The Blood That Binds by Madeline Sheehan

 

Logan

The sun had long since set, its rising streaks of light filtering inside our small cabin through the cracks in the curtains. Outside, Silver Lake was just waking up, the distant sounds of people walking and talking drifting in through the open windows. I hadn’t slept a wink; I’d only lain here, holding tight to the woman snoring softly in my arms.

Fuck.

I was just… fuck.

When you’ve wanted something for so long—so goddamn, motherfucking long—that you’d convinced yourself that you no longer wanted it, that you hated it even, if only to make the days, the months, the years, go by a little easier. And then you finally have it—it’s sprawled over top of you—you can touch it, taste it, love it…

I felt wrecked. Thoroughly ruined and wrung out… but in the best possible way.

And for the first time in my entire life, I didn’t feel the pull to keep moving, to keep searching for something better. The ball of dread and unease that had long ago formed in the pit of my stomach that had been slowly unraveling during our time at Silver Lake had dissipated entirely at some point during the night.

Sleepy brown eyes framed in thick black lashes blinked up at me, eyes that shuttered the moment they’d connected with mine. As Willow attempted to untangle herself from me, I tightened my hold and rolled on top of her. I’d been waiting for her to wake up, knowing the second she saw me, she’d be flooded with guilt again. All night I’d been thinking of ways to redirect those feelings, only to come to the conclusion that I should simply let her deal with them. Only now, faced with the situation, my body had a very different reaction.

“Don’t,” I growled, taking her chin in hand and forcing her to look at me. “We’re not going to fuck and then pretend we didn’t. Not anymore.”

Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth as her eyes searched mine. “It’s not that,” she said, sighing. “It’s… I guess I just don’t know how to be with anyone but Luke. It’s always been me and him… he’s all I’ve known.”

It wasn’t as if I needed a reminder that she and my brother had been inseparable for over a decade; I’d lived that. But there was something particularly horrible about her invoking his name while she lay naked beneath me, after having spent half the night inside of her. Rolling off her, I swung my legs out of bed and scrubbed a hand down my face, leaving it clasped over my mouth, hoping it might stifle all the angry, immature things I suddenly wanted to say. It felt ridiculous to be jealous of my dead brother—but old habits die hard, I supposed.

The bed shifted as Willow joined me at the edge of the bed, clutching a pillow to her chest. “Logan, I’m sorry, but this is kinda weird for me—isn’t it weird for you?”

“Maybe,” I replied tightly. “But I’m not really thinking about it.” Which was a bald-faced lie. I’d been thinking about it all night long, among a million other things. I just didn’t want her to be thinking about it. About him. I wanted her to stay in the present with me.

“I don’t know how to not think about it,” she replied. “I feel like everything changed really, really fast and I’m still trying to catch up.”

It felt strange hearing her say how quickly everything had happened, because for me it felt as if I’d been living with my imprisoned feelings for years.

“Are you mad?” she continued, her voice rising. “Because if you are, I think that’s really unfair. Are we just not going to talk about Luke now that… this happened?”

I flicked my gaze in her direction. “This?”

“Yes, this.”

“What’s this?”

“Oh my god,” she ground out, making a face. “You know what this is—this is us. Us on the dresser. Us in the bed. Us on the floor after we fell out of bed. Us, Logan—us!”

I nearly smiled beneath my hand. Us. She really had no idea what that one word did to me, the absolute power it had over me.

Frowning at me, she asked, “Are you going to say anything?” A look of irritation crossed her features. “God, Logan, what is that stupid look on your face? What are you thinking about right now?”

This time it was laughter I was holding back. If she had even an inkling of anything I was thinking, or how I really felt about her, she would run for the hills… instead of just the bathroom.

With a noise of frustration, Willow moved to stand. Grabbing her wrist, I pulled her back into bed, trapping her under me.

