chapter Four
Abby woke with a start, staring groggily at the ceiling. She rolled over and glanced at the clock.
It was only nine in the morning.
She’d only just fallen asleep two hours ago. With a groan, she rolled back over and stared up at the ceiling.
It felt as if she was living in a fog.
She replayed the events of last night in her mind. They’d gone back to the funeral home, where the final arrangements had been made—and then she’d come back to the motel and proceeded to make various phone calls. When two a.m. rolled around, she had lain down in the bed and gone through various checklists in her head—whatever she could do to keep her mind from the present.
But then she’d found herself thinking about Logan anyway.
She had tossed and turned for several hours, going back and forth in her mind between the loss of her best friend and the return of her former lover, unable to linger on either for too long because of the overwhelming ache that filled her chest—but she hadn’t been able to focus on anything else.
It had been a long night, and on more than one occasion, she’d had to flip her pillow over because it was soaked with tears.
Finally, though, she’d succumbed to sleep. But even her dreams had plagued her, images of the past and present equally as haunting, and finally, she’d woken with tears in her eyes.
She and Logan were supposed to go to Blake and Hayley’s house today, so that they could choose the clothing that their friends would be laid to rest in.
Part of her was anxious to see him. It was the same part of her that she’d buried deep within herself long ago and had deliberately chosen to forget about. The part that still, despite whatever protest she may have against it, envisioned some sort of future with him—some sort of alternate life.
It was the piece of her heart that fluttered to life with even the briefest glance his way. It was the urge to touch him, to feel the warmth of his arms as they wrapped around her. It was the longing she felt to rest her head against his chest and breathe him in.
Logan Sheppard.
He was the love of her life. She accepted this as a standard fact—what she experienced with Logan was something she would never find again. But over the last six years, she’d convinced herself that what made him the love of her life was the way their love had ended. It hadn’t had time to burn out—hadn’t had time to reach it’s full potential. It would always be, in her mind, a perfect love: passionate, intense, undeniable…
And, ultimately, devastating.
The same part of her that was anxious to see him, however, knew the truth.
Abigail Lewis would never let go of Logan Sheppard—not completely. She would, for the rest of her life, hold on to the flame that was their relationship and always wonder what could have been.
It was something that Hayley had known as well. It was the reason why she would, every once and a great while, reinsert the possibility of Logan into Abby’s mind.
She would casually mention that he’d finished school and had found a job as an architect, or that he’d been to visit and still hadn’t found someone to settle down with, or that whenever Hayley mentioned Abby’s name around Logan, he would suddenly grow noticeably quieter— somber, even.
Abby would, of course, insist that she didn’t think about Logan. But it was always a lie. Because not a day went by that he didn’t at least cross her mind just once. Every day at work, she would stare at the picture from Hayley and Blake’s wedding and she would remember how happy she had been that day. How clear everything had suddenly become.
She had loved Logan—and her hopes for the future were within her grasp. She had honestly believed that, no matter what, they could find a way.
How wrong she had been.
She often wondered what life would have been like had he chosen to stay. She wondered if he ever regretted his decision—or if she ever even crossed his mind. And every time, she came to the same conclusion.
Logan Sheppard wasn’t meant to be a part of her life, and wondering about the possibilities was only a waste of time.
With a heavy sigh, Abby lifted herself into a sitting position and massaged her temples. Her eyes burned with every blink and she could feel the swelling that pillowed beneath them.
The knowledge of her friends’ deaths was easier to accept this morning. She didn’t argue with herself that it was some sort of nightmare or a cruel prank.
It was reality. Hayley and Blake were gone.
Accepting it, though, didn’t make it any easier to bear.
Abby rose to her feet and crossed the small motel room until she found the bathroom. She was in need of a shower. She could feel the knots of tension in her shoulders and she suddenly longed for the hot spray of the water. An image from years ago, Abby sitting at her desk typing away at her computer and Logan approaching from behind, massaging her shoulders without even offering—just doing it because he knew it would help—crossed her mind.
But she immediately pushed it away.
That was a reality she didn’t need any part of. Not anymore.
As she leaned over and turned the knob to begin the shower, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror.
She almost didn’t even recognize herself.
