And that was the promise I was terrified of coming true…
THIRTY-TWO
ASTER
The next twoweeks passed in a blur.
It was easy to do when I’d been living in Logan, and he’d been living in me.
He’d go into the office during the day, and I’d stay in because he was right—it wasn’t worth risking it—not until we had proof and we could finally bring this to an end.
Plus, it’d given me time to plot out what I would say to my father. How I would free myself of the chains he’d kept locked around my wrists. I’d written for days, filled journals full of every thought and shaped them into stars.
I’d poured out every dream and every fear. I’d built my courage with each word and my case with each point.
One way or another, I would make my father understand.
He would see me.
See me as a person.
A human being.
As his daughter.
As someone who was going to stand for herself.
In the evening, Logan would come striding through the door.
A vision.
Fierce and perfect and the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen.
He’d be wearing that smile that promised I was in trouble, then he’d toss off his jacket, and it was on.
The two of us were nothing but desperate hands, pleading bodies, and unrelenting need.
Insatiable.
I loved it. I loved the way he loved me.
As if I was precious.
As if I was a treasure.
But oh god was he ruthless while he was doing it.
The man wasn’t shy to take what he wanted.
Rough and hard and demanding.
“Girl, you should see your face right now. Red as a tomato. I know what you’re over there dreaming about. Mmhmm.”
Gretchen’s voice snapped me out of the daydream I’d gotten lost in while I was wrapping Christmas gifts at the island.
Christmas was only four days away. It was the first time since I was a child that I was excited for it. There was a buzz in my blood that whispered of love and grace and faith.
That I was a part of something that mattered.