Fighting Fate Page 5

  Samantha grinned when she saw him. “There’s my helper. Early as usual.”

  He waved a brief hello. “Hey, Sam. Want me to set up the refreshment table?”

  She snorted. “Have I ever turned down your offer of help before? I think we’ll only need one though. They’re having a movie night in the stadium, which will probably lower our turnout.”

  Logan nodded and got to work. He found a long table folded in a nearby closet. He lugged it into the Crimson Room and pulled open the legs, and situated it where Sam wanted it to go. Setting the paper bag he’d brought on top, he unloaded the baked goods inside.

  “Mmm.” Sam paused by him to breathe in the aroma. “Did you bring something from The Squeeze again?”

  He nodded. “I just came from work. Gus was going to throw the blueberry muffins out, and they’re only a day old.”

  His boss didn’t believe in letting anything go stale. Gus refreshed his small stock of pastries daily. Logan often made a complete meal from the free castoffs, which was helpful during those times when his grocery fund was exhausted.

  “Bless him.” Sam snatched a muffin and moaned as she chewed.

  Logan watched her, amused by the exaggerated way she let her eyes roll into the back of her head. As the leader of the group, she was the only non-student. He didn’t think she could be much older than thirty, but he could detect a sprinkling of gray in her dark hair, probably from the stress of losing her husband two years before, which left her raising two young sons by herself, working a full time job, and still slotting in a couple hours each week to lead this group.

  He came early to help her set up as much as he was able.

  “Is there anything else you need me to do?” he asked.

  “Nope.” Sam picked up a napkin and dabbed her mouth. “I think we’re good to go.”

  Not the answer he wanted to hear. He preferred to stay busy. With nothing to do, his mind tended to wander, and it never strayed toward good memories. Not anymore.

  Though he wasn’t a fan of idle conversation, he forced a tense smile and asked, “How are the boys?”

  Thankfully, Samantha loved to talk about her children. She went off onto an entertaining tangent about the latest potty training adventures with her youngest. “The kid’s almost four years old,” she said, completely exasperated. “At this rate, I swear, he’s going to graduate from college in diapers.”

  The image actually induced an amused grin to quirk one side of Logan’s mouth.

  When another girl arrived, Sam stole one more muffin and meandered to the circle to greet her while Logan lingered by the refreshment table, helping set food out whenever someone brought more in.

  Just about everyone who arrived called a friendly greeting to him. He waved an acknowledgement back but didn’t engage anyone in conversation. It was nice they all knew him as Logan—not Dave—but he purposely kept himself a step removed from the other members of the group, mainly because he was a fraud.

  He felt guilty he hadn’t shared a personal story the way everyone else had shared theirs. Then again, he didn’t have a story of loss to share, so that was never going to happen anyway.

  The truth was he was using them, using their personal accounts to heal himself while he gave nothing in return. And that made him feel vile. Just not vile enough to leave and never come back. Without them, he knew he’d be worse off than he was. So he kept returning each week, complete fake that he was.

  “Anything good to eat tonight?” a voice asked beside him.

  Logan glanced around to spot Kevin Lloyd, who’d lost his dad when he was eight.

  “I’ve been eyeing those wrap things,” Logan answered. “Jamie just brought them.”

  Kevin took two for himself. “Oh, God. These are amazing.” He moaned between bites. “Jamie sure can cook. But then, she’s a culinary major, isn’t she?”

  Logan eyed the blonde they were discussing as she sat in the circle talking to another girl. “English,” he corrected.

  Kevin frowned. “Really? Well, she should have a culinary degree.” He licked his fingers clean and reached for another wrap when something caught his eye on the other side of the room. “Whoa! Dude, check it out. New girl.” He hitched his chin toward one of the many doorways leading into the Crimson Room.

  The back of Logan’s neck prickled. A strange warmth spread through his veins. Before he even turned, he knew. When he glanced around, he wasn’t at all surprised to see Paige hovering shyly in the entrance. A powerful jolt of shock passed over him. Or maybe it wasn’t shock.