Her hair was shorter now than it had been years ago—a more manageable look than her previous mane. It was still honey-colored, but maybe just a tint darker than it’d been six years ago. It was her eyes that had changed the most.
It wasn’t that they were red and swollen from tears. It was that they had aged—seemingly overnight. No longer was she the carefree girl she’d once been. She was a woman. She was a woman who had experienced pain—pain and loss.
And suddenly, she couldn’t take it. She turned her back and shed her clothes, climbing into the shower and pushing the image from her mind. She did her best to work through the knots, standing under the hot spray until it began to turn cold. Finally, she turned off the water and wrapped a towel around her small frame.
The mirror had fogged over and she sighed, deciding to go to the living area to ready herself for the day to follow. She knew that setting foot inside the house that she’d created so many memories in with her friends was going to be difficult. And doing it alongside the only man ever to break her heart?
Next to impossible.
Logan had told her he would swing by around noon so that they could stop by the house and then get the required items to the funeral home as soon as possible. She had agreed, not simply out of practicality—but out of an emotional need. Getting this part over and done with quickly was probably the best for her own personal preservation. It would be like ripping off a band aid.
At least that’s what she told herself.
She wore a pair of jeans and a plain white shirt with a casual black blazer. When a knock sounded at the door, she grabbed the sunglasses she’d come to rely on and tossed them on, preparing to face the day ahead.
He was dressed casually himself—a pair of jeans and a gray t-shirt. An image of him returning home—tan and sweaty from spending his day working construction—conjured in her mind. She pushed it away as she tried to ignore the way her heart responded to his mere presence.
“Ready?” He asked, and she nodded, tossing her purse over her shoulder and pulling the door shut behind her. It took all the will-power she could muster to keep the thoughts that had plagued her throughout the night and even this morning from her mind. “How did you sleep?”
Abby made a noise to signal that the question wasn’t even worth answering. “Yeah, I thought so.” He nodded, opening the truck door for her and allowing her inside before allowing himself in on the other side. “I think those sheets are made out of dried grass or something.”
“It wasn’t the sheets.” She said, shaking her head. She knew he was just trying to make her smile, but she couldn’t.
“You’ve got to sleep, Abby.”
“I am.” She responded. Sure, she’d only gotten about four hours worth in the last forty-eight. But that was better than nothing. “I could say the same to you.”
“I am.” She glanced over at him from the corner of her eye. He looked just about as miserable as he had the day before—a bit less scruffy now, but the circles beneath his eyes were darker than they had been. She guessed Logan had gotten about as much sleep as she had. “It’s so nice down here.”
“It’s quiet,” Abby agreed, nodding. She didn’t fail to notice the change of subject, but she didn’t mind it either. “I could see myself doing something like this.” Some time ago, she’d even fantasized about it. Dropping everything and starting fresh some place quiet and beautiful. Peaceful. “Especially after living in L.A. for so long, now.”
“Hayley said you’d gone back to school there.” Abby nodded, still not looking at him.
“I got my Masters from Stanford.” She told him and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Logan nodding beside her.
“I’m actually in California now, too”
The knowledge was startling. She turned to face him as he navigated what seemed to be familiar territory for him. “Temporarily anyway.”
“You live in L.A.?” She asked, the shock barely evident in her voice. Even less evident was the wounded undertone, but never the less, it was there.
“Well, Sacramento.” He nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. She was grateful, knowing the expression on her face was one of shock. “I’ve been there for about a year now. My company keeps sending me all over the place—but I think my next move is my last one.”
Logan had been there for a year and he hadn’t once looked her up? He hadn’t once come to see her?
And Hayley? She had never once mentioned Logan was living in the same state as Abby. Her head swam.
“Sounds like you’re doing well.” Abby heard the words come out of her mouth, though she didn’t feel connected to them. “I’m glad to hear it.” She added after a moment, meaning it. She’d always known Logan was full of potential.
“You haven’t been doing too bad yourself, from what I hear.” Logan actually sounded almost proud as he spoke of her success. She shrugged her shoulders, tearing her eyes away from him and shifting her gaze toward the front of the truck, staring out the windshield without really seeing anything. “Aren’t you working at Rumor?”
“That’s nothing to really be proud of, Logan.” She was vaguely reminded of her fiancé as she spoke. Her words sounded like his, like something she’d heard him speak before. She frowned, saddened that his disapproval was beginning to frame her own opinion about her job.
