Chapter 2
If you had to tell your father where you were now, alone in a strange man's truck- the very man who knocked out a coworker for seemingly no much reason, he'd probably kill you.
Wouldn't be the first time he'd react like that.
"Hey bub, you want the heating on? I can hear your teeth jittering from here." Says Logan, chewing a cigar from the side of his mouth. His hand was already on the nob, waiting for your reply before moving.
"Yes, please." You speak, only just now noticing the noise emitting from your jaw. Were you really that loud? "Sorry."
Logan turns to you, his hands resting steadily on the wheel as you head out onto a long stretch of road. "No reason to be sorry for it, can't help it if you're cold." Plus, having enhanced hearing isn't something you tell someone first day you meet. If he hadn't scared you off already, that would probably do the trick.
As the hot air started flowing through the filters, your hand made short work of gravitating towards it, edging yourself a little closer to Logan to get the full blow of warmth. You exhaled as you felt it wash over your skin, like a comfort that you had gone too long without, you let it wash over your hands then your arms, then moved your knees closer to bring them the warmth.
"Mmm, warmth, where have you been..."
Logan looked to you and noticed you a little closer than a minute ago, smiling at the sight of how content you seemed just for a little warmth. It's not like his heater was top of the arts; hell, it barely worked at all. He turned his eyes back to the road, careful to not miss any turns he might need.
"So, kid, where am I taking you?" He asked, "You close to town?"
"Uh, yeah, a bit, my dad's place is kinda on the outskirts; do you know where the Old Nick's bar is? It's just up the road from there."
"Old Nick's?" Logan grunts, "You living down the road from that bar on your own?"
"Yeah," you started, "I've been there for a while now-"
"You shouldn't be down there on your own, s'not safe." Logan grunts disapprovingly, taking a drag of his cigar.
You sat up straight in your seat, willing yourself to look taller. "I can hold my own."
Logan turned and looked you in the eye, "I'm sure you can bub, but I don't think you're doing yourself any favours by staying by yourself there. Doubt anyone wants to see you get hurt, you seem like a good kid."
You crossed your arms defensively. "You keep calling me that but I'm not a kid."
"Oh really? How old are you then?"
"I'll be 21 soon."
"Still a kid in my book then." Logan felt a bad taste grow in his mouth. Only 20 years old? And the men at work... he didn't want to think about that. Moreso, he didn't want you knowing about it. He wants to say that he only doesn't want you to know so that it doesn't start up trouble, but a part of him; a part he didn't realise was still there, just didn't want to scare you off. Not when you seem so sweet.
You sigh at his response, at which he chuckles. "What? Can't help it if you're young."
You stood your ground. "I'm not that young. And for your information, I have a guard dog." Well, dog, yes, good at guarding... he doesn't need to know that bit.
Logan grunted and muttered a half response. At least you had a dog, that would put his mind to rest a bit. Why did he even care in the first place? He was yet to find the answer to that.
"So, what made you get into being a lumberjack?" You asked, hoping to avoid any awkward silence.
"Why? You trynna get in the trade?" It was sweet watching your efforts to avoid a silence, though Logan didn't mind sitting in silence with you. Though, if he can get away with teasing you a bit he wouldn't complain.
You frowned, the idea of you as a lumberjack was hard to produce. "No, definitely not. I was just wondering if you always wanted to do it."
Logan was quiet for a moment, he'd never really thought about what he had wanted to do, it was always a case of bring home the money. What would he do, had he been given the choice? Probably something that didn't take too much stress, he'd never been particularly career driven. He probably wouldn't mind being a farm owner, like his parents. Peaceful, wouldn't need brains for it either, just patience and time. And God knows he had plenty of time.
"You missed my turn."
Logan looked up at the road ahead, only just seeing the now passed road sign. "Ah shit, sorry." He turned into a side lane, preparing to reverse. How did he miss that? Normally he's more alert than this.
Silence sat between you two for a minute or two, you fidgeted in your seat, hoping Logan didn't notice. He sighed, continuing with the answer to your question. "I was just looking for a quick and easy job, nothing special."
You look up to him, happy to get an answer out of him. "What did you do before?" You realise you might be getting your hopes up; he doesn't exactly look like the type to tell his life story to strangers.
Logan twitched at the question. "You question everyone you work with?" His voice harsher than he meant.
