This room used to be my childhood bedroom. Before my parents started traveling more and staying gone longer, I’d slept in here. Now it was mostly storage, but it still held pieces of the past. Posters on the wall. A few worn books and old clothes.
I came back into the living room and leaned down, brushing my hand over Ellie’s shoulder. “Come on,” I murmured. “Let’s get you into bed.”
She stirred, groggy and out of it. I reached down and shifted her, but she refused to budge.
Instead of waking her, I scooped her up gently, cradling her in my arms as I walked down the hall. I was careful of my steps, making sure I didn't wake her. She’d finally calmed down, and I wanted her to stay that way.
Bed made, I placed her down and tucked her in.
Staring down at her now, my heart ripped in two. How someone could put their hands on a woman, let alone Ellie…Abysmal.
I reached out, my knuckles brushing the peaks of her cheeks and pushing pieces of hair away from her face before leaving her to rest.
In the silence of the house, I went through the motions of turning off lights and locking doors, but my mind was miles away.
I wanted to call Boone. To get in my truck and head straight to that bastard’s house. I wanted fists and fury and every ounce of rage I felt to pour out of me. But I didn’t.
I went to bed instead.
Laid on my back and stared up at the ceiling, every muscle in my body tight and burning with tension. I couldn’t stop replaying what she said, what she looked like when she stood on my porch, trembling and scared.
I didn’t sleep much. Just a few restless hours until the first hints of dawn began to bleed through the blinds.
19
LOGAN
When my alarm went off this morning, I almost hit snooze. It felt like I had just closed my eyes, only to open them again minutes later. I spent most of the night tossing and turning, unable to settle. My body was exhausted, but my mind hadn’t shut off until sleep finally dragged me under.
Still, I wasn’t the type to ignore an alarm. So I was up, barefoot in the kitchen, getting breakfast started before Ellie woke up.
I had it all planned: eggs, bacon, pancakes, and fruit. If I had more, I’d have made it. Honestly, I was throwing everything I had in the fridge at breakfast, hoping it’d be enough. A single guy doesn’t usually stock enough food for two, but I was making it work.
The bacon crackled in the oven, which freed up the stovetop for eggs and pancakes. I whisked the batter and poured the first pancake into the pan, keeping the heat low. That was the trick to getting them golden brown, cook them slow and steady.
Breakfast was my favorite meal of the day. No matter what kind of chaos the day promised, I liked starting it with something solid.
As the first pancake finished, I set it aside and kept going—flipping, stirring, multitasking like hell.
Then I heard the creak of the spare bedroom door, followed by soft footfalls padding down the hall. My heart stuttered at the sound.
Ellie appeared a moment later, eyes puffy with sleep, her hair a beautiful mess. She was rubbing her eyes with both fists, wearing one of my old T-shirts and the pair of boxers I’d left folded on the dresser for her last night.
Something about seeing her like that—in my clothes, safe,here—stirred something low and hot in my gut as the comfort set in and I smiled.
“Morning. How’re you feeling?”
She let out a grunt and nodded, barely awake. Ellie has never been much of a morning person. Honestly, I was surprised she was up at all.
Growing up, she was always the last one to wake, and the first one to crash for the night. Some things never change.
She shuffled up to the counter beside me, leaning on it as she yawned. I already had her fuel ready—cracking open a can of Dr Pepper and setting it down in front of her.
Ellie giggled softly and smiled. “You know me too well.”
Of course I do.
I always paid attention to her.
