Chapter Twenty

Angela

It’s been almost a week, one week, since I found out about Logan’s betrayal, since Wren was attacked, since chaos basically descended on Crowley and all its inhabitants. And of all these things, I can’t get over how Logan used me. I’ve checked on Wren and she seems to be doing okay—with the help of Preston, of course. He’s her rock, her constant. That man balances the wild in that girl, making them the perfect couple.

I sip my coffee and wrap my hands around the mug just to feel the heat seep through my fingers. I haven’t heard from Logan at all. No visits to the diner, no text messages, nothing. I suppose now that his plan has been ruined, he’s got no need of me. There’s no reason to ask me silly questions or bring me candy or even surprise me with a visit.

Some days I think that I should just tell him what I know, and other days I want to punish him with never getting the answers he so desperately wants. This secret now tortures me in a new way. It sits on my shoulder like a two-ton shadow, pressing down on me, making sure I don’t forget to feel the guilt, the pain, the anger and confusion. It never lets go, slowly filling me with darkness.

I tried painting this week and nothing came. I stood before an empty canvas and there were no colors, no shapes, no inspiration to put down. If I am an empty shell and there is nothing left, will they bury me with the rest of the dead, right outside town near the railroad tracks?

I hear the crunch of gravel in my driveway and peek out the window to see Audrey’s car. I’m relieved because she’ll just let herself in and I won’t have to move from my spot. At this point, my ass may have grown attached to the sofa cushion anyway.

My front door bursts open, flooding the room with light, and I duck my head to avoid it.

“Hello, darlin’,” Audrey almost shouts, slamming the door behind her.

I don’t answer, just set my coffee cup down on the side table.

She makes her way over and sits right in front of me. I can feel the sofa dip with her weight and I lean away just to stay put. “How long have you been sitting here? Like this? Wearing that?”

I raise my head and meet her eyes. Audrey’s eyebrows are high, waiting for an answer that I don’t want to give.

“All day.”

She blows out a breath.

“And I can wear what I want, it’s my house. You’re in my space.”

“Yeah, kid. And if we don’t get you up and showered, no one will ever want to be in your space again, if you know what I’m sayin’.”

“No, no, no. I don’t need to get up or shower. It’s my day off. No work. No school. I’m happy right here doing nothing.”

Audrey’s fingers grasp my chin, not in a demanding way, but how a mother would beg for you to pay attention. “Are you happy, Angela? Does this make you happy? Stewing in your juices and wallowing in your misery?”

I throw my hands up. “Of course I’m not happy. And I don’t have juices, asshole.”

She stands and starts picking up clothes I have strewn around the room. “All week I’ve watched you paint on a fake smile at work and pretend. I’ve watched you return from your break with swollen red eyes.” She grabs two empty coffee cups and delivers them to the sink in the kitchen before returning with her armload of laundry. “I’ve watched you put on a brave face and I’m done. Tonight we are going to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?” my voice almost screeches. I clear my throat and try again. “What is there to celebrate?”

“Transparency,” Audrey says. “All these years, you fantasized about that boy and now you know. He was never worth it. Now you can move on, find a good man—with a huge cock, of course—preferably with an older brother who’s into fluffy women, then get married, pop out some gorgeous kids, and get your white picket fence. Fuck this story. We’re starting fresh.”

“I’m the laughing stock of this town, Audrey. Logan saw the drawings. He knows. He’s probably told everyone.”

“No one is laughing. All of that is happening at the pity party in your head. Now, go take a shower, wash the crumbs off your tits, and put on something hot. We’re going out.”

“Nooooo,” I complain. “I don’t wannnnaaaa.”

“Perky pair, don’t care,” she says gesturing to my tits and then to the bathroom. “Go.”

…

“Why did we have to come here?” I ask as we approach the Haystack parking lot.

“Because we drank a whole bottle of wine while you got ready and we can walk ourselves home once we’re trashed,” Audrey says.

I scan the parking lot for Logan’s truck and am relieved to not see it there. “I wouldn’t have gotten all cute if I knew we were coming here. I mean, these hooker boots were not made for walking.”

“Shut it and get inside,” she says, nudging me through the door.

The music is not as loud as usual, and there’s a decent crowd. Which I guess isn’t surprising at the only bar in town on a Friday night.

“You’re so bossy. You know that? You’re not the boss of… Wren!”

I run over to Wren and wrap her in an affectionate hug probably inappropriate for our level of friendship. I don’t care. She needs it. And maybe I need it just as much as she does. Her arms wrap around me, too, squeezing tight.

“Are you okay? Stupid question, I know. But, wow, you’re back at work already?” I ask.

Wren gives me a weak smile and shrugs one of her shoulders. “It’s better than sitting at home doing nothing,” she says. “This keeps me busy and distracted.”