You back into your seat instinctively, as though his words were sharp enough to leave a mark. "Sorry."
Shit. He didn't mean it, honest, he just didn't want to think about... that part of his life. Out of everything through the years, if he could change one thing it would be that. Saved by the time, he passed the bar you had said you lived near.
"Just here is fine."
Logan looked to you, your eyes trained on the road ahead. "How far up is your place? I'll take you to the door."
"I can get into my house myself, you know." You sounded less sweeter, it was his own fault for snapping anyways.
"Yeah I figured, but it ain't safe to be out on your own at night when you live that close to a bar, 'specially Old Nick's." As much as he hates to admit it, he'd feel quite guilty if he'd dropped you far from your house and you didn't turn up the next day.
"...fine. I'm at the house past the hill, it's just there." You can't remember the last time someone had bothered to walk you home, you'd think that living in Seattle would have people making sure you got home okay. It felt nice to have someone offer, even if it was someone you'd just met that morning.
Logan pulled into the driveway of the flat, a small place you'd almost wonder how someone could live in it. He left the engine running as he gets out of the truck, walking over to your side, you had already gotten out and started walking to the door. He trails behind and eyes up the place, spotting a dog kennel. Right, guard dog. His eyes fall to the dog bowl with a name on it... Benny? Strange name for a guard dog, probably some new popular thing with the kids.
As you walk up the path, a breeze catches you, making you shiver. You stop by the door, turning to say goodbye to Logan, while also hoping he doesn't wait to see your "guard dog".
"Thanks for dropping me back, Logan. I appreciate it."
He peels his eyes from the dog bowl and onto you. "Uh, yeah, of course, no bother. How are you getting to work tomorrow?"
You hadn't thought of that, shit. There's no buses in this town, too small and not enough requests for a route. "I can walk, get a bit of fresh air." You say, hopefully hiding the dread in your voice.
Logan frowned. "That's at least an hour's walk. I'll pick you up."
"You really don't have to, I have legs that work you know." You crossed your arms and stood your ground. Hopefully he'd push a bit more, an hour's walk doesn't sound too appealing in this weather.
"Don't be stupid, I'll come by at 7:30."
"... thank you." You pull your keys out of your pocket, turning to unlock the door. "See you tomorrow."
Logan turns and makes his way back to the truck. "See ya kid."
You scowl into the door at the nickname, letting yourself in and locking the door behind you.
As you took your winter boots off, Benny came bouncing up towards you, paws skittering on the floor. His golden coat shone as you turned the light on, only catching a second before he jumped up onto you.
"Well hello there!" You say to him, crouching down as to not be knocked down by the dog. His tail wags rapidly as he turns into you, willing himself to get as close as he can to you. His nose sniffs your jacket, sneezing at the new smells of the day. You smell your jacket out of curiosity; pine, smoke and musk. You smelt just like your dad, without the extensive amounts of sweat, of course. The smell of tobacco from Logan's cigar lingers on your jacket, you take another deep breath in, does his jacket smell the same? You pull your face away and hang up your jacket, walking into the kitchen to find something to eat. You dragged your feet as you walked, Benny trailing behind you. Almost on reflex, you poured his bowl of food swiftly, lodging the dog food box back onto the shelf. Dog fed, time for yourself. There were some leftovers from yesterday's pasta sauce that you could do? Probably had just enough spaghetti for it too. Or you could make up a toastie? Sighing heavily, you open the cupboard to pull out the spaghetti box, boiling water over the hob as you did so. With the sauce heating in a pan and the spaghetti in the other, you sat yourself on the counter as you waited for your food to finish.
What had you gained from today? A bunch of coworkers you couldn't name, except for Logan, an organised office and a few phone calls. To be fair to yourself, your father didn't even think that you could do the job. Maybe you got all you could've done today out of pure spite, or maybe you actually enjoyed earning decent money. Either way, you'd be sure to include your success in your next letter to your father; you groaned at the thought. Whilst he'd left you in control of the timber yard, he was off starting work god knows where, not like you cared much either. You and your father had always been indifferent to each other, the only reason he left you in charge was because there wasn't another man around to do it, and he didn't trust the men from the timber yard to not cock it up themselves. You didn't blame him- most of them seemed dumb as a bag of bricks. Not Logan though, he seemed to be the exception. As your head began to fill up with images of him, you attempted to shake them off. But the thought of him working, chopping logs with the axe, arms flexing as he did so... You placed your focus back onto the spaghetti, fearing that if you didn't you'd be eating burnt food for dinner.