“What am I thinking?” I said. “I’m thinking you look really fucking beautiful right now.” Ripping the pillow from her clutches, I gazed down the naked length of her body while she laughed and squirmed and cursed. Beautiful was the understatement of the century. Willow was a knockout from head to toe—her face, her body, the way she smiled, the way she moved…

Replacing my gaze with my hand, I felt my way down her body, satisfaction curling through me as her eyes grew hooded and her laughter turned to gasps. “Logan,” she breathed, lifting her hips, pushing against my hand. “Logan.”

“What?” I growled softly, slipping a finger inside her.

Her eyes widened. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. “We’re going to be late,” she whispered, her hands twisting in the sheets.

“I don’t give a shit,” I said, adding another finger and working her faster.

“Oh, goddamn you,” she groaned, eyelids fluttering. “Logan… fuck… please!”

Watching her, I went absolutely crazy inside. Taking her mouth in a brutal kiss, I continued with my hand until she was writhing beneath me and crying out between curses. Unable to hold out any longer, I swapped my hand with my hips, giving us both what we wanted.

We were late. We missed breakfast and ended up being over an hour late for work—not that anyone at the construction site appeared to notice my untimely, disheveled arrival. Stopping at the water cooler first, I poured myself a cup, drinking it down as if I were out of breath and already sweating from an hour’s worth of manual labor, and not all because I’d just had sex with Willow, again.

“‘Morning,” I called out, nodding at Joshua as I passed. “‘Morning, Logan,” he replied, giving me a curious glance.

“Hey,” I greeted EJ, joining him inside the cabin we were working on. Pulling my shirt off, I tucked it into my tool belt and turned toward the ladder.

“Where the hell have you been—” EJ broke off with a laugh. “Hey, man, no need to rub it in.”

Shooting EJ a questioning glance, the man only laughed harder. “Your back,” he said between chuckles. “Either you got into a knife fight from behind or you had a way better morning than I did.”

I attempted looking at my back, glimpsing a streak of blood on my shoulder. Fighting a grin, I pulled my shirt from my tool belt.

“No, no—don’t cover up on my account. Those are badges of honor, my friend.” EJ was still laughing. “So, you and Willow, huh?”

“Uh, yeah,” I muttered. “But maybe just keep that between us, okay.”

“Bro.” EJ laughed heartily. “You realize everyone already knows, right? Sure, Jordy was a little late to the party—wishful thinkin’ probably—but after that whole scene at the wedding, everyone’s pretty much up to speed now.”

“Yeah, brother, we all know.” Joe sauntered inside the cabin with an armful of precut two-by-fours. “In fact, some of us been takin’ bets, trying to guess when the two of you were gonna get your shit together.” Dropping the wood, he turned to leave but not before tossing a salacious grin in my direction. “And now that you’ve sealed that deal, maybe you can get Willow to put in a good word for me with Britta?”

“Ignore that asshole,” EJ said through clenched teeth once Joe was out of earshot.

I stared at EJ, brows raised. “Okay?”

“I’m just saying, Britta doesn’t need that guy in her life.”

I shook my head. “Whatever—I’m going to work now.”

“No really,” he pressed. “He’s gone through half the women here already—he only wants Brit because he hasn’t had her yet.”

As I ascended the ladder, I said, “Not my business.”

“She deserves better than him,” EJ called after me. “He’s not good for her.”

“I don’t care,” I called back.

The tone was set for the rest of the day—EJ continued to talk incessantly about Britta while I ignored him. Which wasn’t hard, as all I could think about was Willow—when I would see her next, when I could kiss her next, when I could be inside of her again.

The way she’d torn up my back this morning.

So distracted by my thoughts of her, my work soon grew sloppy. Three times I mis-measured stud length, and twice I brought the hammer down on my hand instead of a nail. By the time dinnertime rolled around, I felt bruised and battered and in desperate need of a change of clothes. But more so, I was desperate to see Willow.

Parting ways with EJ, who was still blathering about Britta, I headed for home, wondering if Willow would be there or if she’d left for the dining hall without me. We hadn’t discussed going to dinner together, it was merely wishful thinking on my part.