  Ducking his chin just enough so she wouldn’t immediately see his face from underneath his ball cap, he clenched his teeth and gave a silent curse. He should’ve known she would show up to one of these meetings sooner or later. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

  God, she looked good. He loved her silky dark hair, her dark soulful eyes, the way her clothes accentuated her lithe frame.

  Kevin nudged his arm. “Smoking hot, huh?”

  Logan cleared his throat and jerked his attention away from Trace Zukowski’s little sister.

  Her presence was a total disaster. Panic leaped into his veins. If she saw him, she could cut him off from his only line of emotional support with one sentence.

  She might as well cut off his air supply.

  “Uh…yeah,” he mumbled, scanning for the nearest escape route. “She’s…cute.” Cute for a girl about to destroy him.

  “Cute?” Kevin’s jaw dropped. He stared at Logan as if he was insane. “Puppies are cute, man. That goddess is flat-out gorgeous.”

  Logan silently agreed, his gaze locking on a doorway to his left. But gorgeous or not, she was going to flay him alive. He couldn’t make any sudden movements and outright dash for the exit; she’d see him. He’d have to be stealthy about his escape.

  Keeping perfectly still, he held his breath and waited for an opening. His insides tightened as he prayed she wouldn’t spot him. She didn’t seem to be aware of his presence yet but she hadn’t moved from the doorway either.

  “Looks like she needs a friendly welcome,” Kevin murmured.

  Logan and Kevin both glanced at Samantha, the one who usually welcomed fresh recruits to the group. But buried in a one-on-one conversation with some guy, she hadn’t noticed Paige’s arrival.

  “Well.” Kevin breathed into his palm to check his breath before he straightened his shirt and stepped away from Logan. “I guess that’s my cue.”

  The urge to grab Kevin back and keep him away from her nearly overwhelmed Logan, but he fisted his hands down at his sides and managed to restrain himself. He crept backward, slowly and inconspicuously nearing the closest escape while Kevin called out to her, distracting her attention.

  This was his chance to leave without her ever being the wiser. But for some reason, he couldn’t go quite yet. Watching her and Kevin together held him entranced.

  She jumped and spun toward Kevin, eyeing him warily, even as she offered a tentative smile. “Hi. Um…is this the grief group?”

  “Sure is.” Kevin held out a hand for her to shake. “I’m Kevin.”

  “Oh!” A bright smile of recognition bloomed across her face. “How lucky is that? It’s so nice to meet you.”

  Shifting into a shadow, Logan sucked in a breath as he watched her. An ache started in his breastbone as she smiled prettily at Kevin. He’d never seen her smile before. It was…devastating. He wanted her to aim that bright, beautiful, dazzling smile at him.

  “I think my suitemate has a class with you,” she told Kevin. “Her name’s Tess. She said she met you in World History, and you told her about these meetings. That’s how I learned about them, incidentally.”

  Kevin stared at her blankly, looking utterly awed, probably held under the spell of her smile as well. Then his face flushed, and he cleared his throat. “Tess?” he repeated only to nod. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. I know Tess.”

  “I’m Paige.” She relaxed her stance, showing Logan how much she already trusted Kevin
. “I’m glad I met you first thing.”

  Logan’s throat burned. She knew next to nothing about Kevin, had no idea what horrible things he might have done in his life, and yet she automatically liked him more than she would ever like Logan, on principle alone.

  “Help yourself to something to eat,” Kevin offered, leading her over to the refreshment table.

  Again, Logan realized this was another timely moment to flee without getting noticed, but he wanted to watch her, just a little longer. She held so much power over him, could decide his fate with a few simple words. It made him strangely curious about her. Like an idiot captivated by the lethal beauty of a cobra that was poised and ready to strike.

  “Oh, yum.” She brightened as she scanned the food. “Blueberry muffins. These things are my absolute favorite food.”

  Sensations roared through him as he watched her pick up one of the muffins he’d brought and sink her teeth into the tender breading. He could almost taste the tart berry on his own tongue as he watched her close her eyes and moan. It made his mouth water, but not because he was hungry.

