When Love Breaks (17 page)

“And, if I don’t?”

He snorts.

“Then, I guess it’ll be a while before we see each other again.”

I sigh, frustrated that the solid lead I had is now nonexistent. How the hell did I lose this battle?

“Fine.” I uncross my arms and stomp off toward his room. Coming back into the kitchen, pushing his wheelchair in front of me, I line it up with the chair he’s sitting on and lock the wheels. “Get in,” I demand, pointing to the seat.

“You’re so bossy,” he says, then smirks. I roll my eyes at him.

He follows me into the living room, where I sit on the couch. He lines up then transfers himself. After getting comfortable, we face each other, and he begins.

“First, let me just say I’m sorry. I didn’t want this day to turn into an argument. I know I should’ve stopped wearing my legs at the first sign of pain, but you have no idea how much I want to be normal for you.” He scoots closer and takes my hand. “I have a lot to learn about how my life works now, and I’m so grateful you’ve agreed to be a part of it. I want to be whole again…for you. I want you to be proud to walk down the street with me. I don’t want people to look at us and wonder why you’re with me, in whatever capacity that means. So, I guess that means that if I have to endure a little pain, so be it. I’d go through a lot more than a pressure ulcer for you.”

I look down at my lap. Because of me, he’s intentionally hurt himself. If I weren’t in the picture, he would’ve taken them off and had them repaired. I close my eyes and sigh.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have pushed you so much. If I’ve given you any reason to think I’d only want to be seen with you in pubic, while you’re wearing your legs, then I’m sorry. The truth is that I don’t care if you’re in a wheelchair with a purple hat on your head, playing folk songs on a harmonica. As long as you’re happy, then I am too.”

“Well, that’s an interesting image,” he says with a smirk.

I snicker.

“I think we need to communicate more…which is why I want to talk about a concern I have.”

His brow knits, as his face turns serious.

“Okay. By all means, tell me what’s on your mind.”

I swallow and push my hair behind my ears.

“Um…I’m nervous about your feelings toward Bethany.”

“Why?” he says, perplexed.

“Well, she wants you back. She told me so.”

“So what? I don’t want her. I’ve told you that already.”

“I know, but there’s something that’s been bothering me.”

“Okay…”

“At the wedding, you dragged me away from her then kissed me. As soon as you ended our kiss, you looked straight at her. The kiss was abrupt, and the look you gave her seemed to come at an odd time. I thought that maybe it was more for her than for me. You know, like, maybe, you were trying to make her jealous or that you were testing your feelings for her.” I look down at my lap again. I’m so afraid of what I might hear next.

He shifts closer to me again and brings his hand to my chin, gently lifting it, so I’m looking at him. His eyes shift back and forth, examining my expression.

“I’d never kiss
you
to spite
her
, nor would I do it to see if I’m over her or not. I’m over her—completely. And, if you need proof of that, I’m willing to give it to you.” I look back down, and he reaches up and caresses my cheek. “Elora, you have no idea how many ways you’ve saved my life.” I glance up at him. What is he talking about? He looks away as if to gather his thoughts, or maybe he’s contemplating whether or not to tell me something. “Do you remember the very first day you came over here?” I nod. “Do you remember I had you move Michael’s boxes into his bedroom?”

“Yes,” I say quietly. “You got really upset with me the next day, when you couldn’t find some wooden box you were looking for.”

“Yes. That’s right. That box was very important to me, but I never told you why.” I look at him, silently wondering where he’s going with this.

“Elora, that was a very difficult time for me. I was a different person than I am now. I thought my life was over, that there was no way I could live a normal, let alone
happy
, life ever again.” He takes a deep breath, the exhales forcefully. “That day, you took the one thing from me that I wanted most in this world. You took my death. There was a gun in that box. I was planning on killing myself that day.” He bows his head, obviously ashamed at his former self.

My hand flies to my mouth.

“Logan, no!” I say in shock. “Why on earth would you even think about doing that? My God. I’m…
sick
at the thought that you could’ve succeeded.”

My heart races at all the what ifs.

