Can't Let Go (10 page)

But he always chickened out at the last minute.  He would catch site of her hair and he would feel his heart rate quicken—and then he would turn away.  It was torture, being so close—but still knowing exactly how far away he really was. 

Abigail Lewis had grown up to be an amazing woman.  There was no doubting that. 

And he’d walked away from her. 

~*~

Abby sighed as she exited the funeral home, hugging herself slightly.  She still couldn’t believe that she’d broken down like that in front of Logan.  What had she been thinking?  If there was anyone in the world that she didn’t want to show weakness around, it was him. 

It only complicated things that he was the only person she actually felt she could turn to.  Who else would understand?

Certainly not her father.
  He was torn between loyalties. 

Her fiancé?
  He hadn’t even liked her friends.  

What other friends did she have? 
Nobody who would understand the gravity of what had just happened.
 

She heard the door open behind her and she turned, immediately regretting it.  Her head spun and she reached out for the porch column to steady herself.  “Whoa, you okay?”

“Just a little lightheaded,”
  Abby
responded, shaking her head.  “It’s nothing.”  But of course, he wouldn’t believe her.

“When was the last time you ate something, Abby?”  She paused for a moment, thinking back.  She faintly remembered picking at a salad on the plane.  “If you have to think that hard, it’s been too long.”

“I’ll just grab something—”

“No, you won’t, Abby.  You’ll go back to your room and you’ll throw yourself into something else that needs to be taken care of and you’ll forget all about
you
.”  He found her eyes through the tinted glass.  “I want to sit across from you and make sure you get something in your stomach.”

He was right.  She couldn’t believe she’d gone so long without so much as even thinking about food.  With a reluctant sigh, she gave in, following him to his truck.  He navigated the area like a pro and she wondered how much time he had actually spent here.  It’d never really occurred to her to ask Hayley. 

It was a small diner.  The two received a few looks as they walked in, the small bell above the door jingling their arrival.  Logan led the way, taking her to a small booth in the back.  “I suggest the stew.  It’s pretty phenomenal.” 

“I take it you’ve been here before?” 

“A few times,”
  he
nodded, picking up a menu and browsing through it.  She followed his example, looking through the various options.  When the waitress came to take their order, Abby took Logan’s advice and ordered beef stew.  He couldn’t help the smile that splashed across his lips as he heard her place the order.  “You’ll love it.  I promise.” 

“I am actually feeling pretty famished.”  As if on cue, her stomach grumbled loudly. 

“I believe it.”  He took a drink of the coffee in front of him.  “I remember many a night when you would’ve been happy enough just to keep on working on whatever paper you had due unless I reminded you that, every once and awhile, you needed to take a break for food.”  A wave of sadness passed through her at the memory.

“There were quite a few of those nights,”
  she
agreed with a nod, her tone downcast.  The two grew quiet for a long moment before Logan finally sighed.

“You know what, Abby?”  And she looked up, startled.  “I’m afraid this is something that I have to do.”  He lifted himself slightly and began to lean in her direction.  Abby, confused, pulled back slightly.  Logan only chuckled before he reached out and lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head, as he’d done the day before in the cemetery.  “That’s much better.”

She was certain it wasn’t.  She could feel the puffiness of her eyes and she knew she must look a mess.  She hadn’t even worn any makeup.  “Better for
who
?”  She questioned, staring at the tabletop.  Her ring glittered in the sunlight and she glanced up quickly as she went to remove her hand. 

But she was too late, she realized, as she saw his eyes roam across the patterns of light.  “That’s quite a rock you’ve got there.”  Abby only nodded.  “It’s not the first time I’ve noticed it, Abby.”  He sighed, leaning back into the soft cushioning of the bench.  “Want to talk about it?”

“Do you want to hear about it?”  Logan’s only response was a shrug.  Abby squared her shoulders, pulling herself back slightly.  “His name is Eric.  We’ve been together for about four years now.”  Logan
nodded,
his expression unreadable. 