  He wondered what she’d do if she knew her favorite food had come to this table courtesy of him. He hoped no one told her; he liked watching her enjoy the pastry. He liked it a little too much.

  “These wraps are really good too,” Kevin told her as he picked up another and popped it into his mouth. He grinned as he chewed as if sharing some kind of inside joke with her. Then he shifted just so, blocking Logan’s view.

  Logan frowned, disappointed yet relieved the spell she held him under was broken. He wanted to keep staring but with his sanity returned, he decided to make a break for it.

  Until Samantha spoke up. “Looks like we have a newbie tonight,” she called, thankfully interrupting Paige and Kevin’s moment. “And more of you showed up than I was expecting. Logan?” After a quick glance around the circle, Sam looked at the faces of the members as if searching for someone. “Could you get us another handful of chairs please?”

  Logan froze only two steps from the doorway.

  Sweating like crazy, he looked over just in time to catch Paige’s face drain of color. She swerved around and spotted him. As their gazes connected, he felt struck hard in the chest, watching the dazzling smile she’d flashed a second before disappear as if it had never existed.

  Sick about sucking the joy out of her, he waited a beat, braced for her to point and scream, “Imposter!”

  But when her face only darkened with silent hate, he yanked his stare away and gave Sam a tight smile. “Sure.”

  As he stumbled from the Crimson Room, he knew this was his last opportunity to run. But Sam was counting on him to return with more chairs. He couldn’t let her down.

  He couldn’t let anyone down. Not ever again.

  Not even to fetch some stupid chairs.

  Gritting his teeth, he silently cursed his overwhelming need to be responsible all the way to the supply closet. Running was meaningless now anyway. Paige knew he was a member of the group; she was going to out him whether he stuck around to watch the horror or not.

  He’d rather not, but Sam was still waiting on him to return.

  A cold kind of numb coated his skin as he lugged four chairs from the supply closet. By the time he returned to the Crimson Room, everyone but he and Sam had found a seat. She took one from him and sat down.

  He put all his attention into unfolding the other three just a little behind Jamie and Brenda. Then he paused, making his final decision to stay before slipping into one of the three empty seats. When he looked up, he found himself directly across the circle from Kevin.

  Who sat beside Paige.

  He exhaled deeply through his nose, trying to control the panic, but he couldn’t stop the crazy jump in his pulse. It was like watching a train wreck from the viewpoint of a passenger, waiting for the impact, braced for the explosion which would surely slay him. His life flashed before his eyes.

  She was going to destroy him in mere moments. He could probably start the countdown.

  A little startled to see she hadn’t left either—since that had seemed to be her standard reaction around him—he held her gaze for longer than he meant to.

  “Logan?” He jumped at Sam’s call. Clearing his throat, he tore his attention from Trace’s little sister to the group’s leader. Sam smiled. “You were out of the room when we all introduced ourselves. So…this is Paige. Paige, Logan.”

  Slicing his gaze back to Paige, he managed a greeting nod but didn’t even try to speak. She didn’t respond past staring at him as if he was insane. Logan jiggled his leg, couldn’t stop his bobbing knee if he tried. His anxiety needed some kind of outlet.

  No one else seemed to sense the animosity and terror bouncing back and forth between them. It was all so surreal. Save for the heavy, frantic thump of his heartbeat grounding him inside himself, he felt almost as if he were watching the scene unfold from outside his body.

  Sam started group as she always did, with a bright, rather forced smile. “Tonight, let’s go around and share one thing we miss most about our loved ones. I’ll go first.” After a bracing breath, she said, “I miss seeing my husband stretched out on the couch, watching football.” After a humorless laugh, she added, “I used to razz him mercilessly when he was alive about being a couch potato. But now…I’ll walk through the living room and it’ll look so…bare. I’d give anything to see him lying there again.”

  Jamie went next, talking about her grandmother’s snickerdoodle cookies.

  Then Brenda spoke of her best friend she’d lost to leukemia.