“I know, but as I said, I thought my life was over. I had no legs—no hope for a normal life. I was forced to have someone else do things for me that I should’ve been able to do for myself. It was humiliating, to say the least. I felt like a useless human being, and all I wanted was out. I’d chased away so many aides who couldn’t care less about me. But, then, you walked in.” He grins and pushes a hand through his hair. “God, you were different. It was as if you were a light, shining on the darkened path of where my new journey would take me. You cared, and you challenged me. You pushed me to want more for myself. You gave me a reason to fight for my life. And, that’s when I felt it—hope. I felt it instantly—the minute you walked in, and it scared the shit out of me. Until that point, I’d never dared to hope for anything more than the cards I was dealt. And, I knew I couldn’t make you happy in the condition I was in. The truth is, you deserve more than half a man, so I let you be the beacon I reached for in my recovery.
You
are the reason I can stand upright again. You. Are. Everything.”

14

LOGAN

S
ilence takes over the room, as her stunned expression has left her speechless. Her lips are parted slightly, and I ache to hear what thoughts will come from them.

Please
. Say something.

I touch her arm—my thumb gliding in circles against her skin.

“What are you thinking?” I whisper, hoping her reply is something I’ll want to hear. She blinks several times and takes a deep breath.

“I’m thinking…I’ve never heard anything so beautiful in all my life,” she replies, equally as soft, as her sincere eyes look straight through to my soul.

I exhale with relief. Thank God.

“It’s the truth,” I say, then shrug. “And, now you know.”

“I had no idea how you felt…especially in the beginning.” She breaks eye contact with me and starts to giggle. “And, you were such a jerk.”

I laugh right along with her.

“You’re right, I was, and I’m so sorry for that. I wish I could go back and tell that idiot to lighten up.”

“Well, it certainly would’ve made my life a lot easier.”

We laugh as we reminisce about our first few weeks together, but soon, the laughter turns serious.

“What are you thinking now?” I ask.

“I’m thinking about all the times I ogled you behind your back and about all the middle fingers that appeared there too.”

I chuckle, understanding completely.

“Well, you had every right. But, I’m not that guy anymore.”

“I’m glad,” she says, then smiles and chews on the corner of her lip. My mouth dries as my breathing becomes shallow.

“Michael is at his friend’s house for the night. So, what do we do now?” My voice is hushed—almost hoarse.

She shrugs.

“I don’t know. What do you think?”

Then, without another word, I lean closer to her. Reaching up, I let my thumb brush against her cheek, and she closes her eyes, tilting her head into my hand. I lean in and just as our lips meet, I feel a gentle breath escape from her mouth, and I can’t help it, I press into her farther. Her hand snakes through my hair, pulling me in, and my arms engulf her. As our tongues touch, an uncontrollable frenzy begins. One of us lets out a seductive moan or, maybe, it’s both of us, then we’re wrapped round each other. She leans back, allowing me to lie on top of her, all the while, our mouths devour each other’s. My hips grind into her automatically, so I stop, unsure if that’s going too far. My internal question is answered when her hips rise up to meet mine, and her hand pulls my body against hers. I break our kiss, but only to find her neck. The soft floral scent of her perfume only ignites the fire building inside me. It would take every ounce of will power I could muster to stop now.

“Bed,” she whispers, and I can feel the vibrations of her words on her throat.

“Yes,” I hiss in reply. Then, I instantly recognize a problem. I don’t have my legs on, and I can’t put them on because of the blister. I stop kissing her and drop my forehead onto her shoulder. “I can’t.” I look into her eyes and watch her face go from puzzled to realization in less than a second.

“It’s okay. Just use your wheelchair.”

And, at those words, the proverbial bucket of cold water is thrown. I let out a frustrated sigh and sit upright. She props herself up on her elbows, a concerned expression on her face.

“What’s the matter?”

“It’s not supposed to be this damn difficult!” I shout, angry that my legs, or lack thereof, have ruined a perfect moment.

“What’s not?”

I peer up at her. There’s a fine line between a look of concern and one of pity, and her expression is bordering between the two. I close my eyes and turn away to avoid the rage I feel rising up.

“Everything, Elora. Everything is difficult without legs.” I say with a menacing edge. I gaze back at her and continue. “I should be able to sweep you off your feet, carry you into the bedroom, and make love to you, but I
can’t
.” I shift in my seat, so I’m no longer facing her.

She says nothing for a moment, then I feel her move closer, and her hands land on my thigh.

