Always watching,
Logan’s Future Wife
“What. The. Fuck?” My hands shake as I scroll through the email. I’m somehow both icy and sweating like it’s a mid-summer day in the sun. When my eyes land on the email address, I stop breathing.
It has to be the same person who’s been posting all those photos of me and Logan on the Rogues fan sites, right? The odds that they share the same username without being the same person are slim. It’s possible, but not likely.
“Oh my god.” They’re stalking us. They’rethreateningus. Well, me and Reed. And the way they phrased that last threat about Reed? About hating to see his life goup in smokeagain? Whoever it is has to know how our parents died. Are they threatening my brother and me with the same horrible end?
Every breath feels like razor blades as I suck in oxygen. The room wavers, or maybe it’s me, and bile surges up my throat.Pushing out of my chair, I stumble into the bathroom, lock the door, and empty the contents of my stomach.
My throat burns and tears leak from my eyes as I vomit up bile and the coffee I called breakfast.
When there’s nothing left in my stomach, I rinse my mouth out and clean up my face. My mascara is smeared and my eyes are red and puffy. I do my best to make it look like I didn’t just puke my guts out, but there’s only so much I can do. I’m paler than normal, but that can’t be helped.
Grabbing my phone from my desk, I hurry out of the office and make my way down into the arena. Logan and the guys had practice earlier, and his last text was to complain about the music Griffin was blasting in the weight room, so I’m pretty sure that’s where they still are.
“Hey, Miss Blair, how are you?” Joe, the sweet security guard I’ve struck up a little friendship with smiles at me, but it wilts when he gets a good look at my face. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve been crying.”
I choke back the sob that tries to claw its way out of my throat and nod. “I’m okay, just dealing with something right now. Are the guys in the weight room? Can I go in?”
Joe regards me seriously and nods. “Of course. Do you need me to escort you?”
“No, that’s not necessary. Thank you, Joe.”
The frown on his face tells me he wants to fight me on that, but I hurry past him with a forced smile, that probably looks more like a grimace, and a half-hearted wave. Following the stink of hockey players and the increasing volume of boisterous banter, I force my feet to carry me down the hallway.
One foot in front of the other, Blair.
You can do this.
Trembling hands make it difficult to push open the heavy double doors leading to the weight room. When I take the firststep in, a few eyes turn my way. They’re guys I’ve met in passing, but none of them really know me, so they simply watch me curiously.
Then Sebastian’s gaze lands on me. He does a sweep of my face before frowning. When my lower lip trembles, that frown deepens, and he calls Logan’s name. Within moments, Logan is closing the distance between us, and his friends are at his back. A solid wall of muscle surrounds me, five concerned sets of eyes pinned to my face.
“Angel? What’s wrong?” Logan’s big, warm palms cup my face, tilting my head back so he can get a better look at me. His gray eyes narrow, concern giving them an icy glint as he takes me in. “What happened? Who hurt you?”
“I… Someone sent me…” I try to force the words out, I really do, but every single one gets stuck in my throat. A cry of frustration tears from my lips, and Logan wraps his arm around me, guiding me out of the weight room. We’re attracting attention, and that’s the last thing I want.
“Come on. I’ve got you.” When the other guys move to follow us, I look up at Logan, panicked. He shakes his head at them, and with a loaded look that promises he’ll tell them what happened later, they let us walk out of the weight room alone. Neither of us speaks until the doors shut.
“Tell me what happened.” Logan’s tone is firm and gentle at the same time. It’s the same tone my dad would use on me when I came home from school crying. A promise that he’d be gentle with me, but whoever made me cry would feel the full wrath of a protective father.
The dam that holds back five years of grief and fear breaks, and I bury my tear-streaked face in Logan’s sweaty chest. Fisting his tight workout shirt, I hold on for dear life. He’s the only thing keeping me from sinking deep into the abyss of everything I try so hard to ignore and repress just to get through each day.
The loneliness. The loss of my parents. The horror of how they died. The pressure, endless and ever growing, to be the kind of woman my parents would be proud of and the kind of sister Reed can always count on. That I’m everything to Reed and nothing to everyone else.
Well, that’s not true anymore, and I know that, but that doesn’t mean I’m what Iwantto be to the people around me. Sure, I have great friends now and I have Logan, but for how long? All my friends outside of Bryse and Adrienne are in my life because of my relationship with Logan. What happens when he inevitably decides he doesn’t want to do this anymore and leaves? Will they leave too?
The very idea of it has me sobbing harder, pathetic little hiccups erupting painfully from my chest.
“Hey,” Logan whispers, “hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. Whatever it is, I’m here.”
For now.
“Talk to me, angel. What happened? Who do I need to kill?”
