Logan
Iwasa bomb.
I was agoddamn bomb, whogoddamn Leiselhad beengoddamn rightabout all thisgoddamn time.
And I was seconds away from detonating.
Almost everyone was dancing now, and those who weren’t had gravitated to the dance floor to spectate. Only three of us remained on this side of the dining hall—Ella, who’d left to fill her flask but had since returned, Davey, who’d fallen asleep in his chair, and me.
For the last hour I’d been a statue on a bench, my eyes trained on Willow, my entire body attuned to Willow—the way the lights shone on her skin, the way the material of her dress rippled around her body, and the wild way she was dancing—barefoot, laughing as she twisted and twirled and kicked up her feet in all directions. I hardly blinked, I barely breathed. I merely stared and vibrated with a vast assortment of feelings that I could no longer contain.
The strings strung their concluding chords as Cassie ended a fast-paced folk song on a long, drawn-out high note. Applause rippled through the dancers, whoops and whistles, too. Laughing, Willow and Britta collapsed against one another.
I was jealous of Britta.
I was jealous of Jordy.
Hell, I was jealous of everyone that Willow had ever paid any real attention to, anyone she’d ever graced with a smile, anyone she’d spoken to or cared about—I was even jealous of my own brother. And even as sick asthatmade me feel, I was twice as sick of pretending it wasn’t true.
Cassie began to sing again, a deep, crooning tune, shimmying her tambourine by her side, while Xavier strummed his ukulele. The crowd thinned out as people began pairing off. I watched as EJ finally drummed up the courage to approach Britta, bowing down before her, making a big show of asking her to dance. Britta, who was noticeably drunk, had thrown her head back laughing. Draping her arms around EJ’s neck, she allowed him to spin her away.
Willow stood alone now, her silly smile slipping. She swiped the sweat from her forehead while casting awkward glances around the dance floor. The urge to go to her, to finally be the one to dance with her, was unmistakable. It beat through me, causing my heart to race and my stomach to churn and my legs to bounce… and yet, I still couldn’t stand.
“You’re a fucking idiot if you ask me,” Ella slurred as she staggered around the table. “A really,really, good-looking idiot… but still an idiot.”
I sent a grimace in her direction. “No one asked you,” I bit out. Turning my attention back to the dance floor, everything suddenly stopped—my legs stopped bouncing, my lungs stopped inflating, even my heart stalled out. My vision tunneled, sucking me into a silent world, with Willow standing in the spotlight.
No longer dancing, she stood at the edge of the small crowd, holding her boots in her hand. Jordy stood beside her, his head bent to hers, whispering something in her ear that was causing a small smile to creep up the corners of her mouth. Jordy’s hand moved to her waist, her silky dress crinkling beneath his fingers.
Like a flame doused in gasoline, I roared back to life, jumping up and storming across the dining hall. Those who saw me approaching paused, some even going as far as to move out of my way. Willow noticed me at the last second, her eyes going wide.
Up until she’d spotted me, I hadn’t any idea of what I’d been planning on doing once I reached them—I’d only known that I’d wanted to tear Jordy to pieces for daring to touch her. For wanting her in the first place. I was angry at Willow, too, for continuing to allow his attention. For having ever smiled at him, and for having the audacity to laugh at his ridiculous jokes. But most of all, for not recognizing what he wanted from her. Or worse, for recognizing it and maybe even wanting it, too.
And then everything ground to a screeching halt once more. I was inches from Willow, close enough to reach out and touch her, when it struck me. This was all wrong.Iwas all wrong. And I could see just how wrong I was reflected in the fear shining in Willow’s eyes.
Shoving my hands into my hair, I changed course, racing toward the doors and slamming through them. Coming here had been a mistake—I’d known that much from the moment I’d seen Willow standing outside the dining hall, the fairy lights glinting off her golden-brown shoulders, her big brown eyes darkening as they collided with mine. But I was a goddamn masochist, and Willow was the poison I couldn’t seem to quit.
And yes, I was a goddamn motherfucking bomb, too. But no, I wouldn’t be detonating tonight. Or any night. I wasn’t going to become my father—I wouldn’t be burning down the people I cared about just to smother the fires that raged inside of me. Not now, not fucking ever.
But, oh, how the flames raged.
I arrived at our cabin within minutes, flicking the lights on and immediately tearing off the ridiculous shirt Willow had left for me. Buttons popped free, pinging around the room. Hastily dressing in my own clothes—a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt—I pulled Lucas’s pack from beneath the bed and began wrenching open dresser drawers, yanking items from within and stuffing them inside the pack.
“What are you doing?”
I whipped around; Willow stood in the doorway, still holding her boots in her hand. She looked stricken, much like she’d looked when I’d been charging toward her in the dining hall. Turning away, I started packing again, twice as fast.
The soft slap of her feet on the floor echoed around me; I felt the warmth of her behind me. “Logan, what are you doing?” she demanded.
Facing her again, I found our bodies nearly touching. And if she touched me,if I touched her, it was all fucking over. I couldn’t do a repeat of earlier—I wouldn’t let her walk away a second time.
Backing into the dresser, I gritted out, “I’m leaving.”
“What?” Eyes narrowed, Willow shook her head. “Where are you going?Why are you going?”
“Why the fuck do you care?” I said. “You wanted me to leave you the fuck alone, remember, so now I’m leaving you the fuck alone.”
“Logan, no—I already saidI didn’t mean that.”
