Protect My Heart

Chapter 11

Clover

His return was odd. I wasn't used to it. It still astounded me whenever I checked up on him in the middle of the night to find him still there, sleeping. At the mere sight of him, I'd get this yearning to crawl into bed with him.

Although whenever I found him not where I was supposed to be, I had a mini panic attack. As a teenager, I suffered through plenty of them. When I'd be on the floor, trembling, he'd appear out of nowhere and hold me. He'd sit next to me and ask if I wanted to talk. The panic attacks were common in the early stages of our relationship, so they didn't surprise him again.

Our friends visited him, us, still silent about his reasons. Every Monday, Adam showed up and they went out for drinks. Often, Mason showed up, randomly, to hang out with him. He'd bought Logan and him a PlayStation to play games on. I adored watching them together, acting like teenagers again. I knew Mason had bought that game console to have Logan extend his stay, dreading him slipping through our fingers.

Logan and I both avoided his reason, still. I couldn't find any way to approach the topic without scaring him off. It didn't help that he'd not made a move on me. We hadn't even kissed. He was keeping his distance.

I hadn't even seen him naked. He showered with the door locked. He slept in a T-shirt and sweatpants.

Yawning, I stretched out of bed with my arms above my head.

The door flung open. "Hey, do you have a –"

I spun to face him, hands in my hair. He halted on the threshold, the light ocean eyes turning story. They raked over my frame. And I shrieked at the discovery that I was in his shirt and my panties.

I laughed awkwardly. "You should take a picture, then you don't have to stop looking."

Logan eventually snapped out of whatever daze he was in, blinking repeatedly. "Fuck, sorry."

Quickly, I did a sweep of him, noticing that sporting erection. Heat crept to his cheeks when he checked down, stammering profanities. "Clover, we – uh..."

I pressed up against him, my nipples needy against his skin. Heat seeped between us. His Adam's apple bobbed. I had to touch him anywhere possible. To shove him to between my legs and sit on his face. To shove him on that bed and cry out when he'd thrust home.

Twisting the hem of his sweatpants, I trailed my fingers upward. I felt the hard ridges of his stomach, fingers fisted in his chest. When the gap between us nearly vanished and my hand touched his chest, he froze.

"This was a mistake."

I watched him storm out of that room without another word. For a full minute, I waited there, hoping for him to return. Yet I remained hoping.

As I stepped off the last step of the stairs, I heard voices talking in the kitchen. "No, Mia, you're supposed to open it like this."

Logan's laughter filled the room. He was trying to show her something. I'd missed his laugh. "Like this?" Mia squeaked out. "It's not."

Mia was trying to open a juice box but didn't succeed. Logan took it out of her hands and showed her how to do it. "No, sweetie. You're doing the exact opposite. You're not supposed to rip it."

Mia pinched his arm. "I'm smart!"

He reached out, ruffling her hair. "You're very smart. But even this is too smart for you. Hey, I learned to open a milk carton when I was eighteen. Your mommy taught me that. She's really smart, like you."

I sighed against the wall, smiling despite my wants.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, sweetie?"