“Hey, I think it’s quite an accomplishment. I mean—Abby, you worked your way up pretty quickly, didn’t you? I don’t care what the subject matter of the magazine is—you’ve worked hard. You deserve some credit.” The praise in Logan’s words brought tears to her eyes and she turned her head, staring at the passing scenery through the passenger window now. She’d always longed to hear something like that from Eric. Some off-handed comment that proved that he took her seriously—that her work mattered. Anything would have worked, really.
But she’d never heard anything more from him than negativity. She had gotten so used to hearing the demeaning comments that it almost pained her to hear someone commending her.
The fact that it was Logan Sheppard only complicated things that much more.
“Thanks,” she whispered, cursing the way her throat constricted and the way her heart fluttered in her chest. Abby had always had a hard time taking compliments, but especially so when they came from Logan.
It wasn’t until they had reached Hayley and Blake’s simple ranch home that she spoke again, lost in her thoughts.
“Truth be told, Logan, I don’t really like my job all that much.” It was the first time she’d ever spoken the words aloud.
“Then why stay?” he asked. There was no judgment in his tone. Just simple curiosity.
“Because I need it.” She turned to him, hidden behind the tinted glass of the sunglasses, but still searching for his eyes. “Hayley called it my way of rebelling.” Logan chuckled, shaking his head. She almost felt relieved, as if a small bit of weight had been lifted from her chest.
“Hayley knew all about that, didn’t she?” Abby nodded, cracking a very slight smile. It felt nice to have someone to talk to.
“That she did,” Abby agreed with him, glancing away again. After a moment, she continued on, shrugging her shoulder, suddenly overwhelmed by a longing for some sort of emotional connection. “Really, though?” She lifted her eyes once more so that she could meet his. “It’s just something that I can actually have a say in. I feel like—like I’ve never had control over one thing in my life. Except this.” When their eyes met, she knew he understood her. She could see it in his eyes—a quiet sadness for the girl he’d fallen in love with all those years ago.
“You’re a strong woman, Abby.” He spoke. “I don’t have to have seen you every day for the last six years to know that.” Logan looked away for a moment, as if ashamed of himself, before returning to her eyes. “If you’re not happy, you’ll change it. One day, you’ll realize you’ve got a lot more control than you think.”
They held eyes for a long moment before Abby turned away, her heart hammering loudly in her chest now.
Why did Logan have to have so much faith in her? Why did he have to make her feel as if he was the only person in the world who could understand her? She sighed, turning to look at the house, her hand resting on the door handle.
It was a nice house—smaller, but it was big enough for Hayley and Blake to start a family. Hayley had planned on moving somewhere down the line, or maybe building on. Abby remembered how thrilled Hayley had been when she called with the news that Logan had graduated—her very own personal architect!
“You ready?” His voice startled her, but she nodded, pulling on the handle and letting herself out. Logan came to stand at her side, the two staring up at the house—different memories flashing through each of their minds. Each had spent some time here with their friends—each had their own laughs and smiles.
Abby took a deep breath before she stepped forward, leading the way toward the house. Logan followed behind her, and Abby was grateful to have him there with her. When they reached the door, she pulled out the spare key Hayley had insisted she keep, even though she was on the other side of the country, unlocking the door. She closed her eyes for a moment, wondering what she would find waiting on the other side of the door.
Her eyes watered instantly as she stepped across the threshold and looked around. A jacket hung on the back of a dining chair—a to-do list on the refrigerator. Pictures hung every where—photos of the scenic beauties of the places they’d been, of the people they cared about, of themselves. To each picture, a memory was attached for Abby and Logan—if not a personal memory, then one that had been related to them.
“We’ll have to pack all of this up,” Abby realized as she looked around, the tears blurring her vision.
“We have time.” Logan was trying to reassure her. “Come on, let’s just get what we came for. We don’t have to stay.” Abby nodded, following Logan toward the back of the house, where the master bedroom was located. She tried not to look around too much—tried not to notice that the bed was unmade, that a book sat open on the nightstand. She tried to ignore all of the small details that revealed that only two days earlier, her friends were alive and moving about this house as if they would return that night.
