More Than Him (31 page)

"I get it, though. I understand what you're saying."

"I guess I just got mad at you, and angry, because Logan came back, and you guys are together—and I'm happy for you, I really am. But I'm jealous as all hell because I want that. I want Dylan to come back and declare his love for me, you know?"

I'd started crying too. I couldn't even imagine what she'd had gone through. And she was right; Logan was back, he was here, and we were together.

She sniffed once. "I just needed someone to blame because there had to be a reason for it all, and I'm so sorry that I made you that reason. It's not fair."

"It's okay," I said truthfully. "Honestly, I get it. You're not bad people."

She nodded. We both tried to sniff back our emotions.

"Are you going to tell him, Heidi?"

She shrugged. "What good will it do?"

"I don't know. I just think he has the right to know."

She turned to face me. Our eyes locked for the longest time. "When did you get your tattoos?"

I gazed down at my wrists. "His birthday—the night it happened."

She gave me sympathetic look. "Did he know you had them?"

I shook my head.

"Why didn't you tell him?"

"Because it wouldn't bring him back."

"Exactly."

34

Amanda

"Did he tell you a bunch of embarrassing stuff about me as a kid? Is that what you guys did all the time?"

"Yes," I deadpanned. "In fact that's all we did. He even told me about how you can rap Vanilla Ice, word for word."

He glanced at me quickly, his eyes huge. "He did not."

I let out a laugh. "He didn't. But your reaction just told me you totally can."

"Shut up." He tried to push me away from him.

We were in his truck, on the way to his dad's house. I'd been sitting under his arm with my hand under his shirt, playing with his abs the entire drive. The stuff that had happened last night—and today with Heidi—was emotionally draining. I was so glad we got through it quickly, and that things were back to normal.

I picked up his iPod from its holder on the dash and went through his playlist.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Finding the track I wanted, I hit cue. I watched him with a smart-ass smirk on my face, and waited for the current track to finish. When it did, and "Ice Ice Baby" started, he narrowed his eyes at me. "I don't know the words," he declared.

And right on cue, he started, "All right, stop. . ."

My laugh was as loud as the stereo. He bit his lip, trying to contain his own guffaw. "Fuck it," he announced. He turned the stereo up and made a show of knowing all the words, and throwing Vanilla Ice-style fingers in the air. He was so damn beautiful in his happy, carefree state. My chest tightened as I watched him. This boy could've turned out either way, but he chose his life. He made his own decisions. He let the past stay in the past, and he made his own future—one that I hoped to be a part of forever.

He turned to me now, his dimples deepening. "What's up?"

I shook my head. "Nothing."

Placing a kiss on my cheek, he asked, "Sure?" He rested his hand on my leg.

"Yeah, I just love you a lot. That's all."

He curled his arm around my shoulders, bringing me closer to him and kissing my temple. "That's not
all,"
he said quietly. "That's
everything
."

***

He told me to wait while he got out and opened my car door for me.

"You don't have to open doors for me," I said, taking his hand as he helped me step out.

He shrugged. "You're my girl." Keeping my hand in his, he led me to the front of his truck and quickly turned to me. "And just so you know, I love you, too."

I beamed up at him and curled my arm around his neck, bringing his lips down to meet mine. He flattened his hand on the small of my back, deepening the kiss and pushing me until my back hit his truck. My hands fisted in his shirt, trying to hold onto something. His kisses made me weak. Not just at the knees, but in my head and in my heart. He pushed me further, until my back was on his hood and he was above me. His hand went under my shirt, gripping my waist lightly.

"Ahem."

We pulled apart instantly, and looked up at his dad. His arms were crossed over his chest; they lifted slightly with his chuckle. "Well, this is déjà vu," he stated.

We smiled at each other.

It really was.

***

"Baby, you don't need a YouTube video to show you how to cut peppers. I'll show you."

