Chapter 34

Logan

Hours turn into days.

Days turn into weeks.

Everything’s a clusterfuck of shit I don’t want to deal with. I’m falling deeper into nothingness where I belong, and no one can save me.

It’s been weeks since I’ve heard her voice and touched her body. Weeks and I still can’t fucking gather the courage to talk to her. I tell myself she’s better off without me and she’ll find someone who’ll make her happy. I fucked up and she won’t forgive me.

My stalker tendencies become useful. I watch her every day since leaving her behind in Ohio.

At first, it was the hardest thing to do. I watched her slowly climb down the steps of her apartment complex. She’s bundled in her jacket and boots. Her eyes don’t shine like before, and she’s on autopilot.

Every morning, she jogs to Starbucks and then strolls back home, sipping her steaming coffee. The following week, she’s dressed for work, and I watch her get in her car and glance around, searching for the person who brushed the snow off her car. It’s November and snow has come early. I make sure every morning her car is brushed off, and I make sure she gets safely where she needs to be.

Every day for a few moments in time, we’re back together, and everything’s the way it should be.

My mind becomes absent and uncaring. During the day, I’m at work, doing what I know, and when I get home, I drown myself with whiskey and painkillers my doctor prescribed me when I punched a brick wall, fucking up my hand.

Nothing matters. All I know is I can’t bring myself to talk to Hannah or anyone else. When I’m at work, I fucking miss her. I'm mostly out of the office, at offsite meetings, or working from home. I don't want to risk running into her. She doesn't try to talk to me if I am in the office, and I don't try to talk to her. There's been times I want to go into her office, and tell her how I feel. To tell her I'm sorry for everything. And have her in my arms again.

But I know that'll never happen.

Lincoln comes around without Eden, and tells me Hannah's doing well. Her ex is in town for a conference and they had dinner together. I'm not sure if she's taking him back, but she's fine. Hannah's perfectly fine.

Without me.

She deserves better than what I can give her. My stomach and chest clench with pain, remembering the last time we talked, and seeing the pain I caused her. The anger had erupted, and I’d used her as the target. I should’ve gone back and apologized. I should’ve begged her to forgive me.

But I didn’t.

I drove back home and emptied a bottle of whiskey, tearing apart my bedroom, stripping the sheets and pulling her clothes from my closet and dressers. I grabbed a fistful of her clothes and smelled her. I fucking wanted her back. But this was for the best. I had to leave her behind, leave behind what could’ve been, and forget the love we shared.

I buried myself with work and became the heartless man I was when Shannon died. People were back to being afraid of me. No one wanted to be around me.

A knock gets my attention, and I place my glass tumbler on the counter while getting up to answer the door. When I open it, my mother’s standing on the other side. She walks in without saying anything, and I follow her into the kitchen.

“Whiskey? Logan, really?” she questions.

I swipe the tumbler and finish my drink before pouring another glass. This is how I cope with the shit going around me.

“What is it mother?”

“I’m worried about you, Logan. This behavior is concerning, and your father and I are worried. You need help.”

“I'm fine.”

“No.” She takes my hand. “You're not. I saw Hannah yesterday morning and she's miserable. Sweetheart, you’re blaming her. How is that her fault?”

“I don’t know.” I sigh and take another drink. “She was there and I put all my anger on her. What else was I supposed to do? Plus she shouldn't be miserable. Her ex boyfriend's back in town. She should be happy.”

She places her hand on my shoulder. “Sweetheart, you're assuming. She told me about their dinner and it was for closure. He's dating someone as well and doesn't have any plans with Hannah. You’re hurting and that’s understandable, but what’s going on isn’t healthy. Your father will be back from Japan in a few short days. You’ll have to answer to him about your foul attitude and what’s going on. We love Hannah, and it kills me to see you like this. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

I shrug again, not knowing how to answer her deep-seated question.

“You have to forgive and let go. That’s the only way you’ll be able to move on. I think you need to see someone before you kill yourself.”

I turn and notice the glimmer of tears in my mother’s eyes. Not only did I lose the love of my life, but I’m hurting the woman who only wants me to be happy.

“I don’t know what else to do.”

The rest of the night goes by without any more visitors or interruptions. I drink the rest of the bottle and close my eyes, willing myself to sleep, and forget about the pain growing in my heart.

It’s morning when I wake, and instead of going into the office, I grab another bottle of whiskey, pop two pills, and wash them down with the addicting burn of alcohol. The blackness comes too soon; I collapse on my bed once again. This is where I need to be. This is where I belong.

