Chapter 155

Ella

Once again, we slipped into another comfortable pattern. Logan’s presence in my bed became familiar, our boundaries remaining firm. But there was something else, too: Logan slipped out of the bed and disappeared at least once a week, only to reappear come morning.

One evening, as I was laying there staring up at the ceiling and wondering where he went this time, I heard the front door quietly click open.

“He’s back,” Ema said, grabbing my attention. “And… That scent…”

I stirred in bed, the sheets tangled around my legs in a way that made me feel all too restricted in my current state.

The digital clock on my bedside table blinked a glaring 3:07 AM. Through my half-open eyes, I could make out Logan’s silhouette as he moved silently into the room. He thought I was asleep, and paused for a moment, his eyes studying me.

I stayed still and silent, pretending to be fast asleep, but really was attuned to his every movement as he slowly made his way over to the bed..

“A scent?” I asked my wolf, confused. But then, before she could answer, I smelled it as Logan moved closer to the bed.

Perfume, and not the cheap kind, either. Perfume mixed with… something else. Something that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. What was it? It smelled so familiar, and yet so foreign and far away at the same time.

Logan slipped into bed with a practiced silence, his movements not even disturbing the mattress. Ema roiled inside of me, agitated by the strange scent emanating from him.

“Aren’t you jealous?” she asked. “What if he’s seeing someone?”

I stared at Logan’s form in the darkness for a long time, his shoulders a stark line against the dim light of the room. Was I jealous? If he was seeing someone, did I even have a right to be jealous?

“No,” I finally said, flipping over. “I can’t be jealous. We’re not together.”

And yet, over the next few stayovers, the same perfume seemed to cling to him every time he returned from his midnight excursions. I said nothing, focusing instead on the bigger picture: on making him lose his father’s inheritance. But Ema was restless, agitated by the foreign scent.

“You deserve to know if he’s out messing around with other women and returning to your bed,” she said, clearly annoyed. “You should talk to him. Make him know that you know what he’s up to.”

“And what would that change?” I replied as I sipped my morning coffee. “We’re not together. We’re nothing. If he’s seeing someone, then that’s on him. And besides, ‘cheating’ would only make this plan of mine work all the better, wouldn’t it?”

Ema growled in indignation. “Don’t act like you’re not jealous, Ella.”

There was that word again: jealous.

“I’m not jealous!” I said out loud, thankful for the fact that Logan was gone and my apartment was empty for the morning.

“Is that so?” Ema asked.

I cleared my throat, taking another sip of my coffee to calm my nerves. “Look, I’m not jealous. Really. Maybe he’ll get caught and his father will find out, which would only help me.”

But Ema wasn’t hearing it. “Something tells me that you want him to get caught for more reasons than one,” she insisted. “You want him to get caught so he gets humiliated. And for good reason.”

“Good reason?” I asked, speaking mentally once more. “What do you mean? We’re not together.”

“That may be true, but he’s still your fated mate,” Ema insisted. “And he’s sharing your bed. He could show a little decorum, don’t you think?”

I sighed, realizing that maybe Ema was right. No, I couldn’t allow myself to be jealous; but I deserved to at least know where he was going if he was going to be sneaking in and out of my apartment at all hours of the night.

“Fine,” I said, a new sense of resolve settling in my bones. “He’s staying tonight again. If he leaves, I’ll confront him.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

…

I laid in bed that night, waiting. The spot where Logan normally slept was empty yet again, and I had heard his car rumble to life on the street over an hour ago.

Ema’s voice was sharp in my mind. “He should come back any minute now. What will you say?”

I sighed and sat up, still unsure of this. But as I tossed the covers aside and made my way to the empty living room, I couldn’t deny the fact that there was something satisfying about the idea of his surprised face when I confronted him.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, rubbing my eyes as I made my way over to the window to look out onto the street. “I haven’t thought about it.”

“You should tell him he’s a pig,” Ema said, angrier than I would have liked her to be.

“No,” I insisted. “Look, I just want to know where he’s going. I’m… worried. That’s all.”

“Yeah, worried. Is that why your eyes have been wide open since he got out of bed over an hour ago?”

Ema’s words gave me pause. I wanted to retort, but she was right; I hadn’t even closed my eyes since he left. As much as I hated to admit it, his absence in the bed was like a void. It was more unsettling than I ever expected, and I hated myself for getting so invested.

Suddenly, before I could answer, I heard the telltale sound of Logan’s car driving up the street. I hid in the shadows as I peered out the window, watching him as he parked next to the sidewalk and climbed out of the car. He seemed to glance around suspiciously before jogging up to the door, taking long and quick strides.

My heart was in my throat as I waited. A few moments later, I heard him jogging down the apartment hallway, and then I heard it; my keys, which he apparently stole, jingling in the keyhole.

Then, the door swung open.

It was dark, so he didn’t see me at first; and for a moment, I almost considered letting him go to the bedroom before saying anything. I even considered running to the bathroom, pretending to be preoccupied and oblivious until he was back in bed.

But I knew that I couldn’t do that. My wolf wouldn’t let me. I wouldn’t even let myself do that.

Without meaning to, my hand moved toward the lamp on the end table next to the couch. I hesitated for a moment, watching as Logan silently slipped his shoes off by the door.

Then, as though my body was moving all on its own, I flicked on the light. Logan froze, his blue eyes meeting mine across the silent room. He looked almost like a deer in headlights, or a burglar who had just been caught red-handed, as he stood there, stooped over with one shoe off and his jacket hanging off of his shoulders in a haphazard manner.

My voice was hardly more than a trembling whisper as I spoke, and it was then that the torrent of emotions flooded into my chest. Among them was one emotion in particular, one which I had been denying all along.

Jealousy.

“Logan, where have you been?”