Fallen Crest Forever (Fallen Crest Series Book 7)(104)

“He’s not doing anything!” Another eruption from the hallway.

Smack!

Something hit the wall.

“You don’t know that either.”

“He’s not here.”

Heather sounded tired, but sympathetic. “She’s texting at night.”

“What?”

“She texts. At night. She thinks I’m sleeping, but I wake up too. I’m assuming it’s Mason on the other end.”

He was quiet. Then, a few beats later he asked, “How do you know?”

He asked like his life depended on it.

“Because she sleeps better afterward.”

“Oh.”

She coughed, clearing her throat, and her voice took on an edge of kindness. I knew that was just for Logan. “I’ll tell her you came and wanted to hug her. That’s all I’ll say.”

I hadn’t heard Heather talk like that to anyone else.

“Thank you.”

I closed my eyes, feeling a pang in my chest. I pressed against the wall and tried to stop the waterworks. These fucking tears.

“How do I fix this, Heather? I don’t know how to fix it.”

He was a broken little boy.

I was Helen. I had just ripped apart his family—again.

I sunk to my knees. Oh, God. I couldn’t . . .

“Sam!”

Courtney rushed to my side, her hand touching my back, but then it was brushed aside. Two strong arms lifted me up, and Logan carried me back to the bedroom. He laid me on the bed and stepped back.

He hung his head, his hands pushed into his pockets. “Is that true? Is he texting you?” he asked, his voice so raw and gruff.

I nodded. My throat was scraped clean. It wasn’t working anymore.

Logan drew in a breath, and his shoulders grew rigid. “Is he going to fix this?”

I paused.

I hoped.

And I nodded.

Logan’s eyes met mine. I saw the unshed tears. “I want to stay. Let me stay.”

I was Helen. I was Analise.

My throat still couldn’t work. It had swelled shut. Shame and guilt crushed my windpipe.

But Logan was waiting. I saw that little boy in him, the same one Mason told me stories about, the one who would sit outside his door waiting for his big brother to leave so he could follow or steal his bag for attention. He stared at me now, waiting for my answer.

I reached forward and grasped his hand. “Thank you,” I choked out. I nodded, in case he couldn’t make out my words.

He let out a relieved breath and sat on the floor by the bed.

Courtney and Grace were in the doorway with questions in their eyes. They didn’t know what to do, but Heather did. She moved past them and held out a beer to Logan. He took it, and she sat next to him with her own. The two saluted each other, and the three of us just settled in as Courtney and Grace slipped away.

Logan had his back against the bed, right next to where I lay. Heather sat beside him, and I kept my hand touching my phone.

I had done this. Now I had to fix it.

I couldn’t be like our mothers.





Is Logan there? He’s not answering his phone, but Taylor won’t tell me where he is.

Later that night my phone lit up, and I looked over. Logan was curled in the corner. Courtney and Grace didn’t have anything for him to sleep on earlier, so he made them drive him to a nearby store since they were sober, and he was not. He bought a cot, a sleeping bag, and a travel utility bag.

He set everything up, and he now slept soundly. He’d refused to move to the living room. Heather asked what his girlfriend would think, and he replied without hesitation.

“She knows what it’s like to lose a family member.”

The conversation was dropped.

He’s here. Refuses to leave. I texted.

You’re okay having him there?

Yes. I hit send, then paused with my fingers over the buttons. I typed out, I think I fucked this up. I did a Helen.

You didn’t. I did a James. I’ll fix this.

How?

We need to talk still. We can talk about it then.

Okay.

Love you.

So goddamn much.

So goddamn much.

I put the phone away, and Heather was right. I slept the rest of the night through. When I woke, I knew—I was ready to talk.





“Sam?” The next evening Courtney knocked on the open door.

Heather and I looked up from where we were lounging on the bed. Logan was at Taylor’s, and Courtney faltered in the doorframe, scratching behind her ear.

“Um, there’s a lady here to see you.”

“Me?” I gave Heather a look, starting to put my pen and book away. “She didn’t say who she was?”

“Helen or something?”

My eyes found Heather’s again. Helen?

Heather raised her eyebrow and scooted to the edge of the bed. “You want to talk to her?”

I shrugged and stood, hugging myself. “I guess.”