Can't Let Go (9 page)

“Hayley said you’d gone back to school there.”  Abby nodded, still not looking at him.

“I got my Masters from Stanford.”  She told him and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Logan nodding beside her. 

“I’m actually in California now, too” 

The knowledge was startling.  She turned to face him as he navigated what seemed to be familiar territory for him. 
“Temporarily anyway.”

“You live in L.A.?”  She
asked,
the shock barely evident in her voice.  Even less evident was the wounded undertone, but never the less, it was there. 

“Well, Sacramento.”  He nodded, keeping his eyes on the road.  She was
grateful,
knowing the expression on her face was one of shock.  “I’ve been there for about a year now.  My company keeps sending me all over the place—but I think my next move is my last one.” 

Logan had been there for a year and he hadn’t once looked her up?  He hadn’t once come to see her? 

And Hayley?
  She had never once mentioned Logan was living in the same state as Abby.  Her head swam. 

“Sounds like you’re doing well.”  Abby heard the words come out of her mouth, though she didn’t feel connected to them.  “I’m glad to hear it.”  She added after a moment, meaning it.  She’d always known Logan was full of potential.

“You haven’t been doing too bad yourself, from what I hear.”  Logan actually sounded almost proud as he spoke of her success.  She shrugged her shoulders, tearing her eyes away from him and shifting her gaze toward the front of the truck, staring out the windshield without really seeing anything.  “Aren’t you working at
Rumor
?” 

“That’s nothing to really be proud of, Logan.”  She was vaguely reminded of her fiancé as she spoke.  Her words sounded like his, like something she’d heard him speak before.  She frowned, saddened that his disapproval was beginning to frame her own opinion about her job.

“Hey, I think it’s quite an accomplishment.  I mean—Abby, you worked your way up pretty quickly, didn’t you?  I don’t care what the subject matter of the magazine is—you’ve worked hard.  You deserve some credit.”  The praise in Logan’s words brought tears to her eyes and she turned her head, staring at the passing scenery through the passenger window now.  She’d always longed to hear something like that from Eric.  Some off-handed comment that proved that he took her seriously—that her work mattered.  Anything would have worked, really.

But she’d never heard anything more from him than negativity.  She had gotten so used to hearing the demeaning comments that it almost pained her to hear someone commending her. 

The fact that it was Logan Sheppard only complicated things that much more. 

“Thanks,”
  she
whispered, cursing the way her throat constricted and the way her heart fluttered in her chest.  Abby had always had a hard time taking compliments, but especially so when they came from Logan.

It wasn’t until they had reached Hayley and Blake’s simple ranch home that she spoke again, lost in her thoughts. 

“Truth be told, Logan, I don’t really like my job all that much.”  It was the first time she’d ever spoken the words aloud.

“Then why stay?” 
he
asked.  There was no judgment in his tone. 
Just simple curiosity.

“Because I need it.”
  She turned to him, hidden behind the tinted glass of the sunglasses, but still searching for his eyes.  “Hayley called it my way of rebelling.”  Logan chuckled, shaking his head.  She almost felt relieved, as if a small bit of weight had been lifted from her chest.

“Hayley knew all about that, didn’t she?”  Abby nodded, cracking a very slight smile.  It felt nice to have someone to talk to.

“That she did,”
  Abby
agreed with him, glancing away again.  After a moment, she continued on, shrugging her shoulder, suddenly overwhelmed by a longing for some sort of emotional connection.   “Really, though?”  She lifted her eyes once more so that she could meet his.  “It’s just something that I can actually have a say in.  I feel like—like I’ve never had control over one thing in my life. 
Except this.”
  When their eyes met, she knew he understood her.  She could see it in his eyes—a quiet sadness for the girl he’d fallen in love with all those years ago.

“You’re a strong woman, Abby.”  He spoke.  “I don’t have to have seen you every day for the last six years to know that.”  Logan looked away for a moment, as if ashamed of himself, before returning to her eyes.  “If you’re not happy, you’ll change it.  One day, you’ll realize you’ve got a lot more control than you think.”