“Good. Well, if you need anything at all. I’m here.” I snort. “I mean, of course I’m here right now. You see me. But I mean I’m here for you. Not here here, because I’m actually here for drinks.”

She laughs and guides me to a barstool as Audrey hops up next to me. “I think you may have already had some drinks.”

“Not enough.”

“We’re here for the serious stuff,” Audrey says.

Wren slides behind the bar. “Sawyer working tonight?”

Audrey lets out a groan as I lower my forehead to the bar. “Let’s not talk about that,” Audrey says. She tugs on my ponytail, bringing me upright again. “Here’s what we’re going to need tonight, Wren. Booze. Top-shelf. Just keep ’em coming. And no talk of Logan Sawyer.”

“You got it,” she says, giving me a pitying look. It’s one that I’m familiar with, though I haven’t been on the receiving end in a few years.

A few minutes into our drinking and man bashing, an older guy comes and sits down right next to me at the bar. Even tipsy, I know that when a man sits next to you at an almost empty bar, he wants to chat. I do not want to deal with this.

“Hey, there,” he says. “You from here?”

“Yes,” I answer but don’t look at him. “Is that your pickup line? I have to say it lacks in originality.”

“Well,” he says. “I’m Harry. Hung like a horse, but not very original.”

My mouth drops open and I finally turn to look at him. He’s probably twice my age and the look in his eyes makes me want to bathe in sanitizer.

Harry raises his eyebrows. “You want in on this or what?”

I can sense Audrey moving behind me as Harry looks away to order another drink. She flips him off and sticks her tongue out.

“The mirrors behind the bar are reflective, you know,” Harry says to Audrey leaning around me.

Without missing a beat, she answers, “So’s your bald head, but you don’t hear me calling you out on it like a little bitch.”

I let out a snort-laugh and cover my mouth so my drink doesn’t spit out everywhere.

Harry receives his drink from Wren and turns back to me. “You sure you’re gonna pass? I’m talking, it’s huge. I can show you a good time, Red.”

“Get lost, you corndog with eyebrows,” Audrey snarls.

Harry holds up his hands in surrender and wanders across the bar, probably in search of a new victim.

Wren approaches with a laugh and refills my glass. “Good lookin’ out, Audrey,” she says.

I nod. “Everybody needs an Audrey in their life.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about Sawyer?” she asks me, her expression sympathetic. “I may be able to help.”

I shake my head, feeling a little dizzy. “No, thanks. I know you’ve got insider information on him, but I doubt you could even explain what happened. Thanks, Wren. Thanks for being so nice even though I wanted you to disappear in high school.”

Her eyes go wide. “You did?”

“Just a little bit,” I say showing her a small space between my thumb and forefinger. “Though I wasn’t quite sure on the process. Alien abduction? Run off with the circus? You know, the usual.”

Wren laughs so hard she snorts. “The usual,” she says. “We’ll talk about this more later, but for now…another drink?”

Three drinks later, I am standing at the jukebox, picking out some sappy country song to go along with my mood. My grip on the jukebox steadies me enough to press the numbered buttons.

“Well, don’t you look nice tonight,” the sickeningly sweet voice says over my shoulder. I turn to find Tiffany standing with her arms crossed, a smug smile on her face.

“Yes. I do,” I answer and turn back to picking out music.

“You also look very alone,” she adds.

My eyes glare at her reflection in the jukebox as I try to keep my cool. “Girls night,” I say through gritted teeth.

She laughs and steps forward, leaning next to me. Her face is covered in so much makeup she looks like a glamorous clown. Straight blonde hair hangs around her shoulders, her boobs practically falling out of her shirt. She’d probably be pretty if she wasn’t trying so hard.

“Girls night? Is that what it’s called when you end up lonely and single again after Logan Sawyer? Asking for a friend.”

I am not a violent person. I believe in peace and healthy discussions instead of fighting. But this girl is testing me. I turn and mimic her position, leaning against the jukebox facing her. My fury temporarily sobers me enough to fix her with a level stare. “All right, bitch, if you’re looking to learn something, I’ve got a lesson for you,” I say in a low voice, then take a deep breath, “So listen up!” I shout. Every conversation in the bar stops and all eyes are on me. “You’re just a petty, jealous little person who is still mad about never”—I step forward and she moves back—“landing”—another step and she is pressed against the wall—“Logan Sawyer. Now ease up out my face before something bad happens to you.”

Tiffany rolls her eyes, shoves me out of the way, and stomps off toward the bathrooms. She sends me off balance and I grab onto the nearest table to keep myself upright.

“Did you just quote Men in Black to threaten her?” Logan’s voice sends relief and dread through me at the same time.

