“Jax, we need to tell Logan. It will be worse if he finds out on his own.”

“You really think he can handle another bomb with everything he has going on? He’s under investigation for murder, Cassandra. Please, just give me a week, and if I can’t get rid of her then I’ll tell him myself.”

The thought of lying to Logan was crushing, but Jax was right: Now wasn’t the best time to add to Logan’s stress. He’d have to understand that later.

“One week. That’s it. And if Logan suspects anything, then I’m telling him. But don’t get it twisted—the only reason I’m agreeing to this is because you’re right about him not needing it right now.”

“Fuck,” he blew out, grabbing the bottle of tequila and pouring us each a shot—one I needed desperately. “I owe you big, woman.”

“Yeah, you do.”

Somewhere between finishing off the bottle and Jax revealing hidden tattoos he had on his chest, his arms, and even the back of his neck, my eyelids drooped and sleep set in.

“What the fuck!?”

I snapped my groggy eyes open, feeling a warm body resting under my head. I blinked to clear away the sleep, my vision focusing just enough for me to see Logan towering over me.

Which meant his wasn’t the hard, naked chest under me.

The pain in my head made my movements slow as a wave of nausea hit hard. I peeked to the side to find Jax lying under me, his eyes wide and staring back at me. I shot up and off the bed, my hands covering my mouth.

“Why the hell are you in bed with my girl!?” Logan bellowed, throwing clothes at Jax.

I doubled over, my dry heaves punishing and relentless.

“Logan—” was all I could manage before my stomach emptied at his feet.

“Get your ass dressed, and get the hell out of my house!” Logan growled.

Debilitating tremors made it nearly impossible to lift my head. I saw enough to know Logan was talking to Jax, who stood, wearing only boxers. When had that happened?

I fought through the haze, remembering him removing his shirt to show me his tattoos. But his pants?

Oh crap.

Another surge of nausea hit as I remembered the tiny kitten tattoo on his upper thigh that he’d supposedly been dared to give himself at a frat party. It was hilarious when he’d showed it to me the previous night, when I was too drunk to realize his pants needed to be removed for me to get a view. But now…now it was a nightmare.

I heard Jax leave as I righted myself, ready to explain. Thankfully, I was fully clothed.

“Logan, it’s not—”

“I’m going out for a drink. Get cleaned up.” He wouldn’t even look at me.

“Wait!” I stumbled after him, my head an unbearable anchor. I’d made it to the hallway when Julia stepped in front of me.

“I’d let him go if I were you.”

Was she serious? “No, nothing happened.” I held my head still in my hands. The room spun faster.

“I believe you, and he will too when he calms down. He’s just had a bad week, and you have to admit: You in bed with a practically naked Jax looks pretty bad.”

I took a few breaths, choking down the acidic burn. “Why is he home early? Did something happen?”

“I don’t know. I just stopped by to do some laundry. Oliver’s still with my mom. Logan did mention that it was going to be a busy week, and he wanted to see you.”

My stomach sank further. He’d come home for me, and this is what he’d found. I needed to find him and make things right.

Julia walked away and I bolted to the stairs, ignoring my nausea.

“Logan!” I yelled from the top step.

He stopped halfway through the front doorway, about to leave. He didn’t even look back.

“Leave me the hell alone, Cassandra.” His voice was deadly calm. He walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Sadness wracked my body. I should’ve fallen down crying, but I didn’t. In fact, I felt the urge to do the exact opposite. I was tired of being pushed aside while he dealt with things alone. And after he’d thrown me out over the Hilary incident, this was the final straw.

He thought he was the angry one? I was livid.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Truth

For the first time in my life, I was thankful for the anger coursing through my veins, ripping through the alcohol-fueled haze. There was no more nausea or spinning rooms—just a pissed-off woman storming home through melting sludge.

I fell into bed the moment my coat hit the floor. My kicked-off shoes flew through the air while I held up my phone and sent a text, but not to Logan. This one was to yet someone else currently responsible for the drama in my life, and frankly, it was time for me to speak up.

I know you’re with Caleb! U coulda called so I’d stop worrying but then again u and your man are the same that way! Selfish!

The text to Hilary was followed by one to Jax.

Did u set me up?!

His reply came less than a minute later.

NO! Didn’t even know he was comin home. Swear it!

The message I’d read on his phone from Natasha the previous night had set off my internal alarms. Seduce her, if you have to, she’d told him—and according to Logan right about now, that was exactly how it looked.

If I check your phone will I see u texted her this morning with the play by play?

Don’t hate me. I need to keep her off my back till I can put a plan together. I had to tell her. She needs to think I’m still on her side.

I was fuming. Jax couldn’t be trusted, and after the previous night, that little revelation actually hurt. I wanted to like him; despite his actions involving Natasha, he was a good guy. But it didn’t change the fact that I felt used.

Screw u! You didn’t have to tell her, she’d have never known you didn’t.

What happened last night was innocent. Go talk to Logan. He’ll understand.

Oh, I’d be talking to Logan all right.

Consider your week up. Logan’s going to hear everything.

Wait!! I was never gonna follow thru w/ anything the bitch wanted. I consider u a friend. Last night wasn’t some plan to trick u. Please do me a solid and give me some time here.

If the amount of rage I felt could’ve been converted into physical strength, my phone would’ve crumbled in my grip. There were few people I downright hated, but Natasha was now at the top of that short list.

I replied with the only thing my brain had energy to process.

I need sleep.

His response was instant.

Do I still have that week?

IDK g’night

When I woke hours later, the afternoon was fading into evening and I didn’t feel any better. A quick shower and bite to eat only squelched the alcohol-fueled hangover—not the emotional one.

Finished biding my time in an effort to not have to deal with life again, I finally grabbed my phone and confirmed Logan hadn’t tried to reach out.

But someone else had: Hilary. One new text awaited me.

Sorry. You’re right I shoulda called. What’s going on? Caleb took my phone & only gave it back when he saw your message.

I replied, keeping it short.

Everything is falling apart. I miss u! Tell Caleb to bring u home soon.

Who knew when she’d get the message, or when she—my venting ear—would be back.