This was why he didn’t get close to people. No matter his intentions, he always hurt them. He made bad decisions. Winter had comforted him and hugged him when he felt like his insides were falling apart, and what had he done? Called her weak for it.
Another mistake to stomach on his way down. Winter wasn’t weak at all. She’d fixed Dustin’s injury and kept Beast from Changing and calling out Logan’s inner bear. She’d approached him when he was midway to shifting, even though she’d been deeply and physically hurt by his bear before.
Dustin had thanked him for helping him, but the werewolf didn’t understand.
Brave, beautiful, quiet, understanding Winter was the one who had saved them.
And something dark and selfish inside of Logan wished she could save him, too.
Chapter Twelve
Winny, I’m worried. I miss you. Where are you? Ben won’t tell me anything. I need you.
God, she’d always hated the nickname Brody had given her. Winter huffed a sigh and debated texting him back to leave her alone. But if she opened up a line of communication, he would dig in and get relentless, and what if she caved eventually? What if Logan had been right? What if she was weak?
Maybe she should change her number.
Her phone dinged again, and a flash of anger took her. He had a mate, a wife, a child on the way. He had the perfect life she’d always wanted, and he was throwing it away. She didn’t want anything to do with his self-destruction.
She glared at the glowing screen, but bolted upright when she read the text from an unknown number.
I didn’t mean what I said earlier.
Who is this, she messaged, just to make sure.
You know. You aren’t weak, Winter. I am. Just wanted to say sorry.
She drew her knees up to her chest and relaxed against the headrest of the motel bed. The lights were off and the television was on but turned all the way down. She stared at the Old West shoot-out playing across the screen. Her heart rate was going a thousand miles a minute, and what did that say about her? Nothing good. Logan was bad news, but she’d still latched onto him deeply already.
How did you get my number?
Resources from the old job. That, or Emma gave it to me and told me to stop being a dick.
I like Emma, she typed with a smiley face.
If I had a heart, I would like her too. It was followed by a little grinning devil symbol.
Okay, so Logan knew how to tease. Good. Winter turned around on the bed and put her feet onto the wall facing his room, just to feel more connected to him. Brody just texted me. I’m thinking about being super WEAK and messaging him to come cheat on his new pregnant wife with me. He might be my soulmate. Devil symbol. Send.
A minute drifted by, and at last her phone dinged again. Are you trying to get him killed? Then the symbol of a harmless-looking teddy bear came through.
Winter giggled. Are you in your room?
Sitting outside in a bag chair that Dustin gave me. Drinking a six pack after the disaster that was today. Don’t come out here. I’ll fuck everything up in person. It’s my way. This chair smells like wet dog.
Winter log-rolled off the bed and padded over to the window. With the barest brush of her fingertips, she moved the curtain just a crack. Logan was out there in a pair of dark gray sweatpants, no shirt, two beers into a six pack, staring at his phone like he was waiting for her to respond. His lips were curved up slightly. Then suddenly he looked over at her, right at her.
Winter squeaked and unhanded the curtain, bolted from the window, and laid on the bed again, feet up on the wall.
Her phone vibrated. Curious kitty.
She rested her hand on her stomach, right over the butterflies there, then typed her response. So you know…I was really mad at you for the claw marks. Just because I don’t react the way you think I should doesn’t make me weak. I’m just tired of fighting with everyone, and I know you didn’t mean to do it.
A couple minutes passed. I did mean to do it.
Winter frowned. Your bear did, but not you. You wouldn’t hurt me. Right?
Goodnight Winter.
And there it was. Logan cut people off who got too close to the real him, and this was his line. He’d drawn it in the sand, but it wasn’t an invite to come over to his side and join him, no. His line was really a fence, and he was behind it like a rabid guard dog keeping everyone away from his junk yard. She could beg him to keep talking to her, but Logan didn’t respond to pushing. He responded to patience. He rewarded her for patience with tiny peeks into his soul that he likely didn’t share with anyone else.
Goodnight Logan.
She got up and looked out the window again, just to see him pack up, but he didn’t. Instead, he buried his face in his hands and rubbed the heels of his palms against his eye sockets. The soft murmured, “Fuck,” drifted through the window. Logan rested his elbows on his knees and shook his head for a long time as if he was at war with himself. He looked back at his phone, typed something in, then shook his head again and turned it off. He stood and started packing up, so she let the curtain fall again, her emotions completely mixed now.
Logan didn’t feel so much like a distraction from Brody anymore. Logan was second to no one. She imagined him as a beautiful puzzle. She held two misshapen pieces in her hands, brightly colored, interesting, a fraction of the bigger picture that was Logan. She wanted more. She wanted to collect them all, one by one until she could really and truly see him.
He thought he was ruined, and maybe some of his pieces were.
Not all of him, though.