They held eyes for a long moment before Abby turned away, her heart hammering loudly in her chest now.

Why did Logan have to have so much faith in her?  Why did he have to make her feel as if he was the only person in the world who could understand her?  She sighed, turning to look at the house, her hand resting on the door handle. 

It was a nice house—smaller, but it was big enough for Hayley and Blake to start a family.  Hayley had planned on moving somewhere down the line, or maybe building on.  Abby remembered how thrilled Hayley had been when she called with the news that Logan had graduated—her very own personal architect! 

“You ready?”  His voice startled her, but she nodded, pulling on the handle and letting herself out.  Logan came to stand at her side, the two staring up at the house—different memories flashing through each of their minds.  Each had spent some time here with their friends—each had their own laughs and smiles. 

Abby took a deep breath before she stepped forward, leading the way toward the house.  Logan followed behind her, and Abby was grateful to have him there with her.  When they reached the door, she pulled out the spare key Hayley had insisted she keep, even though she was on the other side of the country, unlocking the door.  She closed her eyes for a moment, wondering what she would find waiting on the other side of the door. 

Her eyes watered instantly as she stepped across the threshold and looked around.  A jacket hung on the back of a dining chair—a to-do list on the refrigerator.  Pictures hung every where—photos of the scenic beauties of the places they’d been, of the people they cared about, of themselves.  To each picture, a memory was attached for Abby and Logan—if not a personal memory, then one that had been related to them. 

“We’ll have to pack all of this up,”
  Abby
realized as she looked around, the tears blurring her vision. 

“We have time.”  Logan was trying to reassure her.  “Come
on,
let’s just get what we came for.  We don’t have to stay.”  Abby nodded, following Logan toward the back of the house, where the master bedroom was located.  She tried not to look around too much—tried not to notice that the bed was unmade, that a book sat open on the nightstand.  She tried to ignore all of the small details that revealed that only two days earlier, her friends were alive and moving about this house as if they would return that night.

An urgency
formed within her to complete their task and move on.  She crossed the room to the walk in closet and was overcome by the scent of them—Hayley’s sweet perfume, Blake’s musky cologne.  It wasn’t at all overpowering, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost trick herself in to believing that they were there in the room with her.

She took slow shallow breaths, trying to keep her emotions at bay.  After a long moment, she finally lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head and began thumbing through the clothes.  She heard Logan in the bedroom, opening drawers. 

When her eyes landed on the clear bag through which she could see a plain white dress, her heart stopped. 

It was Hayley’s wedding dress. 

She removed it carefully, a memory dancing through her mind of the day Hayley had found it. 
“This is it,
Abbs
.  This is the one.  I could spend an eternity in this dress.”
  Hayley’s voice was as clear to her now as the day they had stood in the small dress shop. 

“This,”
  Abby
said, walking out of the closet.  Logan glanced in her direction. 

“That’s her wedding dress.”

“She loved this dress,”
  Abby
told him, staring at it through the plastic material, careful to avoid his eyes.  Logan only nodded before disappearing inside the closet.  She laid the dress on the bed and glanced around, though she told herself not to.  She heard Logan rummaging through the closet.

She was standing in front of the dresser when something occurred to her.

“What happened?”  She asked quietly, realizing that she still hadn’t found out the details of this “accident” that had shocked her life so dramatically. 

“Nobody knows for sure,”
  Logan responded.  It sounded as if he had stopped rummaging, as if he was closer now—but she couldn’t look up.  Because there, hanging on the wall directly in front of her, was a large framed photo from the day of Hayley and Blake’s w
edding—the last time the four of them had been together.  “I mean, there weren’t any witnesses.  The Sheriff thinks that a deer must’ve run out on the road and Blake tried to miss it—but—”
  Logan continued on. 

“Was it painful?”  She reached out to the photo now, longing for the happiness she’d felt in that moment.  The four of them stood together, smiling happily at the camera. 

“Abby…”

“
It’s
okay, Logan.  I can take it.”  She didn’t necessarily want to know, but she
needed
to.  She had to know what her friends had gone through.

