Chapter Three

It was hard to control the wave of emotion that passed through her as she stood there, staring at him. It had been at least six years since she’d seen him last. The morning he’d left her was probably one of the worst experiences of her life—and the pain had not lessened with time.

She cursed herself as she stood there, wondering exactly why she hadn’t thought of this. Surely she should have expected Logan to be there—Logan was Blake’s best friend. She knew the two had remained close. Even if she had doubted it, Hayley made certain to remind her all about Logan Sheppard every chance she had.

Abby found it difficult to breathe for a long moment. She watched as he rose to his feet and walked toward her. It was obvious he didn’t know how to greet her. “You doing okay?” His voice was so warm—so comforting, even though she knew it shouldn’t be. She wanted to be angry—she wanted to be upset.

But she couldn’t.

Her emotions were out of control, bouncing back and forth from one to the next. It only made sense that she would find the familiarity of him comforting.

Seeing him brought another wave of memories wafting through her mind—memories of happiness and laughter. Memories of her friends, memories of him. She felt her eyes well up with tears and she was grateful she still wore her sunglasses. She wasn’t prepared for this—not for any of it.

“I’ve been better,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

“I could have guessed that.” He reached out, as if to touch her, but she backed away.

If he touched her, she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it together.

Logan looked down, his eyes trained on the floor. Her instinct—some stirring of emotion buried deep within her—told her to go to him, but she stayed still, too stunned to move. She couldn’t believe that he was here—in front of her. Here, of all places. The tiny little funeral home in this tiny little town.

“I’ve—I—” He paused, clearing his throat. “I’ve picked out some—” She could tell that he was having difficulty saying whatever it was he was trying to say. “I looked at the caskets. I picked out the ones I thought they would like best. You can—”

“I’m sure you did fine.” Her voice was still barely louder than a whisper. “You know what they would like and wouldn’t.”

“I thought you could pick out the flowers—you’re better at that than I am. We’re supposed to bring in some…clothes. And we’re supposed to choose a plot.”

“We?” She was returning to her daze. This was all just too surreal. She’d imagined running into Logan many times throughout the years they’d been separated—but never like this. Never under these circumstances. She always imagined being able to call Hayley and tell her how it went—to tell her how she felt as she met his eyes for the first time after so many years had gone by.

But she wouldn’t be able to do that now.

“I mean—if you don’t mind me being here.”

“I…” Abby was suddenly feeling very light headed. “No—no, sure. Of course. They were your friends, too.” She shook her head, feeling silly.

She was an adult now. Those fantasies were from a long time ago, when she was a silly girl with a freshly broken heart. Logan Sheppard was simply a man she used to date. Not only that, but they had both just lost people they deeply cared about. She took a deep breath, vainly attempting to steady herself. “Did they ever say anything about what they wanted or—?”

He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders and she realized that he was just as lost and shaken as she. She fought the tears that had formed in her eyes and swallowed hard at the ball in her throat again. “No—not really.”

“I figure—so long as they’re together…” The ball was almost impossible to ignore now, the tears threatening to spill over. Hold it together, Abby.

“That’s what I thought, too.” He agreed and she nodded, taking a deep breath, again trying to steady herself. “Should we have a viewing?”

“I…” She shrugged her shoulders. “I really don’t know.”

“Allison suggested at least one day of viewing. She said that Blake and Hayley had a lot of friends—plus it gives people coming in from out of town time to arrive for the funeral…”

Abby nodded. “Sure—that sounds fine.” Memories from her mother’s funeral flashed across her eyes. She remembered being too afraid to even go up to the casket—too afraid to look. “Do you think—I mean, maybe Friday? And the funeral Saturday?”

Logan nodded now. “That’s what Allison suggested.”

“Then that’s settled.” She took a deep breath.

“We should have a wake.” And Abby looked up, unexpectedly meeting his eyes. Even through the heavily tinted glass, she could see the intense gray of them. Once upon a time, she’d been able to stare into their depths and know exactly what he was feeling—but now she was so startled by their intensity that she was nearly knocked off balance.

She felt her heart flutter—a sensation she’d nearly forgotten about.

“You know Hayley would hate to have everyone just standing around crying. She’d want people to remember the good times.”