He moved his hand, holding his phone away from me. "No," he warned. "I'm gonna watch this video. You wait, I'm gonna be the best damn pepper cutter-upperer you've ever met."

I rolled my eyes. "I could've done it by now." I tried to remove the peppers from the board in front of him but he slapped my hands away. "No, that's not the point. I need to learn to do this stuff."

Giggling, I crossed my arms and lifted my chin. "Why? Why is learning to cut peppers so damn important?"

"I don't know." His shoulders lifted. "You shouldn't always be cooking. It's time I learn this shit. What if you're pregnant and too tired to cook, or whatever?"

I heard Alan's intake of breath. We both turned to him. His eyes bugged out of his head. "I'm not!" I assured him, at the same time as Logan said, "She's not."

He breathed out a sigh of relief before taking a swig of his beer. He pointed the bottle at me before placing it on the counter. "You should know by now that Logan needs to do things his way. He needs to learn the specific details of everything he does, overanalyze things. That's the way his brain works."

"See? Even Dad knows that about me." He looked down at his phone, frantically typing. "Geez, Amanda. What kind of future wife are you?"

Alan gasped again.

Logan laughed at him. "That one I said just to mess with you."

Logan

"You guys know I can cook other meals apart from Taco Casserole, right?"

Dad and I glanced at each other before glaring at her. "What is wrong with you?" I only half teased, but the words were muffled by the mouthful of the greatest tasting food in the entire fucking word.

"I make a really mean pot roast," she declared.

I huffed out a sigh and turned my body to her. "Baby, quit it. You're ruining this moment."

Her eyes narrowed at me. "What moment?" I motioned with my eyes to the plate of food in front of me. "You're kidding right?" She laughed out. "You're having a moment with food?"

Dad's chuckle caused us both to turn to him. "Sweetheart," he said to her. "I think he may love your food more than he loves you."

I mocked gasped loudly, and covered her ears with my hands. Sticking my nose in the air, I joked, "Father, not in front of the child." She scrunched her nose, and swatted my hands off of her. I lowered my voice and spoke in her ear, "Seriously, babe. I could never love anything more than you. Ever."

Her eyes lifted to glance quickly at my dad. She smiled a little, a blush creeping to her cheeks. I kissed her there, leaving a splatter of taco sauce. I chuckled as I wiped my mouth with a napkin, and then wiped her cheek. "What am I going to do with you? Honestly, I can't take you anywhere."

She turned her head and lifted her chin to face me. Her smile caught me off guard. Our eyes locked.

Then:
Thump. Thump.

But it was different this time. Not nerves, or anxiety. It was like the world’s way of telling me that I was alive, and to pay attention, that the girl in front of me, the one who could make or break me, was here. But she did neither of those things. Instead, she healed me.

I love you,
she mouthed. It made my thumping heart race, but in all the good ways.

I opened my mouth to speak, but her ringing phone cut us off.

"Sorry." She grimaced. "It's Ethan, I should get that." She stood. "I'm sure I told him I wasn't going to be home," she mumbled to herself before exiting the room.

Dad cleared his throat. I gave him my attention. "You seem happy."

"Of course I am," I said, a sudden cockiness returning. I began to count on my fingers. "One. I have my girl." I paused. "Two . . ." I trailed off. There was no two. Nothing else really mattered. Shrugging, I stated, "I have my girl. That's all."

His smile got wider. "And she doesn't just make you happy. She makes you whole?"

I nodded.

