3
Logan
It’s so good to see Joey, to breathe in her sweet floral scent, to feel her against me and know she’s back home, safe and sound after all this time apart, that it’s hard for me to let her go.
A throat clears next to me, and I reluctantly set her on the ground. She looks exhausted but beautiful. She’s wearing a bright yellow shirt and khaki shorts, the light colors showcasing her great tan, one she probably got from spending time at the beach with her cousins. Somehow her legs look long, even though she’s a tiny thing.
Gone is the adorable tomboy who used to follow me and Silas everywhere. Joey is all grown up—has been for a while—but seeing her now after being gone for the last several months seems to highlight the fact that she’s not a little girl anymore.
Swallowing, I lift my gaze off her lush body because nothing good can come from that. Instead, I study the giant mass of blond hair knotted on top of her head.
I look for streaks of purple or blue or hot pink that might be tucked away, but I can’t see any of her usual unicorn colors. She must’ve gone with something safe for the wedding.
Patrick shoves me out of the way. “Josephine Grayson, it’s been too long.”
When he swoops her into his arms and twirls her around, making her laugh, I have a sudden urge to punch him in the nutsack.
“Put her down, asshole. She’s not a doll.”
He gives me a look. “Why can’t I pick her up? You did.”
“’Cause she’s my best friend. Not yours.”
He sets her on her feet and gives me another playful shove. “Whatcha gonna do? Whip it out and pee a circle around her so no one else talks to her? Huh?” He jumps around the parking lot like he’s going to mock-fight me.
A small hand lands on my chest, and I look down to catch Joey trying not to smile. “Guys, stop talking about me like I’m not here.”
I pull her into a head lock, smiling when she lets out a squeal. This is our standard operating procedure. “Oh, you finally decided to grace us with your presence, Itsy Bitsy?” When she was six, she played a spider in the school play, and sometimes I need to give her shit about it.
As I drag her to my truck, she screams, “Shotgun!”
Patrick curses, and I laugh.
“Am I seriously getting booted?” Patrick’s face scrunches up like this is a surprise to him as he folds himself into the back and I give Joey a boost into the passenger seat.
“Joey gets shotgun.” I shut her door and walk around the front of the cab, relishing the sight of her in my vehicle. Damn. She’s a sight for sore eyes.
But Patrick won’t shut up. When I climb in, he’s at it again. “Bro, she’s been gone. For six months. Don’t I get any credit for sticking around your sorry, mopey ass all that time?”
“Josephine always gets shotgun. That’s just how it is, man. Sorry.” Even though I’m trying to keep things light, being reminded of her leaving sucks the air out of the truck.
I can tell Joey senses it too because she looks down at her lap where her hands are twisted together.
“Hey.” I tug on the sleeve of her T-shirt until she makes eye contact. “I don’t care what happened. Why you left or why you didn’t call me.” I sigh and glance away. “I mean, I do care, but I want you to know I’m not mad that I didn’t hear from you, okay? I’m just glad you’re home.”
Have I racked my brain trying to figure out if I did something to hurt her? To push her away like that? To make her run across the damn country?
Yes to all of those questions. And I aim to find out the truth at some point.
But for now, I just want my best friend back.
I stare into those stunning gray eyes that somehow make time stand still. “You can tell me anything. I’m not going anywhere. Because you’re stuck with me.” I clear my throat and glance at the parking lot. “While I’m laying it all out there, I should say how much I missed you. Patrick was right. I was a little mopey.”
Thanks, asshole, for pointing it out.
Joey’s eyes get misty, and it guts me because I figure whatever made her hightail it to Florida is a big deal. But if this is how I get to keep my girl, by laying off and chilling out, then this is what I have to do.
“Missed you too, Logan. I’m sorry that I—”
I shake my head, and she gets my meaning. No apologies.
Joey is always the first to apologize for shit that’s not her fault, and I can’t bear the thought of her doing that right now. I might not know why she left, but she obviously felt she needed to, and I respect that. But the last thing I wanna do is hash that out with an audience. This is between her and me. That’s it. Later, when it’s just the two of us, we can have a heart-to-heart.
The idea of losing Joey the way I lost my friendship with Silas—randomly, like the universe has nothing better to do than fuck me over—makes me willing to do almost anything to smooth this over with Jo.
Without a second thought, I grab her hand to reassure her, threading my fingers through hers. Something I’ve never done before, and the intimacy of it makes me pause.
Sure, I’ve grabbed her hand in the past. I held her hand all the time when we were kids because she couldn’t cross the street otherwise, but this is something different.
She seems to notice it too, studying our intertwined hands, her small, smooth fingers engulfed by my big, rough paw that’s spent too many hours in the barn grooming horses and shoveling shit.
A tinge of pink flushes her cheeks, and when she glances up and aims her smile at me, it hits me in the solar plexus.
Patrick coos behind us. “Aww, bro. You so sweet. No wonder all the buckle bunnies wanna fuck you.”
I roll my eyes and reluctantly pull my hand from Joey’s so I can start the truck. Glaring at Patrick through the rear view mirror, I mumble, “Why do you have to ruin everything?”
I hate when he does this, talks about other girls in front of Joey. I’ve played the field from time to time, but never in front of her.
Plus, I’d have to be a moron to not know she had a crush on me when we were kids, but she probably would’ve liked whichever one of Silas’s idiot friends pulled her out of that well. I figured she was over it by the time she dated that Mason douchebag in high school, but I’ve always felt like it would be a dick move to parade women in front of her.
I might have to act like I spend my spare time screwing around so no one pays attention to what I really do, but that doesn’t mean I want Jojo thinking I’m that guy.
I should tell her the truth.
The thought loops in my mind. I almost can’t remember a time when this shit didn’t weigh me down.
But one lie begets another, and I don’t know how to untangle them from the mountain of deceit I’ve been hiding from everyone. Especially when some of those lies aren’t my secrets to reveal.
If there’s one person in this world I want to tell, though, it’s Joey.
We drive in silence as I try to shake off the funk I always get into when I stew over this crap.
It’s not until we’re on the highway that I think to ask where I should drop her off. “Where we headed, Bitsy? Back to my brother’s?” I’m sure she and Tori have a lot to catch up on. Ethan and Tori want her to come for dinner tonight, but I’m wondering if she’s too tired to socialize after that bus ride.