More Than Her

by McLean, Jay

  "You need to get him out of here." I told someone. Anyone. "And make sure he doesn't fucking come back. Ever."

  "Done." Dylan deadpanned. He dragged that asshole out of the house, Cam following behind him.

  And then I heard her.

  Her sobs took over the room, and when I looked at her, my stomach dropped to the floor. She was huddled in a corner, her knees up to her chest, her head in between them. Her arms were crossed over her head, shielding herself, as she rocked back and forth, crying.

  I moved closer to her. "Amanda," I tried to get out through the lump in my throat.

  Slowly, her head rose to look up at me, eyes red. She was about to say something, but then her eyes snapped to Ethan, who was still sitting on the floor. She let out a sob and slowly, she crawled over to him, crying harder as she got closer. She wiped her face with her forearm and moved to sit it front him. Then she saw the blood on his hand and made a noise as she looked away. He removed his shirt, covered his hand with it, and then whispered something to her. She looked back at him and broke down, falling into him, while he wrapped his arms around her, saying something in her ear. She slowly nodded her head. He picked her up off the floor, cradling her like a child, as they walked into her room and closed the door quietly behind them.

  I didn’t follow. I didn’t say a fucking word. Because in my mind, all I could think—is that it's my fault.

  It's all my fucking fault.

  "Fuck," I muttered under my breath, as something cold was placed on my hand. I looked down to see Lucy covering it with a bag of frozen peas. And then I remember everyone else was here.

  "You all good, man?" Jake patted my shoulder.

  I nodded, held the bag to my hand and sat on the sofa. "What the fuck just happened?"

  ***

  I don't know how much time passed before Dylan and Cam came back in the house. "One of his boys just picked him up," Dylan stated.

  "Yeah, you don't need to worry about him coming back either. D took care of it," Cam confirmed, taking a seat next to Lucy and putting his arm around her. She sank into him.

  My mind was still buzzing from the adrenalin, and the pain in my hand had started to throb. My head rolled to the back of the sofa as my good hand rubbed my eyes.

  I heard a door open and shut and whipped my head to the sound. Ethan came out of the hallway, shrugging on a new shirt. He stopped abruptly when he saw us all sitting around, waiting...I don't really know what for.

  "How’s your hand?" He asked, as he got closer.

  I glanced at his, "Not as bad as yours."

  He shrugged. "She uh, she wants to see you." He jerked his head to her bedroom.

  I took a deep breath in to calm myself. I don't know that I could see her. I don't think I'd have the right words to tell her how fucking sorry I was. For all of it. For being an asshole. For not calling her. For not being there. But mainly, for not being what she thought we could be. What she wanted us to be.

  "We're gonna head out." One of the guys said. I don't know who because I was already walking towards her room.

  I knocked lightly on her door and opened it. She lay in the middle of her bed, but slowly came to sit on the edge. I sat next to her, looking down at the floor.

  Then I felt her soft hands on mine, removing the frozen bag. I jerked it away.

  "Logan." It was barely a whisper.

  I cleared the lump in my throat. "There's still blood, you can't see it."

  "Whose?"

  "Huh?"

  "Whose blood is it?"

  "I don't know." I still couldn't face her.

  Silence.

  "Logan, what's wrong?"

  I shook my head.

  "Look at me, please?" she pled.

  So I did.

  And then we were just staring at each other, trying to understand what this was. Where this left us. She looked at me so intently, her eyes boring into mine, that I think I forgot to breathe. I dropped my head again, too uncomfortable to hold her gaze.

  "I'm sorry," she said.

  I let out the breath. "What?"

  "Your hand..."

  My mind was too filled with guilt for thoughts to make sense.

  I felt her move closer to me. My head lifted to face her. She was biting her lip, watching me.

  "It's my fault," I told her. Truth.

  She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. Please? I want it to be done."

  I raised my good hand and held the side of her face, she leaned into it. I wiped her tears with my thumb. "Did he hurt you?"

  She closed her eyes softly. "Honestly?" When she opened them, they were focused on me.

  I nodded.

  She covered my hand with hers and held it closer to her face. "Not as much as you did. But it's done. It's over."

  She laid back down, her head on my lap. I started running my fingers through her hair.

  We were silent for so long that eventually her breathing evened out. She'd fallen asleep. I tried not to disturb her as I moved from under her, but she woke. Her arms went around me, holding me onto her.

  "I just need some water," I lifted my hand, "and aspirin. You want anything?"

  She shook her head as she got more comfortable under the covers. "Come back, okay?"

  ***

  When I got back to her room, she was sitting up, the covers bunched at her waist. "You took your time."

  "Sorry." I stood at the foot of her bed, not sure what to do.

  She lifted the covers on one side. "Are you coming in?"

  I unbuckled my belt and started to take my jeans off. I noticed her watching me. I kicked them off and removed my shirt. Not wanting to see her reaction, I quickly got into her bed, and turned off the lamp.

  We were lying side by side, not talking, not touching.

  Then I felt her move to her side. "Why didn't you call?" she whispered, sadness consumed in her tone.

