Page 61 of Knowing Amelia

He doesn’t say more or let go of my hand. He walks me to the passenger side of his truck and opens the door for me. I hop inside, still not trusting myself to speak.

A peaceful quiet falls over the cab as we start for home. Home. Home to Amelia’s house. My house. My life has shifted a whole lot in such a short time.

“So,” I say, breaking the silence. “You’re an artist and a mechanic.” I can’t seem to get enough Logan. I need to know everything. And seeing how I’m on a time limit—summer will come to an end, and I’ll have to go back to L.A. at some point—I don’t want to bask in silence. Peaceful or not.

“No.” He keeps his eyes on the road. “I studied art. I’m not an artist.”

“The framed chalk work in your house isn’t yours?”

“Nope.”

I conjure those pieces in my mind. “I didn’t see a signature and I thought⁠—”

“Amelia gave me those.”

“Really?” I turn in the cab, facing him, my heart pattering uncomfortably. “Amelia?”

“Yeah. They were hers. She gave them to me for graduation. She knew I planned to study art in Alaska and thought I might like them.”

She gave Logan a graduation gift. I sent her an announcement, even when Dad told me not to. But I never heard from her. Not even a phone call. Jealousy creeps through all those sweet Logan feelings and crams its way into my heart and head. It’s stupid—I’m letting this little gift, after she’s given me her house, make me feel small.

“What is it?” Logan darts a glance at me.

I try to smile. “Nothing.” I lie, and the silence returns—only this time, there’s no peace to it.

We pull in front of his house without any more conversation. It isn’t fair of me to feel this way.

Logan pulls Gary from the back of the truck and leans him against the house. “It’ll be safe here,” he says. Then he takes the coolers out and sets the one he’d brought for me on Amelia’s porch. Together, we retrieve my thrift store and clothing bags, taking them inside. I start with the groceries while Logan retrieves the cooler from the porch. He simply sets the thing down next to the fridge and turns for the door.

I shut my eyes. I cannot control or help how Amelia made me feel in the past, but I also won’t let it affect my actions today. “Logan, wait. Please.”

He faces me, one hand in his pocket.

“I’m sorry. I was grumpy and rude.” I pull in a breath. “Amelia never gave me a gift—birthdays, Christmas, graduation—nothing, until this house. And… I was jealous.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m the one who’s sorry. And truly, I’m glad she had you. I just—I’ve never understood her. I don’t understand why she wouldn’t want to know me. I was the only one of my siblings to invite her to my graduation. My dad said, ‘Why bother?’ but I insisted. I wanted her to know me.” I exhale a trembling breath. “I wanted her to come, or to call, or to send a note. Anything. But she didn’t. It’s dumb, because we didn’t have⁠—”