“Since when do you curse?” I snapped suddenly. “And why are you so angry?”
We both stopped in the middle of the path, looking at one another. I stared into the eyes I’d stared into a million times before, yet not really recognizing them anymore.
“I’m sorry,” I hurried to say. “I don’t know why I said that.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Lucas said. “Losing you guys really fucked me up. And I don’t know—I think seeing this place, seeing your house—I guess it kinda feels like you guys moved on without me.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “Luke, we thought…we thought you were dead.”
“I know. Fuck, I know.” Lucas scrubbed his hands down the sides of his face, sighing hard. “Look, forget it. It doesn’t matter. It is what it is, right?” He stepped closer, one of his hands coming to rest on my hip while the other cupped my face. “By the way, have I told you how amazing you look? Civilization really suits you, Willowby.”
“Shut up, Lucky Charms,” I mumbled, turning away.
Not to be dissuaded, Lucas cupped my face with both hands and bent his head to mine. I went stiff at first and then attempted relaxing into the kiss—into Lucas. Moving my lips over his, I attempted channeling the feelings I felt for him, searching for what we had once had, only… those feelings felt far away now. Breaking the kiss, I turned away, swallowing back tears.
“Willow,” Lucas growled. “Why won’t you kiss me?”
I covered my mouth, stifling the sob that threatened.Because I’m in love with your brother.
“Are you going to say something?” Lucas demanded. “Or are you just going to stand there looking like you’re going to cry?Goddammit.” His fists clenched. “What the fuck is wrong with everyone? I’m back from the dead but everyone’s acting like it’s a fucking funeral!”
With a disgusted shake of his head, Lucas took off down the path, leaving me staring after him, still trying not to cry.
That evening, long after Lucas had gone to bed, I sat awake, staring across the dark room, my fingertips trembling fretfully across the tabletop.
Lucas and I had spoken very little after returning to the cabin. The growing silence between us made worse by our close quarters. Our once effortless camaraderie and easygoing banter had become painfully strained and downright uncomfortable. And I felt physically sick over it.
Sick over Lucas, worried about Logan, unable to sit and stare at Logan’s empty bed for another agonizing second, I jumped to my feet. With one last look at Lucas’s sleeping form, I slipped quietly into the night.
Camp was silent, the ground cool and hard beneath my bare feet. Looping around dark, quiet cabins, and finding no sign of Logan, I checked the construction site next, hoping to discover him hiding out in one of the unfinished buildings, only to find them all empty.
Approaching the main gate, I called up to the guard tower, finding Xavier and Joshua playing cards within. Neither had seen Logan, though they assured me he hadn’t left camp.
Circling back through the cabins, the lake was the last place I looked. As I tiptoed down the weathered, water-worn dock, the boards creaking softly beneath my feet, a figure emerged from behind the boathouse. Shoulders slumped, hands shoved into his pockets, Logan froze when he saw me.
We stood there staring at one another, me wishing desperately to touch him. I swallowed. If things had gone differently, if he’d come home without Lucas, we’d have gone straight to bed. And after, picking back up where we’d left off, bickering and arguing. I was even aching for that—to be fighting with him again.
“You’ve lost weight,” Logan eventually said, his tone flat and lacking his usual gruff condemnation, reminiscent of the cold, detached way he used to speak to me. Speaking in a way that made me want to grab him and shake him and demand that he stop avoiding and ignoring me, treating me as if the months we’d shared together hadn’t happened. As ifwehadn’t happened.
“I tried to eat,” I stammered. Everything that I’d wanted to say to him since the day he’d left had fled in the face of his indifference. Indifference I was dying to scrub from his infuriating face and replace it with the hungry look I’d come to crave—the look he wore when he was buried deep inside of me and itstill wasn’t enough. Part of me thought that he must have realized this—that he absolutely must sense the desperation bubbling within me, ready to erupt like molten lava and burn us both to dust—because how could he not? How could he not see how my lips trembled, the way my fingers twitched, the way my body bowed toward his?
I took a deep breath and tried again. “I tried to eat, but I was so worried about you. And Britta wouldn’t wake up, and… Logan, why didn’t you warn me about Luke?”
His gaze flicked away. “I should have said something on the radio,” he muttered. “I wanted to, but Luke wanted to surprise you and I couldn’t… I couldn’t—” Logan abruptly cut off,his jaw locked, his nostrils flaring as he tried to compose himself. And there it was—a breathtakingly beautiful flash of anguish across his formidable features and the green light I needed to propel me the remaining distance between us, to send my hands flying to his face and my body crushing against his.
I kissed him carelessly, biting his lips, dragging my teeth down his tongue. Logan growled, a deep guttural rumbling in his chest that echoed in my own, sending shivers up my spine.
“I need you,” I demanded, roughly pulling at his shirt. The buttons popped free, the worn flannel ripping beneath my hands. And then I was tearing at his bare skin, digging my nails into his hard, muscular body. The feel of him, the smell of him, the taste of his skin on my tongue leaving me begging for more.
My back slammed into the boathouse wall, my breath leaving me in a hard rush. Logan unzipped my hoodie, freeing my breasts and tore down my jeans, tossing them away. Then we were kissing again, our mouths fused with heavy, heated breaths, while Logan fought to free himself from the last shred of clothing between us.
My back still flush with the wall, I wound my legs around his hips. Our naked chests pressed together, the hot pulse of him was heavy between my thighs, pushing at my entrance.
“Logan.”
He slammed inside of me. My eyes locked with his, my muscles tensing as breathless, incoherent demands burst past my lips. Harder and faster, he moved until my head rocked loudly against the wall, and my back dragged painfully across the broken wood.
He continued to batter my body with his, each jarring thrust sending me hurtling further into euphoria, soon turning my tense muscles to little more than jelly, until it was all I could do just to hold on to him. My head lolled back, my fluttering gaze blinking languidly to where the moon hung low over the lake, looking fat and full and so beautifully close to bursting—a mirror image of how I was feeling.
My body tensed, my pleasure building. Burying my face in his neck, I let out a muffled cry. I was still whimpering, still flooded with the aftershock of sensation as his thrusts continued to pick up speed, until finally, with a teeth-clenching groan, he slumped against me.
Still breathing hard, Logan slowly lowered me to my feet. I clung to his neck, gazing up at him through hooded eyes. My legs shook, my arms trembled. We kissed slowly, his hands dropping to my hips, his fingertips biting possessively.
The dock creaked loudly. Jerking, Logan and I faced the walkway. Illuminated by the light of the full moon, Lucas stood at the rise, his wide eyes glowing white. “Holy shit,” he rasped, backing slowly away. “Holy fucking shit.”
“Luke.” His name slipped from my lips and his eyes locked with mine, hurt and anger flashing across his frozen features. Then he turned, breaking into a run.
“Luke,” I cried out, shoving Logan back even as he tried to hold me. Clutching my hoodie closed, I grabbed my discarded jeans and took off down the dock. “Luke, wait!”
