
He shakes his head. “No, get her home. I’ll catch a ride with one of these guys.”
Once we’re in the car and driving back toward downtown, I can’t help but wonder what’s going to happen from here. We haven’t talked, but obviously Logan knows some of the story.
I turn in my seat to face him. “Logan, I’m sorry. I did kiss John Antonelli that night, but it didn’t mean anything. We were so close to getting them.”
He tenses, holding the steering wheel tighter. “I wish you had told me. You were in so much danger, Bree, and?—”
I interrupt him. “I know how dangerous it was. That’s why I didn’t tell you. That’s why I never saw you outside of Manhattan. I should have stayed away from you, but I couldn’t resist. I wanted to be with you so bad.” I suck in a breath. “I’m sorry that I brought all this to you?—”
“Stop,” he says, almost angry.
I look at Main Street as we pass by. “You missed the turnoff to?—”
“You’re staying with me.”
I tremble, thankful that he’s not just taking me home and dropping me off.
“I’m fine with staying at your house, but I don’t have any clothes. My phone and my purse are at my apartment.”
He’s calm and speaks softly. “Aiden and his wife have been blowing up my phone, worried about you. They wanted to do something. I had them bring your phone, purse, toiletries, and clothes to my house.”
Shocked, my mouth drops. Logan is always so protective and guarded. “He has access to your house?”
Logan chuckles. “They’re your friends. I sent him the code.”
I cross my arms over my chest. I have a hundred questions, but I’m not going to ask them now.
We finally get to Logan’s house, and he comes around the truck to help me out. His touch is gentle as he walks me up the front stairs. I’ve driven by hishouse a few times. I was here before, years ago, but not since I’ve been back in Whiskey Run.
He disables the alarm and stops when we get inside. He locks the door and resets the alarms. “Come on. I had them put everything in the bedroom.”
I follow him, taking in the rooms. Everything is like I remember. Instead of going into the guest bedroom, he goes into his room and flips the light on. I gasp when I see the pile on the bed and the dresser. He looks around. “Your purse and phone are right there,” he says, pointing to the dresser. He starts picking up the pile of clothes and carrying them to the closet, hanging them inside. I hold my hands together in front of me. “Uh, I think that’s my whole closet.”
He answers simply, “It is.” He points to the bathroom. “Gracie probably put all your bathroom stuff in there, but if they forgot anything, we will go get it tomorrow.”
I look into the adjoining bathroom and see some of my things on the counter. He’s walking back and forth from the bed to the closet. “Logan.”
“Yeah?” he answers without stopping.
He hangs the last of the clothes, and I take a step toward him. “What is this?”
His eyes lift to mine, and I’m shocked to see his expression. He looks as if he’s been punched in the gut or something. He’s pale and worried-looking. He doesn’t answer my question but walks past me into the bathroom. I follow him as he turns the water on. He holds his hand under the spray, waiting for it to warm up, and when he is satisfied with the temperature, he holds his hand out to me. “Come on. You’ll feel better if you shower.”
