The Lucky One(91)

“Elizabeth . . .”

“My name is Beth!”

She stared at him as if he were a stranger until he lowered his arm.

His voice was a whisper when he tried again. “I can explain—”

“Explain what?” she demanded. “That you stole the picture from my brother? That you walked across the country to find me? That you fell in love with an image . . .”

“It wasn’t like that,” he said, shaking his head.

She didn’t hear him. All she could do was stare at him, wondering if anything he’d said was true.

“You stalked me . . . ,” she said, almost as if talking to herself. “You lied to me. You used me.”

“You don’t understand . . .”

“Understand? You want me to understand?”

“I didn’t steal the photo,” he said. His voice remained steady and even. “I found the photo in Kuwait, and I posted it on a bulletin board where I thought it would be claimed. But no one ever claimed it.”

“And so . . . you took it back?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Why? Because you had some sick and twisted idea about me?”

“No,” he said, his voice rising for the first time. The sound startled her, slowing her thoughts, if only for an instant. “I came here because I owed you.”

“You owed me?” She blinked. “What does that even mean?”

“The photo . . . it saved me.”

Though she heard him plainly, she couldn’t comprehend the words. She waited for more, and in the steady silence that followed, she realized she found them . . . chilling somehow. The hairs on her arms prickled, and she took another step back. “Who are you?” she hissed. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything. And you know who I am.”

“No, I don’t! I don’t know anything about you!”

“Let me explain . . .”

“Then explain why if this was all so pure and true that you didn’t tell me about the photograph when you first came here!” she shouted, her voice echoing in the room. In her mind’s eye, she saw Drake and all the details of the night the photo was taken. She pointed a finger at him. “Why didn’t you say, ‘I found this in Iraq and I figured you might want it back’? Why didn’t you tell me when we were talking about Drake?”

“I don’t know. . . .”

“It wasn’t your photo to keep! Don’t you get that? It wasn’t meant for you! It was for my brother, not for you! It was his and you had no right to keep it from me!”

Logan’s voice was almost a whisper. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Her eyes bored into him, piercing him with the force of her rage.

“This whole thing is a sham, isn’t it? You found this photo and came up with some . . . twisted fantasy in which you could play the starring role. You played me from the moment we met! You took your time to find out what you could do to make it seem like you were the perfect guy for me. And you thought that because you were obsessed with me, you could trick me into falling in love with you.”

She saw Logan flinch at her words, and she went on.

“You planned all this from the very beginning! It’s sick and it’s wrong and I can’t believe I fell for it.”

He rocked back slightly on his heels, stunned by her words.

“I admit that I wanted to meet you,” he said, “but you’re wrong about the reason. I didn’t come here to trick you into falling in love with me. I know it sounds crazy, but I came to believe that the photograph kept me safe from harm and that . . . I owed you somehow, even if I didn’t know what that meant or what would come of it. But I didn’t plan anything after I got here. I took the job, and then I fell in love with you.”

Her expression didn’t soften as he spoke. Instead, she slowly began to shake her head.

“Can you even hear what you’re saying?”

“I knew you wouldn’t believe it. That’s why I didn’t tell you—”

“Don’t try to justify your lies! You got caught up in some sick fantasy and you won’t even admit it.”

“Stop calling it that!” he shouted back. “You’re the one who’s not listening. You’re not even trying to understand what I’m saying!”

“Why should I try to understand? You’ve been lying to me since the beginning. You’ve been using me since the beginning.”

“I haven’t used you,” he said, forcing his back straight, regaining his composure. “And I didn’t lie about the photo. I just didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t know how to tell you in a way that wouldn’t make you think I was crazy.”

She raised her hands. “Don’t even think of blaming this on me. You’re the one who lied! You’re the one who kept secrets! I told you everything! I gave my heart to you! I let my son become attached to you!” she shouted. As she went on, her voice broke and she could feel the tears beginning to form. “I went to bed with you because I thought you were someone I could trust. But now I know that I can’t. Can you imagine how that makes me feel? To know this whole thing was some sort of charade?”

His voice was soft. “Please, Elizabeth . . . Beth . . . just listen.”