Chapter 38

CHAPTER 38

MIRA

A t home alone, I opened a bottle of crisp, dry white wine and watched the pale liquid as I poured it into my glass. It's been eight days, seven hours, and approximately twenty minutes since I've last spoken to Logan.

Like an addict who was kicking the habit, the knowledge was always right there at the fore of my mind. At any given time, I was aware of the fact that I wasn't speaking to him and of the reasons I'd decided to take a step back. It was a constantly brewing storm of doubt in my head.

Had I done the right thing? Should I have spoken to him about it? Did he even care?

I lifted my gaze away from the wine, taking in my gleaming kitchen counters. Nothing was out of place. There wasn't a speck of flour or raw egg from the batter I'd made to coat my chicken breast for dinner. Everything was as it should be, but it felt empty.

As did I.

Maybe that's why it feels that way.

I'd never been an obsessive cleaner. I'd always figured it got done when it got done, but these days, I had to keep occupied, and that meant cleaning. Apparently. It'd just started, and when it worked to quiet my mind for a while, I kept doing it.

But looking at the sparkling granite now, having it so clean felt weirdly wrong. Then again, not much felt right these days. I sighed at my own melancholy thoughts and shook my head as I picked up my glass.

I grabbed the bottle too, carrying it over to the fridge and sliding it into place just as a loud, banging knock came from my front door. I frowned as I glanced past the kitchen counter to the little foyer beyond. Obviously, I couldn't see who was outside, but force of habit had made me look that way and narrow my eyes at the door anyway.

Sort of like turning down the music in the car to look for an address. Makes no sense, but people do it all the time.

As I stared at the door, another heavy knock sounded and I jumped a bit, instinctively taking a step back until I realized I was being silly. Sure, unexpected visits at night were hardly ever a good thing but clearly the first knock hadn't simply been from someone who had the wrong door.

Whoever was out there was here to see me, and standing around, working myself up about it wasn't going to help the situation. I left my wine on the counter and walked around to get to the foyer, praying that whatever was going on wasn't serious.

Anxiety rippled through me as I slid open the chain and twisted the doorknob. God, I wish you would've called first, whoever you are. At least then I would've known you're not the police.

Slate was in town, my only family.

As the door opened and Logan's handsome face came into view, relief, surprise, and trepidation all slammed into me at the same time. I blinked hard. "Logan? What are you doing here?"

"I came to talk to you," he said easily, those eyes blazing into mine. A lock of hair had fallen over his forehead and his mouth was set into a worried line.

My heartrate sped up again. With that lock of hair out of place, he looked almost frazzled. And Logan Jones didn't do frazzle. "What do you need to talk to me about? Did something happen? "

His head cocked, and his eyes widened with realization and he shook his head, lifting his hands to show me his palms. "No. God, no. Nothing happened. Everyone is fine. It's just that you've been avoiding me."

"Oh," I said as I dragged in a deep breath and tried to dispel the last of the anxiety. "I was wondering if you'd even noticed, to be honest."

A crease appeared between those light eyebrows, confusion racing into his eyes as he kept staring into mine. "Of course, I noticed. That's why I'm here. For an explanation."

I sighed, realizing that this was my opportunity to get some answers too. Stepping aside, I motioned for him to come in and then shut the door behind him once he had. Turning my back on him so I wouldn't have to keep looking at that handsome face, I made a beeline for my wine and took a large, long sip.

"Want some?" I asked once I'd swallowed, still without looking at him. "It's cold and I just opened the bottle."

"Please." I felt him come up behind me, so I darted forward, hopefully far enough out of his grasp. "Mira?"

"Yes?"

"What's going on?" When I finally turned to face him once I'd poured him some wine, I saw a strange flash of desperation in his eyes.

He was now leaning against the counter, his chin lowered and his arms folded loosely over his chest. "What is this all about? Am I really not even allowed to touch you now?"

Is it just me, or is that a bit of hurt I hear in his tone?

Maybe I was just projecting again, though. Because I sure as hell felt hurt myself when I looked at him now, seemingly so innocent and confused. It made me want to go over there, pull him into my arms, and hold him for the rest of my life—or at least until he felt better.

I didn't act on the urge. Gripping my wine instead of my man, I shook my head at him. "You could've called first, you know? That knock freaked me out a little."

"Would you have picked up?" he asked like he already knew the answer. "I'm sorry I freaked you out. That wasn't my intention, but desperate times call for desperate measures."

Desperate? Why are you desperate?

