Finding Me (The Bad Boy Series) (16 page)

             
“No, he left,” I whispered.

             
“Really? A man who swore he loved you has left you?”

             
“It seems to happen a lot. I’m used to it,” I muttered the last sentence under my breath, silently cussing myself for doing it.

             
“Are we going to discuss Logan?” she asked.

             
My head snapped up, my eyes meeting hers. How would she know about Logan? Not once have I mentioned him, or the mess that followed.

             
“How?”

             
“The police report. You called him.” She gazed down at her notes. “I was referring to Logan with my earlier question. Do you think Logan will be at college?”

             
“I don’t know.”

             
“I think in order for you to heal, we need to discuss it.”

             
“I don’t think I’m ready.”

             
“Neva, you have been ready since the day you first walked into my office. How about you tell me about how you met Logan?”

             
“He is my brother’s best friend,” I said softly. I watched as she tried to encourage me to say more. I sighed and start at the beginning.

             
“Logan and Tate got on like a house on fire. Tate was quiet, but Logan brought him out of his shell. By the time I was eight, Logan had turned my brother into the confident guy he is today. Logan was always at our place. I think he saw Tate more as a brother than a friend. Logan’s dad had left him and his mother when he was just a baby, it was just the two of them. Until Tate. Then, my dad died. From that day, Logan was by my side. The nightmares would come, and so would he. He protected me.”

             
“He sounds like an amazing person,” she said quietly.

             
“He is.” A smile crept across my face.

             
For the rest of the session, I told her everything. Logan, Angel, Jack. Everything. Trying to tell her about my love for both men was hard, but explaining why I chose who I did was even harder. She never once judged me, only asking questions that would help me move forward.

             
“Do you miss him? Angel, I mean,” she asked tentatively.

             
“No. I miss the man who I thought he was,” I answered truthfully.

             
“I can understand that.” She paused, taking a small sip of her coffee. “Do you want to know what I think?”

             
“Sure.”

             
“I think that even though right now you feel weak, I know you are one of the strongest women I have ever met. You have been through hell, Neva, anyone can see that. But, what I can see is that little flicker in your eye that tells me it's still in there."

"What's still in there?" I asked, running my palms against my jeans.

"Fight." She paused. "When was the last time you played your guitar?"

"It's been a while." I said, pulling a strand of hair between my fingers, twisting it against my index finger.

"What would you say if I asked you to play it?"

"Here? Now?" I shrieked. I couldn't think of anything worse.

"No. In front of a live audience. You mentioned the bar you played at with Angel. Can you remember the feeling of weightlessness you felt when you played?"

"I … I don't think I could do that."

"Yes, you can, Neva. You said you wanted to live, so live."

Dr. Marsh's words ran through my mind as I walked out of the building and out onto the street. There was somewhere where I needed to be, somewhere I never thought I would go back to. My mind was numb as my feet carried me through the streets, losing all sense of control of my movements. After a while, my mind finally caught up with my body. I was back to the place that reminded me so much of him.

I was standing outside the bar where I, not so long ago, poured my heart into a song. A song that meant so much, but I never knew who I was singing it to. The memory of stroking my fingertips across the strings hit me full force. I missed playing, it'd been so long since I last held my father’s guitar in my hands.

I took a deep breath as I feel tears sting my eyes, I quickly pushed the memories away. It's time to make new ones. I gathered all of my courage and walked through the double doors. The smell of stale beer and cigarettes hit me full force. As my eyes adjusted to the low level lighting, I spotted the bar. Standing behind it was Dex, the over the top bartender who had served Angel and I when we were last here. A huge smile was plastered across his face as he leaned against the wall behind him, his arms crossed in front of his chest. I gave him a small smile. I still didn't know what I was doing here.

"I didn't think you would come," he said as I stepped towards the bar. "I was sure you were going to tell me this was a prank."

I had taken Dr. Marsh's advice. I decided to call the bar number and hoped that I could get ahold of Dex. The shaking in my hands had started well before I got to the bar, but had grown worse when I heard Dex's voice. I was scared, but curious. He was one of Angel's friends from childhood, I knew if this went wrong he would probably tell Angel.

"I said I would come, Dex," I said, running my palms over my jeans nervously. It seemed to be becoming another nervous tic. "To be honest, I still don't know what I am doing here."

"I understand,” he said, keeping his gaze locked on mine. “Let me find Trix so she can cover me. We could grab some food and talk?”

I nodded. Taking an empty stool at the bar, I watched as the chatter built around me. It’s surreal being back here, especially during the day. It seemed different, brighter, more welcoming. My eyes cast down the end of the bar, locating Dex.

“Yo, whore. Can you cover me?” Dex said with a grin that could melt panties instantly.

A girl who I didn’t recognize stood up from a crouched position from behind the bar. She couldn’t be taller than five-foot-four. But what she lacked in height, she made up for in attitude. Her hair was a deep black, tumbling down to her shoulders. Her black makeup only accentuated her smoky grey eyes. She was stunning. Tattoos covered both shoulders and some of her chest, her low cut vest top showed off the intricate designs more.

“Motherfucker, if you call me a whore again I will cut your balls off and shove them so far up your ass you'll be tea bagging yourself. Capisce?” The girl said, grabbing Dex’s junk over his tight jeans.

Wow.

I watched the exchange closely, shocked by the way they talked to each other. But what I wasn’t expecting was Dex’s next move. Suddenly his hands were in her hair, tugging her close and taking her mouth like he owned it.

