But as my high school graduation loomed on the horizon, his letters to me slowed and then halted altogether, and so did his phone calls. Mine to him remained unanswered. The day after graduation, I learned why.
Logan had gotten engaged.
He was going to be married.
The realization that I was still just a little girl in his eyes hit me hard. For weeks I felt completely wrecked, barely able to function. As summer wore on, and I crept closer and closer to eighteen, my heartache only worsened. I got up and went about my life, but I wasn't really living. I felt numb inside.
When I woke on my eighteenth birthday, reality came crashing down. Logan wasn't going to swoop in and sweep me off my feet. I'd spent two years waiting for something I would never have.
My heart hurt so badly I couldn't move.
I spent my birthday in bed, broken.
But life went on.
I moved to a dorm on campus.
August rolled into September and then into October and November. I hadn't heard anything from Logan or about Logan since Amy announced his engagement. I didn't want to hear from him or about him. My anger was stupid, because he'd never confessed to anything more than friendship for me, but I still felt betrayed. For months, he'd talked to me every week, and never once did he say a word about his soon-to-be wife, Alyssa.
I hated that I cared so much, that I'd expected something more of him even though he'd made me no promises. I hated that the person he'd revealed in his letters was not the real Logan, but that he was someone who'd never cared at all. I hated that I'd been so hung up on him that I'd made a crush into something it had never been and would never be. Everything I'd felt had just been me, stupidly falling for someone I could never have. Someone that probably hadn't wanted me in the first place.
That realization felt like knives plunging into me.
At Thanksgiving, Jon and Amy convinced me to return to Chatham with them for the holidays and I went, vowing I would not be that silly little girl where Logan was concerned any longer. But when December rolled into January, ushering in a new millennium, I couldn't help but feel broken yet again when he didn't appear.
I returned to Boston two days later, and threw myself into my schoolwork. For months, I exhausted myself with a heavy course load and nights spent working at a diner, trying to forget him.
I saw him there next.
At midnight toward the end of May, I was nearing the end of my last shift before summer vacation when the bell over the door jangled.
"Have a seat anywhere. I'll be with you in a minute," I said, without lifting my eyes from the till in front of me.
Feet shuffled and a metal stool screeched across the floor.
I quickly finished counting the drawer and then grabbed a menu before looking up.
My breath caught in my throat.
Messy blond hair, cool green eyes, and the same full lips I'd never been able to forget sat before me. The only difference was that Logan's customary smirk showed no signs of appearing any time soon. The cynicism and jaded edge that had always been so evident in his eyes was more present than ever, his expression grave. He looked like hell, as outwardly destroyed as I was inwardly.
"Hello, Hope," he said.
The same breathless feeling, the same tugging in my chest, the same racing heart I'd felt so long ago came rushing back in when he said my name. So did the hurt I'd felt almost daily for the last year.
"Logan," I answered coolly, plunking a menu down in front of him.
My hands shook when his fingers twitched toward mine.
My vision blurred.
"Excuse me." I pushed my way into the kitchen and sank back against the door, taking a deep breath.
"You okay?" Scott, the middle-aged cook, eyed me sideways.
"Fine," I said, and waved him off. I took several more deep breaths before gathering my waiting order and then stepping back out into the dining room.
Logan had his head bent over his menu, his shoulders slumped.
I tore my gaze away from his form, and delivered the steaming seafood platter to the only other customer in the place, a little old man working the crossword like his life depended on it. He didn't even look up as I sat the plate down in front of him.
Taking another breath, I made my way across the gleaming, tiled floor. I stopped in front of Logan. "Your order, sir?" I asked, my heart screaming for relief.
His gaze shot to mine as soon as I spoke. Shock clouded his vision, the same shock I'd seen when I'd landed against his chest in the kitchen so very long ago. "Hope, please don't–"
I cut him off before he could finish. "Our special tonight is herb grilled tilapia with broccoli and steamed rice. The soups are potato and vegetable. Are you ready to order or would you like another minute?"
