“We have a counseling course,” I say. “It’s new, but maybe you’d be interested in volunteering? It could be good while you’re waiting for college to start again.”
“I haven’t even decided about college,” she says. “But thank you, Mr., uh, I mean Logan. How do I….”
“Here.”
Another possible mistake, but my hand’s already in my pocket, taking out my second business card.
The one with my private number on it. The one I rarely give out.
“Call me if you’d like to talk about it.”
She reaches forward to take it, our hands brushing again. Carnal fire burns up my arm, through my body, deep down, so it’s impossible to ignore.
Fuck it.
It’s like another part of me takes over.
I’m about to reach forward, grab her wrist, pull her closer and lean down, kiss her so hard she’s got no doubt who she belongs to.
“Ah, Logan.” Trixie walks over, breaking the spell. “I’ve got somebody I want you to meet.”
I leave Lucy reluctantly, spending the next ten or so minutes talking with others.
When I’m done, Lucy’s left.
CHAPTERFIVE
Lucy
“Aren’t you going to call him?”
I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the moment when I basically ran from the community center. It was when I saw Logan talking with a woman, closer to his age, tall with a short dress on that showed her lean, athletic legs.
It wasn’t the woman herself, but the way she was looking at him, with this wild sassiness in her eyes.
It was like she was saying,I know what you want, Logan, and I know how to give it to you.
I know neither.
I couldn’t even fake a look like that.
“Lucy?”
I look over at Jane. She’s sitting in my computer chair, spinning around and around. We moved into a two-bedroom apartment together one month after Dad’s death. He didn’t have life insurance, and we were never wealthy, so Jane paid my way until I found work.
She started working for a marketing agency straight out of high school, writing on the side and doing incredibly well for herself. I couldn’t be prouder.
I’ve been paying her back, but it never feels like enough.
She saved my life. I was useless after Dad’s death, a waking zombie.
“I don’t know,” I murmur. “I’m not sure why he even gave me his number. Hispersonalnumber, I mean. He didn’t have to. I googled the counseling Never Alone stuff. There’s a form online you use to apply.”
“Um, maybe because he wanted to help you? That’s the whole point of his, well, his life, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I say, resisting the urge to grind my teeth. “That and finding the most beautiful women alive to screw.”
“Oh,” Jane says.