Chapter Twenty-One
#Lose
“Min?”
No way, he’d followed her?
“What happened?” He caught up to her as she ran through the tunnel, grabbed hold of her arm and drew her to a halt. “I saw you...” he trailed off awkwardly
He’d seen? Oh her humiliation was complete.
Min tugged her elbow free. Her throat was so tight. And she was so tired. She couldn’t bear facing him. Why had she thought she could pull this stupid party off? Why had she thought she could get away with any of this? Why had he made her?
“I d-d-don’t want to do this anymore,” she whispered, looking down at the thickly carpeted floor.
“That’s okay, we’ve put in a long enough appearance, thank heaven.” He sounded harried. “We can go upstairs.”
“No,” she said in a low voice. “I d-don’t want to do this.”
He lifted his hand to her face.
She jerked back. “D-d-don’t touch me. Don’t talk to me.”
She was so not the person for him and he was definitely not the guy for her.
“Min?” He looked at her intently with those ice-blue eyes. “Babe?” He stepped closer, smiled. “I know that was—”
“No.” He didn’t know what that was. That was the whole point.
“Sweetheart—”
“Don’t.” She knew that look. Did he really think he could just pull out some flirt talk and make it all better?
“But Min,” he said softly, settling his hands on her waist. “I’m getting addicted to it.”
“To w-w-what?”
“You.” He pushed her back against the wall. “To feeling your warmth when you lean into me, to tasting your heat... the way you hold me, the way you eat me with your eyes when you look at me. You’re so hot. You warm me up.”
He was pushing for it now, wasn’t he? He wanted sex. Wanted warming. That’s all he wanted. “Because you’re a zombie?”
He stiffened.
“Because the only time you feel human is when you’re having sex?” she asked. Her eyes stung.
She refused to feel bad for him. She’d just totally humiliated herself. And she was furious with him for bringing her here for his own amusement, for putting her in a situation she’d normally do anything to avoid, for making it worse with her mother present. And his friends. His ex-lover.
“Min.”
“Just l-l-l... Go.” Leave her alone to lick her wounds in private.
“What happened? What’d I do wrong?” He glared at her.
“How can you not know? I hated that,” she whispered. “All those people looking at me. I’m supposed to talk to all of them? You’re so selfish. This was all about you not wanting to be here. Well, I didn’t want to be here either. You’re using me to distract yourself like I’m your on-board entertainment system. Like screwing ‘round with me is your anaesthetic to stop you from feeling... whatever it is that’s the real p-p-problem here. But I don’t want to p-p-play anymore.”
Because the second she’d turned her back, he’d gone hunting elsewhere. Because for him this was absolutely not real. And for all his promise that he wouldn’t embarrass her, he couldn’t help himself. He’d admitted he’d cheated before and she knew—once a cheater, always a cheater.
It was dé-jà vu. Bryce had cheated on her—she’d found him at a party with another woman. She’d seen her mother get cheated on. And she wasn’t putting up with it for herself. Not again. She wasn’t having her heart broken all over again.
And she could never, ever be the freaking princess at a party, there to smile and talk to everyone.
He dropped his hands from her waist, only to brace them on the wall either side of her head, penning her in. “You don’t want me to touch you anymore?”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed, she could almost feel him drilling into her skull, trying to read what was going on in her head.
“No,” she repeated.
Slowly he lifted away. “Fine. Message received. I won’t bother you again.”
She didn’t reply, just watched as he stepped away.
“What a great end to a fucked up night,” he muttered.
Yeah, he’d wanted another end altogether, hadn’t he? He’d wanted to use her. And maybe, a couple hours ago, she’d have gone along with that—and enjoyed it.
But not now. She’d had the wake up call just in time. Remembered just what it was she didn’t want in her life.
He walked five paces away, then turned and shot her a burning look. “I’m gonna go blow off some steam. Don’t wait up.”
Logan strode out of the hell that had been his childhood home. No happy memories had been made tonight that was for freaking sure.
He’d known it was gonna be a nightmare. Only now it had ended worse than he could have imagined. His father standing there sucking up all the attention like he deserved it. His mother frigidly putting up with all kinds of crap—that Cynthia had the gall to show up?
The only light in the whole evening had been Min, and now she’d pushed him away?
He’d thought she was coping okay. That she was enjoying it even. He’d gotten Chelsea to keep an eye on her when he’d been tied up with the formal family bit. He’d hoped she’d see she had nothing to worry about, that she should get out there and enjoy life—and people.
Enjoy being with him.
Turned out it had all been under sufferance. She’d hated it and she blamed him. And it was his fault, right? It always was. His recklessness, his risk.
The spark in him that always sought to win. And yeah, maybe to escape. Maybe he’d wanted her to be there—for the fun.
“Where are you going?”
Logan froze at that harsh question. He turned to face his father.
“Wasn’t much of a speech.” Rex stood in the doorway like some cantankerous feudal lord.
“Wasn’t much to say,” Logan answered.
“You wasted your talent.”
Seriously? This was the first time they’d spoken alone in years, and he was just going to re-litigate old dramas?
“You could have been so much better.” That old disappointment sounded.
Logan looked at the tall man for whom nothing was ever enough. “So could you.”
He turned and walked into the freezing, dark night. The bitter wind was lifting, damp cold seeped into his tux. The storm that had been forecast wasn’t far away. He ought to go back inside. But to have the wind whistling in his ears was exactly what he felt like right now. Space, fresh air, time out. That always put things into perspective, right? He was burning on the inside, he needed to chill. He needed to push it.
Because he wasn’t staying where he wasn’t wanted.
Don’t wait up?
What, like she was going to just drift off into sweet-dream land when she was still a hot mess of mortification? She glanced at her phone. Again. No messages. It was
ninety minutes since he’d left her. He’d obviously gone back to the party. That was totally fine. It was his family, his show.
And she didn’t want to see him anyway.
But two hours later, she started to worry. Another hour passed. She paced the floor of their bedroom, listening to the howling wind. That storm had raced in, even with the stone exterior, insulated walls and double glazed windows, the whistling was inescapable.
He must have gone to sleep in another room. Jealousy, insecurity seeped in through her vulnerable cracks. Surely he wasn’t reckless enough to go with another woman the night his ‘engagement’ was celebrated?
But then this was Logan Hughes.
But he wouldn’t have, would he?
Doubts raced in her head. Her imagination fed worst-case scenarios to her, followed by even worse case.
Yet another hour later, she opened her door and leaned out, listening for party sounds over that lashing wind. There were none. Maybe the festivities were over?
So where was Logan?
Doubts expanded, enlarged, doom-infested. He hadn’t gone out in that storm, had he?
At six in the morning, she couldn’t handle it anymore. She grabbed her phone. They had to work out some kind of plan for the next few hours. She couldn’t go downstairs not knowing where he was. Surely even he’d understand that. Wouldn’t he want them to present a united front for the last few hours before they left Summerhill?
Then they could do the big public break-up back in Manhattan.
But the call went straight to his answer phone. So did the next call.
And the next.
Min showered, trying to warm up. Despite Logan’s high-heat setting for the room, she was freezing. She dressed, checked her phone again.
No messages. No Logan.
She couldn’t hide in the bedroom all day. He’d be back before they were due to fly out this afternoon, right? He wanted to get out of here more than anything, didn’t he?
An hour later, she knew she was going to have to go downstairs. Have to fake it at the breakfast table.
She’d be irate, if she weren’t really starting to worry.
Her hands like ice, she quietly went down to the dining room. Dani and Connor were there, both looking far too bright-eyed.