"Dammit, Hope–" he started, reaching out his right hand.
I instantly envisioned his left hand with a wedding ring around his third finger.
"I'll give you another minute then," I muttered and tossed my writing pad down on the counter before fleeing. Tears clogged my throat, chasing me from the diner. I darted outside and around the building into the alley, drawing deep breaths and willing myself not to cry. I was caught, choked by the vision of a ring on his finger.
Within a matter of moments he stood in front of me, his expression savage, wounded.
"Why are you running from me?" he whispered.
"Go away." My voice shook and trembled. "Just go away!"
"I can't," he said, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Christ, I wish I could."
He wished he could go away?
"There's nothing keeping you here!" I yelled at him, hurt that he tortured me like this and didn't even want to be here.
"Isn't there?" he asked, those devastating and devastated eyes boring into mine beneath the floodlight installed to keep the alley safe for employees. He stepped closer and put his hand upon my cheek, brushing at the tears gathering on my lashes. "How old are you now, Hope?"
"It doesn't matter," I mumbled, refusing to say the word that would break my heart more completely than sixteen or seventeen ever had. I hadn't been in love with him then, but I was now. Stupidly, foolishly, hopelessly in love. "It's never going to matter."
"It matters to me," he said.
"No, it doesn't. You're engaged."
"Tell me you don't feel tingles anymore. Tell me I wasn't the one you were talking about at the bonfire. Tell me you weren't happy because I was there. Tell me you haven't been waiting for me since you were sixteen, and I'll go. I swear I will, just, please…tell me," he pleaded.
In that moment, I wanted to tell him he was wrong about all of those things. I wanted to tell him there were no tingles, that I hadn't wanted him to be my first kiss, and that I wasn't still a virgin because I couldn't imagine being with anyone other than him, but I couldn't say any of those things. The tingles were still there. I had wanted him to be my first kiss. And I was still a virgin because I couldn't stop thinking about him long enough to want anyone else.
I was eighteen, creeping closer to nineteen, and for two and a half years, he'd been the only person I could see clearly. Even when it shouldn't have been, there was only ever him and jaded, cool green eyes.
A sob broke from my throat, the culmination of two and a half years of hopelessness bubbling up and breaking free. When my knees sagged and tears started falling faster, Logan was there, grabbing me and crushing me to his chest, pleading with me not to cry.
"I hate you," I cried into his chest, unable to stop the tears once they started. "I hate you so much for not waiting for me like I waited for you."
He didn't argue with me as I raged at him through my tears, telling him that I hated him, that I would never forgive him for not waiting for me, for getting engaged to someone else, for ever making me fall for him in the first place.
When I finally ran out of steam, he wiped the remnants of my tears from my face, his own eyes red and no longer jaded and cynical, but as emotionally ravaged
as I felt.
"I can't marry her," he whispered.
"It doesn't matter," I said, shaking my head. I wouldn't hope. I couldn't take any more heartache when he sent me on my way again, untouched and waiting for the impossible.
"It does." His eyes flashed. "It matters to me."
"I waited for you, Logan. Every day, I waited for you."
"And I was never good enough for you!" He released me, scrubbing a hand down his face again. "I fell for a sixteen-year-old girl. I was a man, but I saw you and right and wrong stopped mattering. I haven't been able to forget you since that first day, in your kitchen. And then I hit that dick Santos and got expelled because he went after what he wanted, and I couldn't. I didn't really even care that he failed Paige when she said no. I was pissed because I couldn't have you, but he was asshole enough to try to seduce her! Do you know what it feels like to realize you're a hypocrite? You deserved better than that. You still deserve better than that."
"You think it was any better for me?" I asked, glaring up at him. "I tried to forget you, but you wouldn't let me. You came looking for me on the beach that night. You started writing to me. You called me first. And I fell in love with you, but it didn't matter because you got engaged to someone else! Do you know what that feels like, Logan? Do you know what that has felt like every day since then? To fall in love with someone, and have your heart broken because he chose someone else?"