“Hayley—”
  She
could tell it was difficult for him to talk about—and it was probably going to be just as difficult for her to hear.  “Hayley went quickly.  Blake survived until about an hour into surgery.  A passerby happened to notice their car rolled over in a nearby ditch and called 9-1-1.  ” 

Abby imagined the scene being laid out in front of her.  She saw Hayley and Blake, driving home on a near-deserted road.  It was late—dark out.  They were probably laughing about baby names or possible futures for their child when a deer darted out in front of them.  She knew Blake—he would have done anything to avoid hurting another living thing.  She saw their SUV swerve—saw it roll.  It was when she saw their faces—once she imagined the heartbreak Blake must have felt as he laid there, knowing what had happened—that the room began to spin. 

“Abby?”  He sounded far away, though logically she knew he was within reaching distance.  “Abby, are you okay?” 

“I—I can’t breathe.”  Her voice was hardly more than a whisper.  She imagined her friends’ thought process as they faced their future—wondered how much pain there really
was—
both physically and emotionally.  “Oh my—Logan—I—I can’t—”
  The
tears were flowing freely and she dropped her head into her hands, everything spinning around her. 

And he was at her side, touching his hands to her arms.  “
It’s
okay, Abby.  I’m here.”  And he was.  Logan was there—he was standing there, just in front of her.  She felt the room sway again. 

“She can’t be gone, Logan.”  She finally broke down into sobs, allowing him to wrap his arms around her and hold her close to him.  “She can’t—not Hayley.  She was so
alive
.  She wasn’t supposed to die—not yet—not—”

“
Shh
,”
  he
whispered, touching her hair.  Logan closed his eyes, wishing that there was some way he could take all the pain she felt into himself and bear it for her.  He would give anything to make her feel just the slightest bit better—to make this all just a bit easier for her to endure.  “
It’s
okay, Abby.  Wherever they are—they’re together.  They’ve got each other.  You’ve just got to take comfort in that—”

“But they’re not
here
.  What about
us
?  How are we supposed to go on?”

She crumbled in his arms, the ache in her chest too much to hold on to.  And Logan held her, knowing it was the only thing he could do.  It was the only comfort she was willing to take. 

It was the only thing he could offer.

He felt his heart break as she sobbed.  More than anything, he wished he could do something more for her. 

But eventually, she calmed down.  The tears ran dry, the sobs faded. 

She immediately felt foolish and turned away from Logan, certain not to make eye contact.  “We should probably get this stuff to the funeral home,”
  Abby
suggested as she wiped at her eyes.  “I’m sure they’re waiting for it.” 

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”  She kept her back to him, unable to turn to face him.  She was too embarrassed for allowing herself to be so vulnerable in front of him.  The last time she had shown that part of herself to Logan Sheppard, he had turned around and walked out on her.

“I’ll just—I’ll just meet you out at the truck, okay?”  She spoke suddenly. 
Because she couldn’t take it anymore.
  All around her, she was surrounded by Hayley and Blake—surrounded by their memory. 
Surrounded by the pain.

“Sure—I’ll just lock up and be right out.  Go ahead, Abby.”  He watched as she retreated, Hayley’s wedding dress folded over her arm.  She didn’t look back.  Logan sighed softly, wishing she would just trust him.  But he knew he’d lost that—he knew that he was lucky to get so much as a glance from her.  It had been his choice to walk away.  It was his choice to
stay
away.

He thought back to their earlier conversation, when she’d discovered that he’d been living in California.  Her expression—even hidden behind the sunglasses she seemed incapable of separating with—had been shocked, yes.  But it had also been pained.  He had wanted to tell her that not a day went by that he didn’t consider tracking her down.  Logan had wanted to tell her that he’d made the trip a few times and had just sat outside her building, watching—waiting for just the briefest glimpse.

He was convinced that even after all of these years, he could still read her like an open book—so even just a glimpse would be enough.  All he wanted to know was if she was happy—truly happy.  He wanted to know if she was enjoying the life he’d left her to create.