  After her, everyone turned to Logan. He shook his head and hoarsely rasped, “Pass,” as he usually did. He’d never been urged to share anything, and he couldn’t explain how much that relieved him.

  But tonight, as soon as he croaked the word, Paige raised her hand immediately from across the room. “May I go next?”

  When he met her blazing, condemning glare, sweat trickled down the side of his face. Dear God, it was time for impact. The breath shuddered from his lungs and his flesh went clammy.

  “Yes, of course you may.” Sam’s voice was soothing, which only made Logan feel worse. “Feel free to jump in whenever you like, Paige. We’re a very laid-back group.”

  “I miss my brother’s laugh,” Paige said, her gaze still on Logan.

  The pain on her face made his bones shudder with regret. He closed his eyes, unable to hold her accusing stare, wishing he could do something—anything—to take her anguish away, to take it all away.

  “How long has he been gone?” Sam asked softly.

  “Almost three years.”

  It’ll be three years exactly on February fifth, Logan silently added.

  “He was killed,” Paige said.

  Logan flinched. Though the air conditioning had just turned on, blowing a cool breeze across the back of his neck, his body heated uncomfortably, sweat seeping from his brow. He opened his lashes to find Paige still watching him from her beautiful, hate-filled eyes.

  He wanted to bolt, to dart away and never look back, but fear paralyzed him. He couldn’t budge, couldn’t even break eye contact as she kept talking.

  “My brother died when I was fifteen and he’d only been eighteen for a week.”

  He deserved this, Logan told himself. But, God, he felt sick. He wasn’t sure if he was going to vomit or pass out. Maybe both.

  Though his body went into full panic mode, he stayed horrifyingly conscious as she continued.

  “He was a basketball player and had just led his team in winning the most important game of the season against our biggest rivals. Afterward, he went out celebrating with his girlfriend and their friends, and ran across a couple members of the losing team.”

  Shoulders lifting and lips parting, Logan sucked in an unsteady breath. He tore his gaze away from her and stared blankly at a spot on the floor in the center of the circle, lost in his own memories of that night.

  “When he got into a fight w
ith the captain of the opposing team, he was knocked unconscious and hit his head on a glass bottle when he fell. He died instantly.”

  Instantly was right. It still traumatized Logan to realize just how instantly a person could die. How unexpectedly.

  “I’m so sorry, dear,” Sam murmured. “It must’ve been tragic.”

  Paige nodded once. “The boy who killed him never saw the inside of a jail cell. His father was some rich, fancy lawyer who got him off without a trial. He convinced everyone who was there that night, even a couple of my brother’s friends, to say Trace had started the fight and thrown the first punch. My poor dead brother couldn’t defend himself, so they made him out to look like some kind of hot-headed delinquent.”

  Logan couldn’t decide what was worse: Paige Zukowski publicly condemning him to everyone in the group or his waiting for her to publicly condemn him. Yet, with each word she spoke, his name didn’t cross her lips, and he decided the anticipation would take him long before the revelation would.

  Why wasn’t she pointing at him already and telling everyone he was the murderer?

  “After that, my entire family fell apart. My father started drinking, more and more each night until he became a mean drunk. He lost his job within a couple months of Trace’s death. My mom disappeared into some dark place inside herself.”

  She paused with a ragged shudder. For a brief moment, Logan thought she was going to start crying. He panicked. He wouldn’t be able to handle seeing her cry.

  But then she fisted her hands and gritted her teeth before she snarled, “She killed herself. Two years after Trace died, she put a gun in her mouth and pulled the trigger.”

  Say what?

  Logan jolted, ready for her to laugh and say Gotcha, but the dull agony in her eyes, the icy whiteness of her skin let him know this was no joke.

  He’d had no idea her mother had committed suicide.

  Forget merely puking, he felt as if every particle of his being was going to explode.

  But to learn he had not just one death on his conscience now, but two, was more than he could take. And there was no way he could deny culpability for the death of Trace’s mother. No way would she have killed herself if he hadn’t taken her son away first and destroyed her family.