He was right. Hayley would cringe at the idea of people mourning her. “That’s a good idea,” Abby told him, breaking the gaze, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “Hayl…she hated people fussing over her.” Her throat restricted further and the room once again swayed.

“Okay—I’ll go let Allison know what we’ve decided.” She reached out to steady herself, but there was nothing there. “You okay, Abby?”

“I just—I need some air,” She shook her head. “I’m going to step outside—”

“You sure?” She nodded then, desperate for some distance. She needed to get away from him—from all of this. She was losing control.

“Yeah—yeah, just meet me back outside—” And with that, she turned away from him, making her way back toward the door she had entered through. The cool air hit her like a ton of bricks and she braced herself against the railing of the porch, breathing in deep breaths, willing the pain to go away. It’s okay, Abby. It’s going to be okay. She insisted to herself.

There was no other option—things had to be okay.

She heard the door open behind her and she knew he was there, even without looking. She’d always had a bit of a sixth sense when it came to Logan Sheppard. “I told her we would go look at plots today. She gave me a map to let me know what was available.” Abby nodded, still unable to speak. The ball in her throat was too much to bear. “Are you sure you’re okay, Abby?”

“Yeah—yeah, I’m fine,” she breathed, aware that her voice was strained. “It’s just been a long night. I need to go get a room and try to sleep.” Logan nodded. “I need to start making phone calls too, though. It’s such short notice—”

“I can do that—”

“No, Logan. You’ve done plenty.” She looked up, her eyes roaming over him. He hadn’t really changed all that much—his hair was still just as untamed as it had been before. There was a bit of scruff on his face—she couldn’t tell if was intentional, or if he too had simply had a long night. Abby was careful to avoid his eyes, though—careful not to lose herself as she’d already done once.

But he looked tired. She could tell, even with just a simple glance. “You should get some rest too.”

“I probably should.” But she could tell he wasn’t going to. “You staying at the Moonlight?” he asked. It was the only motel in the area, so she really didn’t have much of a choice. Abby nodded. “I guess I’ll just follow you up there then, if you don’t mind.”

“Well, we’re both going to the same place, I’m assuming. It’d be kind of hard for one of us not to follow the other.” His grin was quick—there one minute and gone the next. But it was enough to remind her of the sensation she used to feel whenever he donned that simple little grin at her.

“You make an excellent point.”

“I try,” she responded, wishing she could smile. But as soon as she began to, a wave of pain rushed through her and she looked away, swallowing hard. She took one more moment before she eased away from the railing and stepped off the porch, making her way to her rental car. She discovered that she had parked in front of Logan and as he climbed into the driver’s seat of the truck behind her, he waved. She watched in the rearview mirror, waving in return.

The Moonlight Motel was only five minutes down the road. She pulled in and parked randomly in the lot, taking another deep breath before turning off the ignition and walking into the office. An older man sat at the desk, taking reservations. He handed over a key, telling her that her room was on the second floor. Back outside, she found Logan standing by her car.

“Thought I’d offer to help with your bags.”

“It’s okay—I can get them.” She’d forgotten how old-fashioned he could be.

“No, I insist.” She popped the trunk and watched as he took the bags out. “Where’re we going?”

“207,” she replied.

“Well, isn’t that handy. I’m just down the way—203,”

“Whenever you’re ready to go—just let me know. I’m probably not going to get much sleep anyway.” She told him. In fact, she was certain she wouldn’t get any. She just needed a few minutes to herself—a few minutes to put herself back together.

“Okay—so I’ll see you in a bit then?” They were standing just outside her doorway now.

“See you in a bit,” Abby replied, dying to slip out from beneath his gaze. She turned and unlocked the door, taking her bags from him and stepping inside. “Thanks, Logan.”

“Try and get some rest, Abby.” And with that, he turned and walked away.

She had just finished unpacking the few things she’d brought when she became aware of her cell phone vibrating loudly in the quiet of the room. She sighed, crossing over to her purse and digging through it until she found the small piece of technology. As soon as she unlocked it, she groaned. She already had nine missed calls, and Ingrid had only been in the office two hours.

She pressed the button that allowed her to ignore all of the messages and settled down on the bed, deciding it was time to call her dad. It was going to be a difficult conversation because—even though he respected Hayley’s parents, he knew how much Abby loved Hayley.

