Logan Chapter 120

-Logan-

I don’t know if I’ve ever been angrier than I am right now. It’s one thing to have Bryan hurling insults at his sister- she’s put up with him her whole life and knows how to handle him. It’s another thing for Cora to betray her, helpfully removing herself as a negative influence in Emory’s life once and for all. It’s a new thing altogether for someone to make my mate feel unsafe in public. That man had the nerve to make my mate afraid. I’m almost glad she doesn’t have more of a description of him, and he should be thanking his lucky stars as well. If I could find him, I would kill him.

I skip out of work early to come home to my little rose and help ease the aftermath of her panic attack. It’s not a great time for me to be leaving early, admittedly, but I’ve given my blood, sweat, and tears to this company for over a decade- my priorities have shifted, and it’s about time something in my life was more important than profit and loss. The investors still aren’t happy with me, and I’m starting to think an exit will be easier than I ever imagined. I have yet to talk to Emory about it, but I need to set up a strategy to exit gracefully before I end up booted for the necessary steps we’ve had to take.

Silverson drives me back to the pack house, giving a full report on the way. There was no way the man could have followed them, both because they had left so quickly and because he didn’t see anyone of his description behind them on the road. It almost gives me heartburn to think of how Emory must have looked coming out of that store. She would’ve been pale, pupils blown, eyes wide and searching for danger as she ran. I have to stop picturing it before my wolf explodes from me to face the threat. I’ve already been growling periodically since I got that phone call in the middle of a meeting. It’s probably better that I stay home with her in light of how out-of-control I’m feeling on her behalf.

As I walk in, I try to feel out where Emory could be based on what I feel of her thoughts. I can hear that she’s trying very hard not to think at all, and that she’s sitting very still somewhere. If she were in the kitchen, the cooks would be shoveling comfort food down her throat, so I doubt that she’s there. I decide to try our bedroom, thinking she probably retreated to be alone. Alone is the last thing she should be right now, but I wouldn’t dream of scolding her when she already feels so desolate. After a brief stop in the kitchen to ask for some soup and Emory’s favorite ice cream, I pull myself up the steps.

What I see when I enter our room makes my eyes burn almost as much as my temper. Emory is back in her ‘house clothes’ and curled up in our bed, leaning against the center of the headboard. She’s almost as devastating in the sweatpants and hoodie I bought her as she is in her red carpet couture. The fact that I know she’s usually braless for both doesn’t hurt anything. She has her fiery hair piled messily on top of her head, and her face is uplit by her phone screen. She has most of the lights off in the room, just scrolling in the darkness. When I get to her, I see that she’s been looking at articles and posts about us. There are still comments about shifters, but these days it’s mostly about our antics.

She doesn’t address the elephant in the room. She’s not ready to. “Seems like it’s workin’, at least. There’re still some wolf jokes, though. Mostly about you being an animal in bed, which I guess is clever.”

I’ve never heard her accent this thick without the volume, and it’s both endearing and heartbreaking. “Baby. You’re going to be safe. I’m going to keep you safe.” I sit down next to her and pull her into my arms, into my lap, like I could wrap myself around her and keep the rest of the world out.

“He said… he said he’d recognize my ass if I bent over for him. Like I’d spread my legs for jus’ anybody. Why would he think that? You’re the only one anybody’s seen me with. It just don’t make sense.” I don’t realize I’m holding her too tightly until Emory tries to stretch out of my arms in order to fully breathe again.

“He had no right to say that to you. You’ve been with me, and you’ll always be with me. No one else has any right to your body. Nothing we’ve planted in the news on purpose has shown anything more than you would in your everyday clothes. I’ve kept you covered and I’ll continue to. I’m so sorry I failed to protect you from Cora, baby. I’m sorry we had that fight because I did a shitty job of explaining. We joke about Landon, but really this whole thing is my fault. Can you forgive me?” I didn’t start this conversation to gain absolution, and I didn’t realize I blamed myself as much as I’m discovering now that I do, but suddenly her forgiveness is the most important thing she can give me besides her love. I hold her close and finally accept my responsibility in the creation of this whole mess. I’m the one that put all of the shifters in danger.

“Of course I forgive you. Nobody had a blueprint on how to deal with our situation. Nobody can blame you for doing the best you could with the information you had at the time.” Somehow, Emory is pulling out of her melancholy to comfort me. This wasn’t my intention at all, and I feel like an asshole for needing it from her. But if it works….

We just hold each other quietly, eating ice cream until the cooks bring up the soup. We eat in bed, and then go to sleep early, still in each others’ arms. We’ll get through this, and circumstances are already looking up from where we started, but that doesn’t mean that tonight doesn’t suck.