24. Crew

24

Crew

I 've stood outside this trailer a hundred times over the last months, all for her but somehow tonight the air feels strained like I can't catch my breath. I don't know how to go in and tell her that Tommy is dead, I don't even know if I want to.

All I know is that I want to go inside.

But she's going to ask a thousand questions and I can't answer half of the ones I know are coming. Not if I want to keep her safe.

I wish I could say I regret pulling the trigger, ending Tommy's life the way I did, but I don't. It's the one decision I made tonight that doesn't have me cursing the wind.

My lungs sting from the chill in the air as I take in a deep breath. It's not enough as that familiar feeling wraps itself around my nerves. The same one I used to get after missions. Your whole body feels like a livewire, itching for more fight even after the sound of gunfire dies down. All that's left is that buzz and a creeping exhaustion that lingers just out of reach.

I take a few weak steps towards her porch and stop at the bottom stair. Staring at the door like it'll magically put her in front of me. So I don't have to be the one to move, to walk into that trailer and it potentially be the last time she will ever want to lay eyes on me.

The shit Tommy said about her could not be further from the truth. There is not a single person outside of my brothers that I would kill for. Logan is complicated, her heart's guarded by miles of brick walls laced with barbed wire, but over the last few months I've seen them crack and crumble little by little.

I just pray that whatever is behind those walls isn't beyond repair.

Looking down at myself, I came straight here not bothering to shower or change and now I'm regretting that decision. My clothes are stained with Tommy's blood from hauling him into the truck and I'm still bleeding from the wound on my arm. It didn't matter when I climbed into the truck. I couldn't stand being away from her a second longer on the drive over here and now I can't figure out how to get to her.

"Just do it," I say to myself, hand on the door knob.

She would scream and yell no matter how long I stood out here, I'm just delaying the hurricane.

"Logan?" I push open the door to find her hunched over the coffee table shoving things into a duffle bag. Her long hair slips from the pony tail and falls over her shoulders as reaches to her left. She swings on me waving that damn baseball bat in the air.

"I thought Cam took that thing away from you?" I nod to the bat and the realization hits her.

She drops it to the floor and runs toward me, slamming into me as her arms wrap around my neck. My bicep throbs at the movement as she jumps into my arms but I catch her and squeeze tightly.

"Hey, pretty girl." I nuzzle into her soft hair and wrap myself around her waist as she sinks into the hug a little deeper, softly crying against my neck.

When she pulls back I let her slide to her feet and her stormy eyes roll over me, growing wide as she takes in the blood. Her brows furrow tightly as she works through everything and, even with tears streaming down her cheeks, she looks beautiful. My heart skips more than one beat as her eyes connect with mine.

She pushes hard on my chest, slapping both hands against the Kevlar. "What the hell!" She yells but it's controlled and hushed. "You scared me, I thought you were—"

"You don't have to worry about that," I say and the gears turn behind her eyes. I take a second to look around the trailer to notice she's packing two bags on the couch and I lose all semblance of thought.

"Where are you going?" My voice cracks.

"I—" she looks at the bags, her hand aimlessly tucks into the cutout of the Kevlar vest. Holding me there as she figures out her feelings. "It had been so long and…" she turns to the bags, and I realize that she isn't running from me, she's getting ready to run from Tommy. In case I wasn't the one who walked through her door. "I was going to take Ash and get out. If you hadn't come through that door, I'd be dead."

"Look at me."

She's still staring at the bags. No doubt trying to figure out how to explain herself but she doesn't need to. I just need her to look at me.

"Shepard, god damnit, look at me," I order and softly pull on her chin with my finger. "I took care of it."

"What does that mean?" She asks so quietly that the lack of anger in her voice breaks my heart. I wrap my hand around the fingers curled into the vest and unwind them to bring our palms together.

"Tommy is never gonna come through that door again," I say against her cheek as I pull her close again. "You'll have to find someone new to use that bat on."

A laugh bubbles up from her and she tilts her head up to look at me. Stray hair sticks to her wet face and I push it away with my hand, brushing my thumb over her cheek.

"I'm sure you'll figure out a way to fill that position," She jokes.

I wanna tell her I love her, so badly that the words itch on my tongue and I part my lips to speak but nothing comes out. The rain from her storm, so fierce and unrelenting, pounds against my chest and makes it hard to think. So I kiss her, wrapping my hand around her throat and delicately lifting her jaw until she's on her toes sinking into me with everything she has. The world melts from around us and for a second the rain stops, the storm breaks and it's just Logan and I.

We hover in the doorway of the trailer and when she breaks away from me she pulls at my hand, dragging me inside so I can close the door. I huddle in the kitchen, avoiding hitting my head on the low ceiling.

"Did you come straight here?" she asks.

"Ford brought me," I respond.

"Remind me to bake them some cookies," she says absent mindedly and shifts on her feet.

"Pretty girl," I laugh, "the last cookies you baked sent Bode to the dentist. You don't have to thank them, they were protecting the ranch."

"The ranch?" Her brows furrow. "I bet Ford loves that."

I rub the space between her eyebrows so she stops worrying. "Ford hasn't loved anything in a long time, but he understands now."

I'm not sure she understands the difference but it's enough to get her to stop bugging me about it. She shrugs, her nose scrunching up as she catches a sniff of how I smell.

"I need to shower." I look down at myself.

"That's an understatement, Huckleberry." She slips from my grasp and pulls a clean towel down from a cupboard in the hall. "I know how much you love my shower." She smiles.

"It's not the shower I love," I grumble under my breath as I turn away from her.