Page 38 of Logan

CHAPTER 15

Logan

It was nearlymidnight when I finally stepped through the door of my own apartment and collapsed on my bed.

After dropping Clay off in Maryland a month ago, I’d returned to Baton Rouge to immediately pull the newly named “Bell ringer” case back off the shelf. Roland was assisting in the case, and Sebastian and Damien lent a hand whenever they could, but overall, it had been one long night after another.

Add in my little impromptu trip back to San Francisco to find Jordy and repay him for helping me, and I hadn’t seen the inside of my own apartment very much since I left Clay behind.

No.

I didn’t leave him behind.

I returned him to his brother, his family, where he belonged.

I’d repeated this mantra to myself so many times over the last month that it almost felt true, but I still couldn’t shakethe lingering sense of guilt whispering in my ear that I had abandoned him.

As if the very universe were laughing at me, my phone rang with a familiar ringtone.

Clay was calling me.

Nothing could have stopped my finger from hitting the “answer” button.

A video call popped up on the screen. He hated talking on the phone without being able to see who he was talking to, so Clay almost exclusively used video calls. In the split second before the video opened, I sat up in a more presentable posture so my exhaustion wouldn’t be so evident.

“Clay,” I greeted with a cheerful voice that only felt a little forced. “What’s up? How’re things going?”

“All right,” Clay said with a distracted tone. Even looking at him on such a small screen, I could see him fidgeting. Based on the background behind him, it looked like he was in his bedroom, sitting near the window. The hand not holding the phone kept opening and closing the blinds. The orange glow from the streetlight outside would illuminate the room just long enough for me to see all of Clay’s face, then it would disappear and cast the image on the screen back into the gray haze of twilight.

I wanted Clay to elaborate, or even explain why he’d called, but he didn’t say anything more as he continued to play with the blinds.

“Have you gotten your results back from the doctor, yet?” I asked. It was one of the more pertinent questions that had been hanging on my mind. He hadn’t been to a proper doctor since hewas kidnapped. Even without any other factors, that alone was enough for him to need a doctor’s checkup. Plus, there was no telling what he might have been exposed to in the years since then.

Clay sighed and his shoulders slumped back into a more natural posture, like he was relieved that I’d started the conversation for him.

“I’m fine. Nothing to worry about. The one thing my captors did teach me was how to look after my health. Farmers don’t want their cattle getting sick, after all.”

He laughed, but I just scowled at him.

“Clay.”

He immediately waved me off. “Yeah. Yeah. Self-depreciation and deflecting with humor aren’t healthy communication. I know.”

He was clearly quoting something that he had heard many times before, and although he looked annoyed, I couldn’t help but smile.

“It sounds like you’ve had your first therapy appointment. How’d it go?”

Clay shrugged and went back to playing with the blinds. “First two appointments, actually. I’ll be going three times a week for a while, until I’m more stable.”

He rolled his eyes so hard on the word ‘stable’ that I was surprised he didn’t fall right out the open window.

“So? Was it as bad as you feared?”

I meant for the joke to lighten the mood and maybe finally bring a smile to his face. However, Clay’s fidgeting grew even more manic, and he looked away from the screen.

“Logan. Have you ever attended therapy before?”

“A couple of times.”

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