“It’s not like that,” I said quickly, pacing the small room, my fingers tapping against my thigh. “She had a terrible childhood. Abuse, drugs, her dad is in jail. She escaped a life that could’ve easily led to living on the streets.”
Logan’s smirk vanished instantly, his posture straightening. “I didn’t know that.”
“It wasn’t my information to share, so take it to the grave,” I said, pointing at him. “Relationships for her are tough. Every one she’s seen was toxic, and I knew that going into this, but I hoped I could show her how a real one should be. Love, trust… all that shit.”
“Language, son,” Mom chided, but her expression softened.
She stood, taking my hand, squeezing it gently, the same way she had when I was a kid. “If anyone has a big enough heart to love someone who doesn’t know love, it’s you.” Her eyes were so full of knowing, of certainty, that it made my throat tighten. “You’re my softy while Logan is my pistol.”
“I’m not a softy, Mom,” I scoffed, but my ears burned hot.
Logan smirked. “He totally is.”
I shook my head, rolling my eyes, but something about her words stayed with me.
She squeezed my hand again, her voice gentler now. “I want to meet this woman.”
I hesitated, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “Not sure if that’s a good idea.”
Her brow lifted. “And why is that? Because I live here and am sick?”
“No. No.” I shook my head quickly. “She’s been acting differently, and I want to get through this rough patch first. Then I would love for you to meet her.”
“Good, it’s settled then.” She turned to Logan, nodding firmly. “Make sure he follows through.”
Logan grinned. “Yes, ma’am. Now, enough mushy talk. Let’s go eat.”
* * *
Dinner had been good—betterthan I expected. Laughter came easy, and for the first time in days, the tension in my chest had started to unwind. Angela had joined us, Logan had charmed her into sneaking him two extra slices of cake, and I had spent most of the meal teasing him relentlessly for it.
By the time we left, I was in a better mood, lighter than I had been all day. The unease about Michelle still lingered, but it wasn’t as sharp, wasn’t gnawing at me like it had been earlier.
Maybe I was overthinking things.
Maybe I just needed to see her.
The decision was made before we even got into the car. We’d swing by her job, have a drink, say hi, and leave. It wasn’t too much, I told myself. She was my girlfriend, and we’d barely seen each other this week. That wasn’t unreasonable, right? Just seeing her, confirming everything was fine, would settle my nerves.
At least, that was the plan.
We pulled into the parking lot, and immediately, my eyes scanned the area, landing on the alley nearby. The place was too dark, too unsafe, and it made my stomach twist the same way it always did when I dropped her off here. I had tried not to fixate on it, tried not to push too hard about her quitting, because Michelle without her job, without her relentless focus and drive, wouldn’t be the woman I’d fallen for.
The chime of the door barely registered as I walked in, the familiar smell of grease and pickles filling the air. I expected to hear her laugh, to see her behind the counter rolling her eyes at a customer, but instead, the only thing that greeted me was a woman with curly hair that stuck up in all directions, flashing me a wide grin.
“Hello, gentleman. Damn, we don’t get city slickers like you often. What’ya want? Booth or table?”
I barely acknowledged her words, my eyes already sweeping the restaurant, searching for Michelle. Where the hell was she?
“Wherever’s fine,” I said, still looking around. “Could you send Michelle over to our table?”
The woman tilted her head slightly, a curious look flashing across her face. “Oh, she’s off tonight, hon. You a friend of hers?
My stomach dropped.
“Sort of,” I forced out, but the words tasted like sandpaper.
Logan tensed beside me, and I felt the weight of his gaze as he placed a hand on my shoulder. He knew. He understood exactly what was going through my mind right now.
