"I didn't mean to upset you," Jonah continued. "I was just passing the time. We can talk about something else."
I shrugged. I was so damned sick of bottling everything up, of being pitied and tiptoeing around everything. "It's okay. I thought maybe there was something there, but apparently I was wrong."
Jonah chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully for a moment. "Fair enough." His grin reappeared. "Well, if you feel like making him jealous, you know where to come."
Perhaps the heat in Logan's gaze should have told me not to prod the bull, but he'd hurt me, and in that moment all I wanted was to do the same to him. Reaching out, I looped my fingers through Jonah's and turned toward him, doing my best to smile seductively. "That's very generous of you."
Of course, I had no intention of taking him up on his offer. All I wanted was to provoke a little more of a reaction in Logan. Unfortunately, I got much more than I bargained for.
As I watched him out of the corner of my eye, the bell sounded to start the next round. He lunged to his feet, tearing his eyes from me just long enough to unleash a staggeringly quick blow straight at Caesar's head. The bigger man stood no chance. He didn't even have time to raise his hands. One moment he was bouncing lightly on his feet, the next he was a crumpled heap on the floor. The crowd sat in stunned silence for a few seconds, then erupted, but Logan seemed utterly oblivious.
The menace radiating off him as he strode toward us was almost palpable. Jonah felt it, pulling his hand away and recoiling, but there was nowhere to go. We were both trapped back here. Fish in a barrel.
"You stay away from her." Logan's voice was low, like scraping gravel, a sound that seemed to echo up from the floor around him.
Jonah eyes were wide as saucers. He nodded rapidly. I didn't blame him. This wasn't just some bar room pissing contest. One look at Logan's clenched jaw and balled fists and you knew he was taking the phrase "deadly serious" to a whole new level.
But he wasn't the only one in the depths of full blown rage. "What the fuck are you doing, Logan?" Despite the fact that I was screaming, my voice was nearly lost in the roar of the crowd. "You don't get to decide who I can and can't talk to. Hell, you don't get to decide anything I do."
He turned his gaze to me, his brow furrowing. There was a kind of madness playing across his face, a desperate confusion, like he was only a passenger and some other dark force was driving his body. I began wondering for the first time if perhaps he really was unbalanced. His behavior made no sense.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again, seemingly lost for words.
"Say something for Christ's sake," I said. I felt physically ill. Nobody had ever created such conflict in me. I wanted to just be angry, but it was muddied by a host of other emotions all raging like a whirlpool inside me.
The cheering in the background began to drop to hushed whispers as people realized there was something going on beyond the usual celebrations. Several seconds passed in silence with Logan's eyes boring into mine, then, without another word, he spun and made a beeline for the exit. He broke into a jog, passing Caesar's still limp body without any acknowledgment.
Charlie stood in the center of the ring, microphone in hand, apparently torn between following his friend and assuaging the crowd. I, on the other hand, knew exactly what I had to do.
There was no doubt in my mind about where Logan was going. When I walked in through the gym doors, he was already working the bag. He hadn't even bothered to switch on the lights. He just stood there punching in the dark, a formless, staccato hammering sound.
He must have heard me come in, but he didn't stop.
"What the fuck, Logan?" I said again, after a couple of seconds.
My eyes were adjusting now, the room gradually taking shape in the moonlight around me. Logan continued to attack the bag, throwing his whole body into every blow as though his life depended on it.
"Hey, I'm talking to you," I said, walking around until I was directly in his line of sight. "You can't punch your way out of this conversation."
He slowed, finally meeting my eyes. For a man who'd just won the biggest fight of his career, he looked awfully defeated. "I'm sorry."
"You're sorry? Seriously? That's not even close to good enough. Who do you think you are going all alpha male over me? You don't own me!"
His fists dropped to his sides. He looked almost ready to dispute that, but then he squeezed his eyes shut and drew a deep breath. "I know. I just saw you with him and I lost control."
"Understatement of the year. Christ, I can't deal with this anymore. You know I can't. I'm barely keeping it together as it is." I knew if we kept on this way, I'd break down again. It was time to put all of my cards on the table. "You said you wanted to help me, but all you do is mess with my head. You nearly kiss me, then act like nothing happened. You pick up some floozy right in front of me, then make Jonah shit his pants just for talking to me. How the fuck am I supposed to interpret any of that?"