CHAPTER 005
843 Words
CHAPTER 005
EMMA'S POINT OF VIEW
The house was quiet. Too quiet.
I moved quietly down the hall, the wood floors soft under my feet. I felt a pull I couldn’t explain, and Logan’s study door was slightly ajar. That room held his secrets. I knew it.
My hand hovered over the doorknob, and I hesitated for a moment. What if he caught me? If I saw something I wasn’t ready for, what then?
The fear was stronger than the curiosity, but the curiosity was stronger than the fear.
It smelled like him, leather and faint cologne, the kind that clung to his shirts when he stood too close. The walls were lined with shelves of old books and his desk was covered in documents each in its perfect order. It was so… Logan. Controlled. Careful.
I slowly walked in, my heart thumping. I looked at a wooden box on the desk. It was old, worn at the edges, as if it had been opened and closed a thousand times.
I didn’t think. I just reached for it.
There were photographs, some black and white, some faded with time, inside. The first one I picked up was a woman with dark hair and a soft smile. She had the same sharp cheekbones and piercing eyes as Logan.
His mother.
Folded neatly, their edges frayed, there were letters. I opened one and started to read. It hit me like a punch to the chest.
She was scared. She wrote about being watched, about being trapped. A shadow, a man she couldn’t trust, there was something about that. And then the last line:
"I don’t know how much longer I can protect you."
The handwriting was desperate, shaky.
I felt a lump in my throat.
"Emma."
The voice behind me was sharp, but not loud enough to be heard. The kind of voice that made the room freeze.
I grabbed the letter like it was a lifeline and spun around. His eyes were darker than I’d ever seen them, and Logan stood in the doorway.
"What are you doing?"
My words caught in my throat, 'I—' "I just…"
"You shouldn’t be in here." His voice was low, controlled, but there was something dangerous underneath it.
I whispered, 'I wanted to know.' Logan, you never talk about yourself." You lock everything away. I thought—"
"You thought what?" His jaw tight, he took a step closer. Why would you just dig through my life? Answers to questions I never gave you permission to ask?"
His words hurt, but there was something else in his eyes. Hurt. Fear.
I stepped toward him and said, "Logan, I’m sorry." "I didn’t mean to—"
"Stop." I froze as he raised a hand. Emma, you don’t know what you’re doing. You have no idea what you’ve just opened."
I looked down at the letter in my hand. "Your mother… she was scared. She wanted to protect you."
He twisted his face, as if I’d hit a nerve.
"Don’t."
"Don’t what? Talk about her? Pretend she didn’t exist?" My voice broke. I’m trying to understand you, Logan. I’m trying to help."
"I don’t need your help!" His voice rose for the first time, and he snapped.
It was deafening silence that followed.
The weight of his words hit me and I stared at him. He turned away, running a hand through his hair.
He said quietly, "You don’t get it, Emma." You can’t just walk into this and expect to come out the same. "It's not something you can fix, my past."
He looked back at me, and for a moment I saw the boy he must have been, lost, angry. Hurt.
I stepped closer and said, "Let me try." "Please. Let me in."
The walls were still there, but his eyes softened, just a little.
"You don’t know what you’re asking for."
"Then tell me."
His mouth was a thin line, he shook his head. Emma, you think you want the truth. The truth will destroy everything, but."
My fingers brushed his arm and I reached out. He didn’t move closer, but he didn’t pull away.
"Logan…" Now my voice was barely a whisper.
He stared at me, stared at me, and for a moment I thought he might let me in.
Then his gaze shifted to the box on the desk, and the mask slipped back into place.
He said, his voice cold, 'Get out.'
I flinched.
"Logan—"
"Go, Emma. Now."
I wanted to fight, to push back, but the look in his eyes made me stop. He wasn’t just angry. He was scared.
I turned and walked to the door, my heart aching with each step.
I looked back as I got to the hallway. The letter in his hand, his shoulders slumped, he was standing by the desk.
I wanted to say something, to break the silence, but I couldn’t.
I left him there, in the dark, alone.
But the question burned in my mind:
What was Logan so afraid of?
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