I cradled my wine against my chest with one hand, dragging the other through my loose hair as I got comfortable leaning against the counter on the opposite side of my kitchen. Physical distance was a good thing right now. The only thing I had that would guarantee I didn't accidentally jump his bones.

Can't screw him if I don't touch him.

"I don't really have anything to say to you, but next time you want to drop in on me, at least send a text. I thought…"

Concern furrowed his brow. "You thought what?"

I sighed. "I thought that maybe something had happened to Slate. It's just us now, so if something happens to him, I'll be alone."

Logan paused for a beat. "Why did you think something had happened to him?"

I averted my gaze toward the window and shrugged. "What we do for a living is damn dangerous. I'm not blind to that fact, but often, people like us die in the most stupid, unexpected ways when we think we're not in danger. It could happen."

"But it didn't," he said softly after another brief pause. "You know, I had a feeling you might've been traumatized by what happened with Andrew too. Slate told me you were fine, but obviously, thinking for so long that you might've lost a guy on the rig has left a mark."

I scoffed. "Of course, it left a mark, but I'm fine. Really. I was also just about to go take a bath, so let's get this over with."

His gaze held mine for a long beat. It didn't look like he wanted to let this go, but eventually, he did. His chin lifted a fraction of an inch as he nodded. "Sure, okay. I could always take a bath with you, but perhaps we should have this conversation first, huh? Slate told me about the conversation he had with you. Is that why you've been avoiding me?"

"Yes," I said honestly. He was here now. We might as well get it out of the way. "What he told me stopped me in my tracks, but not because I hadn't already known it. "

"Why, then?"

"Because it reminded me that what we've been doing is so, so wrong," I said quietly. "It would hurt him and he's the last person I ever want to hurt."

Logan seemed put off by my answer. Put off and confused. "What should it matter to him that we're…" He trailed off then.

I chewed the inside of my cheek, doing my best to hold back the questions that were begging to shoot out of my mouth. What? What exactly are we, Logan?

If he cared about me and really wanted this to be something, then maybe I would've considered talking to my brother and trying to change his mind, but I wasn't risking that over a hookup. Not anymore.

Logan looked at me and I looked at him, but neither of us said anything. He'd uncrossed his arms and was now sipping his wine, still leaning against the counter like he didn't have a care in the world. There was some turbulence in his gaze, but that wasn't enough for me at this point.

If he wanted more, he would've said so. Instead, his silence spoke volumes. It said that he'd said what he'd come here to say. He'd wanted an explanation and now he had one. So that's that, then.

"We have to stop fooling around," I said, haltingly at first, but my voice became stronger with every word. "Let's just keep things professional. We work together sometimes. There's no getting around it, but we worked together for a long time without even knowing it. It shouldn't be a problem to go back to that."

"Back to the time when we didn't even know we were working together? That's not possible, Mira. We know now."

"Sure, we do, but we never spoke then. We can go back to that part of it. We'll be polite and professional when we see each or when we have to talk, but that's it."

Logan stared so deep into my eyes it was like he was trying to look inside my head. To figure out if I was just saying this or if I meant it. That electricity that was always present between us ignited in the air, more intense than ever .

I was suddenly very aware of the fact that we were alone and that my bedroom was just down the hall. Thank God, I stayed on the opposite side of the damn kitchen.

Logan glanced at the hall like he was having the exact same thoughts I was, but then he took another gulp of his wine, finishing off the glass, and nodded. He pushed away from the counter but didn't cross the room toward me.

"I guess I'd better go then."

"I guess so," I agreed, even if I wished more than anything that he would stay.

But he didn't. He strode out of the kitchen and back to my front door, opening it for himself and only pausing in the doorway for a beat before he left, shutting it firmly behind him. It'd looked like he'd had something else to say when he'd stopped for that second, but since he hadn't said it, I could only assume it hadn't been important.

Even so, my chest felt like someone had shoved a hot poker through it and tears were suddenly burning in my eyes, sitting heavily on my lids when the realization dawned that it was well and truly over now. Logan and I were done, and while I knew it was for the best, I had to admit that it hurt a lot more than I'd been prepared for.

It hurt so much that if I didn't know any better, I'd have thought I was mildly heartbroken. Perhaps even a bit more than mildly. But that wasn't possible. I knew better than to have really fallen for Logan Jones, so I swiped at the tears that were leaking from my eyes, but more kept coming.

Misery sank in. Maybe I had known better, but it looked like I might've fallen for him at least a little bit anyway.