You sit on the chair outside, Benny's head on your lap. Your eyes bore out into the forest near your house, mindlessly scratching the dog's head. It looked peaceful at this time of day, the majority of the town not yet awake. The sound of Logan's truck making it up the hill woke you up, the sleep falling from your eyes. Standing up, you let the dog back into the house; hoping Logan wouldn't notice the dog's softness. Locking the door, you make your way up the path, tightening your coat around you. Luckily, you had remembered to wear an extra layer or two. You wait until the truck stops to continue your way to the door, letting yourself in and hoisting yourself up onto the seat.
"Morning, thanks for picking me up." You say, smiling at the man in the driver seat.
He turns to look at you, his face as though he had been told a bad joke. "You call that a guard dog? What's he guarding you from, pigeons?"
Damn. You were hoping he wouldn't notice. "Just because he's not a German Shepherd or something doesn't mean he's a bad guard dog."
A smile crawls over his face, amused at your defence for the dog. "Yeah sure." His hand reaches for the heater, turning it on, then placing his focus back onto the road as he turns the truck around.
"Thanks." You reach for your bag, pulling out the breakfast bars you'd backed. "I brought breakfast, as a thank you."
Logan eyes the bar in your hand, reaching for it as he feels his stomach ache at the emptiness. He really wasn't a morning person, let alone the type to get up and cook breakfast each morning. "Thanks." He raises the packet to his teeth to rip it open, placing his wrist on the wheel so he can use his hand to pull the wrapping down.
You smile at the sight. "I could've opened that for you, you know."
"Yeah, yeah." He takes a bite, a smile growing on his face.
You reach for the tape buttons, pressing play to the current tape. You hear the start of the Rumours album, hearing the intro to Never Going Back Again. You hum along to the lyrics, taking a bite of your own bar.
"You a fleetwood fan?"
You swallow your bite and reply, "Oh, yeah, I love them. I first heard them on vinyl back in Seattle, loved 'em since."
"Seattle? That's quite the while away." He said, why would you bother coming all the way out here? Logan kept his question to himself.
You look out the window, watching the trees go by. "Yeah, my mum's from there so I spent most of my time there." Not anymore though, you leave out. Now doesn't seem like the time for you to dump about all your family problems.
Logan noticed your change in tone, deciding against bringing it up. Whatever it was, it doesn't sound like something you want to talk about.
Logan pulls into the car park of the timberyard, parking swiftly and letting himself out. You undid your seatbelt and hopped out the truck, the cold hitting you instantaneously. Even with an extra layer, you struggled to feel the difference it made.
"Thanks again for picking me up, you really didn't have to." You say, "And for dropping me off last night."
Logan turns back towards you. "No problem." He turns towards your car, eyeing it up. "Have you called anyone about your car yet?"
You turned round to look back at your car, almost forgetting it. "I was gonna call today, they'll probably be able to get someone out today to fix it."
"Have you got anyone to pick you up tonight?"
You blinked. Was he offering to pick you up again? No, you'd feel too bad. He's probably just making sure you don't get kidnapped on your way home, doubt his paychecks would get signed if you were locked in someone's cellar.
"No, not yet, but I can walk-"
"I'll take you home tonight then."
You looked up at Logan, trying to see a reason behind his kindness. "You really don't have to, I already feel bad that you picked me up and dropped me off yesterday."
Logan thought about it for a moment. What was he even doing anyways? It's not like he owed you anything. It was hard to describe, but he felt something almost like an urge to take care of you whenever he looked at you. It's not like he didn't think you could take care of yourself; no, it was far from it. He met your eyes, a solution found to your "problem", not that he would call it that.
"Can you cook?"
You squinted, almost taken aback at the seemingly random question. "... yes, I can. Why?"
"How 'bout every day I pick you up and drop you off or whatever, you make lunch?" He didn't like the idea of you feeling in debt to him simply because he didn't want you to turn up in a ditch somewhere, but hew definitely wouldn't be opposed to some proper food- salami and cheese sandwiches everyday didn't seem to be cutting it anymore.
You looked up to the sky, pretending to ponder at the suggestion. "Well, I do make a pretty mean curry... And I always make too much of everything..." You met Logan's eyes, a bright smile on your face. "Sounds like you got yourself a deal there Logan!"
