Chapter 43

CHAPTER 43

LOGAN

I punched the bag hanging in the center of my home gym, bouncing back on my heels before I gave it another jab. Sweat dripped down my back and neck, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. Working out was the only time my mind was clear of a certain someone these days and I desperately needed to think straight today.

For weeks now, I'd been a mess and I needed to get the fuck over it and get on with my life. This was the best way I knew how to do that.

As I pulled my fist back to let another punch fly, the faint ringing of my doorbell filtered into the room. I frowned, not expecting anyone, but the familiar chime rang out again, telling me that there was in fact someone at the door.

I huffed out a frustrated breath, sweaty and swollen as I spun away from the punching bag and grabbed the shirt I'd taken off about an hour ago. I pulled it over my head and chugged some water, then left the room and strode out into the hall.

I squirted a long stream of the cool liquid into my mouth, swallowing that sip and another big one as I reached the door. Yanking it open, I blinked hard when I saw Slate standing on the other side.

"Hey, man," I said, my voice husky from disuse this morning. I cleared my throat and stepped aside, surprised by his visit but waving him in anyway. "What's up? Can I make you some coffee?"

Slate grunted, his head shaking back and forth as he scowled at me. "What the fuck, Logan?"

I frowned, realizing for the first time that the expression on his face was anything but friendly. He didn't make a move to come inside either, his shoulders rigid with tension and his features firmly arranged into that scowl.

"What the fuck what ?" I asked, the corner of my nose pulling up. "What's going on, bro? You look pissed."

Slate scoffed and reached into his back pocket, pulling out his phone and quickly unlocking it before showing me his screen. On it was a news article with a headline written in bold. Billionaire and Consultant Creating HR Nightmare at Sea.

"What the fuck is this?" he growled.

The blood drained from my face and my insides turned to stone. My head spun and I couldn't think of a single thing to say. My brain had gone completely blank. For the longest time, I just stood there, my eyes moving from one side of the screen to the other as I skimmed over the story underneath the article.

"What?" I said eventually, scrunching up my face as I tried to laugh it off. "It's nothing, man. Some asshole must've blabbed to the press. Maybe that contractor Mira fired. He was pretty pissed off at her when he left. Come on in. We don't have to talk about this out here on the street."

Slate still didn't move, planting his feet about a foot apart as his chin came up and his head shook again. "Is it true?"

"What?" I scoffed, waving a hand and chuckling some more. "Just come on in, man. Let me make you some coffee. We'll talk."

"I'm not going into your fucking house, Logan," he snapped. "Answer the goddamn question. Is. It. True?"

I looked into his eyes, realizing the jig was up. I wasn't going to be able to get around this. It was either lie or tell the truth, and I couldn't lie to him anymore. Not after he'd asked me pointblank.

Eventually, the truth was always going to come out, and if I had any chance at salvaging our friendship, it had to come out now. A long breath escaped me as I kept looking into his eyes. "Yes, it's true. Mira and I had a thing, but it barely lasted a few weeks and it's over now. She called it off."

I saw the fury as it ignited behind his eyes, bringing streaks of bright red to his cheeks and distending the veins in his neck. "I cannot fucking believe you."

Before I could get a word out, he took a step closer to me, getting in my face and speaking louder and louder with every word until he was practically shouting. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Mira has spent years building up her reputation in our industry, Logan. Fucking years! All she's ever wanted was to be respected, man."

"I know. This doesn't change that."

Those streaks turned from red to a color much closer to purple. "Yes, it does! You've put her in a very compromised fucking position and you don't even realize it. She's worked her entire life to build a reputation based on impeccable behavior and standards. She's part of our father's brand. People trust her because she's a Spiers, but also because she's worked tirelessly to prove that she belongs on those rigs."

"And she still does."

"No! Don't you fucking understand anything ? The men in our industry are old fashioned, especially the higher-ups, and they're not going to look too kindly on her…" Practically vibrating with anger now as he shouted at me, he trailed off, not even able to finish his sentence. "I can't believe you did this to her. I'm a fucking fool for bringing you into her life. I should've known something like this was going to happen. You've never met a pussy you just leave the hell alone."

