Sunflower (Clyde Logan x Reader)

Chapter 39

Clyde's POV:

The Logan family curse must have finally remembered to circle back to him because this was shaping up to be Clyde Logan Logan's worst week to date.

I need time. ... Alone. Without Interruptions.

This is what you had said less than a week ago when you'd left Clyde standing outside the bar, thoroughly chastised and alone at a party that was supposed to be a happy turning point for you both. You'd finally let him in, really let him in - had even given him instructions to help out on one of the most important days of your new venture - and it had all been ruined.

He could easily blame Bang, pin all his problems on the erratic and confusing man, but the truth was that the blame lay with Clyde. He'd had almost a whole week now to come to terms with that, accept it, and vow to make amends.

Clyde had been hopeful and excited, assuming all too wrongly that this would absolve him of one of his biggest regrets, that this event would make things right . Instead, the playing field had been thoroughly leveled and all secrets had been spilled, laid out in the open to be examined and picked through and judged.

Clyde knew he had messed up, but this week was showing him just how much. Without you around, the family curse seemed to hang over his head, plaguing him with bad luck. What if all along you had been his good luck charm? His antidote to the never-ending string of misfortune that followed his family like a thunderous cloud?

Not only had the week been full of rowdy and demanding customers (new crowds coming in from the city thanks to your combined marketing efforts) but the tips were bad and the place was trashed after their visits. Now, the Duck Tape Bar certainly wasn't the fanciest bar around, but it did have some class.

Hard to think about that now, though. Clyde was on his knees wiping up vomit for the second time tonight, regretting having accepted that bachelor party a few weeks back. A bitter, acrid smell wafted up to his nose, making him queasy as he did his best to get the mess cleaned up.

Vomit was a somewhat regular occurrence at a bar - but twice in one night? Knowing he'd come home to an empty house and a fitful night of overthinking? It was too much to deal with for Clyde.

To add insult to injury, he'd had to deal with drunken questioning about his hand all night and jokes regarding his prosthetic that no one was sober enough to have the decency to whisper. Clyde had just about had it.

There was nothing worse to him than people well past their drink limit yelling their every passing thought without a filter. At least the regulars were usually quiet folk.

Usually, Clyde could deal with it all if it meant knowing he got to see your smiling face at the end of the day. Giving you space had been eating him up, making him anxious and frustrated, lashing out at everyone, and then apologizing for his short temper.

Clyde was usually a patient man but he had been feeling on edge all week, one misplaced glass or invasive question away from snapping at any moment. The worst part is that he had no idea how you were holding up, no indication of if you were suffering right along with him or better off without him.

Clyde itched to go check on you, if for nothing more than to catch a glimpse of your face. Writing that check to fund your nonprofit was the easiest thing he had ever done. He couldn't imagine a better place for his money to go - regardless of what your final decision came out to be.

Clyde may have been hiding the truth as to why he was incarcerated, but his feelings for you had never been a lie. He believed in you and your passion for your work and the mission of your nonprofit. Even if he didn't get a chance to be a part of your happy future, he wanted to ensure it was secured and accessible to you, no matter what.