Surprise flickers through me. “Logan?” As soon as his name escapes, the tightening in my gut pulls taut. A throb of vibrating energy fills my muscles, making my limbs shake.

I know this guy.

Hearing his name, his gaze connects with mine. His wince is immediate, whether from the movement or the fact it’s me, I have no idea.

“Fuck. Tyron.”

Well, that clears that up. His reaction doesn’t do a thing to release the tightness in my limbs. In fact, it does the opposite.

My feet propel me forward and for the first time, I’m touching him. Logan. I carefully tug him up, but rather than stepping away, I palm his cheek, tilting his head, forcing him to look at me. “Who did this to you?”

You hear that deep-ass grumble in my voice? Yeah, it kinda surprises me too. While I don’t like to see anyone hurt, my reaction to Logan is way over the top. But between you and me, I’ll be honest here and let you know there’s no reining it in. And why’s that exactly?

Here’s the thing. Logan Bryce is fucking beautiful.