Page 51 of Betrayed

Chapter Seventeen

Nearly Six Years Ago—January—Four Months after Bree’s Death

AJ walked to the front door after a twenty-four-hour shift at the fire station. She’d slept all of three hours when a three-alarm warehouse fire woke her at two in the morning. She needed sleep, but the adrenaline was still running too hot.

Logan’s bike in the carport told her he’d gotten home from his overnight shift too.

She unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Logan?” She needed a hug even more than sleep.

Logan sat slumped over the end of the kitchen table, tumbler glass in his hand, a bottle of whiskey nearby.

She called his name again.

He lifted his head. “Hey.”

She ditched her coat and shoes and walked to him. “Rough night?”

“It was a night.”

“What’s with the whiskey then?”

“Just needed a glass.” He stood and shifted away from her.

He had hardly touched her in two months.

Setting his glass in the sink, he turned toward the hallway.

She reached out to him. “Logan.”

He stopped and looked at her. “I’m headed to bed. I’m tired.” He walked away.

How could he not see she needed him? She hated having to chase him down for any affection or comfort. Sure, he was hurting, but so was she. They needed to walk through this together.

She followed him. “I need you.”

He stopped but didn’t turn. “I have nothing to give. I don’t know what you want from me.”

“You. I need you. Nothing more. You don’t need to give me anything except an iota of your attention.”

His shoulders sagged. “I’m exhausted.”

She let him get ready for bed, and she did the same.

They were both exhausted. And not from working nights. They were empty casings. Grief had stripped them of themselves, of joy, of true rest. And of sleep. AJ didn’t remember the last time she’d slept through the night. She could sleep for twelve hours but never straight through. Too many times she woke up thinking she heard Bree crying for her from across the hall. But Bree wasn’t there. Never would be again.

AJ crawled into bed beside Logan. He laid on his back and let her snuggle up against him, but he didn’t wrap his arm around her and hold her like he used to.

Hot tears poured out of her eyes and soaked his shirt, but he said nothing and didn’t move. Once again, she cried herself to sleep.

Present Day

After leaving the cemetery, Logan bought food for dinner, including some broccoli, before heading home. As he rode, he tried to sort out his feelings about being at the gravesite with AJ today, but his emotions were still all discombobulated. It had been cathartic to cry. He was man enough to admit it, at least to himself. He hadn’t cried like that since he’d held Bree’s lifeless body against his chest—once everyone forced him to face the fact she was gone. Maybe bottling up his emotions for so long hadn’t been wise.

But hearing AJ’s words had not only uncorked it but busted the bottle open. It was going to take a while to process and let the words sink in. Was he really not at fault for Bree’s death?

AJ’s voice repeated in his head. “It was an accident.”

He pulled into the driveway and parked his motorcycle in the carport.