“So?” I spin to find him looking too good. I bite my lip and work my eyes up from his jeans, to his thick arms and threadbare T-shirt, and finally the worn-down baseball cap on his head. “Will Smith has proven himself as a competent character actor and his role in the film brought comedy relief to Tommy Lee Jones’s straight man. Besides, she ran away didn’t she?”

I see Audrey over his shoulder dig a pocketknife out of her purse and hold it up. She mouths “want me to cut him?” to which I laugh and shake my head. Logan steps toward me now, so close that we’re only inches away from touching. I can feel his warmth pulling me in but am able to stay put.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?”

“This much,” I say, holding my hands shoulder width apart. “Not that it matters to you. You’re not supposed to be here. You broke me. Like a real break. Not on a break. Like Ross and Rachel.” I poke a finger into his chest. “You better not sleep with the hot girl at the Xerox place.”

“You’re adorable when you’re drunk,” he says, chuckling.

“I’m adorable all the time.” I cross my arms and try to glare at him but realize I can’t see anything when I do that. “My eyes aren’t working.”

Logan laughs. “Can I take you home? I think you should go drink some water and lay down.”

He reaches for my arm, but I pull away. “You think I need water. You think I need to lay down. You are a pig-face liar mouth. It’s all you, you, you,” I say, waving my hands around dramatically. My head is fuzzy and I feel like the floor is moving beneath my feet. So I stomp back to the bar and grab my purse.

“You okay, kid?” Audrey asks.

“Yeah. I need to drink some water and lay down,” I say, motioning to Logan who is waiting at the door with what is maybe a concerned look. He cares about me, that’s what my drunk self believes, so I’ll let him take me home.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” I give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for everything. You’re the best.”

Audrey and Wren give a little wave as Logan leads me outside. He helps me into his truck and climbs in after, that smirk still in place.

“God, I want to slap that smirk off of your pretty little face.” I lean my head back against the seat and take a deep breath, my fingers playing with the buttons on my shirt. “And then I want to kiss it off. And maybe a little more slapping. But definitely more kissing. But you don’t deserve my kisses. They’re reserved for non-liars and maybe a girl if I’m feeling experimental.”

Logan muffles a laugh, pretending to cough, and keeps his eyes on the road. Before I know it, we are back on my porch. I used to love my porch, but now it’s starting to get tainted. I hand over my keys and Logan gets us inside. I throw my purse on the sofa, shrug out of my cardigan, leaving it in the hall, and head toward my bedroom. I get a little dizzy pulling my shirt over my head and almost fall over. Logan catches me and eases me down onto the bed. He finishes removing my shirt, then kneels down and takes off my boots. His hand slides down my calf as he unzips each one and pulls them off my feet.

His touch, the way he’s looking at me, all infuriates me. He has no right to do those things when nothing we had was real.

“Why are you here?” I ask, hopping up and unbuttoning my jeans. I push them down my legs and wiggle my way out of them before kicking them into my laundry basket. “Score!” I yell, flopping back onto my bed.

“To make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” I say to the ceiling.

“How long have you had a crush on me? Those drawings. There were a lot of them.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Heat blooms across my cheeks and I want to pull the covers over my head. “Since you told me I looked like Black Widow in third grade.”

“That’s a long time.” By the tone of his voice I can’t tell if he’s amused or disgusted. I refuse to look at him.

“It is a long time—a long time of being invisible to everyone in this town, a long time of longing for a boy who loved someone else, a long time to work up the courage to flirt with him, a long time just for his ex-girlfriend to return to town, and a long time only to be lied to and used.”

There is nothing but the sound of my own breathing and I wonder if he’s left. I lift my head to see him standing at the foot of my bed, wearing a scowl. “I never lied to you, Angela. Everything I said, everything I did, all of that was real. Hell, I know I’m a dick for how it started. And you don’t know the whole story. But once I got to know you, I couldn’t do it. You’re just too…”

“Sweet. Yeah, I know,” I say waving my hand in the air. “Maybe I’m not so sweet, huh?” I sigh and prop myself up on my elbows, adjusting my bra strap. “I’ll be fine. I’m drunk and rambling. But I’m Queen of the Dorks, girl who does not look like the gorgeous Black Widow. Just plain old Angela in underwear that doesn’t even match.”

Logan crawls onto the bed, hovering over me. I sink back into the mattress and look up at his handsome face, the face I’ve had memorized for over a decade.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful, Angela.” He places a kiss on my jaw, his scruff scraping against my sensitive skin. “If you weren’t so drunk right now, I’d spend the next few hours making sure you believed that.”

A whimper escapes my throat as he places his lips on mine. I close my eyes and revel in the feel of his gentle kiss, the way his knee presses between my legs.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against my lips. “I never meant to hurt you.” Sliding my hand behind his neck, I deepen the kiss. Logan groans and his body drops down to hold me in place.

