She hated him. She hated him more than she ever thought possible. He was a kook- her natural born enemy.
He didn't hate her at all. Not one bit. It couldn't have been farther from the truth. Did she know that? No- and she never would.
-
"You and I...
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〰⋅〰⋅〰
Wheezie's eyes darted from one end of the living room to the other, attention wholly devoted to her big brother. Back and forth, back and forth. She just kept watching him, the only emotion in her system being confusion. He'd been gone half the morning and was finally back, but so was the old woman and her dumb sidekick.
And she'd been told absolutely nothing.
"Okay, can you just tell me what's going on?" She finally asked, leaning forward on the couch. "And stop pacing. You know I hate that."
Logan let out a breath, stopping as he brought a hand to the bridge of his nose. "Shit is going down, Wheeze. And I'm so deep in it, I don't even know what to do."
"Well, you could always step out of the shit." She suggested, shrugging her shoulders. "I mean, why are they looking for some stupid cross, huh?"
"Because apparently it holds a magic cloth that can heal any malady." Logan deadpanned.
Wheezie's brow shot together. Periodic Sunday School or not, she was confused. "Okay...that makes no logical sense, but whatever." Her gaze lowered as Logan sat down next to her. "I'm confused, Logan. Please just tell me what's going on. You've been acting weird since last night— since the bonfire."
"Well, a lot of weird shit has gone down since—"
"Logan,"
He just sighed, bringing both hands up to his temples. "Look, all you need to know is that Rose isn't on a business trip. Okay? She's doing something else, but I can't tell you what it is. At least not yet."
"Because you're protecting me, right?"
Logan turned to his left, locking onto her dark eyes. "Yeah, Wheeze. I'm protecting you, because that's what I'm supposed to do. And I know it sucks. But I need you safe. Okay?"
Wheezie rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I'm old enough to understand that—"
"Rafe!"
Logan perked up, eyes darting in the direction of the propped open front door. "Topper?" He murmured, immediately standing up. "Stay here, Z. I'll be right back."
"Whatever."
Logan took the remaining steps out of the living room and to the front door, brow furrowing together at the sight of Topper and his jeep parked in their driveway. "The hell?"
Topper noticed him as Rafe shooed him away. "Go home, Top."
"What the hell is he doing here?" Logan exclaimed, anger coursing through his veins.
Topper raised his hands up defensively, head shaking. "I'm here for Sarah. I got nothin' against you, Log—"
"Yeah, well, I got somethin' against you!" He shouted, his hands curling into fists.
