Can't Let Go(11)

Difficult, because Logan knew that, just two doors down the way, Abby was alone. And she was more devastated than she’d ever been in her life.

And that was something Logan couldn’t stand to think about. He knew that he’d given up any right to comfort her the morning he’d left her. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t hoping that she would let him help her through this—because if nothing else, he understood exactly what she was going through.



~*~



When a knock sounded at the door, Abby jumped up mid-sob, startled. She realized she still held the phone in her hand and she tossed it down to the bed.

“Just a minute!” She called, very aware of the tears in her voice. As she rushed around the room searching for her sunglasses, she ran her fingers through her hair and wiped the tears from her cheeks. At the last moment, she caught a quick glimpse of the dark lenses sitting on top of the television and Abby threw them on just as she opened the door.

Logan stood on the other side, his eyes sweeping over her. She knew it must be obvious what she was doing—what she was hiding. She also knew that it was senseless to even make the attempt. Logan would understand. He wouldn’t think her childish or pathetic. If anyone, he would understand exactly what she was going through. Logan was probably feeling the same way.

“I was just laying there staring at the ceiling,” Abby nodded, knowing that, had she tried to sleep, she would have done the same. “We can wait—”

“No.” She shook her head. Sitting in her motel room really wasn’t going to accomplish anything. Nothing worthwhile anyway. “Just give me a minute to grab my purse?”

“No problem.” She almost offered to let him wait inside, but at the last moment, she changed her mind, realizing that she wasn’t sure she could handle Logan Sheppard being in her room. Memories of the last time she’d shared a room with him flashed rapidly through her mind and she turned, hurrying back inside. A mirror hung over the dresser and she removed the sunglasses, running her fingers through her hair and wiping at the smudges beneath her eyes.

She was a mess, she acknowledged. With a sigh, she replaced the sunglasses and grabbed her purse from a nearby chair, making her way toward the door. “Do you want to drive?” Abby asked as she stepped out on the balcony. “I’ve just been driving—”

“Sure, that’s fine.” They began to walk toward the stairs, both silent. “I was thinking—for the wake—there’s the restaurant that Blake would take Hayley to for dinner, but they’d always get breakfast—”

“Whenever she was having a bad day,” Abby finished, a fresh wave of tears pooling in her eyes. She closed them tightly, willing them away. “Yeah, Hayley loved that place.”

“I was thinking maybe we could have it there. That is, if they don’t mind or anything—”

“I can call and check on it tonight—”

“I can do it—”

“It’s okay, Logan. I don’t mind making phone calls.” She shrugged as they neared his truck. “It keeps me busy.”

“I just don’t want to shove all of the work off onto you.”

“You’re not.” Abby would willingly accept anything he pushed off on to her. She would greet it with open arms and she would throw herself full-force into it. Anything to keep her mind off of everything that was going on. “See, you’re doing something right now by driving.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“There’s no reason I’d be doing that, Logan. I mean—honestly, what reason do I have to want to make you feel better?” The comment was a bit snippier than she had intended and she instantly regretted it. Even if it was the truth—even if she knew she shouldn’t be going out of her way to make him feel better—she knew she shouldn’t have spoken it aloud. “I’m sorry—”

“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.