More Than Her (41 page)

When he heard me, he slowly raised his head, but he didn't look at me. "What are you doing here, Amanda?"

"You just disappeared." I took steps forward until I was right in front of him.

His eyes finally moved to mine. His jaw clenched. Hands still in his pockets. "Is that your answer or a question?"

"I don't know." I moved to hold his hand but he jerked it away and moved so he was behind me.

And now I was pissed. Because I don't know what the fuck I did wrong. I turned to face him, "Did I do something? What the fuck happened, Logan? One second I'm in a hospital bed, and then the next second you're gone. Your shit's all packed up and you're
gone
. What did I do?"

He shrugged, eyes staring off into nothing. "You didn't do anything, Amanda."

"Really asshole? The 'it's not you, it's me' speech. Really?"

He shrugged again.

I took a minute to calm down. Because as much as I hated that I was here right now, I was here for a reason. And I wasn't leaving until I knew what the fuck happened.

"Can you at least look at me, Logan, please?"

And he did.

He looked at me and it's that exact same feeling I had the first time I saw him again. Standing in that library. With all those misplaced emotions. All at once.

"Do you think I want to be here?" I started. My voice broke and I knew I was about to cry but I didn't give a shit, because he needed to
see
it. He needed to understand how badly he was hurting me. "I don't want to be this girl. I don't want to be standing in front of you, pouring my heart out, because I don't know what happened. I don't know why you haven't come home. I don't know why you won't answer my calls." The tears were flowing and I didn't bother to wipe them. "I don't know what the fuck I did, Logan. I'm sorry. What ever it is, I'm sorry. You just have to forgive me and you need to come home. And I need you tell me what I did. Please. You have to tell me." I hated me. I hated me so fucking much. I hated this pathetic weak excuse of a person that I'd become, but I couldn't fucking help it. Because I needed him. Like air. I just needed
him.

He sniffed once, looking right into my eyes. "I don't know what you want from me, Amanda." His voice was strained.

I knew he was holding back his tears, and his own emotions. He had to be. Because this can't be it. This can't be all there is to us. To our story. This can't be how it ends.

"I want you to want
me."
I tell him. "I want you to
need
me. I want you to fucking choose
me.
I want you to fight for me. You have to fight for me, Logan! You can't walk away. Not again." I moved so I was standing in front of him, my hurt and anger taking over. I grabbed his shirt in my hands as best I could. And some time between walking into his house and now, I'd become desperate. "You have to choose me." My fingers gripped the material tighter. And this
—
this is the moment I lost all control. "You have to fucking choose me. Please Logan. You just
have
to."

I was crying so hard I didn
’
t know if my words were clear.

Outside of my head it was silent.

But in my mind, every single conversation we'd ever had played. All the time's he told me how he felt about me. The ways he showed me that he cared. The late night conversations with those stupid truths. The times we talked about our lives, our future. And now? This. Me
—
begging him to stay. And I have no idea what the fuck happened to us.

I tried to calm my breathing, but the sobs wouldn't quit, not even for a second.

"Amanda." He said it so softly I almost didn't hear him.

I lifted my eyes to his, and held my breath, waiting for him to say something. To tell me that I was right. That he wanted me, as much as he
needed
me. Like air. Those were his words.

He pried my fingers from their hold on his shirt and pushed my hands away. "I can't."

The second the words were out of his mouth, something in me changed. I slowly closed my eyes and took a deep breath in. When I opened them, I refused to
see
him. Instead, I walked straight to the door and opened it.

"Wait," he said.

So I did.

I stopped halfway out, but didn't turn around. Because I couldn't stand him anymore.

"It's still pouring out, I'll give you a ride to your mom's."

Whatever.

I didn't move, but I didn't decline.

I heard him grab his keys before he brushed past me and led me to his car.

The drive home was silent apart from my soft cries.

When he pulled into the driveway, he didn't turn the car off, and he didn't look at me. Not until I opened the door to get out.

"Wait," he said again.

So I did.

Finally, he turned to face me.

And we stared at each other. Like we did the first time I sat in this car. Not knowing that one night would lead us here
—
to this moment.

He swallowed and cleared his throat, his eyes started to glaze with his own tears. He sniffed once, trying to hold it together. And I
don't
know why he chose this moment. Why he said what he said next. Or why he even said it all.

"I love you, Amanda."

And then he quickly turned and faced forward again, refusing to look at me. Refusing to acknowledge what he'd just said. What he just did.

And I know why.

It's because he doesn't.

He doesn't love me.

Not at all.

Those words he promised would belong to me forever
—
they don't.

And I didn't have
him
.

Not forever.

Not even for now.

Not anymore.

So I told him the one truth that wasn't a truth, but one I
had
to believe to get through the rest of my life without him.

"I
hate
you, Logan."

And then I was out of his car, slamming the door shut, and walking away. Because it was my turn. It was my fucking turn to leave him behind.

Logan

Dad looked up when I entered his office.

"Everything okay?"

I nodded

"You ready?"

I nodded again.

Amanda

Five weeks.

