“I know,” I repeat. “Austin’s coming to check on him later.”
“Oh.” She sniffles. “That’s good. Maybe I should send some dinner over?”
“That would be great, girlie-girl. Text me when it’s ready and I’ll send a cab for it if Logan’s not ready to come home. Emmy, have you talked to Cynnie this week?”
I hear a honk and a snuffle, like she’s blowing her nose. “No. Do you want me to call her?”
“I was just thinking that maybe it would be good for you to have some company if Logan’s with me?”
“Okay. That’s a good idea. I’ll give her a call. Thank you, Max. I know you’ll take good care of Daddy and that men don’t do hugs and cuddles, but he might need some cuddles.”
A laugh leaks out of me. “I’ll do my best in the cuddling department, but if he needs serious cuddles, I’ll call you. It’s going to be okay, girlie-girl.” My conscience twinges, because I’m pretty sure it’s not going to be okay, but the need to reassure her is a roaring, tearing pressure in my chest. It drowns that twinge in an instant. “You call me if Cynnie can’t come over or if you start feeling panicked, okay?”
“I will. I’m not panicked, I promise. I’m just sad and worried for Daddy. If Cynnie can’t come over, I’ll call Vashi or Gracie and have a FaceTime with them.”
Hearing that she has a support system that she can fall back on eases the pressure. “Sounds good.”
She sighs and mumbles something, probably to the cat. “Could you text me when Daddy gets there?”
“Of course.”
“Okay. I won’t say bye. I’ll just say, gotta run, Rogue’s cookin’ up corn buns.”
I’m speechless for a second. Then I make the connection. “Gambit?”
“Yes. I’ve been saving that one.”
“I’m dis close to being impressed.”
That draws a tiny giggle out of her. “Thank you, Max.”
“Any time, girlie.”
She hangs up and I sink onto my couch to wait for my friend.
Logan and I have seen some bad times together. I’ve seen him shell-shocked. I’ve seen him injured. I’ve seen him angry. But I haven’t seen him wrecked. It’s ... sobering.
I’ve never been where he is right now. I haven’t been with many women, but I’ve always, always used a condom during penetrative sex. Maybe that’s why I reacted so strongly to going bare in Cynnie. It was a shock, and an unimaginable pleasure, and then another fucking lapse of judgment and responsibility. But at least I didn’t have to worry about getting her pregnant. I’ve never sat and contemplated having a kid the way Logan is as he sits on my couch with his head in his hands, his phone on thetable in front of him, with a picture of the letter from Starla Labs up on the screen.
I’ve tried to get him to turn it off, but he won’t. If I was sure he was using it to remind himself of the reality of it, to help process it, I wouldn’t mind. But I’m not sure that’s how he’s using it.
I think he might be using it as a cudgel to beat himself with.
I’ve taken away his crutch: giving him a non-alcoholic beer when he arrived. He doesn’t seem to have noticed, but he might have and just not commented on it. He hasn’t said much. He hugged me back when I hugged him as the thin, black-haired man from the club helped him out of the cab. He let me steer him up into my apartment with my arm around his shoulders. He sank down onto the couch when I guided him towards it. I guess it’s going to be up to me to bridge this awkward silence.
“Talk to me, man.”
“Wha’ can I say? I fucked up.”
“How did you fuck up?”
“Shoulda known she was lyin’ to me.” He swings his head back and forth between his hands like a wounded bear. “Her Dom. I shoulda known.”
I rub my hand up and down his back. His black shirt’s stuck to his back with sweat and I don’t think it’s from the August heat, since I’m betting his club and the cab were air conditioned and my apartment’s the usual ice cube. He stinks of alcohol and the best place for him is the shower, but I’m sure he’ll put up a fight if I try to stick him in there.
“Did you learn to mind read when you were in Thailand?” I ask.
“No, but I shoulda known. Everything was off. She was too ‘fectionate ... gave me too much attention. Too much of her time. Shoulda realized.”
