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That’s what I was afraid of.
Logan pauses, but I stay silent, giving him a chance to continue, and when he does, a small smile appears.
“He taught himself in college to impress my mom. He first saw her at an open mic night freshman year and said she was drooling over a guitarist.” He rolls his eyes with a soft laugh. “I hated that story when I was younger. It was always too sappy for me. But now, I realize he must have loved her from day one. They say love makes you do crazy things.”
“I have heard that, yes.”
“Anyway, he used to play for me before bed, and one day I asked to learn. The rest is history.”
A small smile pulls at my lips as I picture a junior version of Logan learning guitar. “I love that story, even the sappy part about your mom. But how do you feel about playing now? You don’t have to. I’m just curious.”
“I’m completely torn. The idea of a single strum makes me feel sick, but then I look into your eyes, and I want to play you every single note.”
I suck in a breath as my heart flutters. The intensity of his gaze gives me goose bumps while heat runs through me, a contradiction I didn’t think was possible.
“It doesn’t have to be today,” I say, not wanting to do anything that adds to his heartache.
“Doesn’t it?” Logan says, his brows furrowed as he considers my words. “Because I kind of feel like it does. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?”
Chapter Twenty
Dani
MychesttightensasI take in his words. I’ve been where he is right now, and I felt the same way.For years.I was constantly stuck between wanting to do everything at once for fear of never getting the chance, and deciding not to do a thing at all because…what’s the point?
Hearing him say that now takes me back to that place, and it’s not a pretty place to be.
“It’s so fucking strange,” Logan says, cutting off my thoughts. “I know he’s gone; I’m not in denial about that. But I keep having these moments where my mind tricks me into truly believing it’s two days ago, and I’ve still got the chance to talk to him. To clear the air.”
I swallow a lump in my throat as butterflies swarm my chest. “You can still clear the air; talk to him. Even if he’s not here.”
Logan shakes his head. “It’s not the same.” Putting the guitar down, he runs his hand over his face and huffs. “It will never be the same.”
My heart continues to break for him, piece by piece, as I reach out to touch his leg. “No, it won’t be, but I promise you, it gets better. Mostly. That or you learn how to live with it.” I shrug. “Either way, you can’t rush it. You just need to take things a day at a time.”
“I have no idea how to do that. But I do know that you’ve helped with today.” A lopsided smile plays at his lips, though it’s definitely forced. I may have managed to distract him from his pain, but it’s slowly seeping back in as we speak.
“I’m glad. I—” Logan’s phone vibrates on the counter, cutting into my words, and while my eyes flash to the device, he doesn’t move.
“You should get that. It’s probably your mom.”
“Or Summer. But it’s fine. I can call them back.”
“I’ve gotta go to the bathroom, anyway. Call them.”
I walk away without letting him argue and take my time.
I’ve just finished washing my hands when something on the tiles catches the light. A piece of glass. My thoughts immediately go to the water I felt on the floor last night when I’d held Logan. He must have dropped a glass. Or smashed it. Both options have my stomach twisted in knots. He was a mess, and now he’s not, but I can see hints of it. Have I helped? Or am I just masking a pain that will hit him as soon as I leave? I should go. He needs time to grieve. He needs to see his mom. To see Summer.
I rush out of the bathroom but stop when I reach the doorway leading to the living space, staring as Logan finishes up on the phone, facing away from me.
“I’ll say hi. Thanks, Summer. Bye.”
He hangs up and immediately turns my way, either sensing that I’m here or seeking me out.
“Summer says hi.”
“Hi, Summer.” I wave and Logan softly laughs, closing the space between us. His hand reaches out but drops before it makes contact as though he’s holding off from touching me. “My mom didn’t answer,” he says with a shrug. “But don’t worry. I messaged her.”
