Surrounded (Unsettled Series Book 2) (2 page)

Logan

If there was one thing that I’d learned for sure over my twenty seven years of life it was that things changed. They didn’t always change when you expected, but they did. Changes could occur over a course of days, in seconds, or even minutes. I don’t think anyone ever forgets that one certain moment when they feel their life has been altered permanently… but for me… I only had one event that followed me around like a shadow every day of my life.

Over the years I’ve tried repeatedly to scrub the memory from my mind, but that fateful day of minutes and seconds has made me who I am today…the multi-millionaire everyone wants to know. But for all the smiling faces that crossed my path, they didn’t really want to know me. If they had a chance to look into the memories I try to lock away, they would probably stop coveting my life and run the other way. The truth was most would end up being surrounded with the same devastation that I’ve been living with for the last seventeen years of my life.

For me there was no forgetting. No forgetting the crashing noises of cars slamming into one another. No forgetting the sound of pieces of the upper level of the bridge colliding with the hood of our car. No forgetting the smell of the exhaust fumes that swirled around our heads. No forgetting the way Pépé’s body was smashed between his seat and the steering wheel, as blood trickled down the side of his face. No forgetting how Scott screamed out when the asphalt underneath us shifted, causing another car to collide with our already battered vehicle, and crushed his leg between the car frame and the seat. No forgetting how I became more frantic once I saw how much pain Scott was in and there was nothing I could do. The sound of my voice as I hollered for Pépé and Nana to get up and take us home haunts me to this day. The low moans that gurgled from Pépé’s lips are what my nightmares are made of.

In the aftermath of the earthquake, there was no forgetting the look in Pépé’s dim eyes as he whispered, “It’s okay, Goose. Don’t worry, everything will be okay.” Then I had the unwelcomed fortune of watching the light leave my grandfather’s eyes. Pépé was gone, and I knew without even turning around that Nana was gone too. At ten years old, I didn’t know how to process any of that.
I just hoped that someone would find us and be able to take me and Scott out of the hell that we were trapped in.

For whatever reason, I continue to hold onto that same dim light that I saw in my grandfather’s eyes that day in October. For a long time after my grandparents died, I didn’t know where to place my grief. I couldn’t express my feelings in front of my dad, because he’d blamed me for their deaths—as if a ten year old could control an earthquake. And while I loved my mom dearly, I didn’t want to hear it was okay to feel sad for a while, but I needed to move on. Scott seemed to bounce back, but he was younger and didn’t fully understand the tragedy of the earthquake at the time. Nobody else watched the life leave my grandfather’s body. Just me. Pépé had always talked about people having their own crosses to bear. I
guess that’s what prompted me at eighteen to get my first and only tattoo. The word Lost. Lost wasn’t just a word for me anymore. It was a state of being. Lost made me remember—and never let me forget. Every time I saw the black ink on my back, memories raced back as if the accident just happened. That’s what I needed, though. I needed to never forget because the reality was that I was living on stolen time.

Any psychiatrist on the face of the earth would probably say I had a textbook case of survivor’s guilt. Maybe I did. But with the heavy emotional toil of watching two of the people I loved most in the world die in front of my face, came the need to make my life mean something. Amount to something more. To not be surrounded by the circumstances of my situation, but instead control them. Ha! As if that could wash away the pain. But I hoped maybe one day, I wouldn’t need to be surrounded with the memories of their deaths. Maybe. Just maybe.

Logan

One Week Earlier

I cracked my eyes and was greeted by darkness, brightened only by the soft light over the kitchen sink. Still dazed, I looked down to see Brooklyn resting peacefully on my lap. I held in a groan as my cellphone started vibrating. I was relieved when the phone stopped—until it started up again. If my pocket didn’t stop buzzing I was sure it would wake Brooklyn, and that would piss me off. After her ex-boyfriend Damon left last night, it took a while before she calmed down enough to fall asleep.

I leaned back into the couch, trying not to disturb her. I forced my hand into my pocket, clutching my phone between my fingers and pulled it to my ear.

“Hello?” I whispered.

“Hey, L! How are you!” Elizabeth’s high pitched squeal echoed in my ear. “Were you sleeping?”

“Um, I was. It’s late.” I quickly pulled the phone back from my face to check the time. Why was she calling me at two thirty in the morning?

“Hold on a sec.” I muted my phone and placed it on the arm rest, then lifted Brooklyn’s head and maneuvered myself off of the couch. Grabbing my phone, I tiptoed to the sliding glass door that led to the backyard.

I cleared my throat in an attempt to sound more awake. “Elizabeth?”

“Still here,” she laughed. “Things going well?”

“I’m good…how are you?” I answered. I rubbed the creases out of my forehead as the realization that she was calling just to shoot the shit set in.