“Logan, look at me,” she says softly. I hesitate, but eventually do as I’m asked. She gives me a small smile. “I don’t care how we get there. I don’t need a big, romantic gesture. I just want you.” I roll my eyes, and she frowns. “Stop being so critical of yourself.” She sighs, probably in frustration at me. “Would you still be attracted to me if I dyed my hair a different color?” My eyes quickly meet hers again.

“Of course.”

“What about if I lost an arm?”

“I know where you’re going with this, and it’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re a woman.”

“So,” she snorts.

“So, I’m supposed to be the one who’s strong and—”

“You
are
strong,” she interrupts.

“Not right now, I’m not.” I push my hands through my hair, irritated at the point she’s trying to make. “I know what you’re trying to say, but there are things I should be doing—things I
want
to do, but in my current state, that’s nearly impossible.”

Her soft hands cup my face, and turn it toward her, so I’m looking at her.

“I don’t need you to sweep me off my feet. You’ve already done that. And, as for carrying me to your bedroom, well, if you think this is the only opportunity you’ll have to do that, I have news for you—it’s not.” She grins mischievously as her eyebrows lift twice. Her smile is contagious and although it takes me a minute, I smile back at her.

“Where did you come from?” I say, amazed at her capacity to defuse my anger.

She shrugs.

“Originally Cleveland.” Her smartass grin is one of my favorite expressions. “So, does this mean our,” she clears her throat, “
plans
have been thwarted by your chauvinistic ego?”

I laugh.

“My what?”

“Well, if it wasn’t for your temper tantrum, you’d already be halfway to a home run by now.”

“Really.”

“Mm hm.” She nods, and her mouth twists.

“Well then, we’d better get started again.” I lean in and kiss her, but it’s more playful than romantic. She giggles against my lips, and I grin. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I just thought of something. Wait here.”

She stands and walks into the hallway. After a moment, she returns with a spare blanket and two floor pillows. Moving the coffee table out of the way, she unfurls the blanket and smooths any wrinkles out. Then, she places the pillows at one end.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Come on. Come down here, and join me,” she says as she lowers herself to the floor and lies on her side, propping herself up on her elbow.

I smile and shake my head, but join her, as requested.

“Now what?” I say, as I lie on my side, facing her.

“Now, we do whatever we want to. If we just want to talk, then we talk. If we want to make out some more…” She raises one eyebrow seductively, “then, we can do that too. But, if you want to make love to me, then this is the perfect spot because the truth is, the location is less important than the feelings behind it.”

Without another thought, I wind my fingers into her hair and kiss her hard on the lips. I hear her gasp, but she reciprocates wholeheartedly. As she rolls onto her back, I roll with her, resuming my position partially on top. Her hands rake through my hair, stopping at the back and fisting tightly, as if she had little control over them. It’s just this side of painful, which only reignites the fire that was doused just moments ago. My hand roams south as I reach her belly. I lift her shirt slightly, then allow my fingers to explore underneath it. She writhes at the contact, and I watch as her head tilts back, and her eyes close.

My God, she’s beautiful.

My lips find her throat again, and for hours we make love, until we both fall into an exhausted sleep.

ELORA

I
stretch, with my arms over my head, arching my back off the floor, and yawn. As I look down, I notice Logan’s head is laying on my chest. I smile at his sleeping form and run a playful hand through his hair. He stirs, and his sleepy face glances up at me. His lazy smile is charming.

“Good morning,” he says.

“Morning,” I reply. “Did you sleep well?”

He nods and stretches, then yawns.

“Yes, but my back is a bit stiff from lying on the floor all night.”

All night.

All night?

“Shit,” I say, as I bolt upright, accidentally knocking him off me. “What time is it?” I search the room for a clock, then finally find one on the wall. “
It’s almost seven?
” I grab the blanket, leaving him the sheet, and wrap it around me. “I’m going to be late!”

As I gather my clothes from the surrounding floor, Logan watches me with ill-disguised humor.

“You could call in sick,” he tempts me. I shoot him a don’t-be-ridiculous kind of look, then continue gathering.

“I cannot be late. This guy I’m working for is a bit of a tyrant about it.”

He cocks his head to the side.

“Your new client is a tyrant?” His brow is furrowed.

“Not exactly. He just likes things the way he likes them, and there’s no wiggle room.” I pull the blanket a little tighter around me and look around. “Is Michael still out?” He nods. “Good.” Without another word, I waddle off to the bathroom.