The phone rang a few times before he finally picked up. “Hello?”

“Hey, Dad.” Her voice was so quiet, no matter how hard she tried to act normal.

“Abby? What’s wrong dear?” She recalled him saying the same words the day she’d come back from Hawaii.

“I have some—some bad news,” she started, unsure of how to continue. How could she break the news to him when she hardly believed it herself? “It’s Hayley, Dad.”

“What’s wrong? What happened?” His voice was instantly filled with fatherly concern.

“She’s dead.” By now, a tear finally escaped, rolling down her cheek. The words sounded so harsh, she couldn’t believe she’d just said them.

“What?” She imagined his expression—stunned, much like her own still was. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“There was an accident.” She realized she still didn’t have all the details about what had happened, but she told herself this would suffice. There was no way he would question her further.

“Her family—”

“No,” Abby’s voice suddenly grew strong and she reached up to brush away the tears. “No, they’re not welcome.”

“Abigail, they’re her parents—”

“They wanted nothing to do with her while she was alive. Neither she nor Blake.”

“How is he handling it?” His tone changed slightly at the mention of Blake. It was no longer full of concern, but instead a tone of inquisition.

“He’s gone too. Both of them.” Abby shook her head, feeling a wave of tears coming on once more as the news refreshed itself in her mind. “Please don’t tell them, Dad. I can’t do that to her.”

“They’re my friends, Abigail—” He only called her Abigail when he was trying to be stern with her.

“They’re not welcome.” She was only getting angry now. “There’s a viewing Friday, and the funeral is Saturday. I thought you might want to know.” She exhaled deeply, suddenly eager to end the conversation. “I’ll call back when I have more information.”

“Abby—” But she pulled the phone away from her ear and pressed the button to end the call.

When Hayley and Blake had married, her parents had cut her off. But Abby’s dad had been caught in the middle—he was friends with the Lawrence’s. Yet Abby was his daughter, and he was more than aware of how important Hayley was to her. Even after six years, he’d never been certain about Blake—had never really given him a chance. Martin Lewis had cared about Hayley, but he’d never accepted Blake. It was the only way he could reconcile both worlds.

Her heart ached—it actually, physically, ached.

She sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest. Her phone vibrated once more and she glanced at it, assuming it would be her father calling back.

Instead, it was an alert—letting her know that she had one new picture message.

Abby’s brow furrowed as she stared at the sleek piece of technology, wondering who would be sending her a picture message.

And then she opened it.

As soon as she saw it, she almost dropped the phone, her eyes welling up with tears she could no longer deny. She felt sobs well up in her chest and, though she fought against them, she couldn’t resist the intense emotions rushing through her.

Because there, depicted in the image in front of her, was her best friend. Beside her was her husband. They were smiling happily at her, Blake’s eyes wide with excitement, Hayley’s full of laughter. The subject read, “Doesn’t this look like the face of a happy man?” They were outside somewhere—she couldn’t quite tell where.

Hayley must have sent it the day before.

She remained in the bed, sitting in a ball, crying into her knees.

~*~

Logan was sitting on the edge of the bed in a room that was the mirror image of Abby’s, just down the way. His elbows were on his knees, and his head in his hands, as he struggled with the myriad emotions running through him like a freight train.

He was still having trouble believing that Blake was gone.

But the image of his body, laying on that cold metal table, right beside Hayley, was enough to shock him back to reality.

Blake was dead. Hayley and their child, too. It was a fact he had to keep repeating to himself, over and over.

He had been within driving distance when he’d gotten the call, though he currently lived in Sacramento. But when the accident had happened, he had just happened to be in Pennsylvania, both for business and to attend to some of his personal dealings. Rather than waste the eight hours driving, though, he had decided to take the first plane out.

He wanted to make it into town before Abby did, not wanting her to have to deal with the task of identifying the bodies of their two closest friends.

It had been difficult for him, and after it was done, Logan had immediately turned his focus to the only person he knew would understand how he felt—both out of concern for Abby, and as an attempt to distract himself from his own heartache.

And he wanted nothing more than to take away the pain he knew would consume her. He had made certain that Abby wouldn’t have to set foot in the morgue before moving on to the funeral home and making what limited arrangements he could.

