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And then there is Logan.
A fresh wave of tears hit at the thought of him.
I hate him.
I hate him!
Or at least, that's what I keep telling myself.
I hate his arrogance, his stupid charm, his blissful ignorance.
But I can't stay away from him.
UGH.
His smile, his laugh, the way he looks at me with those intense eyes, as if I'm the only one who matters.
Yeah right.
The only one that matters?
To Logan Atwood?
The only one that matters to Logan Atwood is Logan Atwood.
It is so confusing to me. And it fucking scares me.
I bury my face in my pillow, hoping to drown out my cries, but they persist. I wrap my arms around myself, feeling a profound loneliness creep in.
Not this feeling again.
I hate this feeling.
The whirlwind of emotions and thoughts brings back a memory I've worked hard to suppress.
I remember coming home, the house silent. The usual sound of my dad's laughter through the hallways replaced with a deafening silence.
The emptiness hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I remember walking into the living room and finding my mom, her face a mask of grief, tears streaming down her face.
The words she uttered felt like a punch to my gut.
Your dad... He's gone.
I remember collapsing onto the floor, my knees buckling under the weight of the news. The pain was intense, a sharp knife twisting in my chest. I let out a scream, a raw, primal sound of despair. The loneliness was overwhelming, a feeling of isolation.
The memory hits me with an unbearable force, taking me back to that moment of loneliness. My sobs grow deeper.
Soft rapping on the door snaps me out of my misery for a moment.
"Bailey?"
It's Rachel.
"Can I come in?" Her voice is soft. I don't respond, but the door creaks open anyway and she walks in, her eyes widening at my disheveled state. She walks over to the bed and sits down, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. Her presence is a calming, a small comfort in the face of overwhelming despair.
"I feel so... hopeless, Rachel," I confess, my words muffled by the pillow. "Logan, he stole my client. My client!" The words spill out with bitterness and anger. "And I'm scared... scared that I'm gonna lose the promotion to him, or someone else."
Rachel's arm, draped over my shoulders, tightens in a comforting squeeze. "Hey, listen to me, Bayles... It's not over until it's over. You are one of the most talented people I know, and you've worked damn hard for this promotion. Don't let one setback convince you that you're a failure, because you're not."
