Can't Let Go (8 page)

“No, I deserved that.”  He came to her side of the truck first, opening the door for her.  She was fully aware of his eyes on her—she could feel them burning through her.  “I probably deserve worse than that.”  She fought the urge to look up and meet his eyes.  There was an odd tone in his voice—one she didn’t quite recognize.  But she said nothing as she climbed into the truck, careful to avoid his gaze.  The door swung shut and she watched him walk around to the other door. 

“That was all a long time ago, Logan,”
  Abby
finally spoke after several moments of silence, her eyes trained on the passing scenery as he drove.  “I think—right now, especially—we should just pretend it never happened.”

“But Abby—”

“Please, Logan?”  The mentioning of the past opened the wound once more and she tried very hard to push it all away.  “I just—I can’t.  Not right now.” 

“We will have to talk about it, Abby. 
Maybe not right now—but eventually.”
 

It was the last thing either of them said until they were walking through the cemetery.  Logan took her toward the back, where they were currently offering plots.  “I think maybe one by the trees?”  An image conjured in her mind of their former fantasy as she spoke, her eyes welling up once more. 

“I think so too.”  Logan
said,
his voice distant.  Abby was certain he was recalling the same memories.  “I think they’d be happy with that.”

“She was pregnant, you know.”  The words had left her mouth before she’d even thought about it.  “Hayley—she’d just called—”

“I know,”
  Logan nodded, looking down at the ground.  “Blake called me.  She surprised him with a picnic—baby carrots, baby back ribs, baby bananas.”

“They were so happy, Logan.”  The image from her phone flashed through her mind and she swallowed at the lump in her throat.  “How could this be happening?” 

“I don’t know, Abby.”  Her vision blurred as she stared straight ahead, her heart aching. 

“They should be here.  They should be planning baby names and arguing about colors for the nursery.”  A tear escaped, rolling down her cheek.  “But instead, we’re here, planning their funeral.”

“Things happen, Abigail.  Things happen in life that we don’t expect and that we don’t understand.  But they happen.” 

“But this wasn’t supposed to.  Not yet—not like this.”  Clouds were rolling in, blotting out the sun—fitting, she thought, for such an occasion. 

“I know.”

“It hurts so badly.”  She swallowed once more, but it did nothing to stop the tears from rolling freely down her cheeks.  She wasn’t aware of Logan moving beside her until he came to rest in front of her, reaching out and touching her glasses.  He lifted them until they rested on top of her head. 

She wanted to look away—she didn’t want him to see her like this.  But she couldn’t.  Logan found her eyes and he held them, each of them revealing to each other the depths of their pains.  The tears continued and he reached out, touching the palm of his hand to her cheek and using his thumb to brush them away. 

“I know it does, Abby.”  And she could hear the anguish in his voice.  He really did understand—he felt her pain, because it was the same for him.  Blake was as much his family as Hayley was hers.  “I wish I could make it go away for you—for the both of us.  But I can’t—and nothing will.  This is a pain you will feel for the rest of your life.” 

Though Abby knew that he was referring to the sudden loss she’d just experienced with the death of her friends, part of her wondered if he was talking about the pain
he
had left her with.  Because, until now,
that
loss had been the worst she had suffered. 

She had been so young when her mother had died, she could barely remember the pain.  But when she had woken that morning after Logan had left her to find only a note waiting for her, she’d experienced an overwhelming sense of grief as she realized what it meant. 

Abby turned her head then, breaking contact with him.  She couldn’t do this—she couldn’t remember that day and deal with her current circumstance.  Not at the same time. 

She sniffed, wiping at her cheeks and shaking her head.  “We should let Allison know what we’ve chosen.”  And with her words, the moment was broken.  She’d revealed too much of herself, and now it was time to go back—to hide within herself and keep the rest of the world at bay.  She replaced the sunglasses and turned back to face him. 

Logan nodded, a sense of sadness washing over him.  He longed to reach out to her—longed to comfort her, to prove to her that everything was going to be all right.  But he couldn’t.  He knew this.

With a very gentle sigh, Logan turned and began to make the trek back to his rental truck, his eyes on the petite frame of the girl he’d once loved. 

The girl he still loved.

She was trying so hard to keep everything together—he could tell.  He wished she knew that she didn’t have to put on any shows for him.  He wouldn’t judge her. 

But Abigail Lewis had always been a headstrong girl.  Asking for help would simply be out of the question.

And so, Logan thought to himself as they reached the truck, he would just have to make sure he was there to extend the offer whenever she might need it.

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.”