Page 52 of Everything Has Changed
“You’re allowed to have that, Logan.” My voice is a whisper, and I worry he doesn’t hear me as he continues to stare for another few beats.
His eyelids slowly blink and I know I’m losing him, so I adjust him enough to lay on his side on the couch. Not the most comfortable position fully clothed while knocking on thirty’s door, but it’s the best I can do with the muscles I don’t have. After locating a blanket on the loveseat, I drape it over him, tucking the edges around his body the way I always loved for Ophelia to do for me. His breath has started evening out, slowing to a relaxed state by the time I’ve got him situated as best I could.
Making my way to the kitchen, noting again that there was barely any personality anywhere in his place, I search the cabinets until I find a bottle of aspirin. I take out two and place them on the coffee table in front of his face to find whenever he finally wakes up.
Deciding I did the best I could, I start to walk away and head back to my place when a hand gently grabs at my fingers. His eyes are still closed, sleep overtaking his features as they soften out.
His mumbled words could be anything and I almost wish they were, because I think what I heard might be the worst thing he could have said.
“I wish I could have that with you.”
I stare down at him, not wanting to even breathe just in case he says anything else. But his hand falls away and a soft snore starts to build within him, signaling he was finally out like a light.
And I was buzzing brighter than the neons down at Daisy’s.
18
Logan
There’s a shrill ringing inside my skull.
It’s vibrating my eyeballs to the point that if I had the energy, I would rip them out. But I can’t seem to move my hands.
The ringing stops and I relax, thinking my body is finally giving up. Until it starts right back up again. That’s when my brain registers that the sound is unnervingly familiar and not coming from inside my skull.
The Imperial Marchplays one more time before I finally open my eyes. The sun shining so bright from the balcony doors tells me it’s way later than my usual pre-sunrise wake up.
Wait. Am I on my couch? One half-roll confirms the small space I’m curled up on is in fact not my king size bed as I face plant onto the floor. Pulling myself up slowly, I will the pounding in my head to subside enough for me to focus on something other than the way my stomach is currently tumbling. I eye the half full glass of water accompanied by two aspirin on the table in front of me.
That’s when my brain starts to conjure up a blurry memory of red hair, green eyes, and a worried expression that has my chest aching.
“What the fuck did you do, Spencer?” I mutter to myself. My phone doesn’t give me a chance to think about it, though, as it goes off yet again.
I don’t have to look at the ID to know exactly who is calling.
“Yeah?” I groan as I put it to my ear.
“Where the hell are you?”
I look down at my watch to see that it’s almost half past nine. I was supposed to be at an investor’s meeting in six minutes. Muttering a curse, I rub my hand down my face realizing I won’t have time to even shave off the scruff father dearest will definitely filet me open me for. But what’s one more thing for him to hate about me at this point?
“I’m on my way,” I falsely assure him.
“You should have already been here. Get your ungrateful ass here now.” My father thankfully disconnects the phone before I have the chance to piss him off further by doing it first.
Standing with a muttered curse, I grab the pills and down it with the full glass of water. Ripping off yesterday’s clothes, I replace them with an almost exact replica, but at least this set is clean. I do a rush job brushing my teeth and spritzing myself with cologne, promising myself I’ll head back home after this meeting to take a full shower and get my shit together. For now, I just need to fake it enough to not cause a bigger issue with my father.
My eyes snag on Gwen’s door as I jog by, heading toward the staircase as quickly as possible. Flashes of last night like polaroid pictures emerge in my brain, but I can’t figure out what was said between us.
After the conversation with Camila and my father, I was pissed off. Hurt beyond words that someone would treat their own child this way, threatening them to fall in line. Threatening those around them as well. I came back to my apartment for a while, pacing from one side to the other as I tried to figure out how to get the hell away fromthis nightmare. But getting away from him meant leaving my mom behind. Meant leaving behind my hometown, which before this week, I would have said fuck it. But not now. Something was different. The plans he has in motion were making it different.
That was when I decided to do a little sleuthing. A hairbrained idea formed that maybe I could get something on him to use as leverage.
I knew he was going to be out for the rest of the afternoon, my mother had mentioned an out-of-town meeting that would keep him away for the rest of the day. She wanted me to meet her for dinner, which now that I think about it, I don’t even think I ever responded to her invite. Because when I got into his office, bypassing everyone with quick smiles none the wiser of what I was really doing there, I realized I needed to reevaluate my plan. Mostly because every single drawer was locked. His filing cabinet needed a physical key and a number code. And his computer wasn’t opening with any combination involving birthdays, anniversaries, or childhood pet names.
Ironically, the only thing not locked up was his bar cart sitting in the corner of his office. Posted perfectly to look out the wide windows to see all of Main Street. To take a sip of his expensive liquor as he watched over his kingdom.
So that’s what I did. My eyes lingering on The Willow Whisk which was in perfect view on the corner where the side street spilled into the middle of town.
