chapter Seven
When Abby awoke that morning, she was surprised to find that—for once, she had slept through an entire night. The warmth that surrounded her was calming, the quiet sounds of his breathing familiar.
But as soon as the events of the night before stirred in her memory, she pulled away, looking around the room. “Good morning.” His voice was always so soothing. She looked up to find his eyes staring down at her, almost hopeful in the morning light. “Sleep okay?” She realized that they were in a bed—Hayley and Blake’s bed.
“Actually…” She couldn’t keep the shock from her voice. “I did.”
“Good. You needed it.” Abby had a feeling Logan would never know quite how correct he was. There were a great many things she needed—most of them things that only Logan could give her.
She had spent the last four years with Eric, and never once had she felt as comfortable with him as she did with Logan. Never had her body ached for the feel of his arms, or the sound of his voice, or even just the simplest sweeping of his gaze.
She wasn’t aware of how much she missed him until she had seen him again.
She sighed, extracting herself from her position in his arms. “So—about last night—”
“Let’s just…not do this, Logan. Let’s just save ourselves the trouble of rehashing it all over again—”
“Abby.” She could tell by the tone of his voice that he was serious and she frowned. He was not going to let the night before go. “We have to talk.”
“What is there to talk about, Logan?” She lifted herself to her feet, straightening out the dress she still wore, determined not to have this conversation. She hadn’t meant for last night to happen—and she certainly didn’t want to relive it. A bad combination of exhaustion and too many emotions had finally overtaken her. “We both said things that we didn’t—”
“I meant everything.” And she closed her eyes, a sadness filling her heart. “I still love you, Abby.”
How many times had she longed to hear him say those words? How many times had she dreamed up a scenario such as this? How many times had she imagined happiness with Logan? “Say something.”
“What is there to say?” The pain was obvious in her voice. It was killing her, facing all of this. Knowing what was going to happen.
“Tell me you love me.” As soon as the words left his mouth, her heart broke. She closed her eyes again so that she wouldn’t cry.
“I can’t.” She kept her back to Logan, unable to face him. She couldn’t look him in the eye, knowing she was lying—knowing that he would be able to tell.
“Why not?” It almost sounded as if there were tears in his voice. She longed to look, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t bring herself to turn around.
“Because I don’t.” Abby was surprised when she discovered that her chest hadn’t actually torn open as she uttered the words, feeling as if the lie had taken her own life.
“Because I don’t, Logan. I’m engaged to Eric. I’m going to marry him.”
“Eric will never make you happy.” She closed her eyes again, squeezing them shut as she willed the tears away. She knew that he was right. She would never feel with Eric the way she did when she was with Logan.
But that was the point, wasn’t it?
He could never hurt her the way Logan could, either.
“He doesn’t know you, Abby.”
“You keep saying that. But a lot of time has gone by. I’ve changed.”
“No you haven’t, Abigail. That’s bull—you and I both know it.” She shook her head, unable to find her voice, her back still to him so that he couldn’t see the sorrow in her expression. “You’re the same girl I fell in love with that night on the roof—you’re the same girl—”
“No, I’m not.” She spoke through clenched teeth. “I’m not that same naïve little girl, Logan. I’ve learned. You taught me.” The pain was almost undeniable as it roared within her—the scars Logan had left on her heart all those years ago were opening up and mingling with the fresh wounds she’d only just experienced.
“No—Abby, you’re right. You’ve grown up.” She knew he was standing right behind her now. She could feel his eyes on her, willing her to turn around. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t—because if she did, then he would see right through her. “But I’m willing to bet everything—everything I’ve got, everything I am—that he doesn’t know you.”
“Please don’t do this, Logan.”
“I have to.” She felt his hand touch her arm. “If he knew you, Abby, then you wouldn’t have come here alone. He wouldn’t have let you. He would have known that you say you don’t want help—but that sometimes, you actually need it. He wouldn’t have put that ring on your finger, because he would know that you hate anything flashy. He would have told you how amazing you looked yesterday—would have told you how happy Hayley would have been.”
“Please, Logan.” She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to be reminded of how well he knew her.
Abby needed to believe that she was no longer the girl he’d fallen in love with—but he was making it impossible. She had tried so hard for so long to become someone new—someone different.
She didn’t want to be that girl who was so easily left behind.
“And if he knew you, he would have made an effort to make Hayley as much a part of his life as she was of yours. He wouldn’t have shunned her like the rest of his socialite friends—he would have been proud of her, because he would have known how much you cared about her.”
