And we hang up.
The first person to call? Logan.
I need to talk to him.
I dial his number. It rings and rings, but he isn't answering.
I hang up and try again with the same results.
Fuck.
If he isn't going to answer my calls, we'll have to deal with this the hard way.
I'm driving to him in person.
27
Logan
“One… fucking… more…” I grunt, pushing the bar up, my chest feeling as if it’s about to burst. My arms are shaking, and there’s sweat running down my forehead and into my eyes. But I manage to do two more reps, one more than I expected to, and only then do I place the bar down onto the steel rack.
Sitting up on the bench, I wipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand and close my eyes for a couple of seconds, feeling my heart hammering against my chest.
I’ve spent all morning in the gym, working hard to clear my mind; so far, I’m not sure if it’s working. My conversation with Abby helped matters, but I’m not so sure how I feel right now. Well, I feel fucking tired and sore—after all, three hours of working out like a madman has consequences, but that aside, everything’s a fucking blur.
When I open up my eyes, I gaze out the windows at the far end of the gym, and I look just in time to see Anders pulling up to the parking area in his sports car. I watch as he kills off the engine and then walks through the front door, his footsteps heavy and alarming. I look at him surprised (he usually works out in the afternoon, after all), and I start making my way toward him.
And that’s when I see the rage in his face. His lips have become a snarl, and I can almost see flames burning under his eyelids.
“Hey, what’s goin’ --” I start, but he gives me no time to finish my sentence. Raising his fist, he cocks his arm back and takes a swing at me. I try to step out of the way, but it’s already too late; his fist connects with my face and, for a moment, I almost think I’m going to fall back. Somehow, I manage to remain up on my feet; I take one step back and take my hand to my mouth, feeling the leaden taste of blood on my tongue. “What the fuck, man? What was that for?”
“Do you even have to ask, Logan?” he whispers, each of his words loaded with so much rage that I can’t help but take a step back. “You’ve betrayed Lana. You’ve betrayed me… You’ve betrayed everyone around you. And for what? Money?”
“I --”
“How could you do something like this?” he continues, completely ignoring me. “And forget about Lana and I. Abby Cleveland has always treated you right, giving you her best covers for you to work on… Is this your way of thanking her? You fucking steal from her?”
“Anders, calm the fuck down. It’s not --”
“I don’t even want to hear your bullshit excuses, Logan. I’ve had enough of you,” he says and, for the first time since he came into the gym, he has finally lowered his voice. He’s calm now, but there’s a hint of sorrow in his words. He sounds… jaded. Just like he used to be before Lana showed up with her manuscript. “I thought that I was wrong about you, you know, and right when I start to think that I’ve treated you wrongly these past few months, you have to go and fuck it up. I was right; you’re in this to make a quick buck. You don’t care about anyone.”
“I care about Lana!” I whisper, gritting my teeth and making a fucking herculean effort not to snap. He might not believe it, but I care more about Lana than I care about anything else. “You need to let me fucking explain!”
“Fuck you. How can you even say that?” he asks me, and there’s a blend of surprise and disgust in his face. “You care about her? If you truly cared about her, you wouldn’t have sold her manuscript to Grady.”
I just stare back at him, having no idea on what to say, and then Anders just shakes his head and turns on his heels. I stay frozen in place as I watch him leave, but then my body reacts; I run after him and, grabbing his right arm, I make him stop. He turns to face me, and the look on his face is one of pure contempt.
“Let go of me,” he whispers, and his words are so cold that I just do what he tells me to. I take my fingers off of his arm. “I’m through with you,” he adds, and turns again to leave. This time I don’t stop him; I just watch him go, my heart feeling like a fucking stone inside my chest.
Running one hand through my hair, all of it drenched in sweat, I let out a heavy sigh.
“Fuck,” I whisper to myself, and then make my way toward the bench. Sitting there, I look out the window and watch as Anders gets inside his car and leaves. He’s probably going to meet Lana right now and, no matter how much I want to, I can’t go after him.
It fucking breaks my heart that right now, I can’t be with her. But that’s for the best, right? At least that’s what I should be thinking, but I just can’t. To know that she’s going to be in Anders’ arms and that I won’t be there as well… Fuck, that shit just crushes me.
With a sigh, I stand up and place a few more heavy plates on the bar. Lying back down on the bench, I raise my arms and place my hands under the bar, curling my fingers around it. Tensing up, I arch my back and push the bar up, slowly lowering it until it’s brushing against my chest. With a loud grunt, I start pushing it up, over and over again, doing it until my arms go numb.
And then I just keep on doing it.