When I reenter the living room, Logan has made a pot of coffee. He’s sitting in his chair in just a pair of tight fitting boxer briefs. I pause a moment to remember to breathe.

“Want some?” he says while holding out a coffee cup. His smirk distracts me even more.

“Huh?” I eye his finely sculpted chest, then realize what he’s referring to. “Oh, coffee.” I laugh guiltily. “No, thank you. I have to go.”

“Are you sure I can’t persuade you to stay?” he says, as he rolls closer to me and takes my hand, planting a seductive kiss on the back of it. I almost cave, but remember the wrath of my client.

“No,” I say, pulling away from him, but kissing his nose to alleviate the frown that now mars his handsome face. “I’ll take a raincheck though.”

“Story of my life.” He shakes his head. “When will I see you again?”

“I’m not sure. I’m working every day this week, and I have classes almost every night. I also need time to study. So…I don’t know.”

His mouth twists.

“Okay. How about if you call or text me when you get a free moment?”

I nod.

“I will. I promise.”

I lean in and give him a quick peck on the lips, then turn to leave. But, he grabs my wrist and pulls me down to him.

“I don’t think so,” he says, then he wraps his hand behind my head. He pulls me into him and kisses me passionately. For a few moments, I forget my pressing issue and fall into his tender touch. He breaks off the kiss and looks deeply into my eyes. “Now you can go,” he whispers. My breath leaves me as I contemplate his earlier offer to play hooky. “Go. You’ll be late,” he adds. I snap immediately out of my daze and stand upright.

“You’re a bad influence on me.”

He grins.

“I’m glad.”

I plant one more peck on his lips before taking off out the door.

“I’ll call you later,” I say, as I close the door behind me.

My day has been one of the longest on record. My eight-hour shift at work felt more like twelve, and school seemed to drag on just as long. As I sag into my couch, I close my eyes. I’m exhausted.

“Late night again? Or should I say early morning?” Daniel asks in a snarky voice.

I open my eyes and see my brother looming over me with his arms crossed in front of his chest. I roll my eyes. I’m too tired for his interrogation.

“As a matter of fact, yes. Why do you care?”

“I don’t particularly, but a phone call would’ve been nice. I was worried. I thought you’d be home last night. What if you were in a ditch somewhere?”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic. I was with Logan all day.”

His eyebrows shoot up.

“All day
and
all night? Whatever could you have been doing?” he says sarcastically.

“Daniel, stop it,” I say as I rise up from the couch. I walk on my aching feet into the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. Daniel follows me. “I wanted to spend the day with him yesterday. Is that all right with you?”

“You don’t have to justify your actions to me. I just hope you were safe.” His look is expectant, as he waits for information. I don’t give him any.

“I know I don’t. That’s why I’m not saying another word.” I smile smugly then turn to make my dinner. He stands behind me for a few minutes, probably trying to think of something clever to say. He says nothing more and eventually retreats.

I take a bite of my sandwich and announce that I’m going to bed. All I really want to do is call Logan, so I close my bedroom door and dial.

“Hey,” he says. His voice is smooth and sexy. “How was your day?”

“Hey, yourself. My day was long and boring. How was yours?”

“Lonely. Michael just got home, and I’ve been missing you terribly.”

I smile.

“Good. You’d better miss me. Otherwise, I might start to think you don’t like me.”

He laughs.

“There’s no chance of that, baby.”

Baby.

I swoon at the endearment.

“So, what are you doing now?” he asks.

“I just finished eating my dinner, then I’m going to shower and go to bed.”

“Have you figured out when I can see you again?”

I sigh ruefully.

“I haven’t had time to breathe, let alone think. Can I let you know tomorrow?”

“Of course.” He sounds vaguely disappointed.

“I’ll make it up to you. I promise. Maybe, we can have dinner one night this week. I’ll cook.”

He snorts.

“Well, that’s a given. You don’t actually think I could make anything edible, do you?”

I giggle.

“I have no delusions,” I say, then giggle again. I hear him sigh into the phone. “How’s your blister?”

“It’s getting better.”

“You’ve left your legs off, haven’t you?”

“If I say no, would you come over and scold me?” He sounds hopeful.

“No, but I might the next time we see each other.”

I hear his grin.

“Don’t worry. I’ve been a good boy.”