“That isn’t fair,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Don’t bring Hayley into this—”
“Hayley is part of this, Abby! Whether you want to hear it or not, it was no secret that Hayley didn’t think this Eric guy was the one for you. You and I both know it—”
“What are you talking about?” She did turn then, looking at Logan accusingly. “You have no idea what Hayley thought—”
“I know that she told me to come find you, Abby. I know that she didn’t think you were happy. Didn’t think that you were ever going to be happy.” She felt a sharp pain in her chest—a longing for her friend, and at the same time, a small betrayal. Why hadn’t Hayley told her these things? Abby had known Hayley wasn’t thrilled about the coupling, but she didn’t know that she had felt that strongly about it. “She wanted you to be happy.”
“Why would I agree to marry a man who I didn’t think could make me happy?”
“Because he’s predictable. Isn’t that what you said?” The sting was so strong, he may as well have slapped her. She wished she hadn’t said those words to him, though they had been the truth. She shouldn’t have told Logan—he was only going to use it against her.
“If you cared so much about me, Logan, then you would have come to me. All on your own. You wouldn’t have waited for something like this to happen—you wouldn’t have wasted all of this time. You—”
“I was afraid, Abby!” He took her hands in his. “I was afraid that you would hate me. I was afraid that I wasn’t worth it. I was afraid that I might ruin your life.” He shook his head. “Why do you think I left in the first place? I wasn’t going to make you choose, Abby—not like that. I wasn’t going to put you through that torment. I wasn’t going to take you away from your life. Not unless I was sure it would be worth it.”
They held each others eyes for a long moment, each of them feeling an ache in their chest at the memory. He’d left, taking away any need for her to make a choice. But it hadn’t been his choice to make—and Abby couldn’t forget the pain it had caused.
She understood why. She knew the logical reasons. But her heart still bore the burden. She had actually believed that they could have a happy ending, all those years ago.
But Abby had learned. She had woken up and realized that life was not at all like a fairytale.
“Six years ago, Logan, I would have given anything for you. Anything you asked for—it would have been yours. You were the love of my life.” The tears overwhelmed her and she paused for a moment, looking up at the ceiling. “If someone had told me that you were going to up and leave—I wouldn’t have believed them. Even the morning you left, I couldn’t quite believe it.
“It was like someone had ripped a piece of me away, and I had to learn to live without it. And it hurt me. It took me a long time to try and fill that void.” Abby finally looked down, wiping at her tears. “I waited for you. I thought you might come back to me—thought you might realize that what we had was something…special. Something worth fighting for. But you didn’t. You just gave up.”
“Abigail—” She held up her hand, silencing him.
“Nothing has changed between us. No matter how much we want to lie to ourselves and say that we could have some sort of a future together—it’s nothing but a fantasy, just like it always was.”
“You don’t mean that.” He searched her eyes, trying to find some sign that she was lying. But he could see nothing—nothing but sadness, nothing but a broken heart. She couldn’t believe those words though, could she? She couldn’t actually believe that they couldn’t have a future together. Not after what they’d been through.
Especially after the last week.
Wasn’t it obvious?
It was at that moment that a telephone ringing broke in, shattering the stillness that had surrounded them.
Reality.
It was there, no matter how much Logan wanted to ignore it. He held Abby’s eyes, begging her not to answer it. Pleading with her to choose him.
But then she turned, reaching for her purse and removing the thin, sleek phone. She cleared her throat and dabbed at her eyes, as if preparing to see someone rather than answer a call. “Hello,” Her voice was clear as she spoke, free of the tears in her eyes and the pain in her chest. “I’m not sure yet, Eric—I still have to pack up the house and ship everything out…”
Logan dropped his head, staring at the floor.
It was over.
He lowered himself to the bed, holding his head in his hands as he stared down at the floor, wondering what had gone wrong. Things had been going so well—
Maybe she was telling the truth. Maybe she really had changed.
But he thought back to the way their eyes had met as he’d zipped her dress before the funeral. It had taken him back to the night of Blake and Hayley’s wedding, when he’d seen her flash forward into the future, imagining their lives together. He knew—because he’d imagined it too.
Years had gone by since he’d left Abby, but he’d never once been able to imagine his life with anyone else. If it wasn’t her, then it was nobody.
And as he’d stood behind her in the motel room, breathing in her scent, touching her soft skin—he’d seen it in her eyes. She still saw it. She still wanted it.
