Can't Let Go(12)

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.





Chapter Four





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.”