“I’m doing fabulous,” she replied. “It’s a nice day in London, one of the few sunny days since I’ve been here. I can’t wait to get back to the states, though.”

“You do realize that it is two thirty in the morning, right?” I took a seat on the porch stairs and clutched the back of my neck, rubbing at the knot that had formed from sleeping at a crooked angle. For the handful of people I was tight with—and that wasn’t many— they knew not to call me at two in the morning unless they were dying. The only people who got a pass to that rule were my best friend Trevor, family, and of course Brooklyn. But not Elizabeth. Even if she was one of the latest princesses of Hollywood. I hadn’t even seen Elizabeth since the Christmas charity event in NY she’d attended as a favor to one of my frat brothers. Truth be told, the only reason she even had my personal cell number was because she’d expressed interest in making an appearance at an L.L.A.P. event to help us raise money.

“Oh god! I’m sorry! I completely forgot about the time change. Blonde moment.” Her giggle funneled down the phone line and into my ear. “Hold on one sec, I’m trying to get my things together. I’m headed to Paris to finish my press tour. We’re supposed to be boarding the Chunnel soon.” Two things crossed my mind at that moment:

1) Was I supposed to care? Because I didn’t. That was hardly newsworthy information at two AM.

2) Elizabeth felt comfortable enough to use the nickname only reserved for close friends. We weren’t close—only sporadically ran in some of the same circles. Brooklyn hadn’t even started calling me by my nick name, and we were dating.

“Well, I’m awake now. Just glad the phone didn’t wake up my girlfriend. It’s been a long day.” Having a confrontation with an asshole like Damon would make anyone’s day turn to shit. The nerve of the guy was unreal.

“Your girlfriend, huh?

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone. Do I smell love in the air?” she asked. I guess if we’d known each other better, she’d understand that I was in no hurry to date again after Ashley. I’d given Ashley everything she wanted, including the five carat engagement ring she’d been pining over for a year and a half.

When I met Brooklyn though, I knew that she was someone special. She immediately looked past all the shiny things that I could offer. I needed that. I needed to know that she wouldn’t just hang around to leech off of me the way that Ashley had. More importantly, I needed to know that she saw me for me.

“Maybe,” I admitted honestly, “We’ll see how things go.” It was still too soon to say, but Brooklyn had grabbed me by the heart strings. That much I was certain of.

“Hmm, well maybe I’ll get to meet her sometime.” That was doubtful. “Anyway, I was calling to see how things were going with you? I just saw your piece in Smart Money while I was scrolling through my phone, and it seems like you’re doing well, L.” At this point who hadn’t read that article? I couldn’t help but feel seeing my name in print was what prompted her phone call.

That was the problem with being wealthy: everyone knew your face and name, and wanted to be associated with your status. That was usually how most of my conversations with people started off. “I read the latest article…blah, blah, blah.” Some days I felt like I was walking with a target on my back. But again, that’s where Brooklyn differed. The first day we met she accused me of being a stalker. And as ridiculous as that was at the time, it was the most original line of conversation I’d had with a stranger in a while. She’d been hesitant to get involved with me since she worked for the firm my company was considering to do our marketing. Conflict of interest and all that. But it had become clear neither of us really
wanted
to avoid each other. Which led us here.

“Doesn’t look like anything leaked about your ex, so that is good news.” And there it was—the reason I didn’t need to fuck with a super-star after finding out that my ex-fiancé Ashley had embezzled over a million from my charity. Not one of my proudest moments. Now Elizabeth knew a secret that she shouldn’t.

“Um…yeah, nobody knows about that.”

“Don’t worry. I would never say anything.”
Yeah, because people who act for a living are so trustworthy.
“Thanks.”

“I may be in DC soon. Would we be able to get together? Maybe we could have drinks?”

“I don’t think so. I’ll be out of town in Seattle next week.”

“You’re going to be in the rainy city at the same time as me! I’m shocked! What are the odds?” I pulled the phone back as her voice raised at the news.

“Ronin’s team just sent me a request to do a private casting of
Ashen Willows.
I fly in on Thursday.” Apparently Elizabeth’s ride to the top hadn’t ended yet. Stephen Ronin had directed a fair amount of films over the last couple years. “Hopefully we can hook up while we’re both in the city.”

I attempted to hide my indifference. “I’ll be busy, but we’ll see.”

“It’d be nice to see you again, L.” The need in her voice when she said that surprised me.

I wasn’t sure how to respond to her comment, so when I heard someone slam on their horn in the background; I used it as my cue to end our conversation. “Well, I better get going. It’s late here. I need to get some rest. Have a safe trip back.”

“Oh okay… Well let’s chat soon.” Her cheerfulness sounded forced. I knew she wanted me to say yes, but I couldn’t. For the most part I was a stick-to-yourself type of guy.
I could mingle with the best of 'em, but I really preferred not to be a pretender. I didn’t want to be
that guy
. The person who appeared to be your best friend for a small segment of time, but, in reality, would have nothing to do with you otherwise. Then again, that too came along with being wealthy.
Pretending.

