Page 38 of A Reputation Dark & Deadly

Chapter 10

A loud poundingat her door just before three o'clock in the morning woke Peyton up. Her heart started to race as she threw off the covers and padded over to her front door. Who the hell was knocking this loudly this early in the morning? She rolled up onto her toes and checked her peephole. A small sigh of relief left her nostrils and as she placed her heels back to the floor, confusion began to twinge in her stomach.

What was Logan doing here? And why did he seem so irate?

She unlocked her door and slid out her security lock before opening the door and stepping aside, letting him in. He walked in without saying anything to her. The first thing she noticed was how strongly he reeked of alcohol and she realized in that moment that he was drunk. Logan Jeffrey was drunk. Which meant he had to have consumed a ton of alcohol, considering the guy was a solid six foot two. Logan didn't seem to be the type of guy to be undisciplined when it came to drinking. She didn't think he was the type of guy that favored getting drunk at all. Enjoy his alcohol? Absolutely. But not let his senses get hazy and lose all cognizance of his environment and what was going on.

She closed and locked the door behind her after checking to make sure no one else had woken up. She knew it was common for him to meet the TA's in their dorm rooms late at night but that didn't mean she needed her neighbors and fellow crim students believing she fell into that category. Because she didn't. She had no idea why he was here in the first place.

Her eyes followed him as he made his way to her bed. He had on his leather jacket, unzipped to reveal a plain grey t-shirt and faded black jeans. He still wore his motorcycle boots, and while his hair was slicked back, it was messier than usual. Instead of sitting on the bed, he turned to face her. He still somehow walked relatively straight, considering how drunk he was, and even though he was slightly hunched over, he still towered over her. It was only after he turned to face her did she notice he seemed to be cradling his right hand with his left one. Her eyes narrowed. Maybe he hurt himself knocking so loudly. But that wasn't it and Peyton knew it.

She shot her eyes up to him. "Logan," she said, trying to keep her voice both calm and steady. "Are you all right?"

That question seemed safe enough. She was concerned and it didn't come across as though she was interrogating him, either. Once he answered this question, they could move on and Peyton could attempt to figure out what was wrong and why he was here. Did this have to do with what she confessed to him earlier today? It wouldn't surprise her in the least but that still didn't explain his injured hand, his drunken state, and why he was here.

Logan still didn't say anything. Peyton pressed her lips together and dropped her eyes to his hand. Since he didn't seem to be in a talkative mood, she decided to shift focus.

"Your hand," she told him, nodding at it. "What happened to it?"

"I broke it," he got out. His voice was rougher than usual due to the alcohol but somehow, it didn't come out slurred.

Her eyes shot up into his. "You broke it?" she questioned, furrowing her brow.

"That's what I fucking said," he told her. His tone was defensive and she felt her own body start to respond to his attack. She closed her eyes and loosed a breath, trying to remind herself that he was drunk and upset about something. If she lashed out at him right now, he would close up entirely.

"Okay," she said slowly, trying to keep the attitude out of her tone, "how did you break it?"

"You told me," he said, his breathing heavy. His eyes sliced over to Peyton and she watched as he eased into a sitting position on her bed, the same way he had a few weeks ago when she was sick and he had pounded on her door, rudely announcing his presence. That seemed so long ago... "You fucking told me what Brandon did. What he said."

Peyton furrowed her brow. "Yes..." She let her voice trail off, taking a seat next to him but ensuring the distance between them was still solid. She didn't want to touch him if he didn't want to be touched. "What does that have to do with you and me right now?"

"Everything," he snapped. He caught sight of Peyton's since and looked away, shaking his head. His eyes fell into his lap, resting on his broken hand. "He tried" -

"But he didn't," she told him quietly.

His eyes cut back to her. "But he tried," he said through gritted teeth. "If you hadn't..." He clenched his jaw together and narrowed his eyes. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me this before? Why keep your fucking mouth shut? Were you protecting him?"

"Hold up," Peyton said, her eyes flashing emerald as she looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Before you say one more thing, you better think really hard. Because it sounds like you're accusing me of protecting my attacker and I know someone who holds consent up as one of his most important values would never do that."

Logan clenched his teeth together, his eyes the color of fire. "Fuck," he breathed out, shaking his head. "You're right. Fuck. I'm sorry."

Peyton's eyes widened. She hadn't expected that. She pushed her brow up and looked at his hunched form. She knew he needed reassurance but she wasn't sure how to give it to him. She knew the last thing he wanted was pity.

"You can tell me about it on the way to urgent care," Peyton said, standing up. She grabbed Logan's left hand and tugged him into a standing position. "Come on. Let's go."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, allowing to pull him into a standing position.

"You broke your hand," she said slowly, making sure to enunciate every word. "We need to get you checked out, probably at the emergency room since it's past nine and I'm pretty sure urgent care is closed."

"They're not going to do anything about it," he told her through a growl. He reminded her, in that moment, of the petulant beast from Beauty & the Beast, and how immature he was reacting to her words. Maybe it was the booze. Maybe it was something else entirely.

"You still need to get checked out," she told him. "Don't you like to bat or play baseball or something?" When Logan shot her a curious look, she shrugged her shoulders. "I noticed the bat in the trunk of your car the other night. I didn't see a glove so I just assumed you like to hit things." Her eyes shot to his hand and she pushed her brow up to make her point.

He clenched his jaw. "If I refuse?" he asked, slowly raising a brow and trying to keep his voice controlled. It came out restrained, if anything.

"Feel free to refuse," Peyton said, "but get out of my dorm then. I'm not going to have you actively prevent yourself from medical care under my roof. Plus, if you really like to bat, you should do yourself a favor and get that checked out as soon as possible. God forbid you damage a ligament and can't hold a bat the same way again."

Logan shot her a look. "Do you have any idea what you're fucking saying?" he asked but she did note he didn't immediately refuse her.