Can't Let Go(26)

“Doing what?” he asked, confused. It was clear to him that Abby was a bit tipsy.

“Popping up. It’s really quite annoying.” He laughed then, shrugging his shoulders casually. “Sit down, have a drink!”

“I don’t think…”

“No, Logan. That’s exactly right. Don’t think. We’re not thinking anymore today.” She called for the bartender—a younger guy, probably putting himself through college—and ordered a shot of whiskey for Logan. “I know you don’t really like whiskey, but I’m afraid you need to catch up. I’m already way ahead of you.”

“I really think—” But she didn’t let him finish, reaching up and touching her finger to his lips.

“Shh. No thinking.” The bartender returned, placing the shot of golden liquid in front of him. He stared at it for a long moment before reaching out and tossing the glass back. His throat burned as it went down, spreading through his chest. “Another!” Abby squealed, clapping her hands as she laughed.

She was radiant again, spilling over with life. She’d let go of all of her inhibitions. She’d forgotten about all of the baggage she was carrying around.

She was free.

It was hard to deny Abby under normal circumstances—but seeing her now, as he’d remembered her being, she was impossible to say no to. And so he did shot after shot, taking orders from her—laughing with her, enjoying himself.

“Mr. Bartender, Sir—we would like a shot of your finest tequila,” Abby ordered, a devilish grin on her face. She wiggled her eyebrows at him as she unbuttoned the top few buttons of her white top. “Remember this?” She questioned, and he watched as she leaned forward and picked up a moistened napkin from the bar and then brought it back to the exposed flesh at the line just above her tank top. She then sprinkled some salt on her fingers and dabbed it on, scooting herself closer to him. When the lemon arrived, she placed it between her lips.

It was something they had done often when Logan had worked at the bar.

He was hesitant, unsure of what to do with himself. He knew there was a reason why he wasn’t supposed to do this, but he couldn’t quite remember what it was.

And so he gave in, leaning over and placing his mouth on her warm skin, tasting the salt. He then picked up the glass and poured it back before leaning forward, touching his hand to her chin.

Just before their lips met, Abby dropped the lemon, as she’d always used to do.

And then, finally, the moment they finally came together, it was as if something had erupted. A sudden passion, laying dormant and unbidden, stirred to life deep inside them. It shocked them out of whatever drunken stupor they’d gotten themselves into and Abby pulled back, stunned as she reached up to touch her lips. And then she reached over and touched his, wondering if he felt it too.

“You still willing to share that room of yours, Mr. Sheppard?” she asked, holding his eyes.

“Have you changed your mind?” She wasn’t sure what he was asking her about, but all she could do was nod. “Should we go now then?” She nodded again, reaching into her purse and grabbing several bills. She tossed them to the counter and reached down to grab her bag—only to find that Logan already held it. “Right this way,” he held out his arm, guiding her in the right direction.

The hotel was only just across the way, but they were required to take a shuttle to get there. Abby bubbled on nervously at his side as they approached his room, wishing she could still feel the effects of the alcohol. “You know, I think you were a much better bartender.”

“Really now?” She nodded emphatically as he unlocked the door.

“I think his drinks were a little bit on the weak side.” Logan chuckled, nodding his head. “Although, I must admit that was one powerful shot of tequila.” They stood just outside the door then, Abby looking up at him, her lips still full from his earlier kiss.

And he couldn’t resist.

He bowed his head, touching his lips to hers. She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and guiding them backward into the room. She didn’t even flinch as the heavy door swung shut behind them.

There was an impulsive need that swept through them as they crashed into each other. It was a hunger that had been denied for far too long and their bodies cried out, the need undeniable now. Abby didn’t think about the consequences of her actions. She didn’t think about Eric or her father. She couldn’t think of anything but Logan.

And Logan met her fervor, guiding her toward the bed. They fumbled with each others clothing until both were freed from their constraints. And then they tumbled into the bed, Abby whispering his name over and over again.

It was heaven. Nothing but pure heaven.

And it was never-ending—their hunger starved for so long, they divulged themselves, taking their fill, reveling in the sweetness of the moment.





Chapter Nine





Her head swam slightly as she woke, unsure of her surroundings at first. Abby felt the arm around her body and recognized the sensation of tranquility as one she hadn’t experienced in quite some time. The feeling of wholeness inside her was incredible.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so complete.

But as the events of the night began to unfold in her mind, she felt her body freeze up. No, she thought, opening her eyes and looking around. She was sprawled across Logan’s bare chest. He slept soundly, a look of contentment on his face.

Panic rushed through her as she racked her brain, trying to decide what she should do.

The list of obligations flashed through her mind. The promises she’d made. The people who’d come to expect certain things from her. She caught a glimpse of the heavy engagement ring on her finger, guilt flooding through her.

She wasn’t this kind of girl. She wasn’t the type of girl to cheat on her fiancé—she wasn’t the kind of girl who bowed out on responsibility and who broke her promises.

She looked down at Logan, her heart aching.

She loved him. She couldn’t deny it.

Abby rose to her feet, holding a sheet wrapped around her. She walked quietly around the room, trying to calm the racket in her mind.

There was a roll of paper spread out across the desk that she had failed to notice the night before and she crossed over to it, looking it over.

And she gasped as she suddenly realized what it was.

A distant memory of a past conversation entered her mind as she remembered describing her perfect house to Logan years ago. It would have lots of balconies and porches, she had claimed—lots of windows. She wanted to be able to smell lilacs no matter where she went. And there would be at least four bedrooms—one for them, and one for each of the children they would have. She’d wanted a library, too—just a small one, something to put all of her books in.

The roll of paper contained the blueprints for that home. Tears flooded her eyes as she reached out and touched the small cove in the master bedroom that he’d labeled ‘Library’.

It was sudden, the realization she came to as she looked back at him.

She didn’t deserve him.

He’d remained loyal to her—he’d loved her enough not to let go. And what had she done? She glanced down at the ring. She’d given up.

Abby stood still, taking him in for a long moment. After, she wandered around the room, gathering her clothes and dressing quickly. She avoided looking at him, knowing it would only cause her pain.

A pad of paper sat on the nightstand and she picked it up, staring at it for several long moments, wondering what to say. And then it came to her—one simple, heartbreaking phrase. I’m sorry.

But as she wrote the words, something inside her told her that she was lying to herself. Something told her she was acting out of fear, but she couldn’t stop herself. The tears continued to spill over as she returned to the airport, the shuttle ride short but excruciating, but she couldn’t turn back.

She asked for the first flight out—not caring where she went, so long as she was away from him. She knew that, if he found her right now—she wouldn’t be able to turn away. She couldn’t say goodbye to him—not again. Her heart couldn’t take it.

And so she boarded the first flight heading west. She climbed aboard the plane and stared straight ahead, unwilling to chance even just a glimpse.

If she had, she would have seen Logan standing at the window of the terminal, his heart broken, his hopes lost. She would have seen him fall into a chair and hang his head in his hands, empty—just as she had been all those years ago when she’d woken to find the same note.

But Abby didn’t look. She stared straight ahead the entire flight to Phoenix, an emptiness filling her that she knew she would never be able to part from.

Because the place deep down inside her that imagined a future with Logan—that recognized the love they had—that place was barren now. And it was no longer his fault—it was hers. It was all on Abby.