He’d made a brief stop at the motel and then returned back to the funeral home, knowing she would soon be arriving.

He had been so anxious about facing her again—so much time had gone by, and he knew that she was doing well. Hayley had been sure to update him often. She had gone back to school, and was now working at Rumor, which was a huge deal as far as he was concerned. He could see touches of Abby all over the place, in every issue.

She was living in Beverly Hills.

And she was engaged.

He had wondered briefly if she would bring her fiancé with her. He couldn’t imagine letting the woman he loved go through this alone—which was kind of ironic, considering Abby was the only woman he had ever loved.

The moment she had walked through the door, his heart had actually stopped for a moment.

She still took his breath away.

Logan sighed, balling his hands into fists and pressing them into his eyes in some vain attempt to stop the tears that formed there.

She hadn’t brought her fiancé, which made things easier and more difficult. Easier, because Logan knew that the two of them would be spending time together, and it was better not to have to worry about things being awkward.

Difficult, because Logan knew that, just two doors down the way, Abby was alone. And she was more devastated than she’d ever been in her life.

And that was something Logan couldn’t stand to think about. He knew that he’d given up any right to comfort her the morning he’d left her. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t hoping that she would let him help her through this—because if nothing else, he understood exactly what she was going through.

~*~

When a knock sounded at the door, Abby jumped up mid-sob, startled. She realized she still held the phone in her hand and she tossed it down to the bed.

“Just a minute!” She called, very aware of the tears in her voice. As she rushed around the room searching for her sunglasses, she ran her fingers through her hair and wiped the tears from her cheeks. At the last moment, she caught a quick glimpse of the dark lenses sitting on top of the television and Abby threw them on just as she opened the door.

Logan stood on the other side, his eyes sweeping over her. She knew it must be obvious what she was doing—what she was hiding. She also knew that it was senseless to even make the attempt. Logan would understand. He wouldn’t think her childish or pathetic. If anyone, he would understand exactly what she was going through. Logan was probably feeling the same way.

“I was just laying there staring at the ceiling,” Abby nodded, knowing that, had she tried to sleep, she would have done the same. “We can wait—”

“No.” She shook her head. Sitting in her motel room really wasn’t going to accomplish anything. Nothing worthwhile anyway. “Just give me a minute to grab my purse?”

“No problem.” She almost offered to let him wait inside, but at the last moment, she changed her mind, realizing that she wasn’t sure she could handle Logan Sheppard being in her room. Memories of the last time she’d shared a room with him flashed rapidly through her mind and she turned, hurrying back inside. A mirror hung over the dresser and she removed the sunglasses, running her fingers through her hair and wiping at the smudges beneath her eyes.

She was a mess, she acknowledged. With a sigh, she replaced the sunglasses and grabbed her purse from a nearby chair, making her way toward the door. “Do you want to drive?” Abby asked as she stepped out on the balcony. “I’ve just been driving—”

“Sure, that’s fine.” They began to walk toward the stairs, both silent. “I was thinking—for the wake—there’s the restaurant that Blake would take Hayley to for dinner, but they’d always get breakfast—”

“Whenever she was having a bad day,” Abby finished, a fresh wave of tears pooling in her eyes. She closed them tightly, willing them away. “Yeah, Hayley loved that place.”

“I was thinking maybe we could have it there. That is, if they don’t mind or anything—”

“I can call and check on it tonight—”

“I can do it—”

“It’s okay, Logan. I don’t mind making phone calls.” She shrugged as they neared his truck. “It keeps me busy.”

“I just don’t want to shove all of the work off onto you.”

“You’re not.” Abby would willingly accept anything he pushed off on to her. She would greet it with open arms and she would throw herself full-force into it. Anything to keep her mind off of everything that was going on. “See, you’re doing something right now by driving.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“There’s no reason I’d be doing that, Logan. I mean—honestly, what reason do I have to want to make you feel better?” The comment was a bit snippier than she had intended and she instantly regretted it. Even if it was the truth—even if she knew she shouldn’t be going out of her way to make him feel better—she knew she shouldn’t have spoken it aloud. “I’m sorry—”

“No, I deserved that.” He came to her side of the truck first, opening the door for her. She was fully aware of his eyes on her—she could feel them burning through her. “I probably deserve worse than that.” She fought the urge to look up and meet his eyes. There was an odd tone in his voice—one she didn’t quite recognize. But she said nothing as she climbed into the truck, careful to avoid his gaze. The door swung shut and she watched him walk around to the other door.