  I turned to face here. A single tear fell from her eyes. I wanted to reach out and take away her pain. But I don't. I just lay there, trying to ignore the ache in my chest. "I promise, I'll tell you. But not tonight, okay?"

  She nodded as she moved closer. I wrapped my arms around her, holding her head to my chest. Her arm went around my waist while her legs tangled with mine. We were as close as we could possibly be.

  And for the first time in days—being with her—like this—holding her—I finally felt like I could breathe again.

  TWENTY SIX

  Amanda

  I woke up the next morning to Logan's phone alarm going off, then his deep rumble from underneath me. My head was on his chest, our legs tangled and his arms around me.

  His hand was gentle in my hair as he pulled back from me. Then we were face to face.

  He smiled. "God, Amanda. I'd be the luckiest asshole in world if I got to wake up like this, with you in my arms, every goddamn day." He kissed my forehead, and my eyes fell shut.

  When he pulled back he just looked at me. "I need you to forgive me," he breathed out, both hands on my face. I don't know if he was asking or telling, or if he was even talking to me. It was like a thought in his head that had to be voiced.

  I opened my mouth to speak but he interrupted. "Don't say anything. I need to show you something," he said, his eyes moving all over my face. "Can I show you something, please? Ethan and I are going to see the team doc, but after that, will you...let me take you somewhere?

  I nodded slowly.

  "Okay," he said, taking my hand and kissing my wrist.

  Logan

  I told Ethan it was me that summer—the one that she broke up with Tyson for. I told him in the car on the way to the field and he didn't say shit. But now we were here, outside of the car, standing face to face. I could see he wanted to hit me. I'd take it. I'd take whatever beating he gave me.

  He glared, squaring his shoulders.

  I did the same.

  "I kind of want to pun
ch you," he said.

  I nodded.

  "Why did you even tell me?"

  "Because I wanted to. And because you needed to know. So that when I asked you—no—told you—that I couldn't not be with her—then at least you'd know the truth."

  "Fine," he muttered.

  And that was that.

  Amanda

  He drove to a strip of stores near campus and parked on the side of the road. I got out and made it two steps before I felt his hand on mine, linking our fingers.

  "So, have you checked out this area much? The stores and stuff?" he asked, his hand squeezing a little tighter.

  I shook my head. "Not really. It's kind of hard with the one car."

  "Good." He stopped in the middle of the footpath, and then moved us to the side so we were out of people’s way. "I want to show you something. If that's okay?"

  I nodded.

  His grip on my hand got tighter as he led me down a few streets and into a sketchy alleyway. It was a dead end with no signs and barely any stores.

  "Are you going to murder me?" I asked, only half joking.

  He chuckled, pulling me to the end of the alley, and into a doorway.

  When we walked inside, I froze.

  I looked up at Logan who was smiling at me.

  "Smell it," he deadpanned.

  So I did.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in.

  It's that familiar smell of books that I loved so much.

  "How did you find this place?"

  I wanted to ask him how he remembered, but he's made it clear he remembers a lot from that night.

  "I'll tell you later," he said. But I'd already tuned him out as I looked around. It was shelves upon shelves of books, magazines, comics, everything. He squeezed my hand to get my attention. "There's a coffee spot hidden in the corner there," he pointed, but all I could see were shelves of books. "Go play." He smiled at me. "I'll be waiting."

  So I did.

  Like a frickin kid in a candy store I walked down the aisles, as slow as I could, taking everything in.

  I had a handful of books before I got to where he was sitting, drinking a coffee, head in a biology textbook.

  I dropped the books on the table, causing him to look up. He saw my pile and smiled up at me. "That was quick."

  "That was two aisles, Logan. I'll be back."

  No shit—two hours later—I ordered a drink and sat at the table with him, with a basket full of books I couldn’t afford and a huge goofy grin on my face.

  He stared at me, smiling.

  "What?" I asked, staring back.

  "Nothing." He shook his head, licking his lips. We couldn't take our eyes off each other.

  The barista brought over my drink, smiling like the Cheshire cat. I didn't know why. Then she looked over at Logan. "So this is her?" she said.

  Logan smiled and nodded once.

  "Hi Amanda," she said to me, her hand out waiting.

  I shook it, confused. I looked from her to Logan and back again.

  "I've waited a long time to meet you." She giggled to herself before walking away.

  "What was that about?" I looked at Logan, bug eyed. "How does she know me? What does she mean about waiting?"

  He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it almost instantly.

  "What?" I asked again.

  "You're going to think I'm the worlds biggest creeper." He laughed to himself, shaking his head.

  I laughed, too. "I won't. Promise. Tell me."

  "Okay," he said, leaning forward in his chair a little. He blew out a breath. "I hadn't forgotten you, Amanda. Some stuff happened after our date, but I never forgot you. I wanted to see you. I wanted to speak to you. To apologize or whatever. But then I saw you at that bonfire party, and you were with that guy and I just couldn't. I figured that you'd moved on, or didn't care—"

  I wanted to interrupt him but he put his hand up to stop me. "Just let me finish, please. I need to get this out."