“Good night, Elizabeth” I said, standing from the stairs and turning to head back inside.

“Night L, it was nice hearing your voice” she said, in the same sultry tone she used in her movies…and in bed. The line disconnected and I was glad the call was over. I smothered the memory of us spending that one night together and pushed it to the back of my mind. I knew who I wanted, and it wasn’t Elizabeth. Brooklyn may have thought I needed to be with someone like Elizabeth Drexel, but she was wrong. Ashley Matthewson was the epitome of glossy lips and perfect skin. What I never told Brooklyn was that I’d had the girl with the glam looks, and the only place it left me was alone and defrauded. I didn’t want or need the hottest girl in the room…the one that every man would try to steal when my back was turned. I wanted a real woman—flaws and all. Someone I could be real with and who could be real with me. Appearance wise, Brooklyn wasn’t average by any stretch of the imagination. I thought she was utterly beautiful. Her smooth chocolate skin and those mile-long legs…got me every time. I liked the way she didn’t cake on makeup like a clown. I loved the way her eyes twinkled and her full lips curved when she smiled. Most importantly though, I loved the way that she didn’t pretend. For me or anyone else.

I slid the door open, and stepped back into the dark living room, closing the door behind me. Thankfully, Brooklyn was still peacefully lying on the couch. I dropped my phone into the back pocket of my jeans and walked to her room, turning on the side lamp. I caught myself smiling at the picture on her nightstand. The look of horror on Brooklyn’s face while her best friend Alex tried to lick her cheek was priceless.

Once I pulled back the covers, I headed back towards the living room to where Brooklyn was curled up on the couch cushions. I knelt down and lifted her into my arms. She stirred slightly and then leaned in and nuzzled her face to my chest.

“Hey” I murmured, “You were out of it.”

“I was?” she asked sleepily, “What time is it?”

“Late” I responded. “Don’t worry, I got you.” She twined her arms around my neck and my heart expanded.
I liked knowing that even after everything that happened with Damon, the guy who had virtually crushed her a few years ago with his betrayal. She trusted me enough to rest peacefully in my arms and let me take care of her.  That said a lot after Damon bailed on her, leaving her pregnant and alone. She lost the baby, but the emotional scars were still there.

Just like me.

“You know, I could get used to this,” she said drowsily as I headed towards her bedroom.

“That’s the plan.” Brooklyn had been through way too much. Damon would never speak to her again if I had anything to say about it. I wasn’t a fighter…unless you pushed me to that point…but damn, he was a smug asshole. From my brief interaction with him I didn’t know what she’d seen in him. Then again, I guess people could say the same thing about me and Ash.

I pushed Brooklyn’s door open wider with my foot, turning to make us fit. I walked over to her bed and eased her onto her mattress. The corners of my mouth turned up as I looked down at my girl. I watched my girl for a few moments, enjoying the happiness I felt being near her. It took me a few minutes to snap out of my reverie. When I helped her out of her jeans, I felt the slightest twinge of regret that she was so out of it. Didn’t matter. Now wasn’t the time for anything more than letting her rest. Giving her some peace. So I pocketed the desire I felt for her. I quickly undressed, climbed into bed next to her and hit the switch on the sidelight. Tomorrow would be another day, and I was almost positive there’d be more shit she’d have to face. But if I had anything to do with it, we’d face it together. I pulled the blankets over us and curled up behind her, planting a kiss on her shoulder. Grateful she was in my life.

I turned over in bed. It was already morning and Brooklyn was still lying beside me sound asleep. I lightly passed my hand over her cheek.

“Babe?” I whispered in her ear. Aside from a low whimper, she didn’t even attempt to answer me. I was just a little jealous of how peaceful she seemed while sleeping. Sleep wasn’t always my thing. Sometimes the dreams about the earthquake and the aftermath were too real to sleep through.

I slipped out of Brooklyn’s bed and into the hallway bathroom. It was probably good I was awake before her anyway. I was sure the last thing she wanted was my supreme morning breath blown into her face. I needed to head back to the penthouse anyhow since I didn’t have a change of clothes. I needed a shower and a toothbrush, but I didn’t want to leave without letting Brooklyn know that I’d be back later. I hoped what I had planned would put a smile on her face, especially after last night.

I found a piece of paper and pen in her nightstand drawer and scribbled out a message to her. The lyrics to Paid Forward’s song
Let Me In
popped into my head  

Don’t be afraid to let me in…don’t give your fear the chance to win…

She’d been humming along to the song on the radio last night while we drove back to her place.  I laid the note next to her on the bed and quietly slipped out of the room.