sharp,
excruciating stab of pain that shot through the laceration down my thigh. A
gurgling scream rose from my throat.
In a panic, I sought out my cell phone. I thought I’d brought
it in with the candles, but as I looked around, I realized I’d left it on the
hall table.
This was not good. My chest began to heave, and tears
stung at my eyes. What was I going to do now?
To my relief, there was a knock on my front door only
seconds later.
Logan? I wasn’t positive, since he’d never knocked
before. Worried it may be a stranger—or worse, a homicidal stranger—I tugged on
the shower curtain until it fell free, the metal rod clanging to the floor.
“Cassandra!”
It was definitely Logan, and the knock from before was
now a forceful pounding that could’ve easily busted down the door. I began
pulling the clear vinyl curtain over me.
“Logan! I need you.” I did not just say that. Today
was so not my day. I should’ve stayed at the hospital.
I waited for another loud bang at my door or the crash
from him breaking it down. Instead, I heard the sound of a key in the lock,
then footsteps entering.
Logan had a key! How the hell did he get that? He’d
returned the one from when I babysat Oliver before Christmas, so unless he’d made
a copy…
“Where are you?”
The humiliation stung. What was it with Logan and
bathrooms? I looked down at the clear plastic doing nothing to hide my sopping
body and cringed. The fluffy towel on the rack against the far wall mocked me
as I reached out in vain.
His voice grew closer, calling my name in a panic.
“In the bathroom,” I croaked.
One hand covered my breasts over the sticky vinyl as I
rolled slightly to my side, hiding my front as best as possible. I struggled
against the tight space and cool water to press the curtain over my backside,
attempting to shield the last shred of dignity I had.
I felt him approaching before I saw him, goose bumps
prickling my skin. With hesitant movements, I looked up, my breath catching. He
was standing in the doorway, candlelight flickering around him. His dark,
hooded eyes locked on mine, concern etched over his brow.
“How did you get in?” I asked more softly than I meant
to, swallowing the lump in my throat. It was the only thing I could think to
say to break the tension, and it seemed to work.
He tore his gaze away, stepping farther into the room and
grabbing the fluffy white towel from the rack. With his back to me, I watched
his shoulders rise and fall as he took a deep breath, then turned to face me. He
seemed to have collected his thoughts, resuming the confident and smug Logan
demeanor I remembered.
“Your mother gave me a key for situations…” His lip
quirked up just the slightest bit. “…well, like this, I assume.”
With a scoff, my eyes rolled back. He was overly amused
with my situation.
“Just to clarify, this is not going to be a regular thing
with us: you, me, bathrooms.”
A familiar smirk grew over his lips shamelessly. “I have
to admit, I quite like this being our thing.” He kneeled down beside the tub,
and I jerked back.
“Are you hurt?” The amused expression on his face was replaced
with distressing concern.
“No, just sore.”
“All right, let’s get you out of here and into something
other than a vinyl wrap. Not that I’m complaining, sweetheart.” He frowned the
instant the endearment slipped out. He looked away, eyes dipping with a sharp
stare at the floor, then rising back to me. “Sorry. Force of habit around you.”
“I’ve noticed,” I breathed.
Our eyes locked, and it was me who broke the stare. I
wasn’t going there again. It was done.
My chin jutted out and I kept my hands placed strategically
as he positioned the towel over me, rubbing the soft cotton up and down my
shivering arms. I kept my eyes downcast on the metal grommets punched into the
curtain when he finally reached into the chilled water and pulled out the plug
near my feet. I listened as the water
excruciating stab of pain that shot through the laceration down my thigh. A
gurgling scream rose from my throat.
In a panic, I sought out my cell phone. I thought I’d brought
it in with the candles, but as I looked around, I realized I’d left it on the
hall table.
This was not good. My chest began to heave, and tears
stung at my eyes. What was I going to do now?
To my relief, there was a knock on my front door only
seconds later.
Logan? I wasn’t positive, since he’d never knocked
before. Worried it may be a stranger—or worse, a homicidal stranger—I tugged on
the shower curtain until it fell free, the metal rod clanging to the floor.
“Cassandra!”
It was definitely Logan, and the knock from before was
now a forceful pounding that could’ve easily busted down the door. I began
pulling the clear vinyl curtain over me.
“Logan! I need you.” I did not just say that. Today
was so not my day. I should’ve stayed at the hospital.
I waited for another loud bang at my door or the crash
from him breaking it down. Instead, I heard the sound of a key in the lock,
then footsteps entering.
Logan had a key! How the hell did he get that? He’d
returned the one from when I babysat Oliver before Christmas, so unless he’d made
a copy…
“Where are you?”
The humiliation stung. What was it with Logan and
bathrooms? I looked down at the clear plastic doing nothing to hide my sopping
body and cringed. The fluffy towel on the rack against the far wall mocked me
as I reached out in vain.
His voice grew closer, calling my name in a panic.
“In the bathroom,” I croaked.
One hand covered my breasts over the sticky vinyl as I
rolled slightly to my side, hiding my front as best as possible. I struggled
against the tight space and cool water to press the curtain over my backside,
attempting to shield the last shred of dignity I had.
I felt him approaching before I saw him, goose bumps
prickling my skin. With hesitant movements, I looked up, my breath catching. He
was standing in the doorway, candlelight flickering around him. His dark,
hooded eyes locked on mine, concern etched over his brow.
“How did you get in?” I asked more softly than I meant
to, swallowing the lump in my throat. It was the only thing I could think to
say to break the tension, and it seemed to work.
He tore his gaze away, stepping farther into the room and
grabbing the fluffy white towel from the rack. With his back to me, I watched
his shoulders rise and fall as he took a deep breath, then turned to face me. He
seemed to have collected his thoughts, resuming the confident and smug Logan
demeanor I remembered.
“Your mother gave me a key for situations…” His lip
quirked up just the slightest bit. “…well, like this, I assume.”
With a scoff, my eyes rolled back. He was overly amused
with my situation.
“Just to clarify, this is not going to be a regular thing
with us: you, me, bathrooms.”
A familiar smirk grew over his lips shamelessly. “I have
to admit, I quite like this being our thing.” He kneeled down beside the tub,
and I jerked back.
“Are you hurt?” The amused expression on his face was replaced
with distressing concern.
“No, just sore.”
“All right, let’s get you out of here and into something
other than a vinyl wrap. Not that I’m complaining, sweetheart.” He frowned the
instant the endearment slipped out. He looked away, eyes dipping with a sharp
stare at the floor, then rising back to me. “Sorry. Force of habit around you.”
“I’ve noticed,” I breathed.
Our eyes locked, and it was me who broke the stare. I
wasn’t going there again. It was done.
My chin jutted out and I kept my hands placed strategically
as he positioned the towel over me, rubbing the soft cotton up and down my
shivering arms. I kept my eyes downcast on the metal grommets punched into the
curtain when he finally reached into the chilled water and pulled out the plug
near my feet. I listened as the water
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