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“Ya, right,” he shouted, forcing the machine to move faster and faster.
The world around me flew by in streaks of brilliant colors and my head became light. I rolled with the sensation, clinging to the handles, fighting gravity, enjoying how carefree I felt. Dizziness pooled in my stomach, but I didn’t want it to stop. I threw my head back with exaggerated force and my hair flew out around me, flying in the breeze. Through the whistling around me I heard my mother’s laughter, echoing my own. I was lost in the moment, frozen to a memory in time when my life was simple – far from worries – far from heart ache.
“Okay, you can stop it now,” I yelled, thinking for a minute he might keep the ride going to torture me. To my relief, he gripped the handle, running alongside, dragging his feet until it stopped. I was bursting with laughter and my eyes watered from the wind, but I felt so alive.
“That was awesome,” I said, catching my breath.
“You’re awesome,” Logan grinned. I started to stand, but my body swayed back and forth. I started to fall, still dizzy from the ride, or maybe it was my thoughts.
“I got you,” Logan said, grabbing me around the waist. Our eyes met with uncertainty. Our lips were so close, his breath sweet and minty. “You good?” he asked.
I started to answer but felt a buildup of emotions, so I threw caution to the wind and put my lips on his. Logan pulled me closer and kissed me. When he kissed me the first time, it repulsed me. He had been taking something greedily from me. When he kissed
me the second time, just before Brent showed up at the loft, it was confusing and emotional. This kiss was giving me something – warm and affectionate – using his mouth to show me how he felt about me. He grabbed a handful of my hair and held me firm and a low groan escaped his throat. I kissed him back, pressing my tongue firmly into his, reveling in the sensation of each tiny, minty, taste bud. He pulled away and drew my bottom lip into his mouth. Then the kiss was over.
“Sorry,” he breathed, looking like he had just been caught doing something wrong. I handled him like a child so often my heart squeezed, reminding me Logan was looking for the attention he missed growing up, as though he stalled somewhere in his toddler years.
“It’s okay,” I reassured him, placing a gentle peck on his swollen lips. “I didn’t say no, did I? Although I have to admit, my head’s not in the best place right now, Logan,” I confessed, kissing him once more on the cheek.
He smiled and let out a heavy breath. Logan and I understood each other on some higher level. It was something we shared and I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that.
“Come on, let’s swing,” I suggested and Logan followed.
We sat side by side on the swings and began talking. My feet dangled off the ground, contrary to Logan whose height allowed him to reach the ground. He rocked in the swing. I had to use my legs, pumping the swing to get it moving, which made him chuckle.
When I told him about Maggie, I could almost see the heavy burden leave his body, as though a crane latched onto the giant weight, pulling the load away, placing it far away from us. His amber eyes burned bright. “She really tried to help me, Claire, and I pushed her away. Then I found out what I did to her and it’s been eating at me. No matter why it happened, I was still responsible.”
In that moment I knew that there was only one Logan. He accepted no excuses for his bad behavior, finally winning his fight against the choleric, hurt bully that controlled him for too long.
“Well Logan, it seems you both have a second chance now,” I praised.
“Thanks to you,” he smiled pushing up until his legs were stiff and releasing the swing, lifting his feet off the ground. He pumped harder until the swing was high in the air.
I joined him, swinging so high I thought I might not be able to hang on during the upswing. It felt amazing, but escaping my troubled thoughts was short lived and my mind wandered to Brent. I kept remembering the look on his face as I walked out the door. It was torn between the sting of wanting to stop me, and rage toward Logan. He looked lost. The slow, creeping ache was starting in my legs and I knew the further I got from Brent, the sicker I was going to feel. I needed him emotionally and physically, but I refused to forgive him for his betrayal. He lied to me about something so meaningful and important, and had callously tossed Mandy and her feelings aside. I couldn’t wrap my brain or my heart around that. The Brent I knew could never be so dismissive of somebody’s feelings, but the reality was that I didn’t really know him at all.
Bull! You’ve known him your entire life. You know he would never intentionally hurt you. He tried to explain and you refused to listen.
I had refused to listen because it was my heart that wanted him to explain, but my brain knew what it heard. He lied to me and there was no explanation he could offer that allowed forgiveness for that lie. I could still feel his hands on my body exploring me the way they did the previous night. His scent still lingered on my skin with each sweep of air as the swing climbed and released. A few tears escaped my eyes. I stopped pumping the swing, fighting back sobs as it came to a slow stop. I wiped the tears away and noticed that Logan was watching me worriedly. He didn’t say anything and offered me a hand. I accepted, clasping his fingers in my own.
Logan helped me into his truck, and I looked toward the cemetery where I saw Mr. Shattuck again. He was clear as day and a look of concern brushed across his face. I heard him speak as though he was sitting next to me in the truck.
“Be careful, Claire. Go back, please. You need him,” he urged.
I opened the door to go to him but he was gone. What did that mean? Be careful with Logan, with Brent or with my life as a whole? Returning to Brent was not possible after what happened. I closed the door just as Logan got in.
“You okay?” he asked noting my tangled expression.
“Fine,” I muttered.
You are not fine, you are being careless, and you know leaving him is wrong. You should go back to him right now. I ignored my bossy subconscious. I was not ready to face him.
Logan didn’t push for more. He started the truck and continued the drive towards his uncle’s loft. Logan and I didn’t speak for a while. I assumed he was doing as much thinking as I was. We had been traveling on Route 2 for about twenty minutes when Logan broke the silence. “You hungry? There is an awesome breakfast place up ahead.”
“Breakfast?” I questioned. “It’s almost noon, Logan.”
“Late breakfast, then. The place is too good to pass up, Claire.”
“Sounds perfect,” I agreed, though I wasn’t sure if I could eat. My stomach was in knots.
