of my desk chair to dry, I find Boston’s shirt still
hanging there. I leave it, but not before rubbing the soft fabric between my
fingers. I toss my jeans over the shower door, hang my robe along with my bra
on the hook behind the bathroom door and head to bed.
Pulling my duvet up to my chin, I realize there’s no way I
can set up Boston and Annie now.
Chapter 6
I’m frustrated by another Saturday slow enough to be boring,
but busy enough that I don’t get to leave early. Of course I can’t afford the
time off, but I wouldn’t mind the occasional early night.
Boston just left, leaving me alone to find Lyla and let her
know I’m leaving too. I head down the utility hallway to her office.
“Lyla?” The lights in her office are on, shining down on
papers strewn across a normally neat desk. The clutter tells me she’d been in
the middle of something when she left. She can’t be far.
Looking to the end of the hall, I spy the door marked
emergency exit. It’s cracked open. “Lyla?” I call, pushing on the door. I’d
never been here before.
“Hey sweetie.” Lyla looks comfortable and familiar, leaning
against the block wall of the building, right knee bent, cigarette dangling
from her fingers. “It’s a dirty habit, I know, but I love it,” she confesses.
We’re in a wide alley for hotel delivery and pick up
service. It looks neat and clean for an alley, as far as I can tell, dumpsters
along the length of it, trash contained, lights outside several doors dim but
keeping the gloom at bay.
I lean against the wall next to Lyla. “I don’t mind. I guess
I’m used to it.”
She shakes her head wryly as she exhales a stream of smoke
in the other direction. “Don’t ever start. It’s hell to stop when you want to
and impossible when you don’t, but know you should.”
I chuckle at her assessment. “You do what you need to do. I
won’t judge.” I’d seen too much judgment from people who have no idea how
harshly we judge ourselves.
“Thanks sweetie.” She dropped the finished butt, grinding it
out with the toe of her shoe before bending to pick it up. That’s when I saw
him.
“Uh Oh,” I breathe. Lyla pops back up like a dolphin leaping
from below the surface, turning to follow my line of sight. I’d recognize him
anywhere. A shadow in the darkness, but my mind screams Logan based on his
outline, his shape, his gait, and I’m not wrong.
Lyla hollers at him, her voice gruff and protective. “You’re
not allowed back here. Go on. Get outta here.”
“It’s okay Lyla. He’ll just wait for me out front. We really
need to talk and at least here we won’t have an audience.”
“I don’t know about this Sterling. I can’t believe he’s
cooled off any since last week.”
“I’m still angry,” Logan grouched.
“Give us a minute Lyla. He won’t hurt me.”
Of course he’d hurt me before and then I hurt him, but not
with violence, never violence.
“I’ll be right inside the door. Just holler if you need me.”
Lyla backed away with reluctance in her movement, keeping her eyes on Logan.
I watch him too. He simmers, a barely controlled rage just
beneath surface, ready to burst forth and it’s my fault. It weighs me down, the
heft of it draining me.
“What can I do Logan?”
“I’ve lost everything, college, football, Emma, and it’s all
your fault.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you want from me. I can’t
fix it. I can’t go back. No matter how much I wish, how hard I try, it’s never
going to be the same. You need to talk to someone, find a way to go forward.”
Good advice I give, my eyes pleading, his seething. Too bad
I don’t try it myself. I can’t talk to anyone and I hope with every fiber of my
being he doesn’t really want to talk to me about this. My tenuous grip on my
life will disintegrate and fall right through my fingers if I have to talk
about it. Better to leave it alone, keep the door closed on that part of my
life, than to lose the
hanging there. I leave it, but not before rubbing the soft fabric between my
fingers. I toss my jeans over the shower door, hang my robe along with my bra
on the hook behind the bathroom door and head to bed.
Pulling my duvet up to my chin, I realize there’s no way I
can set up Boston and Annie now.
Chapter 6
I’m frustrated by another Saturday slow enough to be boring,
but busy enough that I don’t get to leave early. Of course I can’t afford the
time off, but I wouldn’t mind the occasional early night.
Boston just left, leaving me alone to find Lyla and let her
know I’m leaving too. I head down the utility hallway to her office.
“Lyla?” The lights in her office are on, shining down on
papers strewn across a normally neat desk. The clutter tells me she’d been in
the middle of something when she left. She can’t be far.
Looking to the end of the hall, I spy the door marked
emergency exit. It’s cracked open. “Lyla?” I call, pushing on the door. I’d
never been here before.
“Hey sweetie.” Lyla looks comfortable and familiar, leaning
against the block wall of the building, right knee bent, cigarette dangling
from her fingers. “It’s a dirty habit, I know, but I love it,” she confesses.
We’re in a wide alley for hotel delivery and pick up
service. It looks neat and clean for an alley, as far as I can tell, dumpsters
along the length of it, trash contained, lights outside several doors dim but
keeping the gloom at bay.
I lean against the wall next to Lyla. “I don’t mind. I guess
I’m used to it.”
She shakes her head wryly as she exhales a stream of smoke
in the other direction. “Don’t ever start. It’s hell to stop when you want to
and impossible when you don’t, but know you should.”
I chuckle at her assessment. “You do what you need to do. I
won’t judge.” I’d seen too much judgment from people who have no idea how
harshly we judge ourselves.
“Thanks sweetie.” She dropped the finished butt, grinding it
out with the toe of her shoe before bending to pick it up. That’s when I saw
him.
“Uh Oh,” I breathe. Lyla pops back up like a dolphin leaping
from below the surface, turning to follow my line of sight. I’d recognize him
anywhere. A shadow in the darkness, but my mind screams Logan based on his
outline, his shape, his gait, and I’m not wrong.
Lyla hollers at him, her voice gruff and protective. “You’re
not allowed back here. Go on. Get outta here.”
“It’s okay Lyla. He’ll just wait for me out front. We really
need to talk and at least here we won’t have an audience.”
“I don’t know about this Sterling. I can’t believe he’s
cooled off any since last week.”
“I’m still angry,” Logan grouched.
“Give us a minute Lyla. He won’t hurt me.”
Of course he’d hurt me before and then I hurt him, but not
with violence, never violence.
“I’ll be right inside the door. Just holler if you need me.”
Lyla backed away with reluctance in her movement, keeping her eyes on Logan.
I watch him too. He simmers, a barely controlled rage just
beneath surface, ready to burst forth and it’s my fault. It weighs me down, the
heft of it draining me.
“What can I do Logan?”
“I’ve lost everything, college, football, Emma, and it’s all
your fault.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you want from me. I can’t
fix it. I can’t go back. No matter how much I wish, how hard I try, it’s never
going to be the same. You need to talk to someone, find a way to go forward.”
Good advice I give, my eyes pleading, his seething. Too bad
I don’t try it myself. I can’t talk to anyone and I hope with every fiber of my
being he doesn’t really want to talk to me about this. My tenuous grip on my
life will disintegrate and fall right through my fingers if I have to talk
about it. Better to leave it alone, keep the door closed on that part of my
life, than to lose the
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