Curious, I dropped the catalog in my hand and snatched the one from his. The whole picture of him sitting there browsing for furniture was ridiculous, but still he sat there most of the morning. The page he’d been on had a bright-green circle around a beautiful leather sofa with silver-stud detail. The piece was gorgeous, but the fact that he’d picked it left me unsettled. With a quick hand, I pulled the cap of my marker free with my teeth, letting it protrude from my lips as I drew a giant X over his circle.

“And what’s wrong with the sofa?” he asked, slightly miffed. He must’ve really liked it, which further pushed me to veto it.

“Too masculine.”

He eyed me skeptically as I flipped through, starting over from page one until I landed on another item he’d circled: a stunning blue Moroccan area rug. I honestly would’ve chosen it, as well. With a shrewd smile in his direction, I crossed out the item and moved to the next page.

One after another, I crossed out his items and circled things I liked better. If I wanted to win the bet—and I did—I needed the house to be perfect: feminine and homey. I had it in the bag, especially since Logan had moved on from the furniture catalogs to paint chips.

Before I could snatch the array of colors from his grip, he moved his hand back, shaking his head with a soft chuckle.

“Not so fast. You may be taking over decorating the place, but the color scheme is all mine. I’m not giving you the entire upper hand here.”

My brows rose suggestively, and I feigned an exaggerated pout. “Oh, and here I thought you’d let a girl win. You know, so you could be my little slave for a couple days. All those possibilities...”

He was visibly affected by my seductive tone, but it didn’t take long for his open mouth to shut into a boyish smirk. He leaned forward, handing over the color palette. “Do your worst, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m already at your will.”

I rolled my eyes in response. “On second thought, you can pick the paint. I’m confident enough without it to win this hands down.”

He only grinned, watching me as I resumed my circling of knickknacks for the bookshelves I chose. Yeah, I was buying everything Julia would need and more.

After lunch, my head began to throb, and I knew what that meant. I looked to the clock on the wall: after one o’clock. It was time for my daily exercise—the worst part of the day. I loved to work out, to run and stretch, but this was different—painful.

I closed my eyes and yawned to feign exhaustion, hoping he’d take the hint and leave me to rest so he wouldn’t be around when Marilyn came to collect me.

It didn’t work.

“Feel free to rest. I’m going to step out to call my assistant to come collect everything that needs to be ordered, then I’ll be back.” He stood and switched out the light.

Alone at last, I smiled to myself as he walked to the door just as Marilyn entered. So close.

“You know what time it is, Miss Cassandra.” Marilyn’s voice was soft and sweet but had an undertone of authority, and I’d seen it at work. No point in fighting the woman.

“You can go, Logan,” I said, noticing him lingering at the doorway. Please go.

Marilyn was beside my bed in seconds, pulling back the blankets. I held them tightly, earning me a dubious look from the woman. I wasn’t ready for Logan to see all my wounds.

“You have to do at least one lap, Cassandra. We can’t have that leg stiffening up on you.”

“I said go, Logan!” I didn’t mean to yell as loudly as I did, but panic was setting in as she pulled the blanket from my grasp.

Logan stepped closer to me. I yanked on my gown to help cover the bandage, but I could tell by his stricken face that he saw.

“I think I’ll stay,” he said softly, now standing next to Marilyn with a frown.

Of course he would.

With a short breath, careful not to awaken the sleeping beast in my ribs, I shuffled both legs off the side of the bed. The bandage covered most of my thigh, and thankfully so did the hideous gown.

I sat there as Marilyn slid on the white robe to cover my backside and helped me to my feet. It took a moment to let my body stretch, willing myself to walk down the hall and back with no help. Marilyn was always there for support, but today I wanted to prove that I didn’t need it. I was just fine, and ready to leave the hospital in the morning.

The moment I took my first step, I knew I was in trouble. My leg gave in and my knees wobbled, but I was able to catch myself on the railing of the bed. Not that I needed it—Logan’s supportive arm was there, holding me up.

“I’m here. Let me help.”

“It looks like I’m not needed today,” Marilyn said with a smile, oblivious to the angry frown on my lips. “She needs to walk to the elevator and back on her own. Stay with her, though.” And with that, she was gone.

“You ready?” he asked kindly.

“I guess.” No way was I ready for him to see me in need of help. “You can let go now. You heard the woman: I need to do it on my own.”

The warmth of his grip released my waist and I was standing freely, ready to get the walk over with.

To my complete satisfaction, I made it to the elevator without missing a beat—no stumbles or weaknesses—and with Logan behind me out of sight, I was able to truly enjoy the accomplishment. The doctors were right: my leg was healing. I finally believed them.

I turned to walk back, grinning to myself.

“I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t be going through this.” Logan looked at me, and it was then I noticed the forlorn expression from the previous day was back.

“Don’t!” I snapped. “I just walked down a hall that I struggled with all week and still have the strength to walk back. You don’t get to ruin that for me. You don’t get to make me feel bad about the situation.” I ambled on past him.

Damn it. I was in such a better place, and he squashed it. The walk back was eerily silent as I let the irritation pick at me.

When I landed back in bed, that nap sounded better than ever. I rolled to my side and closed my eyes.

“Goodbye, Logan.”

I waited for him to reply—to say a thoughtful goodbye, or that he wasn’t leaving. Instead, I heard him sit, and then he began to read aloud.

My eyes opened wide. He was reading to me—and not just any book, but the first classic novel I read as a young teen. Another tidbit my mother must’ve told him.

With a nearly silent sigh, I allowed my eyes to drift closed as Elizabeth Bennet prepared with her sisters for the dance that would lead her to making the acquaintance of Mr. Darcy.

The hum of Logan’s sweet voice lulled me into my slumber, where he no longer awaited me in the alley. Rather, I found myself at home, standing in my backyard, watching Oliver chase Scout. But we weren’t alone—Logan was there as well. Far off in the distance, the trees surrounding him stood miles away, yet his searing gaze was concentrated on me, searching my soul for answers I couldn’t give.

Chapter Four

Scars

“Rise and shine, sleepy head!”

My eyes fluttered open to meet the marvelous grin covering Hilary’s cheerful face.

“Come on, the doctor’s signing the papers for your release as we speak. Let’s get you the hell out of this place.”