Page 60 of Riding the Sugar High

“Can I open the door?”

I press my lips together and look down at the floor. His voice is so comforting. Even when it’s gruff, or he’s using it to say very annoying stuff, it’s still warm and reassuring.

Despite his rough edges and thick walls, Logan is sensitive and empathetic. But I also know there’s some truth to what Derek said. I’m his ticket out of trouble—someone he needs to tolerate until I’ve done my part and can get out of his hair.

I can’t let myself mistake this for something else.

As he walks away, I slink back to my bed, both regretting my silence and grateful I didn’t let him in. Sure, I’m lonely and sad, but he gave up pretty quickly.

It’s fine. I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone.

I hug my knees, feet pressing on the wooden edge of the bed frame, when there’s a little rattle at my door. Watching the handle move up and down, my brows scrunch. “What the...”

The door opens, and held between large hands is one of the piglets, belly-up and perfectly content with its legs stretched in the air. “Hello.”

I can’t help but smile. “Hey...piglet,” I say. Logan’s refused to give the piglets names so far, rejecting all of my amazing suggestions. “Did you open the door?”

Logan’s hands tilt the pig forward and back in a slightly chaoticaffirmative, and when he lets out a squelch, he pulls him back into the corridor. “Dramatic fucking pig.”

The door creaks as it opens slowly, and on the other side, Logan stands against the doorframe in his usual dirty blue jeans and white T-shirt, his brows bent worriedly over his eyes. “Sorry about that. He has no sense for things like privacy or consent.”

“Sure, with him being a pig.”

“Right.” He juts his chin out. “May I come in?”

I nod, and he slowly steps into the room. He sits on the chair and faces me, so close I can smell hints of cedarwood and pine from his soap. His eyes run over the clothes that pepper my floor, the half-eaten granola bar on my nightstand. “Now I know why the piglets like to sleep in here.”

“Might be a stupid question, but what will happen to them? I mean, they’ll be big soon. Will they still live here?”

Rubbing a hand over his mouth, he looks into my eyes. “If I tell you, will you tell me why you were crying?”

Oh, so it’s as obvious as it feels.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say as I focus on the floor. “It’s stupid.”

“I’m sure it is. Probably a broken nail or some bag you wanted that sold out.” When I glare, he smirks in response. “Whatever it is, if it makes you cry, I want to hear about it.”

“Why?”

He raises one finger. “You get one question, and you already asked about the pigs.”

“I...” I shake my head, resigning myself to the truth. “Derek...Derek came over.”

“Derekmade you cry?” His jaw hardens as he straightens in the chair. “What did he say?”

“That...”

“That?”

That he couldn’t bear to have sex with me. Because he thinks my rolls, dips and curves are disgusting. Because he wants a skinny, hot woman, and I’m not it. That he thinks Logan wouldn’t be able to do it either—maybe that nobody could.

It’s too humiliating to say out loud.

“Barbie, you need to tell me.”

“I can’t,” I whisper.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll have to walk to that ass-wad’s farm and punch him in the throat until he does.” His teeth are gritted, his words almost slurred, as if anger has flared up his body.

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