Free Shatter (St. Martin Family Saga) by Gina Watson Page B

cried, Cash handed her a tissue and asked if she’d like to stop for anything. He’d asked her repeatedly if she were hungry or thirsty or needed a restroom break. As they pulled into St. Augustine, he told her not to give up on Logan. He further said that Logan had had a more difficult life than most, leaving her wondering why Logan hadn’t told her any of this. Given his demeanor, she’d thought he’d always been the happy-go-lucky type.
    They pulled up to the beach house, climbed out slowly, and stretched their limbs after the long drive. Jessie pointed to Logan’s truck parked around the side of the cabin. They knocked on the door several times, but their knocks went unanswered. Jessie followed Cash around to the back. Her eyes scanned up and down the isolated beach. Dark clouds overhead hinted at rain as they climbed the stairs to the main deck. Cupping their hands around their eyes, they peered into the windows.
    Cash gestured. “He’s passed out on the couch.”
    Jessie looked where Cash indicated. She saw a body in cargo shorts, no shirt, face down on the couch. One long leg hung off onto the floor. Cash jiggled the door handle and to her surprise, the door opened. She ran toward the couch, slowing when she spied two empty whiskey bottles and one nearly full one littered around the floor. Jessie tapped Logan’s shoulder. When she didn’t get a response, she applied more pressure and shook him. She called his name repeatedly. Suddenly ice cold splashes of water sprinkled her cheeks.
    Cash had dumped a bowl of ice water over Logan’s head.
    Logan gasped, rolled over, and yelled, “ Mother fucker !” He immediately raised his hands to his temples and squeezed. “ Fuck !” He slowly opened one eye and squinted at them. His brow rose as he laboriously opened his unfocused eyes.
    Cash spoke first. “Take it easy, buddy.” He placed a helping hand on Logan’s shoulder.
    Groggy and hoarse, Logan said, “Cash?”
    “Yeah, bro, I’m here.”
    Logan clutched his head, groaning. He closed his eyes.
    “There’s someone else here too.” Cash looked to Jessie.
    She stroked her hand down Logan’s arm. He turned his face into her arm and inhaled. “Mmm, Jessie.”
    They waited for him to awake from his drunken slumber. When she asked Cash if he thought another dose of cold water might be helpful, Logan grunted. But eventually his eyes slowly opened and focused. Cash was busy mixing up a concoction in the kitchen, but her call brought him back. He carried a drink that looked to be tomato juice.
    “Here, take it. Hair of the dog and all.”
    Logan nodded and sipped. Cash placed two white pills in his hand and Logan took those too.
    Jessie felt particularly useless, but she guessed the brothers had worked out a system for such circumstances many years before.
    Logan pushed to his feet, slowly, and stood swaying just a bit. “I’m gonna take a shower.”
    As he made his exit, Cash and Jessie locked eyes, hers on the verge of bursting like a dam.
    “I’ll be on the top floor if anyone needs me,” he said.
    She nodded.
    As she sat there, she thought about Michael, missing him terribly. She whispered, “What am I doing here?” She stood at the wall of windows that looked out over the Atlantic and watched rain cascade down the glass. She wanted desperately to reach out to Logan, but she sensed a closed door. If he hadn’t come to her for help, that meant he didn’t think she could help. He hadn’t even thought to call her when he needed help.
    Why hadn’t he contacted her? Didn’t her support mean something to him?
    She traced the path of a raindrop down the window. Maybe she was only good for sex, not for other needs.
    “Why doesn’t he want me the way I want him?” she whispered. “For everything.”
    Catching sight of a half empty bottle of tequila on the coffee table, she snatched it up and walked to the kitchen. She found a shot glass and some lime wedges and immediately downed a shot. She’d