Page 33 of Kick the Candle (Knight Games 2)
"No problem, Sally. And please, call me Logan."
"Okay, Logan. See you soon. I hope you're ready to work." With one last warm, flirtatious smile for him and a death stare for me, she continued on her way. I thought my eyes might roll out of my head.
Logan leaned toward me and whispered, "Did it ever occur to you that I don't want to be better yet? Huh?"
"Why wouldn't you want to get better?" I asked incredulously.
He startled backward, lifting an eyebrow at me like I was insane. His wide eyes said it all. I was temporarily taken aback by the vulnerability I saw there. Michelle was right. He still had feelings for me.
"You're afraid... of losing me." I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. "That's not going to happen, Logan. We're still going to be friends, right?"
"Sure." With a sigh, he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. He rubbed a toe on the floor.
"But?"
"It's not going to be the same. We won't have a reason."
"That's just silly. We-" I had to stop midsentence. He was right. Without the excuse of helping him through rehab, I wouldn't see him regularly. He'd be busy at the restaurant, and I'd have my nursing job and my responsibilities as the witch. Could we maintain a friendship? Probably. But I couldn't promise our relationship wouldn't change.
"Okay, Logan, I'm ready for you." Sally was back, her red curls bouncing over her perky shoulders.
He reached for my hand and used it, along with his cane, to shakily stand. It was very convincing.
"I'll bring your drink," I said, grabbing the sports bottle off the end table with my free hand. For the next hour, I needlessly assisted Logan through his therapy, while Sally cheerily guided us. When we were done, I pretended to help him to his truck.
"This is the last time I'm doing this," I said. "It's a lie. As much as I believe Sally enjoys working with you, it's practically insurance fraud."
"Yeah, I thought so." With speed and agility, he dropped my hand, pulled open the door to his black, half-ton pickup, and propelled himself into the driver's seat. He tossed me the cane. "So, ah, since I'm not going to see you for the next appointment, can you come to my welcome back party at Valentine's next Saturday?"
"Should I just forgive your dishonesty and unctuous secondhand invite?"
The charmer he beamed my way should've been illegal. It actually made my knees buckle. I had to use the cane. "Yes, you should, because if there's anyone in this world who understands the extenuating circumstances, it's you." One green eye winked at me. Jesus, he actually winked!
I groaned. "Okay, I'll see you then. But you owe me a drink."
"Excellent. See you then."
Before I could say anything else, he backed out of the parking space and was gone. I tossed his cane in the dumpster. Things needed to change. It was inevitable. What I needed to figure out was how much... and how fast.
Stupid Gary
After a rough night of tossing and turning, I put in a twelve-hour shift at St. John's. I'd been transferred from the ICU to the ER, a move I liked because my day usually rushed by, allowing no time for my brain to taunt me with its unanswered questions. But today, even though I'd been off of witchy duty the night before, I was dragging, and a cup of tar-thick cafeteria coffee didn't seem to help.
Over my break, I texted Michelle.
Valentine's next Saturday. This isn't a request. You're going with me.
Like I'd miss the drama.
What drama?
Watching you interact with Logan should be interesting.
No doubt you plan to analyze my interactions and report back to me on my repressed feelings.
U bet.
Oy. Not repressing! I made a choice.