An urgency formed within her to complete their task and move on. She crossed the room to the walk in closet and was overcome by the scent of them—Hayley’s sweet perfume, Blake’s musky cologne. It wasn’t at all overpowering, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost trick herself in to believing that they were there in the room with her.
She took slow shallow breaths, trying to keep her emotions at bay. After a long moment, she finally lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head and began thumbing through the clothes. She heard Logan in the bedroom, opening drawers.
When her eyes landed on the clear bag through which she could see a plain white dress, her heart stopped.
It was Hayley’s wedding dress.
She removed it carefully, a memory dancing through her mind of the day Hayley had found it. “This is it, Abbs. This is the one. I could spend an eternity in this dress.” Hayley’s voice was as clear to her now as the day they had stood in the small dress shop.
“This,” Abby said, walking out of the closet. Logan glanced in her direction.
“That’s her wedding dress.”
“She loved this dress,” Abby told him, staring at it through the plastic material, careful to avoid his eyes. Logan only nodded before disappearing inside the closet. She laid the dress on the bed and glanced around, though she told herself not to. She heard Logan rummaging through the closet.
She was standing in front of the dresser when something occurred to her.
“What happened?” She asked quietly, realizing that she still hadn’t found out the details of this “accident” that had shocked her life so dramatically.
“Nobody knows for sure,” Logan responded. It sounded as if he had stopped rummaging, as if he was closer now—but she couldn’t look up. Because there, hanging on the wall directly in front of her, was a large framed photo from the day of Hayley and Blake’s wedding—the last time the four of them had been together. “I mean, there weren’t any witnesses. The Sheriff thinks that a deer must’ve run out on the road and Blake tried to miss it—but—” Logan continued on.
“Was it painful?” She reached out to the photo now, longing for the happiness she’d felt in that moment. The four of them stood together, smiling happily at the camera.
“Abby…”
“It’s okay, Logan. I can take it.” She didn’t necessarily want to know, but she needed to. She had to know what her friends had gone through.
“Hayley—” She could tell it was difficult for him to talk about—and it was probably going to be just as difficult for her to hear. “Hayley went quickly. Blake survived until about an hour into surgery. A passerby happened to notice their car rolled over in a nearby ditch and called 9-1-1. ”
Abby imagined the scene being laid out in front of her. She saw Hayley and Blake, driving home on a near-deserted road. It was late—dark out. They were probably laughing about baby names or possible futures for their child when a deer darted out in front of them. She knew Blake—he would have done anything to avoid hurting another living thing. She saw their SUV swerve—saw it roll. It was when she saw their faces—once she imagined the heartbreak Blake must have felt as he laid there, knowing what had happened—that the room began to spin.
“Abby?” He sounded far away, though logically she knew he was within reaching distance. “Abby, are you okay?”
“I—I can’t breathe.” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. She imagined her friends’ thought process as they faced their future—wondered how much pain there really was—both physically and emotionally. “Oh my—Logan—I—I can’t—” The tears were flowing freely and she dropped her head into her hands, everything spinning around her.
And he was at her side, touching his hands to her arms. “It’s okay, Abby. I’m here.” And he was. Logan was there—he was standing there, just in front of her. She felt the room sway again.
“She can’t be gone, Logan.” She finally broke down into sobs, allowing him to wrap his arms around her and hold her close to him. “She can’t—not Hayley. She was so alive. She wasn’t supposed to die—not yet—not—”
“Shh,” he whispered, touching her hair. Logan closed his eyes, wishing that there was some way he could take all the pain she felt into himself and bear it for her. He would give anything to make her feel just the slightest bit better—to make this all just a bit easier for her to endure. “It’s okay, Abby. Wherever they are—they’re together. They’ve got each other. You’ve just got to take comfort in that—”
“But they’re not here. What about us? How are we supposed to go on?”
She crumbled in his arms, the ache in her chest too much to hold on to. And Logan held her, knowing it was the only thing he could do. It was the only comfort she was willing to take.
It was the only thing he could offer.
He felt his heart break as she sobbed. More than anything, he wished he could do something more for her.
But eventually, she calmed down. The tears ran dry, the sobs faded.