“That was all a long time ago, Logan,” Abby finally spoke after several moments of silence, her eyes trained on the passing scenery as he drove. “I think—right now, especially—we should just pretend it never happened.”

“But Abby—”

“Please, Logan?” The mentioning of the past opened the wound once more and she tried very hard to push it all away. “I just—I can’t. Not right now.”

“We will have to talk about it, Abby. Maybe not right now—but eventually.”

It was the last thing either of them said until they were walking through the cemetery. Logan took her toward the back, where they were currently offering plots. “I think maybe one by the trees?” An image conjured in her mind of their former fantasy as she spoke, her eyes welling up once more.

“I think so too.” Logan said, his voice distant. Abby was certain he was recalling the same memories. “I think they’d be happy with that.”

“She was pregnant, you know.” The words had left her mouth before she’d even thought about it. “Hayley—she’d just called—”

“I know,” Logan nodded, looking down at the ground. “Blake called me. She surprised him with a picnic—baby carrots, baby back ribs, baby bananas.”

“They were so happy, Logan.” The image from her phone flashed through her mind and she swallowed at the lump in her throat. “How could this be happening?”

“I don’t know, Abby.” Her vision blurred as she stared straight ahead, her heart aching.

“They should be here. They should be planning baby names and arguing about colors for the nursery.” A tear escaped, rolling down her cheek. “But instead, we’re here, planning their funeral.”

“Things happen, Abigail. Things happen in life that we don’t expect and that we don’t understand. But they happen.”

“But this wasn’t supposed to. Not yet—not like this.” Clouds were rolling in, blotting out the sun—fitting, she thought, for such an occasion.

“I know.”

“It hurts so badly.” She swallowed once more, but it did nothing to stop the tears from rolling freely down her cheeks. She wasn’t aware of Logan moving beside her until he came to rest in front of her, reaching out and touching her glasses. He lifted them until they rested on top of her head.

She wanted to look away—she didn’t want him to see her like this. But she couldn’t. Logan found her eyes and he held them, each of them revealing to each other the depths of their pains. The tears continued and he reached out, touching the palm of his hand to her cheek and using his thumb to brush them away.

“I know it does, Abby.” And she could hear the anguish in his voice. He really did understand—he felt her pain, because it was the same for him. Blake was as much his family as Hayley was hers. “I wish I could make it go away for you—for the both of us. But I can’t—and nothing will. This is a pain you will feel for the rest of your life.”

Though Abby knew that he was referring to the sudden loss she’d just experienced with the death of her friends, part of her wondered if he was talking about the pain he had left her with. Because, until now, that loss had been the worst she had suffered.

She had been so young when her mother had died, she could barely remember the pain. But when she had woken that morning after Logan had left her to find only a note waiting for her, she’d experienced an overwhelming sense of grief as she realized what it meant.

Abby turned her head then, breaking contact with him. She couldn’t do this—she couldn’t remember that day and deal with her current circumstance. Not at the same time.

She sniffed, wiping at her cheeks and shaking her head. “We should let Allison know what we’ve chosen.” And with her words, the moment was broken. She’d revealed too much of herself, and now it was time to go back—to hide within herself and keep the rest of the world at bay. She replaced the sunglasses and turned back to face him.

Logan nodded, a sense of sadness washing over him. He longed to reach out to her—longed to comfort her, to prove to her that everything was going to be all right. But he couldn’t. He knew this.

With a very gentle sigh, Logan turned and began to make the trek back to his rental truck, his eyes on the petite frame of the girl he’d once loved.

The girl he still loved.

She was trying so hard to keep everything together—he could tell. He wished she knew that she didn’t have to put on any shows for him. He wouldn’t judge her.

But Abigail Lewis had always been a headstrong girl. Asking for help would simply be out of the question.

And so, Logan thought to himself as they reached the truck, he would just have to make sure he was there to extend the offer whenever she might need it.

Date: 2015-04-20; view: 727