Pulling back, he stared into her eyes before dropping to a whisper that was so low I couldn’t catch it. But, whatever it was, it made her smile.

“You ready?” Dex’s voice shocked me out of my daydream-state.

“Hmm?” I said, flicking my gaze to his. “Uh, sure.”

“Come on then, cowgirl, let’s feed you.” He smiled, throwing his legs over the bar effortlessly, before taking my hand and pulling me out of the bar.

IHOP, we were at IHOP. I hadn’t been here for years. The smell of pancakes penetrated my senses and brought a smile to my face. My dad used to take me here sometimes, usually after he tried to teach me how to drive his truck. Most of the time it would end with me failing to drive a stick shift and Dad paying for a ridiculous amount of pancakes.

“Something has put a smile on your face. Is it my devilishly good looks?” Dex said, breaking through my memory.

Sitting on the opposite side of the booth, I took him in. He was good looking, no doubt about it. His green eyes were stark against thick black lashes. His dark hair was long enough to run your fingers through, longer at the front, falling in front of those eyes. His arms were covered in tattoos and a lip ring sat at the corner of his bottom lip.

“You’re pretty full of yourself, you know?” I said with a chuckle.

“It’s part of my panty melting charm, cowgirl,” he said, flashing me that damn smile.

“What’s with the cowgirl thing?”

“You just look like someone who should be in cowboy boots and a checkered shirt,” he said, cocking his brow. “It’s hot.”

“Dex. Are you hitting on me?”

“No, cowgirl. It’s my charm, remember?” He winked.

Christ, he was so completely full of himself. It suited him.

“So, what do you think about what we discussed?” I asked tentatively.

I had asked if he would be willing to let me play at the open mic night again, Dr. Marsh had told me to play, so I decided the bar would be the best place.

"You know you don't need to ask to play at an open mic night, right?"

My eyebrows shot up. Surely he could have told me this on the phone, rather than dragging me all the way to IHOP to tell me this piece of news.

"So why am I here?" I asked.

“I don’t know. Why are you here?”

“You’re deflecting. Answer the question.”

He sighed dramatically. Leaning forward slightly, he told me exactly why he called.

“It’s a small place, Neva. Word got around about what happened at Angel’s mom’s house. He came to the bar before I started my shift one night, and all but drank himself into a fucking coma. I threw him out the second I got behind that bar.” He had a sadness in his eyes. “I have known him since we were kids, but what he did … motherfucker shouldn’t be able to walk. I took one look at you the night you came in … I saw pure, I saw innocent, I saw a girl who was a little bent around the edges. I saw a girl who deserved much better than him.”

“This doesn’t answer my question, Dex.” I said on a shaky breath.

“Everyone is running from something, Neva. Everyone. The bar is a pit stop for people who need a break from running. That’s why he was there that night. He stopped running, but his ass was thrown right back out and told to keep on running. If you need a break from all that running, all that hiding? There is a job for you there.”

“What makes you think I’m running?” I was completely shocked by his explanation.

“Don’t try and play that with me. If you’re running, we know about it. It’s in your eyes, it’s written on your face and it’s in your shaking hands.”

I quickly pulled my hands from the top of the table, placing them in my lap to try and stop the uncontrollable shaking. He slowly cocked his right brow. Smart ass.

“So, what are you running from?”

“The same as everyone else. Everything,” he said with a solemn smile.

My mind was made up. Something in Dex’s voice spoke to me, I couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but whatever it was, it made me feel completely at ease. My hands had stopped shaking, my mind had stopped racing and my heartbeat was the most steady it had been in years. I think I have found someone who finally gets me.

“When do I start?” 

Chapter Seventeen

Logan

Bang. Bang. Bang.

What the fuck is that noise? Please tell me that was someone banging on the door, and not a constant throb in my head. I really had no fucking energy to deal with it, not today.

"Open the god damn door, Logan."

I could hear Tate shouting from the other side of the door. Thank god. I peeled open my eyes and looked around the room. The shoes I wore last night are on opposite sides of room. One on Tate's bed, the other near the door. Jesus.

Rubbing my eyes, I gently sat up. My body screamed from the movement. Christ. I needed to stop drinking so much. Looking down, I realized I'm still in last night clothes too. Fantastic, I bet I smell like beer and ass.

"Logan, I swear, if you're still in that damn pit I'm going to give you such a beat down!" Tate shouted from the door. "Open this door."

Shit, I must have locked it last night when I stumbled in.

"Alright douchebag. Lower the fucking volume, it's only ..." I turned to my alarm clock and almost swallow my tongue. "What the fuck! Tate, it's 8am! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Just open the door before I drop this fucking coffee!"

Coffee! Thank god for small mercies.

Slowly, I pulled my ass out of bed. The room spun, and for a moment I was sure I would fall on my face. Inhaling hard, I focused on a spot on the wall. My head slowly began to de-fog after a couple of minutes. Jesus, no more vodka.

Making my way to the door, I kicked my shoe out of the way and unlocked the door, letting a pretty pissed off Tate into the room. He glared at me as he dumped three coffees in my hands. Three?

"Are we expecting someone?" I asked.

"Hey, little dick."

I groaned. It's Low. Great, just what I needed when I'm hung over, a pissed off best friend and his chipper girlfriend, all rolled into a fucked up 8am wake up call.

"Mornin', big ass." I chuckled.