Logan Chapter 119

-Emory-

I’ve put it off as long as I possibly can. I’m down to my last three pairs of panties. I’ve asked Logan to stop ripping my underwear off, but he knows how hot it gets me when we’re in the moment. He keeps telling me that he’d buy me a new set for every time if he had to, but I just can’t imagine losing money every single time we have sex. His other suggestion was that I stop wearing underwear at all, which seems more for him than for me. That won’t work, and no way am I having it delivered- the wolves on security have started looking through our mail now that we get “fan mail” as a result of all the news coverage. I’m learning to be more comfortable in my skin, but I doubt I’ll ever be okay with the shifters at the gates seeing my underwear. Logan wouldn’t like it, either.

At first, my outing is uneventful. It’s a little strange to have Silverson drive me around places I would normally have walked to from my apartment, admittedly. Oh! I need to do something about that, actually. I had just paid for the month when Logan busted out of Logan-dog, and I moved into the pack house. April’s rent will be due in a few days, and I need to figure out how to break my lease and get all my stuff out. I have a little bit of savings, where I was trying to get a better apartment, so I have a few more months before I’m unable to pay rent, if need be. I’d like to get that chapter of my life firmly closed, though. I’m not that girl anymore.

I’ll have to add talking to my landlord to my errands today. I’m almost glad, because I felt a little bad having Silverson drive me just to get more underwear. I offered to also pick up groceries, but the cooks didn’t think I’d be able to get the best produce because I don’t know how to check if most things are ripe. I’m sure I could’ve looked it up, but if they want to keep the chore, they can.

I’m thinking through all these things in the store, looking through underwear in my size and trying to find lacy things to match my bras that suddenly aren’t part of a set anymore. Logan is damned lucky that I have a good eye for colors, because this store always has the bottoms in a pile that looks a bit like a rainbow puked. They care a lot more about having the right size together than they do colors or construction. I don’t mind the hunt, though. This is the first time I’ve been out on my own since everything started happening and I had no idea how cooped up and suffocated I was starting to feel.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. I’m holding up a thong, trying to remember if the same color bra has been deprived of its panties yet or not, when a man walks up to me. I set down the underwear hastily, uncomfortable with the thought of anyone seeing me holding panties, especially with how he’s looking at me. I have my hair pulled back in a messy bun, hanging out the back of a ballcap to cover it as much as possible. I did minimal makeup, since I’m usually photographed at formal events, now, and I have casual clothes on. I couldn’t stand to leave my heels at home, so I’m wearing some black booties, jeans, and one of Logan’s shirts with a puffy coat overtop. I should be just about unrecognizable, I think. With this man’s gaze lasering a hole in my face, I’m starting to think I’m not as good at disguising myself as I thought.

“You’re that lady. The one in the woods.” He’s older, and maybe just a little senile? He’s got white hair poking out around his beanie, and he’s wearing a lot of haphazard layers, like he doesn’t own a warm coat but does have at least three jackets in his closet.

I give him a vague smile as I set my basket down. No way am I risking this man cornering me at the checkout. I need to leave. “I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.”

“No… no you’re the werewolf lady.” His voice gets louder, more sure. I check around to make sure he’s not getting anyone else’s attention. I have to leave, I need to leave, how do I leave?

“Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Werewolves don’t exist. I have to go.” He shakes his head stubbornly.

“No, I know your face. It’s been everywhere lately. I bet I’d know your ass, too, if you bent over.” I feel the blood draining from my face and a cold sweat break out on my neck.

“You’ve got the wrong girl. I just have one of those faces. I have to go- someone’s expecting me” I back away from him until I feel like he won’t be able to grab me when I turn around. As I power-walk through the store, I call Silverson and tell him to pick me up at the door.

“Sure thing, Ms. You were much faster than my wife usually is!” He’s trying to joke with me, but I just can’t laugh. I’m relieved to hear the car starting in the background as he pulls it around.

I peek over my shoulder, making sure the man isn’t behind me. “I didn’t get to buy anything. Can you stay on the phone with me until I get there?” I can almost hear him sitting up straighter.

All the humor is gone from his tone- he replies with something much deadlier. “What happened?” I try to take deep breaths so I don’t start crying in public.

At least I don’t think the man is following me. I was happy at first that the underwear was all the way in the back of the store, so I couldn’t be seen purchasing unmentionables from the front windows, but I’d rather have a thousand pictures published with my underwear in my hand than have to work so hard to escape again. “There was a man. He recognized me, and he wouldn’t take a hint, and I just have to get out of here. I have to leave. I need to go home.”

I can feel my heart rate accelerating, the shadows in the corners of the store seem darker than before. My skin is tingling, the lights suddenly too bright. The smells are too strong as I walk through the produce section- the peaches cloyingly sweet, the potatoes suffocatingly earthy. I almost gag while walking by the onions. I have to get out. I’ll get underwear another day. I can pay another month of rent on my apartment if I need to.

Silverson’s voice is tinny and indistinct on the other side of the phone, but it helps to know he’s there. I realize I’m in the middle of a panic attack, and I’m panting, half running, by the time I get to the car. He’s got the engine running, and as I get close, he throws open the door beside him so I can ride shotgun. As soon as I’m seated, he starts driving. It takes me three tries to get my seatbelt on, and he’s already pulling out of the parking garage.

It must be abundantly clear that I’m not hearing anything said to me- Silverson hangs up the call we had open and immediately calls Logan over the car’s bluetooth. I only realize this when his voice booms from the speaker at a shout. He must’ve been trying to get my attention for a while.

“Emory! Can you hear me, baby? Listen up!” I shake my head, trying to get my bearings. I’m safe.

“I h- I hear you.” I pant, feebly, but it’s enough for him to hear me.

“Good. That’s good, baby. You’re having a panic attack, just breathe with me.” He follows up with loud, obvious breaths, and I match him.

When I can breathe normally again and I don’t feel like I just ran a marathon, I slump back in the seat. “Thank you. I’m okay. It was stupid.” I wipe the fear sweat off my brow, but I know I’ll reek of it when we get home.

“I sincerely doubt that. Tell me what happened.” So I tell him, word for word, about the small confrontation in the store. By the end of it, I’m raising my voice to be heard over his growls. “I’ll talk to James about getting you a detail. Until then, order whatever you need online and I’ll tell the guys not to inspect the stuff from the companies you shop at.”

I lay my head back, defeated. I’ve made everyone’s lives harder just by going shopping. “Okay. I will.”