Page 33 of Accepting Fate

I raise my hands slowly and take a big step back.

Logan’s eyes meet mine and she says, “Sorry.” Her voice sounds full of shame and her eyes fill with tears, then she starts coughing. I want to help her but she just fucking flinched when I tried to touch her.

Logan runs around me to the kitchen and fills a glass of water. She faces the cabinets on the back wall and her body leans against the countertop.

I stand there frozen in my spot in complete shock.

She fucking flinched. It was like I was trying to help one of the victims I’ve rescued in the past. I expect that from them but not Logan. Granted I don’t know much about her past, but I didn’t fucking expect that.

I’m a mix of anger and confusion. I want to beat the fucking shit out of whoever made her react that way. But I also want to assure her that I would never lay a finger on her in a negative way.

I stand in the doorway, my hands in my pockets, while I wait for her to turn around. I’m not moving an inch until she tells me it’s okay.

She turns around and attempts a smile. “You don’t have to stand there. You can sit on the couch.”

I shake my head. “I’m not moving until you tell me what hell just happened.” I keep my voice level to not freak her out.

Logan takes a few steps forward to the marble island that separates the kitchen area from the living room. Her face shows signs of pure exhaustion. The dark circles under her eyes are a clear sign.

Leaning her elbows on the countertop, she buries her face in her hands. “Grayson, sit down. Please.”

I kick off my wet shoes by the door and hang my hat on one of the hooks. I make my way to the living room and sit on one of the twin gray couches. Specifically, the one that gives me the best view of Logan.

She stays in the kitchen for a while. Her shoulders slowly rising up and down. I don’t take my eyes off her. I take in every inch of her body that I can see from my position. She would call me a liar, but she is so fucking beautiful like this.

Most girls would never allow me to see them like this. They always have to be dressed like they are going to a damn fashion show or something. Logan is the opposite.

Her baggy shirt has slipped further down her shoulder, giving me a glimpse of the top of a tattoo. I can’t tell what it is from here, but it looks like a flower of some kind.

This isn’t a normal situation, but the little things I notice about her are becoming my favorite.

Now I just need to get her to talk to me and tell me what the fuck is going on, so it won’t ever happen again.

The sound of the coffee brewing and the rain hitting the windows fill the room.

I will sit here in silence and wait for as long as she needs.

Logan raises her head and scrubs her hands down her face. She takes a deep breath and lowers her hands, her eyes finding mine. Her cheeks are red and her eyes are bloodshot.

She stands up straight and gives me a small smile. “Coffee?” Her voice is quiet, almost a whisper.

“Sure.”

Logan takes two large white coffee mugs out of the cabinet and sets them beside the coffee pot.

She doesn’t look at me as she pours the coffee into the mugs. “I assume you’re a black coffee kind of man.”

“Correct.”

She goes over to the fridge and pulls out creamer and adds some to her coffee. When both are to our liking, she walks over and hands me my mug.

I take it and watch as she walks around the coffee table and sits across from me on the twin couch. She sits criss-cross and pulls a pillow into her lap, settling her coffee atop. Leaning back into the couch, she focuses her attention on me. “I know you have questions, but I need to say something first.”

Taking a sip of my coffee, I rest one arm on the back of the couch. “The floor is yours, Angel.”

She raises her arm to cough quietly into the crook of her elbow. Her body is taken over by a coughing fit and I’m about to get her some water when she stops and motions for me to stay seated. “Sorry. At least you know I wasn’t lying about being sick.”

“I never thought you were lying, Logan.”