The blaring tone of his cell rings out. “Shit, it’s Smith,” he says, breaking our kiss and climbing off the bed as he silences it. “If I don’t solve your father’s case… Well, anyway, you need rest.”

I scrub at my face and try to catch my breath. “Then go, Logan. Just go.” I roll away from him and tuck a pillow under my head. A few seconds later, he throws a blanket over me. I slip into sleep before I even know if he is gone.

…

By late afternoon my hangover is almost manageable, which is good, because the smell of diner food was beginning to make me nauseated. Audrey has only been at work since noon, but she has been making fun of me since then. I lean against the counter and swipe at my forehead with a paper napkin. Even after my shower this morning, I still smell like alcohol.

“Feeling better, Al?” Audrey asks as she drops off a pan of dirty dishes in the kitchen window.

“Almost human again.”

“You’re lucky,” she says, sliding onto a stool at the counter. “At my age, there’s a full twenty-four-hour recovery period—headache and the drinkin’ poops. I won’t feel normal until I wake up tomorrow morning.”

“Overshare, Audrey.” A reflection of light slides across the diner. I look up just in time to see Logan parking his cruiser out front. My stomach twists and I feel my nausea returning. “What is he doing here?”

“What did you two get up to last night? Kiss and make up?”

“What? No. It’s not that simple, Audrey. I’ll tell you later,” I say, pushing her toward her tables.

I smooth down the front of my uniform and check my reflection in the chrome dessert case. I look like hell with dark circles under my eyes. I tighten my ponytail and cross my arms, trying to look unaffected as the bell jingles against the door.

Logan takes a seat at the end of the counter and removes his hat. “Ladies,” he greets.

Audrey gives him a grunt and evil look before making her way to the back room. I’m thankful for the privacy. I grab the pitcher of sweet tea and pour him a glass. When I set it down in front of him, Logan gives me a smile that I can’t find the effort to return.

“Cheeseburger?”

He shakes his head. “No, I already ate.”

I let out a sigh and lean against the counter. “Then why are you here?”

“Just checking on you. You were in pretty bad shape last night.”

I look out the front windows at some kids riding their bikes down the sidewalk. “I’ll live, though it was touch and go there for a bit this morning. You know, for someone who isn’t interested, you can’t seem to stay away.”

“I never said I wasn’t interested. You said that,” he says, holding my gaze.

I blink a few times and look away from those blue eyes I love so much.

“Angela, I’m not ready to let go.”

My head whips back toward him. “Well, maybe you don’t get to make that call. Not after what you did.”

“So, what’s your call? Can we start over? No bullshit. Just us. I’ll tell you everything. No more secrets.”

Crossing my arms tight across my chest, my fingers dig into my ribs. I take a deep breath and scan the diner, anything to keep from looking at him. Because if I look into those pleading eyes, I’ll cave—I’ll take him back and spill my secrets too. “How could I ever trust you, Logan?”

“You’re right,” he says, ducking his chin and placing his hat back on his head. When he stands to go, I make my way to the sink to dump out his untouched drink. I stand there for a few seconds, my back to the diner, my heart racing, thinking and overthinking our words. Just when I think I’ll scream, I hear my name.

I turn to find Logan leaning across the counter, his face stoic. He motions for me to come closer and I reluctantly do.

“I can’t stay away, because you’re all I ever think about. I want to wake up in your bed and bring you coffee just how you like it. I want to see all your drawings, your paintings.”

I shake my head, the thought causing panic.

“I want to spend an entire day watching movies together, including the ones that make you cry. I want to see your eyes light up at Christmas and the way confetti looks in your hair on New Year’s Eve.”

“It’s only August.”

“Exactly,” Logan answers.

I don’t know what else to say, so I stay quiet. Taking all his words in, I can do nothing but hope that they’re true. The flame that used to burn bright for him sparks again and it terrifies me to my core. There is so much hurt and pain associated with Logan now, it’s hard to separate it from what he’s saying.

He leans closer, his lips near my ear. “I want to have your taste on my tongue and the scent of your perfume on my skin. I want to memorize your body and the little sighing breaths you take right before you come.”

I close my eyes and swallow down the whimper that tries to escape.

“Give me another chance. I promise I can be a better man—not for this town, or my father, or anyone’s expectations, just for you.”

I drop my gaze to the counter between us. His fingers gently nudge my chin, bringing my eyes back to his. “How many chances do you get to break my heart?” I ask.

I recognize that look of dread and uncertainty. “Please just think about it.”

I bite my lip and nod. Logan places a kiss on my cheek and heads for the door. Long after he is gone, I stand there in a daze, processing his words.

“What the hell happened to you?” Audrey asks, reappearing at my side.

“The complicated-heartbreaking Logan Sawyer.”