Forever Logan by Elena Matthews (animal farm read .txt) 📕

Ally lets out a huff. “You don’t like me. You’re just trying to get into my pants, and you hate that I’m the first chick ever to say no to you.”

I go to retaliate, but with one look in Remi’s direction, I quickly change my mind. “See? She’s the one with the beef, not me.”

“Ally,” Remi addresses, “you guys don’t have to be best friends, but please, for the love of God, stop the bickering.”

Ally seems to contemplate that for a moment before she rolls those sexy eyes of hers. “Fine. I’ll pretend he’s one of my asshole clients and tolerate him because if I don’t, I’ll get fired. But just so you know”—she turns her head to me—“I’ll be hating you from afar.”

I shrug my shoulders, holding back my smile. “You can either hate me or love me, but regardless of which, just knowing I’m inside that pretty little head of yours is satisfaction enough.”

Without waiting to see her scowl and the eye roll to come after a line like that, I look to Nate and Remi. “Okay, so now that we have the wedding sorted, can we finally discuss the bachelor party?”

It’s Friday night, and I finished my shift less than thirty minutes ago. I’m already on my second drink in the bar across the street from the station. Let’s just say, it’s been a rough day. I was thrown up on by a homeless guy not once, but twice; I had to put myself in the middle of an ugly domestic abuse case; and I also had to deliver the news to a family that I should never have to deliver. I mean, how does a family recover from the loss of a husband, a father, all because some drunken asshole in a pickup truck failed to stop at a red light? I sometimes hate this world we live in. The amount of bad I have to fight on a daily basis just in Dallas alone is ridiculous. I find myself surrounded by so much evil and hatred that it’s a miracle anyone can see the good. The negativity of the job rarely gets me down, but tonight, I’m feeling it all the way to my soul.

I look toward my partner, Joe, and raise my freshly poured glass of bourbon—yes, I’m on the hard stuff tonight—to the man who lost his life today.

“To Patrick McKinley.”

Joe raises his glass with a sad smile. “To Patrick McKinley.”

We do this every time we lose someone while we’re on shift. We might not have known anything about them other than their name, but when a family loses the most important person in their world, the least we can do is take a moment and raise a glass to them.

I set my drink down and force myself to smile despite the mood I’m in. “Please tell me you’re doing something good this weekend.”

Joe sips back his drink. “Well, Melanie has promised me some hot-ass sex in the morning, followed by breakfast.”

“By breakfast, you mean, eating out her pussy, right?”

“Hell yes,” he praises, and he high-fives me. “Then, we’re going to her sister’s for her niece’s birthday party for a few hours before heading to that new Italian place on Fifth for our anniversary.”

“Now, which anniversary is this?” I only ask because they have a celebration for every single anniversary. Whether it be their first kiss, first blow job, first time they said I love you. It’s ridiculous how many anniversaries they have.

“It’s the anniversary of when we got engaged.”

I pick my drink up and assess him over the rim of my glass. “It’s not normal to celebrate every single milestone. Your actual wedding anniversary would suffice.”

“But I don’t want sex just once a year,” he says with a hitch of his brow.

I let out a deep laugh. “Fair enough.”

“What about you?”

I shake my head. “I plan on sleeping my morning away, eating a shit-ton of pizza, and then binge-watching The Office.”

Joe snorts. “Well, I never thought I’d see the day.”

“What are you talking about?”

“When I’m getting more sex than you.”

“Trust me, it’s not for a lack of trying,” I murmur, only one woman flashing through my mind.

“You never used to have to try for sex. You had your pick of women by the truckload.”

That was until a sassy brunette came into my life.

“Maybe I’m just evolving.”

“Or maybe you’re just pussy-whipped.”

He’s right. I am one hundred percent pussy-whipped for Ally. She is all I can think about.

“I am, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. God, why is it that the one girl I want is the most stubborn woman on the planet?”

“Dude, all women are stubborn. You just have to find a way to get through their exterior.”

“How did you bag your woman then?”

“Well, for starters, I hadn’t slept with the entire population of Dallas.”

I throw him a warning glare, but he ignores me.

“Mostly though, my humor. If you can make a chick laugh—I’m not talking about a pathetic giggle. I mean, a hysterical, snort like a pig kind of laugh—then you’re halfway there.”

“But you’re not funny,” I tell him with laughter to my voice.

He really isn’t. He can’t even tell a knock-knock joke.

“Funny or not, I once made Mel laugh so hard, she peed her pants.”

I shake my head, my face scrunched up in disgust. “TMI, dude, but that reminds me. I need to take a leak,” I say, knocking back the last of my bourbon. “Order us another round.” Standing up, I set my glass down on the table before throwing a ten-dollar bill in front of him.

I do my business, and just as I leave the men’s restroom, I’m halted to the spot when I catch sight of Ally’s boyfriend, Eddie, leaving the ladies’ room. I don’t miss the way he zips his jeans back up. My stomach flips with jealousy when I expect Ally to walk out after him, but instead, I’m met with