"What was I supposed to do?" he groaned. "You were so excited about going to college and living life. You had all of these hopes and dreams, and you never once indicated that you wanted them to include me. I thought it was just me, that I was just a twisted asshole pining over a teenager!"
"So you just walked away and agreed to marry someone else?" I gritted my teeth. "I found out the day after graduation that you were engaged. I haven't been able to breathe since then, Logan. You ripped my heart out of my chest, and you weren't even decent enough to do it yourself. I had to find out the truth from Amy!"
"I was trying to give you a chance to live and have all of those experiences you raved about in your letters. I was trying… Dammit, I was trying to find a way to be good enough to ever deserve you!"
"You didn't give me a chance at life, Logan," I said. "You took it away from me. All I wanted, the only thing I ever wanted, was you, but you never asked me. You made the decision for both of us. You got engaged to someone else. You weren't trying to be good enough to deserve me; you were trying to prove to yourself that you would never be good enough."
Logan groaned and leaned his head back against the wall. "I love you, Hope. I've loved you for a long time, and I'm sorry. I am so sorry I messed up. Just…please let me fix it."
"It can't be fixed," I whispered, shaking my head. I wanted to promise him that it wasn't too late, but I couldn't. Everything in me hurt, and nothing he'd said had taken that ache away. He professed to love me, but he'd pledged himself to someone else without ever asking what I wanted. He'd ensured he would never feel good enough because wanting me made him feel like a twisted asshole.
How do you deal with hearing something like that?
"Go home, Logan," I said as he stared at me, looking as heartbroken as I felt. I knew his expression would haunt me for a long, long time, but I turned around and walked away on wooden legs anyway.
By the time I gathered my things and left the diner, Logan had vanished into the night. My heart broke a little further, but I refused to cry this time.
I returned to Chatham the next afternoon, emotionally wrung out and devastated all over again. For two weeks I sat around, trying to sort things out in my mind, but coming no closer to a resolution. I was angry, so angry at him for not waiting, for not even trying. I wanted to forgive him but I didn't know how. Mostly though, I wanted him to fight. I wanted him to ignore everything I'd yelled at him and come for me.
Three days later, I'd given up.
I was curled up on the porch swing, staring into space when Amy and Jonathan pulled up in her new Infinity. The car was the biggest car she'd ever driven, but still flashy. Jon sat in the passenger seat, glowering, while Amy spoke to him, waving her hands in the air. She looked pale.
He shrugged her off and hopped from the car before stomping in my direction.
"Did he ever touch you?" he demanded, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he pounded up the three steps to the porch. He glared down at me.
"What?" I blinked up at him.
"Did he ever touch you?" he asked again, his expression absolutely livid.
"Jonathan, what's this about?" I asked. "What are you talking about?"
"He's talking about my cousin," Amy answered for him, climbing the porch steps more slowly than Jon had. "Logan stopped by Mom's today to inform us that he'd called off his wedding. Apparently," she paused dramatically, "he's been in love with you for years―two and a half of them to be exact—and couldn't marry Alyssa."
"He…Oh," I finally said, not sure what else to say.
"Oh?" Jon asked. "Oh?"
Amy and I both cringed when his voice rose in volume.
"All you have to say is oh?"
"What do you want me to say, Jon?" I pushed my hair back off of my face and looked up into his eyes, too tired to fight with him.
"Son of a bitch," he growled, his face turning purple. "You're in love with him!"
"And?" I demanded.
"He's too old for you, Hope!"
"I'm almost nineteen years old. Logan is only twenty-two!"
It was amazing how insignificant those three and a half years sounded now compared to how hopeless it'd seemed at sixteen and twenty or seventeen and twenty-one. Even with the newly time-rendered insignificance of those numbers, being with him still felt as hopeless as ever though. More so, even.
