Insider (Exodus End #1)(126)
Author: Olivia Cunning

“Logan?”

She answered on the first ring. Her voice wavered on his name, and she sucked in a deep shaky breath. He could tell she was crying, and the thought of her turmoil jabbed him in the gut.

“Please, you have to believe me,” she sobbed. “I didn’t—”

“Shh, sweetheart, I know you wouldn’t sell our secrets to the tabloids.”

“You know?”

“Yeah, so don’t cry. We’ll get this all straightened out.”

“If you knew, then why wouldn’t you even look at me after the show? I thought you hated me.”

“I could never hate you.” It was true. Even if she had been a conniving bitch and sold their stories to the tabloids, he would have eventually forgiven her. But thank God he didn’t have to. “At that particular moment, I was convinced you’d betrayed us, but after a few minutes of thought, I realized you wouldn’t do that to the band.”

“Fuck the band. I would never do that to you.”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “So you did sell them out?” What was she saying?

“Of course not. But if they hated me, I would eventually move on. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I ever hurt you.”

“I’m not sure Reagan will forgive you, but if the guys aren’t already over it, they will be in a few days. This isn’t the first time our shit has been smeared all over the tabloid toilet. We’re used to it.”

Toni snorted on a laugh, and Logan’s throat tightened. Who would have ever thought that such a tiny sound would bring him overwhelming joy. Toni was no longer crying, no longer heartbroken. His world could start turning again.

“Do you want us to turn the bus around and come get you?” he asked.

“He better not be making up with her!” Reagan yelled from the corridor.

“Will you calm down?” Max’s muffled voice advised.

“No, I will not calm down! Get your fucking hands off of me.”

There was a repetitive slapping sound. “Ow!” Max complained. “Some help here, guys?”

“Reagan is still pretty upset,” Logan said to Toni. Understatement of the century. “But maybe she’d be willing to ride with Sinners.”

“No, go on without me,” Toni said. “I have enough to get started on the book, and you know Reagan struggles to be a part of the band. You should support her. I’ll keep my distance until she calms down.”

Why would Reagan be struggling with being a part of the band? They’d accepted her from day one. And there was no way he was supporting Reagan when she blamed Toni for her problems. Toni was innocent. “How can I support her? She’s accusing the wrong person.”

“I don’t mean that,” Toni said. “Support her through the impending media shitstorm. You know it’s just started. They won’t leave her alone now that the story is out. All the other stuff they stole from my journal is old news, but Reagan’s relationship is a current event. It’s going to get ugly, Logan.”

Logan scratched his head and scowled. He hadn’t thought about that. Of course Toni, who always empathized with everyone, would think to worry about Reagan’s future struggles.

“So you don’t want to be with me for the rest of the tour?” he asked. He needed to see her. He was glad they were talking like rational adults—who’d have guessed he’d ever be so mature about such a situation—but he needed to see her, to touch her. He needed the physical reassurance that she loved him. To see it in her eyes. Feel it in her touch. Words weren’t enough.

“Of course I want to be with you. But even more than that, I want to confront the bitch who did this and out her for the thieving, back-stabbing, heartless cunt that she is.”

Logan’s jaw dropped. He’d never heard Toni say negative things about anyone before. Apparently her hurt had turned to anger.

“So you know who did it?” Logan asked.

“I’m pretty sure I do. Remember Susan, the editor who works for my mom’s company? The entire meeting in Denver, all she could focus on was the dirt she wanted on you guys. I never saw my journal again after that day. I think she took it when I was with Birdie in the bathroom.”

“You’re going home,” he said, a strange tug pulling at his chest. He rubbed at the spot. He suddenly realized that they hadn’t been apart for more than a few hours since they’d met. If this was what it felt like to be without her—this ache, this yearning—he wasn’t going to last a day on his own.

“For a few days at least. I’m not going to let her get away with this.”

That was too long to be without Toni. But she needed to take care of business, and he had to be supportive, even if it was from a fucking distance.

“I’ll miss you,” she said to fill the silence.

“I already miss you.”

“Be there for Reagan,” she reminded him.

“I’d rather be there for you.”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him. “I’m stronger than I look.”

That was a fact he couldn’t argue against. “If you need anything, call me. I’ll come running.”

“I love you.”

Those three little words still made his heart fill to bursting. “I love you too. Let me know when you get home so I don’t worry.”

Toni chuckled. “You’ve changed, Logan.”

“Why do you say that?”

“When was the last time you worried about anyone but yourself?”

“Hmm.” He scratched his chin. “I guess never. It’s a damn hindrance, to tell you the truth.”

“Sorry—not sorry—to cramp your style, Mr. Rock Star. I’ll call you.”

He wasn’t ready to hang up when they said their goodbyes, but she had places to be and evidently he needed to support Reagan. He slid the door open, found himself caught in Reagan’s glare of intense loathing, and shut it again. She needed a bit more time to herself, he decided. And he needed to sleep. Alone. He returned the cushions to the sofa and flopped down on his back, staring at the ceiling, already bored out of his mind. With a sigh, he picked up his phone and downloaded a movie to help him pass the time. It had been a while since he’d seen The Princess Bride.

Thirty-Three

Toni rubbed at her eyes with one hand and yawned as she fished around inside the flower pot on the back porch for the spare key. She hadn’t caught much sleep on her red-eye home, and then driving a rental car home through fifty miles of dense fog had drained her remaining energy. She needed to find her bed for a few hours’ sleep before she drove to Nichols Publishing and planted the sole of her boot firmly in Susan Brennan’s conniving face.