More Than This (More Than, #1)(75)

Chapter 47


Mikayla


I call Lucy to pick me up from the hotel and take me home. I didn’t hear from Jake. No phone calls. I even made sure it was fully charged. Nothing.


I think we’re done.


When we pull into my driveway, Logan's car is there, and he’s leaning against it.

“Asshole,” Lucy greets with a head nod.

“Kinky Hornbag,” he replies, but she’s already reversing out the driveway.

“Where were you?” he asks me.

“Long story, how is he?”

“Who?”

“Jake.”

“What? I don’t know.”

“Oh.” I thought for sure Jake would be with him.

“What about Jake?” he asks, eyeing me curiously.

“Um, nothing. What’s up? What are you doing here?”

I’m not looking at him, but I can feel him watching me.

It’s awkward and uncomfortable, so after a few seconds I look up at him.

He’s still watching.

So, we stand there.

For seconds, minutes, hours… who knows.

Watching each other.

Waiting for one of us to talk first.

Then finally, he breaks.

“My friends mom is selling her car, it’s in your budget. I thought I’d take you to look at it.” He says this like a question.

“Okay,” I say quietly.

I bring mine and Jake's overnight bags into the house and drop them just inside the front door before turning and getting into Logan's car.


***


“So I’ll pick you up on wednesday and take you there to get it, yeah?” Logan asks.

“Thanks.” I’m still quiet. I haven’t said much.

He hasn’t asked again.

It’s awkward.

Awkwardly silent.

Then a tear falls down my cheek and I wipe it away quickly.

I turn to look at him.

“I love him, Logan,” I say. Because if I can’t tell Jake, then somebody needs to know.

He looks at me before turning back to the road.

“No shit,” he deadpans.

“I think we’re done.”

He shakes his head, still looking straight ahead. “You guys will never be done.”

“He’s it for me, Jake, I mean, he was it. He was my happily ever after.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I can’t give myself to him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t be who I want to be with him. I can’t give him everything. I’m still broken and I need to pick up the pieces of myself and put them back together. If I give myself to him, I have to be complete. I can’t be half the person I want to be.”

He pulls over on the side of the road and turns the car off.

Then he looks at me.

For what seems like a lifetime.

“I’m sorry, Micky,” he says. I look down, because I am too. I’m so f*cking sorry.

“I’m sorry, but I think you’re wrong,” he continues.

My eyes dart to his.

“Jake, he saw you at your worst. He was there when your life changed and your heart shattered. He was there to help you piece some of it back together. He’s seen it all, Micky. He’s seen you at your worst and he still fell in love with you. Like, truly, the forever kind of love with you. And I’m sorry, because I think your wrong. Maybe you don’t need to be a complete person, or maybe you do. But maybe, he’s it. Maybe he’s the other half of you.”


Chapter 48


Mikayla


When we get back to the house, Jake's truck is in the driveway.


I’m fumbling to open the door and get out before the car’s come to a complete stop. I rush to open the front door because I really, really need to see him. I need to tell him that I love him and that I need to be with him. Like, be with him.


“Jake!” I call out.

“In here!”

“Where?” I’ve stopped just inside the front door, trying to listen for where he’s calling from.

“Here!”

I walk down the hall way and look in the study, he’s not there, then I look into my room.

And he’s there.

And the world around me goes black.


People talk about heartbreak like it’s a figure of speech. But the truth is, it is physically possible. Because I feel it. I feel every single excruciating bit of pain that comes with it. And I feel like I’ve died.


But I haven’t. I’m still breathing.

In what could have been seconds of me standing in the doorway to my room, literally felt like a f*cking lifetime.

But I’m not dead. I just haven’t opened my eyes. Because when I do, I’ll see the one thing I never ever wanted to see.

I take two deep breaths in and out and count to ten in my head.

When I open my eyes, I see my room.

The bed has been stripped, my comforter and baby blanket are gone. Cardboard boxes splayed throughout the room, some empty, some filled with my belongings.

Jake has my dresser drawer open and he’s packing one of the boxes with my clothes.

It’s over.