The cabin door opened as I was reaching for it—Willow stood before me, her face freshly washed, her long curls wound into a thick bun on the top of her head, wearing a blouse I’d never seen before—a black button-down top with a bow at the neck that she’d partially tucked it into a pair of faded flare jeans.

“Hey,” she murmured, smiling shyly—a new expression that was completely out of character for her, but one I found myself liking.

“Hey yourself,” I said, shifting past her. “Where’d that shirt come from?” I’d waited all day to be with her again—only now that the moment was here, I wasn’t sure what I should be doing. Did I kiss her? Hug her? Willow and I had so much history, but this was uncharted territory for us.

“I found it at that school.”

The school.Hiding my scowl, determined to keep my pissy thoughts to myself, I headed in the direction of my dresser, pulling my shirt off and tossing it away.

“Your back,” Willow suddenly gasped. “Holy shit.”

Turning, I found her with her hand pressed to her mouth. “I’m so sorry,” she said, between muffled laughter. “Actually, I’m not sorry—like, at all.”

Grinning, I grabbed for her, pulling her to me, and tugging at the bow at her neck. The tie popped open, exposing a great deal of her breasts. “You should be sorry,” I said, tracing the swell of each. Yeah, I did like her shirt, and not just because of its easy access. The whole outfit made her look put together in a way I’d never seen her before—less like a girl and more like a woman. Less like Lucas’s girlfriend… and more like my woman.

“The guys at work were giving me shit about it.” I bent to kiss her just as she pushed me away.

“Wait, what?” Willow peered up at me, all traces of humor gone. “What were they saying?”

“Nothing really—just stupid jokes and stuff.”

“Jokes about us?”

Her sudden switch in demeanor caused a swell of irritation within me. Running my hands through my hair, I said, “Yeah, Willow, us. It’s not exactly a secret—the whole fucking camp knows.”

“And they don’t think we’re… bad people?”

Folding my arms over my chest, I stared hard at her. “Are you trying to tell me that you think we’re bad people?”

“No… yes… I don’t know. I just mean…” Sighing, she rubbed at her temples. “It feels like it should feel wrong, you know? But then… it doesn’t, especially…”

“When?” I’d already guessed what she meant—during sex, of course—but I still wanted to hear her say it. No, I needed to hear her say it—for me, for her, and for the ghost of my brother wedged between us.

“I loved him, Logan,” she snapped, not rising to my bait. “I still love him.”

As if I could have suddenly forgotten. “What does that have to do with anything?” I demanded. “I’ve never questioned how you felt about him—that’s always been pretty fucking obvious.”

“But I’ve questioned it!” Willow shouted. “I questioned it back then and I’m questioning it now, because… because if we really loved him then I don’t know why we keep doing this to him.”

“Jesus, Willow. We’re not doing anything to him. He’s gone, remember?” I stepped closer, fighting the urge to grab her by her shoulders and shake some sense into her. “And we both know that if Luke were still here, none of this ever would have happened.” I spat my last few words, hating the harsh truth of them.

She pinned me with a hard look. “That doesn’t make me feel any less guilty. And I keep thinking about how hurt he would be if he knew.” Her hard gaze turned tortured. “How the hell am I supposed to live with that?”

I waited a moment before responding, trying desperately to temper my anger. The last thing I wanted to do was start yelling or saying things I didn’t really mean.

“We screwed up back in Asheville,” I eventually gritted out. “That’s never been up for debate. But this is different, everything is fucking different this time, and I don’t know how to make you see that.

“Would Luke be hurt if he knew? Probably. And yeah, it fucks me up to think about that. But the fact remains that he’s gone. He’s never going to know about any of it. It’s just me and you in the here and now, Willow, and I’m not going to waste my time or energy feeling guilty over shit I can’t change.

“And to be perfectly fucking honest, I wouldn’t change it even if I could. And if that makes me a bad brother—” I shrugged angrily. “Then so be it.”

Willow went still, her eyes wide and mouth ajar. Whether she was surprised by my honesty or shocked by the brutality of my admission, I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t care. It was well past time for some honesty, no matter how brutal, to be injected into our fucked-up relationship.