She immediately felt foolish and turned away from Logan, certain not to make eye contact. “We should probably get this stuff to the funeral home,” Abby suggested as she wiped at her eyes. “I’m sure they’re waiting for it.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” She kept her back to him, unable to turn to face him. She was too embarrassed for allowing herself to be so vulnerable in front of him. The last time she had shown that part of herself to Logan Sheppard, he had turned around and walked out on her.
“I’ll just—I’ll just meet you out at the truck, okay?” She spoke suddenly. Because she couldn’t take it anymore. All around her, she was surrounded by Hayley and Blake—surrounded by their memory. Surrounded by the pain.
“Sure—I’ll just lock up and be right out. Go ahead, Abby.” He watched as she retreated, Hayley’s wedding dress folded over her arm. She didn’t look back. Logan sighed softly, wishing she would just trust him. But he knew he’d lost that—he knew that he was lucky to get so much as a glance from her. It had been his choice to walk away. It was his choice to stay away.
He thought back to their earlier conversation, when she’d discovered that he’d been living in California. Her expression—even hidden behind the sunglasses she seemed incapable of separating with—had been shocked, yes. But it had also been pained. He had wanted to tell her that not a day went by that he didn’t consider tracking her down. Logan had wanted to tell her that he’d made the trip a few times and had just sat outside her building, watching—waiting for just the briefest glimpse.
He was convinced that even after all of these years, he could still read her like an open book—so even just a glimpse would be enough. All he wanted to know was if she was happy—truly happy. He wanted to know if she was enjoying the life he’d left her to create.
But he always chickened out at the last minute. He would catch site of her hair and he would feel his heart rate quicken—and then he would turn away. It was torture, being so close—but still knowing exactly how far away he really was.
Abigail Lewis had grown up to be an amazing woman. There was no doubting that.
And he’d walked away from her.
~*~
Abby sighed as she exited the funeral home, hugging herself slightly. She still couldn’t believe that she’d broken down like that in front of Logan. What had she been thinking? If there was anyone in the world that she didn’t want to show weakness around, it was him.
It only complicated things that he was the only person she actually felt she could turn to. Who else would understand?
Certainly not her father. He was torn between loyalties.
Her fiancé? He hadn’t even liked her friends.
What other friends did she have? Nobody who would understand the gravity of what had just happened.
She heard the door open behind her and she turned, immediately regretting it. Her head spun and she reached out for the porch column to steady herself. “Whoa, you okay?”
“Just a little lightheaded,” Abby responded, shaking her head. “It’s nothing.” But of course, he wouldn’t believe her.
“When was the last time you ate something, Abby?” She paused for a moment, thinking back. She faintly remembered picking at a salad on the plane. “If you have to think that hard, it’s been too long.”
“I’ll just grab something—”
“No, you won’t, Abby. You’ll go back to your room and you’ll throw yourself into something else that needs to be taken care of and you’ll forget all about you.” He found her eyes through the tinted glass. “I want to sit across from you and make sure you get something in your stomach.”
He was right. She couldn’t believe she’d gone so long without so much as even thinking about food. With a reluctant sigh, she gave in, following him to his truck. He navigated the area like a pro and she wondered how much time he had actually spent here. It’d never really occurred to her to ask Hayley.
It was a small diner. The two received a few looks as they walked in, the small bell above the door jingling their arrival. Logan led the way, taking her to a small booth in the back. “I suggest the stew. It’s pretty phenomenal.”
“I take it you’ve been here before?”
“A few times,” he nodded, picking up a menu and browsing through it. She followed his example, looking through the various options. When the waitress came to take their order, Abby took Logan’s advice and ordered beef stew. He couldn’t help the smile that splashed across his lips as he heard her place the order. “You’ll love it. I promise.”
“I am actually feeling pretty famished.” As if on cue, her stomach grumbled loudly.
“I believe it.” He took a drink of the coffee in front of him. “I remember many a night when you would’ve been happy enough just to keep on working on whatever paper you had due unless I reminded you that, every once and awhile, you needed to take a break for food.” A wave of sadness passed through her at the memory.
“There were quite a few of those nights,” she agreed with a nod, her tone downcast. The two grew quiet for a long moment before Logan finally sighed.
“You know what, Abby?” And she looked up, startled. “I’m afraid this is something that I have to do.” He lifted himself slightly and began to lean in her direction. Abby, confused, pulled back slightly. Logan only chuckled before he reached out and lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head, as he’d done the day before in the cemetery. “That’s much better.”