“Good.” I yawn unexpectedly. I’m fading fast. “Well, I’m going to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He sighs again. This time, it sounds sad.

“Okay. Please be careful driving tomorrow, and text me when you can.”

“I will,” I say. “Good night, Logan.”

“Goodnight, Elora. Sweet dreams.”

I smile.

“You too. Goodnight,” I say, then hang up the phone. I cradle it against my chest, as though it’s him, and sigh. I’m content, and the thought of seeing him again makes me smile.

I take my shower, then I snuggle into bed.

For the next three days, my only form of communication with Logan is through phone calls and text messages. My school workload is so heavy, and the pressure to know everything is so great that I feel as though I have no time for a personal life. Logan has been so great about my busy life, and I pray he can hang in there with me as I do my best to balance a life with him, along with everything else.

“You sound sad today,” I say softly into my phone. “Is everything okay?”

Logan sighs.

“Yeah. I’m just tired,” he says, but I’m not sure he’s telling me the whole truth.

“Me too.” Our conversation pauses, as I don’t think either of us knows what to say to the other. “Logan?”

“What?”

“I’m sorry about not being able to see you this week. It’s just that school is consuming all of my time, and—”

“Don’t apologize for trying to better yourself,” he interrupts. “I know this is a temporary thing. We’ll find time to see each other.”

“I know, but I wish there was a way to be together more often.”

“Well, you could come work for me again.”

I laugh.

“You don’t need me anymore.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong,” he says, and I can almost hear his grin. I smile shyly, even though he can’t see me.

“You know what I mean. Besides, why on earth would you want to pay for a home health aide, when you’re not working right now? I’m sure I don’t come cheap.”

“For you, I’d manage.”

I shake my head, amazed at the affection this man has for me.

“I’d better go. I haven’t eaten dinner yet, and I still have a few chapters left to read for school tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he simply says.

“Aren’t you going to ask me when we can see each other?”

“No.”

I frown.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to pressure you all the time. I know that when you find the time, you’ll let me know.”

Sadness washes over me, and I suddenly feel like I’ve unintentionally put him on hold. He’s resigned himself to the fact that he’s at my mercy, in a way, and he’s given up fighting for precedence in my life. This worries me. If he can concede control of when we see each other, could he decide, one day, that I’m not worth all the hassle it takes to be with me? Could he eventually get tired of waiting for me, give up on us, and just walk away? I’m sure I’m freaking out for no reason but, still, the thought of him feeling like he’s not important to me anymore weighs heavily on my mind.

“I don’t mind.”

“You don’t mind what?”

“You asking to see me. In fact, it makes me feel wanted.”

He scoffs.

“You’re definitely that,” he says, unequivocally.

I smile.

“I want you too. I’ve missed you this week.”

“What do you miss about me?”

I smile again, broader this time.

“Well, for starters, I miss your smirk.”

“My smirk?”

“Yes. It’s one of my favorite expressions that you make.”

“What else?”

“Hmm. I miss your gentle berating, when you tell me I’m making up my own words.”

He snorts.

“And you do it often.”

“Hey, sometimes there are no words to describe a situation, so making up your own is the only alternative.”

“If you say so.” He chuckles. “What else?”

“I miss the feel of your hand gently gliding through my hair, just before you look deep into my eyes and kiss me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I breathe, picturing him in my mind. “It’s better than any aphrodisiac.”

“Really.”

“Mm hm,” I hum while closing my eyes.

“Well, imagine if I were with you right now—in your room, sitting beside you on your bed.” I touch a spot next to me on the mattress and pretend he’s here. “Imagine me brushing your hair aside, exposing your neck.” I groan and tilt my head to the side to give imaginary him, full access.

“Uh huh.” My voice sounds breathy.

“My lips graze the skin on your neck, very gently, giving you goosebumps.”

I touch my arm and find actual goosebumps. I smile, my eyes remaining shut.

“Mmm.”

“My finger traces a line down the front of your throat, from your chin, down to that little dip at the base of your neck, then continues its way south. Down…down…down.” I groan at his words. “Now, I’m leaning in closer. My hand slides through your hair, holding your head in place, as I plant a trail of soft kisses from your collarbone, all the way up to just underneath your ear. I can hear your labored breaths getting more and more shallow as I go. My mouth encases your earlobe, giving it a delicate tug, as I suck gently on it.”