No, she hadn’t changed. Abigail Lewis was just as amazing now as she had been six years ago. The only thing that had changed was that it was no longer Logan who was afraid—it was now Abby.
“I’m going back to the motel, Logan. I’m going to take a shower and then I’m coming back here so that I can start packing up all of this stuff. It’s not going to do us any good, holding on to it any longer.” Her voice startled him from his reverie and he looked up, meeting her eyes. They were darker now, guarded. She didn’t want him to see her.
He wondered if she had meant her words to be so ambiguous, but he decided not to acknowledge it. In his mind, he was nowhere near ready to let go of whatever there could be between them.
“I’ll help.” He expected her to argue, but she said nothing—only nodded. “Please don’t go, Abby.”
“It’s time to let go, Logan. We’ve got to, or else it’s just going to eat us up inside.” She paused, making sure she held his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
The last words had a devastating effect, and with that, she turned, leaving the house. Leaving him. He remained in the same position, watching the empty space she had just left, his head spinning.
He remembered the plain piece of white paper he’d scribbled the same phrase on. I’m sorry. It was all he could think of to say as he stood there, watching her sleep. He knew it was inadequate—he knew that it in no way reflected the depth of his feelings or the difficulty he’d had in walking away. He had wanted to say more—but he couldn’t find any way to express himself.
As he ran his fingers raggedly through his hair, he realized how badly he’d hurt her. It wasn’t just a broken heart he’d created—but a broken soul.
And now, his chance to change her mind—to make her realize that he’d never wanted to leave her—was gone.
~*~
The bedroom had been saved for last. They had worked quietly—Logan taking one room while Abby took the other—until all that was left was the bedroom. Boxes filled the living room, all marked and labeled, ready to be shipped or delivered. Abby had stayed behind Sunday night so that she could continue packing and labeling them all—something to distract herself with. Monday morning had come and she had decided to make several phone calls to handle the estate while waiting for Logan to make the trip back to the ranch house so that they could finish up their work.
A will had been left behind, with everything being left to Abby and Logan—all except for their wedding photo, which Hayley had specifically asked to be sent to her family. She felt they should have at least one memento of their daughter’s—something to remind them of how happy she had been. Abby was more than willing to oblige.
Both Abby and Logan had chosen various items that they wished to have—assorted photos, gifts they had given them over time, or certain pieces of clothing that held special meaning to them. It had been a difficult task to get through, and Abby knew that the bedroom was going to be much worse. She had tried to convince Logan to let her do it on her own, knowing she couldn’t afford to expose herself to him any further. But he’d insisted, and so the two had decided to meet some time in the afternoon.
Logan started in the closet while Abby worked at the dresser, packing up various clothing items they were planning to donate. But she froze when her eyes landed on a small green baby blanket. She removed it from the dresser and held it up, so that she could get a better look at it.
It still had the tags on it.
Her eyes instantly welled up with tears and she closed them, hugging the small piece of fabric close to her heart. She imagined Hayley out and about, her eyes landing on the blanket. It appeared to be meant for a newborn, and Abby was certain it was an impulse buy Hayley had made before she’d even known she was pregnant. She suddenly longed for her friend—to hear her voice, to feel her arms around her.
Abby imagined Hayley having a little girl, with golden hair just like her own. She would have had the rebellious nature of her mother, but the gentleness of her father. And her laugh—her laugh would have been contagious, just like her mother’s.
How she ached for that reality. The yearning was so intense in that moment that she nearly doubled over, losing herself in it. But then she heard his voice and she remembered that she was supposed to be strong. She was supposed to be able to handle this.
“I—” But he stopped upon seeing her, her eyes locked on the pale green item she held in her hands.
“It’s a baby blanket.” The tears were obvious in her voice, though she didn’t appear to be crying. “Hayley must have…” But she couldn’t finish.
“You can take it.” She placed it in her lap. “I won’t need it.”
“Neither will I.” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, probably not even meant for Logan’s ears. A sadness swept over him as he realized what she was implying.
Abby wouldn’t be having children? Hadn’t they spoken about this just a few days ago?
For as long as he’d known her, she’d always wanted a family. She’d always wanted to have lots of children of her own. Sometimes, especially after their pregnancy scare, they had lain in bed at night and talked about it—what they would look like, what their names would be, who they would take after. They were some of Logan’s most cherished memories. He had always seen little girls the spitting image of their mother that would ride around on his shoulders and little boys with piercing green eyes and a devilish nature.