"And he's been in love with you since you were sixteen!" Jon shot back. "I'm going to kill him."
"Don't you dare touch him," I growled, jumping to my feet. "Logan never once touched me, Jonathan. He got engaged to someone else and didn't even tell me! He didn't ask how I felt or what I wanted. He just made the decision to be with someone else. And he didn't even tell me he was in love with me until two weeks ago!" With that, the tears I hadn't shed since that night at the diner burst forth again.
I flung myself back down on the porch swing and sobbed.
No one said a word while I cried.
Eventually, the swing shifted and then Jon pulled me into his arms. "Please don't cry," he said. "I won't kill him, I promise! Just don't cry."
"I don't know what to do," I cried anyway. "I waited for him for so long and then he got engaged to someone else and now…." I sobbed again.
"Shh," Jonathan said, patting my back.
"I love him."
"Obviously," he sighed, sounding resigned.
I don't know how long we sat there, but it felt like I cried for hours while Jon tried to soothe me and Amy did God only knew what. Eventually though, the tears subsided.
I curled against my brother's chest like a little kid, my face buried in his neck. I'd soaked his shirt with my tears. I was too embarrassed by my outburst to open my eyes and face him or Amy, so we just continued to sit there, my head buried in Jonathan's shoulder while he patted my back in an attempt at comfort.
Neither of them said much. I was grateful for their silence because I had no clue how to answer the questions they were sure to have.
When a car pulled up and stopped on the road, the door opening and then closing, I sighed, knowing time was up and I had to start talking sooner or later. If the neighbors were home from work, we'd already been out here a lot longer than I'd known, and Mom would be home soon.
"How could he just decide to tie himself to someone else if he loved me, Jon? Am I really so awful he'd rather be with anyone but me?" I asked, my voice cracking again.
My brother didn't respond. Logan did. "Hope, no–"
Logan.
My heart somersaulted, not sure if it wanted to sing because he was here or shatte
r again. I buried my face deeper into my brother's chest, scared to look at Logan.
"Loving you has been the best thing that's ever happened to me. I was an idiot for not waiting for you, for not giving you a choice. I didn't know what to do," he whispered, his voice full of heat and apology. "I felt like you could do so much better than me, and I was so fucking scared you'd see that too and tell me I was a sick bastard for wanting you. And God, Hope, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
I shouldn't have been able to cry again so soon, but tears leaked from my eyes. I pushed myself up from Jon's chest and swiped at my face. Logan sat on his knees in front of me, with Amy standing behind him, her hands on his shoulders. His eyes were red, full of sorrow. Amy had tears in her eyes, too.
"Logan." His name came out as little more than a whisper, but God, he looked so wrecked on his knees before me. I couldn't stand it.
I flung myself off the swing into his embrace.
"It hurt so much," I said as he wrapped his arms around me and then pulled me onto his lap.
He buried his face in my hair and exhaled sharply.
"I waited for you for so long, Logan. For so long, and then you chose someone else. It hurt so much I couldn't breathe."
"I didn't choose her, sweet Hope," he whispered into my hair, holding onto me as if I were the only thing keeping him from falling apart. "There hasn't been another choice for me since I met you. Don't you see that, baby? You've been the only one I've been able to see since you tripped in the kitchen. Beyond all reason, I love you. I love you. Please give me a chance to make this right."
I was terrified that my heart would be broken again, but as he pleaded with me on his knees before my brother and his cousin, I knew I was more terrified of him walking away for good this time. Everything in me cowered from that possibility, begging and pleading with me to just let him try.
How could I not?
He took my face between his hands and looked me in the eye. A little of the heartache that had consumed me for so long eased. It eased further when he whispered that he loved me and only me. And when he finally gave me that kiss I'd been wanting for two and a half years, right there on his knees before me, my heart rejoiced.
What the Heart Wants: An Opposites Attract Anthology Page 24
