It’s a male voice.I lean forward on the couch, peeking around the wall.A man is kneeling on the floor, brushing up some powder.
He turns, and our eyes lock.
I stiffen as he pushes to his feet and turns toward me.Neither of us moves.
I take him in, my gaze roaming over him.He’s big.Massive.At least six feet tall, with broad shoulders and a thick build that fills the doorway where he’s paused.Dark brown hair falls over his forehead, and his strong jaw is shadowed with stubble.
My pulse pounds in my ears as his green eyes hold mine.
He slowly raises both hands, palms facing me.“It’s okay,” he says gently, his voice deep and steady.
Something unfurls inside me, making me relax.
He keeps his hands raised like he’s trying not to scare me.“I’m Logan.”
“I—” My throat feels like sandpaper.“Vivian.”
The moment my name leaves my lips, a strange expression flickers across his face, something intense, but it disappears quickly.
“You collapsed in my yard yesterday,” he says carefully.“I brought you inside.”
My memory comes back in flashes.I remember my escape.Running.The tree branches and bushes snatching my clothes and skin.The threat of the men pursuing me.
I ran faster and harder.After that, things became fuzzy.I remember falling and darkness swallowing everything.
“You were unconscious,” Logan continues.“Doc came and checked you over.He gave you fluids and said you needed rest.”
My shoulders slowly relax.A doctor.That explains why I no longer feel as if I’m dying like I have for the last few weeks.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
He shrugs as if it’s no big deal.“Hungry?”
My stomach answers for me with a loud growl.Heat floods my cheeks, and I see Logan’s lips twitch slightly as he represses a smile.
“Yeah,” I admit sheepishly.
“Thirsty?”
“Very.”
“The doctor said you need electrolytes.I got some Gatorade and Propel.I made Jello, and you can have light soup now.I found an egg drop and a noodle recipe.Which one sounds good?”
“Egg drop, please,” I say, my throat aching from dryness.
I watch as he goes to the kitchen and grabs me a red Gatorade, a glass of water, and a Propel.He returns and sets the water and Propel on the table next to me.
“Drink,” he orders, twisting the cap open on the Gatorade and handing it to me.
I take it gratefully, downing half the bottle in seconds.My body soaks it up like dry soil after a drought.Logan watches quietly while I finish, then goes back to the kitchen.
I wrap my arms around my knees and watch him light the stove.He’s surprisingly quiet for a man his size.
He grabs a pan to heat my soup.A few minutes later, he returns to the living room with a tray.
“I made raspberry Jello.I was going to make a pineapple one too, so you’d have a choice, but I dropped the bag.I have watermelon and lemon, if you prefer those?They’ll take a little while to set, though.”
I smile.“Raspberry is fine.Thanks.”