Welcome back to purgatory, Logan.

Welcome the fuck back.

I’m in my living room when my father arrives for a visit. He’s been back for a few days but I haven’t been in the office. The expression of disappointment is plastered all over his face, and I don’t blame him.

“Logan, sit, son. Sit down and let’s talk.”

I nod and place the tumbler down. It seems as though whiskey and vodka are the only things that understand me. They don’t talk back and they give me everything I need. Each bottle has a name—Hannah. She’s the burn I miss. She’s the one who gives me meaning to my life.

She’s the one.

“I’ve entered you into a private rehab center out in California. You’re leaving today, and if you object, son, I’ll do the unthinkable and fire you from the company.”

I don’t say anything. My mind races and my hands tremble from fear and anger. “I don't need your help. I don't need you or mom. I don't need anyone.”

My dad forces me to look at him and grips my shoulders. “I'm not going to lose my only son.” He cries and doesn't stop talking. “You're going to kill yourself and where will that leave your mother and me? Where would that leave Hannah?”

“Stop,” I mutter. “Don't bring her into this. She's fine. She'll be fine without me.”

“Get it together, Logan.” I whip my head to the side and see my mom covering her mouth with a shaky hand. She's shaking her head and holding back the tears. I don't miss the fear in her tone. “We're taking you to that facility or so help me your father and I will cut you out of the inheritance. You'll have nothing. Is that what you want?”

“What do you want, son?” my dad asks.

“To be a better man,” I mutter, refusing to look at my parents. “To be better for Hannah.”

“Then do that. Be a better man.”

I shake my head again and pull away from his grip.

“Your mother has packed you a bag. I’m here to escort you to the plane’s tarmac, and we’ll do this together.”

“Okay.”

The fight inside me is gone. Here’s my father, in front of his adult son, and suddenly I’m not a man anymore.

I’m a boy.

A scared little boy, wandering the shadows, trying to be found, only to be lost in the depths of darkness where the music and magic have gone to die.

My parents walk me into the rehab facility. I take this one moment to tip my head back and close my eyes, relishing in this moment of peace. When I drop my head forward, I take my phone out of my jean pocket and dial her number.

Ring.

Ring.

“Hello? Logan?”

“Hi.”

She sighs and shuffling noises filter through the phone. It’s loud in the background. She’s playing music, and I try hard to capture the lyrics.

“What song is that?”

She clears her throat before answering.

“‘Million Reasons’ by Lady Gaga.”

“I’m giving you a million reasons to let me go—and you should.” I slow my words and close my eyes. “But I’m going to show you that we belong together.”

“How? Where are you?”

I sigh before letting her know what’s going on. “This is what I need to do. After leaving your parents' house, I went on a bender. I was in a different world and let the darkness take over. I need this trip, but before I can come back and fight for you, I need to be a better man, because that’s what you deserve.”

Her sobs ring through the phone and it breaks my heart.

“Don’t cry, baby. Please. I love you, and it’s your love that’s saving me.”

“Can you do me a favor?” she asks, her voice small and timid.

“Anything.”

"Please fight to get better and come back to me. Come back to us."

Us.

"Baby?"

She sobs into the phone and I let her cry. "Yes, us. Logan. I'm pregnant. Our baby needs you. I need you."

My heart soars when she tells me this. "I'm gonna fight for you and our baby. I'm gonna come back to both of you a better man. I promise."

We’re quiet. I look toward my parents as they're waiting for me. Both are smiling, and I know I should get off the phone soon to walk through the doors to my salvation.

“I want you to get better, Logan. I miss you and I love you so much, but I’m hurt. I’m so hurt right now.” She wails and my own tears fall and run down my heated cheeks.

“I know that. I know that I hurt you, and you don’t deserve this.”

“No, I don’t,” she cries. “But I can’t let you go.” Her bawling gets louder and she struggles a little to breathe. "I told you I'd always be here and I mean it. We'll be here waiting for you. Always."

“Forever. I love you so much, Hannah.”

“I love you, too.”

I disconnect the call and those four words reverberate through my bones and into my head.

Before I step inside, another message comes in and it's a picture from Hannah. It's a sonogram of our baby.

Our baby.

I’m staring at the picture, touching our baby with my fingers, and wishing like hell this is going to save me. When I feel a hand on my shoulder, I text Hannah back and put my phone away.

They’re my strength to become the man they need.

Me: You and our baby are everything to me. The both of you are my world. My heart. My soul. I'll be back. I swear.