Chapter 35

Logan

Day thirty.

I sit with the open journal on my lap. I’m drinking coffee from a mug, sitting outside in the sun before therapy.

The first week here was fucking hell. My body didn’t adjust well without the alcohol and painkillers. I threw up countless times and felt as though knives were repeatedly jamming into my body. The nightmares became real and fucked with me. I thought I saw Shannon everywhere I went. I refused to leave my room and stayed in bed. The hell I was in fucking hurt, but I knew it was for the best. I knew I’d never be safe out there until I got better.

During therapy, I shut down. I wasn’t going to give the therapist the time of day. We sat in his office for an hour before he told me he’d see me the next day. This repeated over and over, but then I realized I wasn’t going anywhere 'til I got my shit together. The deal I made with the director of the facility—and it’s in writing, too—was that I would not leave until I got better. Until it’s signed off by my therapist, the doctors, and the director that I’ll be okay on my own.

And here we are.

Thirty days later.

Although I’m not an addict by any means, I’m an abuser. Not in the sense of hurting anyone, but hurting myself and using drugs and alcohol to cope with my pain, and making other’s lives around me miserable.

“Logan.”

I look at the nurse as she sits down and smiles at me.

“How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good.” And it’s the truth.

“Good. Is there anything I can get you?”

I shake my head and lift my coffee mug, letting her know I’m fine with what I have.

This rehab facility isn’t dingy or broken down. It’s comfortable and seems more of a resort than anything. There are doctors, nurses, support staff members, and therapists around the clock. I have my own private room and access to my family if needed.

I haven’t spoken to anyone besides Lincoln. He’s filling me in about what’s going on, especially with Hannah. Eden's taking her to the doctors and our baby is healthy. She'll be thirteen weeks pregnant tomorrow and I hate myself for not being there. All I know is they're my fight to win. In here, I’m safe. My urges have died, and now I’m learning how to cope with the loss of Shannon and our baby.

I don’t care if she had an affair with Michael. As much as it sucks, I’ve come to understand her affair and the reasons why. Have I questioned whether the baby is mine? Yes. But that doesn’t matter. Regardless if the baby was mine or Michael’s, she was still pregnant, and I was going to love him or her with my whole heart.

I still do.

“I wanted you to know you have a visitor.” She smiles, but her gaze dips along the length of my body, as if she notices my stiffening and hesitation. “Don’t worry. It’s Lincoln. I’ll send him your way, if that’s what you want?”

“That’s fine.”

I get up when Lincoln comes through the doors, and we give each other a bro-like hug. When we sit down, he tells me some things going on back home and how happy Eden makes him.

“I'm happy for you, man. Truly, I am.”

“You look good. Not being weird or anything.” He laughs. “But you do, man. You look good. How are you feeling?”

I tell him about what happened when I initially got here, and my defiance. Each day that passed I got better, once I pulled my head out of my ass and understood why I was here.

“Now, I see my therapist for an hour every other day, help out in the kitchen, sit outside, and write to Hannah. How is she?”

“She fucking misses you. Her morning sickness is pretty bad. She's working from home most of the time and your parents are going over to watch her too.”

"Can you see a little bump on her?"

Lincoln smiles and takes out his phone. He hands it to me and when I look down, there's a picture of Hannah, Eden and my mom. They're pressing their hand on her small belly. She's glowing. So beautiful. So perfect.

"Thank you for everything, Lincoln."

He slaps me on the shoulder and leans in to see the picture with me. "You never have to thank me, man. Just remember this moment and remember how much I love the Patriots. Season tickets," he whispers.

I shake my head. "You can afford it too."

"Yeah." He shrugs. "Just better coming from you since you love Brady."

"Fucking asshole," I mutter. I love any team that plays and beats the Patriots.

My attention's back on Hannah and our baby. I run my finger down her perfect face. I want so badly to buy her a ticket to come see me. Only I'm not ready for that. Everything is about taking time and baby steps. In order to heal, I have to slow down and not rush into anything.

“Soon. I'll see her soon.”

I look out to the sun and pull out the picture I carry with me at all times. It’s my strength. My willingness to be a better man.

Hannah

When I get home, my mail is on the counter. Eden must’ve came home before heading to Lincoln’s.

Before Logan called me, I was in a bad place. Everything hurt and I pushed everyone away. It was me and Ben & Jerry's. Sometimes I'd get food from Five Guys. For the most part, I was in my pity-me stage—until he called, and then hearing his voice had made my heart leap into my throat. Tears erupted from me, and I wanted to see him more than anything. I wanted to hold him and be there.

Austen brought me back on at work, and whenever I pass Logan's office, my heart breaks a little more. Eden, Lincoln, and Cal are keeping me busy, so I'm thankful for them.

I press my hand to my small belly and look down. "Hi Baby Davis. How are you today?"

Silence.

I sigh. "I can't wait to feel you. Please keep growing and be healthy. Daddy needs you to be healthy and so do I. We love you so much, Baby Davis. You're our dream come true."

Looking through the mail, an envelope without a return address catches my attention. I slide my finger under the flap to open the envelope and take out the letter. I slap my hand over my mouth, and I can swear my heart breaks some more inside my chest.

My dearest Hannah,

There will never be enough words to write so you can understand what’s going on with me or what happened. It’s been thirty days since I last heard your voice.

And in those thirty days, I realize how strong I am. But I’m stronger with you and our baby.

Being here has made me realize you’re not to blame, and I have more demons to fight than what I thought. The depths of my depression are more than I can handle by myself. I’m not the best with words, so I’ll just write it down now and hope you understand.

I won’t be leaving rehab in the thirty days I thought I’d have to spend here. This is where I need to be right now, and I hope you understand. At this time, I won’t be accepting visitors. As much as I want to see you, feel your stomach, and talk to our baby, I know that I'm not ready.

I wanted to write you this letter in hopes you’ll forgive me and still love me, because I love you with my whole heart. When I leave in the next few months, I hope to find you waiting for me. It’s a selfish thing to ask, and I know this, but I’m a selfish man, and even rehab can’t fix that.

I love you, Hannah Harris, and I’ll love you until my last breath. You’re the best part of me. When we’re together, I’m breathing you in, breathing in the life you’re giving me. It’s you and it will always be you. You and our baby complete me. I'm whole knowing that the both of you are there.

Please forgive me and let me love you completely. Let me give you all of me. If this is what you want, then you’ve made me the happiest man in the world. Just know I think about you all the time, and there’s never a day that passes that I don’t realize how lucky I am to have you.

You’re my light. My life. My everything.

I love you,

Logan

I read the letter over and over, internalizing his words, imagining him sitting on his bed, in his room in rehab, and feeling what he’s feeling.

Completely. Madly. Truly. Forever.

“I’ll be here, waiting for you. Always.”