“And the wedding?”

“Three months.”  He nodded, taking another drink of coffee.  If someone had told her three days ago that she would be sitting in a diner with Logan Sheppard talking about the future of her current relationship, she would have laughed in their face.  “He’s a lawyer.”  It was such an awkward conversation to be having.

“And I assume your dad approves?”  There was a hint of resentment in his tone and Abby looked up, meeting his eyes. 

“He does.  But you should know that if I really loved him, it wouldn’t make a single bit of difference if he did or not.” 

A moment passed between them then.  Each knew that her comment was a reference to the past—an allusion to what could have been.  It was the closest she could bring herself to acknowledging their former life.  Logan’s eyes instantly clouded over and she wondered what he was thinking about. 

“Abby—”

“What about you?”  She interrupted, breaking the gaze and taking a drink of her own coffee, trying not to cringe at the taste. 

She knew that he was about to bring up their past.  She knew that he was going to make some sort of effort to convince her about why they wouldn’t have worked.  But she couldn’t hear it—and more importantly, she didn’t
want
to.  Abby had already been over all of the reasons.  It had taken her some time to come to terms with what was, and she was definitely in no position to rehash all of that.  Not now, and especially not with him.

He seemed thrown off by her question for just the briefest moment, but finally, he responded, shaking his head.  “No—I’m starting to think that marriage isn’t in the cards for me.”

“You always were a tough one to tie down.”

“Yeah, but you figured it out.”  He looked up, trying to find her eyes again.  But she refused, her eyes now trained on something on the other side of the window they sat beside.

“Not quite.”  Her voice was so soft, he barely heard her, and Logan felt a fresh lashing of sorrow across his heart.  If only she knew.

She fell quiet again and Logan could tell she was lost in thought.  He longed to know what it was she was thinking about.  He could guess, of course, based on the topic of their conversation.  But he wished he could ask.  He wished she would tell him.

The waitress arrived a few moments later with their food and Abby turned, offering a very small smile in her direction—out of politeness.  She’d always been a polite sort of girl.  He watched as she took the first bite, closing her eyes.  Her expression relaxed and Logan knew she was enjoying it.  

“We should make some picture-boards.  You
know,
collages or something.”  Her voice startled him several minutes later and he looked up, catching her eyes for a brief moment before she glanced away.  Even without the sunglasses, she was shielding herself from him.  “It just seems like—with all of the photos they took—”

“No, it’s a really good idea.  If you want, I can swing back by and grab some of them.”

“Maybe I’ll call Eric and see if he can overnight some of mine out this way.  They won’t make it here in time for the viewing, but the funeral…”  Her voice caught in her throat for a moment.  Logan only nodded, averting
his
eyes this time, and Abby felt just a bit guilty for mentioning Eric once again.  “I can put them together—”

“I can help—”

“No, no—it’s fine.  Really—I want to do it.”  Images ran through her mind from her friendship with Hayley—countless memories.  She was trying to remember which were actually caught on film.  “Do you have any of you and Blake?”  She asked, suddenly needing a distraction from the happy memories flying through her mind.

“Whatever I have is here.  Blake was holding on to most of my stuff until I could get settled some place.”  Logan paused.  “How about I bring whatever I can find by your room tonight?”

“Thanks, Logan.  That’d be great.”  Abby said after a moment had passed, meaning it.

The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, each of them lost among their thoughts. 

And for just the briefest of moments, Abby allowed herself to imagine that this—that a late lunch or early dinner—with Logan was completely natural.  As if it happened every day.

She didn’t fail to notice the sense of calmness it provided her.

Abby stood near the doorway, a faux smile on her face as she greeted various newcomers.  It was the day of the viewing and she stood near the back of the room, far away from the caskets that held her friends. 

The viewing was to last for a total of six hours, from two-o’clock until eight.  Only half-way through and already Abby had been greeted by many friends of Hayley and Blake—most of whom already knew who she was.  She had been hugged by various strangers, had been told many stories about her friends, and had been offered assistance by people she had only just met.