  "Okay,"

  "I knew you were coming here, well, I thought you were. So I looked up all the places where I thought I might run into you. I went to all the cafes and diners you might be working. Basically, anywhere I thought you might be." He paused. "See? I told you you'd think I was a creeper."

  I stayed silent, afraid of what he might be saying. For the year and I half I tried to forget him, he did everything he could to try not to remember.

  "Finally," he continued, "I started scoping out book stores, because I knew how much you loved them. It wasn't so bad, there are only four around this area, but when I came into this one. I just—I don't know. I just felt like it was you. I just felt this connection with you the minute I walked in. And I know it sounds stupid, like one night together could give me that feeling—that pull feeling—but it did. And so every chance I got, I came here. Eventually, Chantal—the owner," he nodded his head to the woman behind the coffee machine, who was still smiling at me, "she asked me to leave. She said that if I wasn't buying anything and was just coming in for the coffee, then I should go sit at a coffee shop. Honestly though, I think I just creeped her out—the way my head would whip up every time I heard someone walk in. Or the way I'd just sit here for hours. Hours, Amanda. I'd sit here for fucking hours and just think about you."

  I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat. I knew I was two seconds away from crying and when I did, it would be worth every single fucking tear.

  "So I told her," he said. "I told her everything. I told her all about you. About our date. And about how I fucked it up. I told her that I came here all the time because I was just hoping that one day, the girl of my dreams was going to walk through those doors and forgive me for being an asshole. That you we're going to come in and tell me that it was okay. That you'd give me another chance to make it right. Because I needed that. I needed you. And I sat here, in this exact chair, for hours, and poured my heart out to her. Because no one else would get it, Amanda. No one else would understand how one fucking night with a virtual stranger changed me. How I never wanted to be close to anybody my entire life. Not until I met you."

  I knew the tears were flowing, I could feel the wetness on my face but I couldn't move a muscle. I couldn't breathe through the ache in my heart. And I still couldn't tear my eyes away from his.

  "How long?" I asked him.

  "What?"

  "How long were you coming in here, waiting for me to show up?"

  "Every day until the day I saw you at the library."

  TWENTY SEVEN

  Logan

  She didn't speak to me the rest of the day, or night. She hadn’t even spoken to me at all since we left the bookstore. Chantal—the owner of the store, gave me this sad, pathetic smile when we left. That was yesterday.

  The team doc said that I had to rest my hand for a few days, so when Nathan called to tell me he was back from whatever business he had to attend out of town—I figured it was the perfect opportunity for me to go and see him.

  I opened the bedroom door and practically walked into her. She was lugging a huge gear bag behind her. It looked heavy as hell. I stepped forward and took it from her hands. She resisted, but only for a second. "Where do you want it?"

  She laughed. "The bus stop." It came out as a question.

  "What?" I chuckled. "Where the hell are you going with this thing?"

  "Uh." She hesitated for a second, "Home."

  She's leaving? "What? Why?" I rushed out. I don't want her to leave. If anyone was moving out it was me.

  My emotion must've been evident because her eyes widened slightly, "No, Logan. Just uh, just for the night."

  "Oh." My shoulders relaxed. Then a grin took over my face.

  An hour later she was in the passenger seat, and we were driving home. It was awkward. She was on her phone, a concentrated look on her face. She wore those short denim cut offs she always wore. My eyes kept drifting to her legs. I couldn’t h
elp it. They're that fucking amazing.

  Without warning, a crack of thunder sounded and rain started bucketing down. She sat up, putting the phone away.

  "You want me to pull over?"

  "Um, no. You don't have to. I'm sure you have things you need to do at home."

  I pulled the car over on the side of the road. You could barely see anything around. Her knee started bouncing, most likely from nerves. She bit her thumb, looking around.

  I leaned over to adjust her seat to laying position; we may as well get comfortable. She tensed when my body covered hers. When she was settled, I did the same with mine.

  Then we lay there, on our sides, in silence, facing each other.

  "It's funny," she whispered, loud enough to hear over the sound of the rain pounding against the metal. "It's like we're in our own little bubble."

  She closed her eyes, her lips trembling.

  She was afraid.

  My hand reached out and touched the side of her face. She leaned into it, her eyes still closed.

  "Logan," she whispered, quieter this time.

  She opened her eyes.

  Then I felt it—that ache in my chest—but it was different this time.

  And this—this is the moment.

  The moment I let myself fall completely in love with her.

  I let out all the air in my lungs, "I didn't call you because I thought I was in love with Mikayla."

  "What?" she squeaked out, sitting up a little.

  I swallowed. My heart thud against my chest. This could make or break us.

  I knew I could lose her forever.

  I shifted and lay on my back. My arm covered my eyes. I couldn't watch her face when I told her the reason why she had to experience all that pain. All the pain I caused.

  So I told her.

  I told her about running into Micky at the store on the way to see her. I told her about the pregnancy scare and taking her to see Dad. I told her about the next day, when I was so fucking excited to see her, but when I opened the door to leave, Micky was there. I told her how she cried about missing her family. About how I held her as she did. I even told her the exact moment I thought I felt something.