"And Ethan? He's okay with it now?" He must've known Ethan was the one to do the damage on me, but he never brought it up, never accused him. That's the thing with Dad; he always took a step back and waited for me to make my own choices, but he never pushed, he only ever encouraged. Like in seventh grade when I told him that I wanted to be doctor, he smiled, but all he said was, "If that's what you want, of course I'll support you, but you make sure you're doing it for you." I didn't get what he’d meant back then, but I get it now. He didn't want me doing it for him. Truth; in a way, I kind of was. I guess I wasn't doing it
for
him, but I did it because I wanted to be the kind of man he was. The kind of man who could give his life over to a complete stranger—a little boy who needed help—and not once expect a thank you for any of it. So I let the words flow out of me before I dared stop them. "Thank you, Dad." His eyes widened in surprise. "Thank you for never giving up on me, and for always being there. And understanding me better than anyone else. You've done all this stuff for me, and I can't—" My voice cracked. I cleared the knot in my throat. "I can't thank you enough, for all of it. Taking me in—"

He raised his hand to interrupt. "That's enough of that." I didn't miss the moisture that welled in his eyes. "You never have to thank me for anything, Logan. You may think I saved you, but to me, it was the other way around. You gave me a family when I thought I'd never have one. I'm so damn proud of you."

"I'm sorry," her voice came from next to me. "I didn't mean to interrupt." She sat back down on her chair and placed her phone on the table, and then settled her hand on my leg.

"Is everything okay?" I asked.

"Yeah . . ." She seemed deep in thought.

I linked my fingers with hers and squeezed once. "What's going on?"

She turned to me now, with the same faraway expression as before. "That was Ethan," she said.

I already knew that. "Okay?"

"He, um, he found someone to take over my room." She chewed her lip, her eyes searching for a reaction.

It was instant—this stupid grin that completely took over my face.

Her own smile widened. "So, you still want me to move in?"

"What the hell kind of a question is that? You know I do." Letting go of her hand, I pulled out my phone and started typing notes. "You know what we should do? Split the spare room in half, and we can set up a desk on each side, so I'll have all my stuff on one side, and you can have all your girly Hello Kitty shit on the other. I should buy some more towels." I glanced up at her quickly. "You know, the fluffy ones you like. Oh, and Gummy Bears, we need to fill the house with those. I found this place online that sells them by the color—"

Her laugh cut me off. "Babe, there's no rush. I'm not moving in tomorrow."

My eyes narrowed. "What? Why not?"

"Oh." Her eyes widened. "I mean, I can if you want me to, but we need to discuss this properly. You kind of just said it in passing, and I wasn't sure if you were serious, but I told Ethan anyway—"

"Of course I was serious. What's there to discuss? It's not like we're not together all the time anyway."

She sighed. "It's different though. We need to talk about how much rent I'm going to pay and—"

"No," Dad cut in. I was so overwhelmed with her news that I'd forgotten he was even there. "I've covered his apartment for a year, and you will not be putting a cent towards it. Or anything else you need to move in. Logan will cover it all."

Amanda's voice was quiet. "I can't accept that, you need to let me pay—"

"No," he said with finality. "Besides, you need to save your money for my grandchildren." He stood up, his chair scratching against the floor as he did. Amanda and I gaped at each other, before turning to him. "That one . . ." He pointed his finger between the both of us. "I said just to mess with you."

35

A month later

Logan

She said she’d wanted to talk about something important and to meet her on the rooftop when I got done at the cages with boys. She spun around from looking out over the edge when she heard the door open.

"So, what's up?" I asked after greeting her with a kiss, or eleventy-three of them.

"I think this is a sit-down kind of conversation."

I led us to the outdoor sofa and sat down. Whatever it was, it had to be serious. "What's going on? You're kind of making me anxious here."

Her eyes darted quickly to my hands. They weren't shaking, yet.

I sighed, and pulled on her shirt until she was sitting next to me. "Whatever it is, just tell me. Is it about moving in? Did you not want to?" My chest ached. "If you think it was too soon then that's fine, we can work out something else. I just want to be with you, Amanda. If—"

"Stop. That's not what this is." She blew out a breath and closed her eyes, as if building the courage to speak. I was beyond anxious now, but I tried my hardest not to let it show. "I just don't want you to be mad at me, and all of this started before you came back—"

"Why would I be mad?"

She looked away from me before speaking, "Because I want to go see your birth dad."