Logan hesitated. It felt nice hearing you say his name, even if nobody else heard it. He probably preferred it that way. He didn't trust the men around here to be with you. Hell, they've only proven that they shouldn't be trusted, what with yesterday... well, let's just say that there's a reason his punching bag looks more like a defeated and defluffed pillow right now. Those guys should just feel lucky he didn't completely lose it yesterday- not as if he was far from it though. He can cope with a hard punch, but if he had allowed himself to go full force, even let the claws come out- starting anew would be more hassle than its worth. Not just that, but he gets the feeling he would miss you. He wonders if you'd miss him too. He tried not tot think about that. Hell, you'd only just met yesterday. If anything, he should be trying to put some more distance between the two of you, it looks like your presence might be somewhat troublesome for Logan if he stayed.
"It's a deal."
Well, it's not like he ever said he took the advice he gave himself.
You pulled the keys out of your pocket and unlocked the door, shutting it briefly behind you. Continuing with your outside clothing still on, you pulled out the punch cards for the men and placed them back into their wallets on the wall, struggling as the wool of your gloves stuck to the material of the card. You'd just signed yourself up to god knows how many mornings and evenings with Logan. Well, that's dramatising it ever so slightly. You offered a trade with him so you didn't have to walk back home every night on your own, the reverse in the mornings. It's not like as if you really had a choice though; choose between an hour long walk twice a day in this weather, or car rides with Logan, warmed up in his truck with music and the heater, the smell of his cigars lingering on your coat... you pushed that scenario away, you shouldn't be "fraternising" with coworkers, if you'd even call it that. He's probably twice your age, its not like he'd ever look at you like that. Whether you looked at him like that... a completely different and irrelevant matter entirely.
You glance at the clock on the wall, 7:47. As though they were on cue, a few of the men who always drove in together came in to clock in, you still weren't entirely sure of their names. the southern one was called Ronald, Donald maybe? You didn't dare to ask, your stomach turning at the mere thought that you'd had gotten it wrong.
"Hey guys, know if anyone else is in yet?" You asked the men, hoping they'd stop ignoring you the way they did yesterday afternoon. You didn't mind it occasionally, but it wouldn't help if you couldn't talk to the workers here.
"Yeah they're all turning up now, Logan's early, but I doubt you'll see him in here a minute before he has to be." One of the guys snickered, you wondered if any of them had made any mental progression since elementary school.
You nodded in response, watching them leave. As more began to file in, you decided to get to work on the tasks you had set yourself for today.
Stupid. Supid, stupid, stupid. Yeah, why not, lets sign ourselves up for mornings and evenings with your boss's daughter, let's also have her cook for you too, that definitely won't get you fired. A good bollocking, at the very least. Logan didn't feel too different from the other guys, taking advantage of your current carless situation. He took a drag of his cigar, fighting his current thoughts. Well, to be fair, it's not like he was going to do anything to you. He knew that you were much better off with him, definitely. Much safer with him in his truck, the aroma of your hair competing with the raging smoke of his cigars... Nope, he wasn't going to look at you like that, besides, you were too young, he doubted you'd even look in his direction anyways. Maybe it was better that way. If you stuck around for too long, god knows what would happen.
He took another drag of his cigar, hoping the burn would bring him back to earth. As the other men started lining up to clock in, he eyed up the work trucks sitting outside the office, men slowly piling into the backs. Maybe he'd be lucky enough for them to be quieter today, less annoying and more likely to get work done. Maybe they'd even avoid him, what a dream. However, you'd probably say something if you noticed, and he didn't want any reason to have to tell you why you actually punched that guy's face.
He poked his head inside his truck to eye up the time, 8:00. Logan quickly put out his cigar and rushed in to clock in, an unfamiliar song playing from your tape player.
"New tape?" He asked as he held down his card, proceeding to put it away neatly afterwards.
"Nope, had this one a while actually. Wanna borrow it after the one you have now?"
Logan smiled, resisting a chuckle as he notices your cheeks warm up slightly at it. Did his smile have this effect often? "Sounds good. See you in a few, kid." Logan walked out the office, winking after the nickname.
"I'm not a kid!" You called out. hoping he heard you new fore he left.
You didn't think you'd be able to shake that nickname for a while.