They had imagined that their children would grow up alongside Blake and Hayley’s.
He wanted to press the subject. Did Eric not want to have a family? Was he taking away even the slightest chance at happiness Abby would have?
But he’d lost that right. He knew that she would no longer open up to him—that as far as Abby was concerned, Logan was hardly more than an acquaintance.
He sighed, looking her over. Something had changed. It was as if she’d been drained of life and was merely working on autopilot, drudging on through the day. He wanted to take her in his arms, to argue with her—anything to bring the life back into her eyes. He knew, though, that it wouldn’t work.
She was gone to him. Lost. Just as unreachable as his fallen friends.
At least that was what he told himself. Something within him, something deep down, buried in some unseen place, knew differently.
If there was anyone who could reach her, it would be him.
Hayley had spoken to him often of Abby. She had always thought the two would end up back together somewhere down the line—a love like theirs, she insisted, was never-ending. It would last an eternity, and forces would constantly be at work to push them back together. She had often tried to be that force herself.
He imagined, wherever she was now, that she was shaking her head at him, yelling for him to do something already. And Blake would be standing by, telling her to give Logan time—he had always been a slow worker.
He watched her fold the blanket up neatly and set it aside. She was going to take it—but he could tell that she held no hope of ever using it.
There was nothing he could do, though. He was convinced that he had made the right choice all those years ago. Walking away had been the only option. He would never have been able to live with himself if he had been the reason Abby never spoke to her father again. Especially now, after having seen them together.
But he could have fought. He could have gone back to her, once he’d finished school—Logan could have proven to her father that he was worthy of his daughter.
There were so many things he could have done differently.
With a heavy sigh, he turned, forgetting what it was that he had come out to ask Abby in the first place. The image of her sitting on the bed and staring at the baby blanket with a blank look in her eyes was more than enough to haunt him.
Seeing the girl he’d once known to be full of life in such anguish was nearly impossible to take.
~*~
The rest of the day passed quickly. They finished packing up the few remainders in the rest of the house and at the end of the night, Logan returned to the motel while Abby stayed behind—claiming only to have a few last minute things to take care of.
But the truth of it was, she needed just a few minutes there—surrounded by the comfort the house provided her.
She sat on the edge of the couch, looking around, filling herself with memories. She’d taken a week’s vacation when they first moved in so that she could help paint and arrange things. It seemed strange that now, not even two years later, she had just performed the reverse task.
The quiet was suffocating, but she didn’t move. She felt as if she needed to be here—she felt as if she would find answers.
When nearly an hour had gone by, though, she gave up, thinking herself foolish. She sighed and rose to her feet, deciding against returning to the motel. All she faced there was another sleepless night, and she’d had enough of those this last week to last her a lifetime.
The memory of waking in Logan’s arms crossed her mind and she sighed, trying her hardest to push it away. The only reason she’d slept so well, she tried to convince herself, was that she had already been so tired. Exhaustion had overcome her. It had nothing at all to do with Logan. Nothing to do with the way she seemed to fit perfectly within his embrace or the way it all seemed to feel so natural.
It was, pure and simple, just a mechanical response. Her body had reached it’s breaking point, and it had only been coincidence that Logan had been there.
Abby swore softly as she stumbled, knocking a box over. She heard the unpleasant sound of glass breaking and she swore again, bending over and picking it up. She opened the box and found a frame laying face down and she shook her head, angry with herself for being so clumsy.
She turned it over, at first not paying attention to the photo that had been in the frame. But then, as she went to set it aside so that she could clean up the glass, she gasped, nearly dropping it.
It was the photo from the baseball game. Abby stared at her reflection, tears forming in her eyes. There was Logan—younger than he was now, but still devastatingly handsome. It seemed like an eternity ago.
But she remembered it with perfect clarity.
They’d been caught on the “kiss-cam” that day—the crowd around them cheering happily as their lips had met. Hayley had insisted on taking a picture, but Abby had been feeling playful, not used to being in the spotlight. It had always been Hayley who had shined. Abby had always been somewhere in the background.
She remembered his kiss, then. Remembered the way it always felt like the first time—always exciting, always spine-tingling. If ever she was upset or angry—all he had to do was kiss her and instantly, she would forget about whatever was bothering her. How simple it had been. Effortless, even.
That wasn’t to say that she and Logan hadn’t had problems.
But as she stared at the photo, she found them hard to remember. All she could think of was his kiss.