Logan walked back to my bed, and my posture stiffened when he leaned down. “I’ll be back tonight with dinner, and we’ll finish talking,” he murmured. “Till then, sleep well.” His lips brushed over my cheek, lighting my soul on fire in spite of myself.

Closing my eyes, I sunk into the stiff mattress. Sleep is exactly what I need right now.

Chapter Three

Control

A man of his word, Logan entered the room just past six that evening carrying a plate of food, but not from the cafeteria. As he drew closer, a relaxed look settling over his face, I noticed the plate held my favorite childhood meal: two chili dogs, with waffle fries and orange slices on the side.

My mother had to have been to blame for his knowledge of it, and I wondered what other little tidbits of information she’d shared.

“Hope you’re hungry,” he commented, setting the plate on the tray beside me then wheeling it closer to rest in front of me, hovering over my lap.

“Considering the nurses never delivered my dinner, which I’m sure you had something to do with, yes, I am.”

The chili dogs smelled delicious. My mouth salivated, and I couldn’t help but snatch a fry. Oh, yeah—he was good.

I swallowed and looked up at him questioningly. “So what else did my mother tell you about her only daughter? The name of my childhood crush? Or perhaps the date of my first period?”

Stuffing my mouth full of fries, I hoped to disgust him as much as he’d disgusted me that fateful night. I refused to let him know how wonderful the meal was. Why couldn’t he just drop off the food and leave, letting a girl eat in peace?

“No, but I can always give her another call.” He raised his brows and pulled out his phone, earning him a deserved scowl as I sunk my teeth into the juicy hotdog.

God, was it good. Damn it.

“Did you bring anything for yourself, or are you planning on watching me eat all this alone? ‘Cause I’m not sharing.”

His face lit up, amused at my hard tone. “I could watch you eat every day, sweetheart,” he said with a smile, sitting in the chair beside my bed.

There it was: a name that once completed me, but now caused me to spit the rest of my hotdog into the cloth napkin. My appetite was gone. I wasn’t his, and I never would be.

“Something wrong with it?” He watched with a mystified stare as I stuffed the napkin under the rim of the plate.

“No, but something is very wrong with you sitting here as though it’s the most normal thing for you to do after I offered myself up on a silver platter and you laughed in my face.”

His carefree manner was replaced with a distraught frown. “Cassandra, I never laughed—”

“Don’t try to make me feel better, Logan. I made a fool of myself, and you know it! The truth is out there, and you can’t take that back.” I pushed the tray forward, needing more space to think, to breathe, before angling my head to the side, scowling. “You wanted to fuck me! If Natasha hadn’t shown up that night, you would have, proving I was just like every other girl.”

“Please, you have to—”

“No! I don’t have to do anything. I don’t owe you a damn thing, so you need to leave. Get the hell out of my room, and out of my life! Go enjoy another game of poker with Caleb!”

“I’m not going. And as far as that game of poker I played the other night, I don’t know who told you about it or what they said, but I was there trying clear my head so I could think straight. I was miserable the entire night thinking about you, here, stuck in a damn bed!”

“I don’t care!”

“Obviously you do, or you wouldn’t bring it up. You think I’d rather play poker, a game I lost ten grand at that night because my head was focused on you, instead of being here?”

I didn’t say a word.

“I’m staying. That’s final!”

Who the hell did he think he was? With a sigh, I decided the best way to get him out of my life was to stop engaging him.

“Fine, then stay, but don’t expect me to speak to you or even acknowledge you, for that matter.”

I turned away and closed my eyes. I wasn’t going to let him stroll back into my life. I wasn’t going to be that girl ever again.

And so it began. Logan remained sitting beside me, quiet as ever, until visiting hours ended. Then he gave a soft but rueful goodbye before leaving me alone to wallow.

The next morning, Logan arrived as though I was expecting him. I didn’t believe he was really there to stay until he sat solemnly on the chair beside me for the next few hours without a word. He returned again later that evening with dinner.

“Still holding onto the silent treatment, huh?” he asked, setting the plate of food in front of me.

I didn’t say a word. Silence was better than talking, because talking would begin a conversation that would lead nowhere good. The man was gorgeous and here with me, trying, but it didn’t matter. My anger—not just at him, but at myself for being so weak—was deeper than he could imagine.

Logan slid off his coat, dropped it onto a small chair across the room, and walked back over. I wondered if he’d went to the paper to work after he’d left that morning, but doubted it, due to the dark blue jeans and long-sleeved grey Henley he wore. It hugged his arms and chest and looked a size too small, which was exactly what any hot-blooded woman hoped for.

The man looked good. Too good.

With a sigh, my eyes slammed shut and I lowered my head, shaking it. Not good. Not beautiful, not sweet, and definitely not kind. He was none of those things I’d once thought—at least, not to me he wasn’t. I’d tried, put myself out there, ready to jump in, but he’d made things clear with the condom he’d thrown in my face. I saw exactly where I stood with him; looks had no influence anymore. Gorgeous or not, the man would eventually destroy me—I felt it deep down in my gut.

I stabbed a piece of meat and shoved it into my mouth as Logan sat in his usual spot in the chair beside my bed. I ate in silence, and was finishing off my bowl of fruit when the door cracked open and the male nurse on shift smiled.

“Sorry it’s taking so long. It’s been crazy around here with a few of the other nurses out with the flu. When you’re done eating, buzz the desk and we’ll get you showered.”

I nodded, smiling as I chewed with a closed mouth. I watched his head disappear and the door close.

Just as I pierced another piece of melon, Logan was out of his seat, staring at the door. What the hell was he doing now?

“That’s your nurse?” he asked, turning back and staring at me with a scowl burrowing between his brows.

“Yeah,” I drawled, shoving the melon into my mouth, irritated at his critical tone. “Got a problem with male nurses?” I scoffed.

Stalking toward the bed, he towered over me with a hard expression. “No, what I have a problem with is that guy thinking he’s going to help you shower.”

I rolled my eyes. Was he serious right now?

“Why? I don’t have a problem with it,” I replied, and there was a flash of not just anger in his darkening eyes, but something else, something deeper—hurt—and I couldn’t stop myself from driving the stake in further. “Actually, he’s kind of hot.” I shrugged my shoulders, pushed the tray holding my plate away, and reached for the buzzer.