It was touching, yes.

But it was also exhausting.  It took such effort to maintain her composure.

She stifled a yawn, trying her hardest to fight off her exhaustion.  It had been another long night—full of tossing and turning, trying her hardest to sleep.  But no matter how hard she tried, nothing worked.  She had spent most of the night putting together a few collages, flipping through all of the photos Logan had brought over, more as if it was a task handed down to her by her boss rather than something she had chosen to undertake. 

It had been difficult, though—she had to admit.  Many of the photos had brought back memories of the past and she’d had to struggle against letting them overwhelm her.  Even the happiest memories were painful now.

Logan had arrived just before one o’clock bearing bagels and coffee, insisting that she eat.  She had cursed him inside her head for knowing her so well.  They had dined in the truck, on the way to the funeral home.

Her eyes traveled around the room until she found him, standing near the caskets.  Even with the dark circles under his eyes, it was hard not to notice how handsome he was.  He was dressed in a pair of black pants, his white dress shirt tucked-in.  He wore a plain black tie. 

Even from this distance, she noticed it was a bit crooked—and a memory of a time when she tied his ties for him flashed across her eyes.  She remembered how it felt, standing beneath him, his gray eyes never leaving her.  She remembered how beautiful she had felt in that gaze—as if she was the only girl in the world he could see.

Abby shook her head, bringing herself back to the present.  She definitely couldn’t go
there
.

Logan was surrounded by people as well, she noticed, their friends having become very popular in a short amount of time.  The room was filled with various bouquets of flowers and baskets offering condolences.  Everyone was so sincere—but it didn’t help.  She was afraid nothing really would.

Their eyes met and her heart fluttered softly in her chest. 

He understood.

Whether or not this was a good thing was unclear to her, though.

Time passed, though not quickly enough.  Abby was eager for the day to finish.  Too much was surrounding her—too much sadness, too much loss, too much sympathy.  She had done well, holding herself together, but she could feel her resolve wearing thin.

As the night drew to a close, Logan neared her, holding her purse in his hand.  He leaned in, as if to embrace her.  Abby froze up instinctively, the mere thought of his arms around her almost enough to break the dam she was trying so hard to keep steady.  But instead, he braced himself against her shoulders and leaned close to her ear.  “Your phone has been vibrating pretty much constantly for the last two hours.”

“It has?”  He nodded, and Abby took her purse, digging through it until she found the phone.  She unlocked it and groaned.  She was bordering on twenty missed calls.  “Can you—?” 

“Sure—go on, we’re almost done here anyway.”  She nodded her thanks, stepping out of the room and making her way to the back of the building.  The chill in the air immediately seeped through her thin navy blue blouse and dark gray pants and she tried to ignore the shiver that ran down her spine. 

When she opened her phone again, she navigated the menu to view her missed calls and another wave of dread passed through her.  Most of them were from Ingrid. 

Without bothering to listen to the copious number of voicemails her boss had been leaving, she dialed the familiar number and waited.  Ingrid was positively livid when she answered.  “Where the
hell
have you been?”  Abby was taken aback.

“I left you a message, Ingrid—a friend of mine—”

“This is unacceptable. 
Absolutely unacceptable.
  We’re due for publication and you abandon all of your responsibilities—”

“My
responsibilities
are with my family, Ingrid.”

“Your
friend
is not your family.”  Abby clenched her teeth, trying to control her temper.  She didn’t notice that the door had opened and that people were beginning to carry flowers to Logan’s truck.  “You have a responsibility to this magazine, Abigail.  I expect to have you back in the office tomorrow—”

“That’s not happening, Ingrid.”

“Excuse me?”  Abby was, by now, just as angry as Ingrid, if not more so.  She had never—in all the time she’d been there—requested emergency personal time. 

“Ingrid, I am, at this very moment, standing outside the funeral home that my friends’
bodies
are being displayed at.  And tomorrow, I’m going to their funeral.”