She was certain it wasn’t. She could feel the puffiness of her eyes and she knew she must look a mess. She hadn’t even worn any makeup. “Better for who?” She questioned, staring at the tabletop. Her ring glittered in the sunlight and she glanced up quickly as she went to remove her hand.
But she was too late, she realized, as she saw his eyes roam across the patterns of light. “That’s quite a rock you’ve got there.” Abby only nodded. “It’s not the first time I’ve noticed it, Abby.” He sighed, leaning back into the soft cushioning of the bench. “Want to talk about it?”
“Do you want to hear about it?” Logan’s only response was a shrug. Abby squared her shoulders, pulling herself back slightly. “His name is Eric. We’ve been together for about four years now.” Logan nodded, his expression unreadable.
“And the wedding?”
“Three months.” He nodded, taking another drink of coffee. If someone had told her three days ago that she would be sitting in a diner with Logan Sheppard talking about the future of her current relationship, she would have laughed in their face. “He’s a lawyer.” It was such an awkward conversation to be having.
“And I assume your dad approves?” There was a hint of resentment in his tone and Abby looked up, meeting his eyes.
“He does. But you should know that if I really loved him, it wouldn’t make a single bit of difference if he did or not.”
A moment passed between them then. Each knew that her comment was a reference to the past—an allusion to what could have been. It was the closest she could bring herself to acknowledging their former life. Logan’s eyes instantly clouded over and she wondered what he was thinking about.
“Abby—”
“What about you?” She interrupted, breaking the gaze and taking a drink of her own coffee, trying not to cringe at the taste.
She knew that he was about to bring up their past. She knew that he was going to make some sort of effort to convince her about why they wouldn’t have worked. But she couldn’t hear it—and more importantly, she didn’t want to. Abby had already been over all of the reasons. It had taken her some time to come to terms with what was, and she was definitely in no position to rehash all of that. Not now, and especially not with him.
He seemed thrown off by her question for just the briefest moment, but finally, he responded, shaking his head. “No—I’m starting to think that marriage isn’t in the cards for me.”
“You always were a tough one to tie down.”
“Yeah, but you figured it out.” He looked up, trying to find her eyes again. But she refused, her eyes now trained on something on the other side of the window they sat beside.
“Not quite.” Her voice was so soft, he barely heard her, and Logan felt a fresh lashing of sorrow across his heart. If only she knew.
She fell quiet again and Logan could tell she was lost in thought. He longed to know what it was she was thinking about. He could guess, of course, based on the topic of their conversation. But he wished he could ask. He wished she would tell him.
The waitress arrived a few moments later with their food and Abby turned, offering a very small smile in her direction—out of politeness. She’d always been a polite sort of girl. He watched as she took the first bite, closing her eyes. Her expression relaxed and Logan knew she was enjoying it.
“We should make some picture-boards. You know, collages or something.” Her voice startled him several minutes later and he looked up, catching her eyes for a brief moment before she glanced away. Even without the sunglasses, she was shielding herself from him. “It just seems like—with all of the photos they took—”
“No, it’s a really good idea. If you want, I can swing back by and grab some of them.”
“Maybe I’ll call Eric and see if he can overnight some of mine out this way. They won’t make it here in time for the viewing, but the funeral…” Her voice caught in her throat for a moment. Logan only nodded, averting his eyes this time, and Abby felt just a bit guilty for mentioning Eric once again. “I can put them together—”
“I can help—”
“No, no—it’s fine. Really—I want to do it.” Images ran through her mind from her friendship with Hayley—countless memories. She was trying to remember which were actually caught on film. “Do you have any of you and Blake?” She asked, suddenly needing a distraction from the happy memories flying through her mind.
“Whatever I have is here. Blake was holding on to most of my stuff until I could get settled some place.” Logan paused. “How about I bring whatever I can find by your room tonight?”
“Thanks, Logan. That’d be great.” Abby said after a moment had passed, meaning it.
The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, each of them lost among their thoughts.
And for just the briefest of moments, Abby allowed herself to imagine that this—that a late lunch or early dinner—with Logan was completely natural. As if it happened every day.
She didn’t fail to notice the sense of calmness it provided her.