It's been five weeks since I'd seen him. I hadn't heard from him once. Not a thing. And I think it's for the best. I think that maybe I needed a clean break. A way to completely erase him from my life. I'd told Micky and Lucy, and they understood. They knew that being around them might mean being around him, or even hearing about him. And I couldn
’
t do that to myself. Not now. Not yet. I was back to where I was when I first got here. Trying to do everything I could to avoid him.

"I have something to tell you." Ethan turned the TV off and I faced him. He was home more often now, and I knew why. He was worried about me. He thinks I've turned into the girl from that summer. But I wasn't. Not really. I was nowhere near as broken as I was then. Maybe it was because I was immune to the fucked up ways of Logan Matthews. Maybe it was because I'd come to accept the fact that maybe
—
just maybe
—
it was my fault. That I never should have taken him back the first time. Or the second time. Or the third. Whatever it was. I didn't care. I was over it.

"Dimmy." He tried to get my attention again.

"What? What do you have to tell me? If it's about his room
—
not yet, okay? Just wait. Another week. I've got to go in there and clear out my stuff."

Okay, so maybe I wasn't not over it yet. But I was close.

"No." He shook his head. "That's not it. But uh, it's about him."

I looked away. "Then I don't want to know."

"Dimmy, I think you
need
to know."

"I don't think I need to know shit about him anymore, E. I'm done with him."

"He's gone."

My head whipped to his. "What do you mean he's
gone?"

"Like, gone. Away. Out of the country. He's traveling the world or some shit. I don't know." He shrugged.

"What? How? What about college? What about med school? Traveling where?"

"Dim, I don't know. I bumped into James today and he asked how you felt about Logan experiencing the world indefinitely, or something."

"
Indefinitely?"

"
Seriously, I don't know. I know as much as I just told you. Look, I'm just telling you so that you know it's okay. You don't have to worry about bumping into him on campus or anything. You can hang out with your friends again. He won't be there. I just wanted you to know. And honestly, Dim, you fucking
deserve to know. He should have at least told you that much."

Logan

I was the match that started the inferno.

A knock on the window caused me to jump out of my skin. I held my hand to my heart and turned to see a familiar face.

He knocked again.

I should’ve expected to see him; we were parked at the front of his work. I wound down the window.

"Hey, Amanda," he greeted. Then rubbed the scruff of his beard with the back of his fingers. “You got a minute? I’d like to have a quick word if that’s okay?"

It could only be about one thing, and for a second, I hesitated. But I wouldn’t let this ruin what I’d spent months trying build. "Sure," I smiled at him and got out of the car.

He motioned for me to sit on a bench a few feet away. I did. “How have you been, Dr. Matthews?"

"You know to call me Alan, Amanda."

I laughed. "How have you been, Alan?"

He blew out a breath, his smile completely gone. "I’ve been better." He cleared his throat. "That’s actually why I wanted to speak to you."

My eyebrows drew in. "What do you mean?"

He took my hand in both of his. I let him. I swallowed down my emotions and blinked back the tears. I don’t know how he’d suddenly made me feel like this.

"I owe you an apology—"

I opened my mouth to interrupt but he lifted his hand to stop me.

"Please, sweetheart," he said. "I need to apologize to you. Logan—"

My breath caught. No one’s mentioned him by name since he left.

"He was in a bad way after what happened to you. And even though it happened to him, too. He never saw it like that. All he ever saw was you. He blamed himself. He thought it was his fault that it happened. And he thought that if you hadn’t of met him—well—" He let out all the air in his lungs. Then he looked at me. Right into my eyes.

I let a tear fall.

"I thought I was helping him. It was my idea for him to leave and travel. I thought that maybe it would help him if he saw things differently…but hell, I never even thought about you."

I let the dam break.

"And I’m sorry," he continued. "I’m sorry that he’s gone."

"Please." I managed to say, trying to stop him from continuing. I wiped my face. "I appreciate what you’re saying. I really do. But you’re not the one that should be apologizing."

He nodded. "Do you want to know about him?"

"No." I said quickly. "I can’t."

"Okay," is all he said.

Then he removed his hands from mine and leaned back on the bench.

I mimicked his position.

We stared straight ahead.

"You know," he said, his tone a little lighter. "When he left for college, it started to get real lonely in that big old house, but he would come by and visit on weekends. Now though—I miss him."

I swallowed the knot in my throat. "Yeah." I did, too. But I wasn’t going to admit that to anyone.

He laughed once. "I looked up taco casserole recipes on the internet."

I smiled. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Mine came out black, though."

I laughed. That awkward crying type laugh. I wiped my face and sniffed.

"Just saying—if you ever feel the need to make it, and want to visit a lonely old man in a big empty house, the invitation is there."

I tuned my head to face him. "Maybe."

"There you are!" his voice came from behind me, interrupting us.

I stood up.

So did Alan.

I waited until he was next to me before I made the introductions. "Um, this is Tyson." I pointed my thumb at him. "Tyson, this is Dr. Matthews." I felt Tyson tense from next to me.