Can't Let Go(23)

“Abigail—” She held up her hand, silencing him.

“Nothing has changed between us. No matter how much we want to lie to ourselves and say that we could have some sort of a future together—it’s nothing but a fantasy, just like it always was.”

“You don’t mean that.” He searched her eyes, trying to find some sign that she was lying. But he could see nothing—nothing but sadness, nothing but a broken heart. She couldn’t believe those words though, could she? She couldn’t actually believe that they couldn’t have a future together. Not after what they’d been through.

Especially after the last week.

Wasn’t it obvious?

It was at that moment that a telephone ringing broke in, shattering the stillness that had surrounded them.

Reality.

It was there, no matter how much Logan wanted to ignore it. He held Abby’s eyes, begging her not to answer it. Pleading with her to choose him.

But then she turned, reaching for her purse and removing the thin, sleek phone. She cleared her throat and dabbed at her eyes, as if preparing to see someone rather than answer a call. “Hello,” Her voice was clear as she spoke, free of the tears in her eyes and the pain in her chest. “I’m not sure yet, Eric—I still have to pack up the house and ship everything out…”

Logan dropped his head, staring at the floor.

It was over.

He lowered himself to the bed, holding his head in his hands as he stared down at the floor, wondering what had gone wrong. Things had been going so well—

Maybe she was telling the truth. Maybe she really had changed.

But he thought back to the way their eyes had met as he’d zipped her dress before the funeral. It had taken him back to the night of Blake and Hayley’s wedding, when he’d seen her flash forward into the future, imagining their lives together. He knew—because he’d imagined it too.

Years had gone by since he’d left Abby, but he’d never once been able to imagine his life with anyone else. If it wasn’t her, then it was nobody.

And as he’d stood behind her in the motel room, breathing in her scent, touching her soft skin—he’d seen it in her eyes. She still saw it. She still wanted it.

No, she hadn’t changed. Abigail Lewis was just as amazing now as she had been six years ago. The only thing that had changed was that it was no longer Logan who was afraid—it was now Abby.

“I’m going back to the motel, Logan. I’m going to take a shower and then I’m coming back here so that I can start packing up all of this stuff. It’s not going to do us any good, holding on to it any longer.” Her voice startled him from his reverie and he looked up, meeting her eyes. They were darker now, guarded. She didn’t want him to see her.

He wondered if she had meant her words to be so ambiguous, but he decided not to acknowledge it. In his mind, he was nowhere near ready to let go of whatever there could be between them.

“I’ll help.” He expected her to argue, but she said nothing—only nodded. “Please don’t go, Abby.”

“It’s time to let go, Logan. We’ve got to, or else it’s just going to eat us up inside.” She paused, making sure she held his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

The last words had a devastating effect, and with that, she turned, leaving the house. Leaving him. He remained in the same position, watching the empty space she had just left, his head spinning.

He remembered the plain piece of white paper he’d scribbled the same phrase on. I’m sorry. It was all he could think of to say as he stood there, watching her sleep. He knew it was inadequate—he knew that it in no way reflected the depth of his feelings or the difficulty he’d had in walking away. He had wanted to say more—but he couldn’t find any way to express himself.

As he ran his fingers raggedly through his hair, he realized how badly he’d hurt her. It wasn’t just a broken heart he’d created—but a broken soul.

And now, his chance to change her mind—to make her realize that he’d never wanted to leave her—was gone.



~*~



The bedroom had been saved for last. They had worked quietly—Logan taking one room while Abby took the other—until all that was left was the bedroom. Boxes filled the living room, all marked and labeled, ready to be shipped or delivered. Abby had stayed behind Sunday night so that she could continue packing and labeling them all—something to distract herself with. Monday morning had come and she had decided to make several phone calls to handle the estate while waiting for Logan to make the trip back to the ranch house so that they could finish up their work.

A will had been left behind, with everything being left to Abby and Logan—all except for their wedding photo, which Hayley had specifically asked to be sent to her family. She felt they should have at least one memento of their daughter’s—something to remind them of how happy she had been. Abby was more than willing to oblige.

Both Abby and Logan had chosen various items that they wished to have—assorted photos, gifts they had given them over time, or certain pieces of clothing that held special meaning to them. It had been a difficult task to get through, and Abby knew that the bedroom was going to be much worse. She had tried to convince Logan to let her do it on her own, knowing she couldn’t afford to expose herself to him any further. But he’d insisted, and so the two had decided to meet some time in the afternoon.

Logan started in the closet while Abby worked at the dresser, packing up various clothing items they were planning to donate. But she froze when her eyes landed on a small green baby blanket. She removed it from the dresser and held it up, so that she could get a better look at it.

It still had the tags on it.

Her eyes instantly welled up with tears and she closed them, hugging the small piece of fabric close to her heart. She imagined Hayley out and about, her eyes landing on the blanket. It appeared to be meant for a newborn, and Abby was certain it was an impulse buy Hayley had made before she’d even known she was pregnant. She suddenly longed for her friend—to hear her voice, to feel her arms around her.

Abby imagined Hayley having a little girl, with golden hair just like her own. She would have had the rebellious nature of her mother, but the gentleness of her father. And her laugh—her laugh would have been contagious, just like her mother’s.

How she ached for that reality. The yearning was so intense in that moment that she nearly doubled over, losing herself in it. But then she heard his voice and she remembered that she was supposed to be strong. She was supposed to be able to handle this.

“I—” But he stopped upon seeing her, her eyes locked on the pale green item she held in her hands.

“It’s a baby blanket.” The tears were obvious in her voice, though she didn’t appear to be crying. “Hayley must have…” But she couldn’t finish.

“You can take it.” She placed it in her lap. “I won’t need it.”

“Neither will I.” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, probably not even meant for Logan’s ears. A sadness swept over him as he realized what she was implying.

Abby wouldn’t be having children? Hadn’t they spoken about this just a few days ago?

For as long as he’d known her, she’d always wanted a family. She’d always wanted to have lots of children of her own. Sometimes, especially after their pregnancy scare, they had lain in bed at night and talked about it—what they would look like, what their names would be, who they would take after. They were some of Logan’s most cherished memories. He had always seen little girls the spitting image of their mother that would ride around on his shoulders and little boys with piercing green eyes and a devilish nature.

They had imagined that their children would grow up alongside Blake and Hayley’s.

He wanted to press the subject. Did Eric not want to have a family? Was he taking away even the slightest chance at happiness Abby would have?

But he’d lost that right. He knew that she would no longer open up to him—that as far as Abby was concerned, Logan was hardly more than an acquaintance.

He sighed, looking her over. Something had changed. It was as if she’d been drained of life and was merely working on autopilot, drudging on through the day. He wanted to take her in his arms, to argue with her—anything to bring the life back into her eyes. He knew, though, that it wouldn’t work.

She was gone to him. Lost. Just as unreachable as his fallen friends.

At least that was what he told himself. Something within him, something deep down, buried in some unseen place, knew differently.

If there was anyone who could reach her, it would be him.

Hayley had spoken to him often of Abby. She had always thought the two would end up back together somewhere down the line—a love like theirs, she insisted, was never-ending. It would last an eternity, and forces would constantly be at work to push them back together. She had often tried to be that force herself.