My heart thudded in my chest, my very being protesting everything he was accusing me of. "It's not like that. I'm not the one who spoke to this journalist, Slate. I'm not the one who set out to ruin her reputation or her career, but she will be fine. Like you said, she worked tirelessly for this. No one can take that away from her."

"Yes, they can. They can and they fucking will." He shoved a finger into my chest. "And it's all because you couldn't keep your damn dick in your pants. I mean seriously, man. She's my sister. She works for you. Did you really have to get your rocks off so fucking bad that you couldn't just jerk off for the few fucking days you were on the rig?"

"It's not?—"

"Don't tell me that it's not like that, Logan," he roared. "That's exactly what it's like. The only fucking woman within a few hundred miles, so obviously, you just had to have her. There are men on that rig that go for months without and you don't see them turning her into a joke just because they're horny. Unlike you, they respect her too fucking much."

I put my hands up and took a deep, calming breath before I started screaming right back at him. "Will you please just hear me out? I do respect her, Slate. A hell of a lot more than you seem to think."

"If you respected her at all , you wouldn't have done this to her," he yelled, his face so close to mine as he stepped closer again that I smelled a hint of coffee on his breath. "You're fucking pathetic, do you know that? And yes, I said it. The great and mighty Logan Jones is fucking pathetic. You're nothing more than a slave to your dick. She was right about you. You're a fucking playboy who can't take anything seriously and is a danger to every man on that fucking rig now that it's yours."

Every word crashed right into the center of my soul, tearing though the fiber of my being like those exploding bullets that destroyed everything they came into contact with. Blew it all to smithereens. Slate was my friend and he had been for a long time. Hearing him say these things about me?

Fuck. It hurts.

"This sort of thing is terrible for her career. It could even be over. I don't know if she's going to be able to claw her way back from this, Logan. And if she doesn't, if every man and woman who work in this industry look at her as nothing more than a hussy from here on out, it's on you. I hope you can live with that. I really fucking hope it was worth it. "

My brain suddenly felt like a hollowed-out shell, my heart hurting more than it ever had before. "Can we please just talk?"

Even my voice sounded hollow, my tone flat and not even pleading. Slate scoffed and shook his head, so angry that moisture shimmered in his eyes. "No, Logan. We can't talk. In fact, after today, we're never going to talk again. I'm really fucking disappointed in you and it's best if you find other consultants to manage the rig. I'm done with you."

I blinked hard, my jaw slackening as I shook my head. "I'll stay away, but please don't do that. Don't quit. I'll double?—"

"I don't want your money anymore, Logan. I don't want anything from you, actually. Except for you to stay the fuck out of my life and my sister's. We're done. This?" He waved a finger from my chest to mine. "Our friendship? It's fucking over. I don't want anything to do with you."

"No, Slate. Just let me?—"

"No. We're done. I wanted to help you make this work, but I now know that you're only in it for yourself. Just as you always have been. I'm done cleaning up your messes, man. You bought the rig. Now figure out how to manage it yourself. We're out."

He made to turn on his heels, and I grabbed his arm, trying to stop him, but he glowered at me and shook me off. Then he stormed away. He threw himself into his car, slamming the door behind him with a mighty thud before he sped away, tires spinning and screeching as he left.

I hadn't even been able to explain that what Mira and I had wasn't shallow. It hadn't been simply because I'd been horny or because hers had been the only pussy available for several hundred miles. The very thought of that made me feel sick to my stomach. Disgusted.

But he'd left before I could say any of that. He'd left before I'd been able to apologize. Before I could tell him how much both he and his sister meant to me.

And the worst thing of all was that I didn't even blame him. I couldn't, not while I understood exactly where he was coming from. Everything he'd said had hurt like hell and it was going to for a long time, but what hurt the most was that I'd given him so many legitimate reasons over the years to come to the conclusions that he had.

Any other guy, and he might at least have heard me out. Slate wasn't an asshole and he wasn't prone to temper tantrums. He'd simply gotten to know me. The me I had been before Mira, and seeing that guy through his eyes now was fucking painful. It sucked and he was right.

I was going to have to find a way to live with it.