More Than Her (10 page)

"Yes!" I was a little too excited. I calmed down and softened my voice. "I mean yes, if that's good for you, yes. I want to. I mean I'd like to take you out again."

She giggled a little.

"Amanda?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm trying really hard not to be the
me
you think I am. I'm not that person. At least not with
you
."

Truth.

The visit.

I spent the next day moping around the house like a loser trying to find something that would make time go faster until I picked her up from work. I went to the store earlier and bought the gummy bears. I even opened them and sorted the red ones from the rest. The smug asshole in me was pretty impressed. The general asshole in me heard the sound of whips in my head.

I kept looking at the clock, waiting for a good time to leave. I didn't want to show up early and seem too eager. At four forty-five I rushed out the front door and ran straight into a body.

"Holy shit," she yelped.

I held onto her and tried to regain my balance, and when I finally did, I took a step back. "Micky."

She stood with bags of groceries in both hands and an awkward smile on her face. "I thought that, maybe...but I see you're on your way out. Never mind." She turned around and started to walk away, bags still in hands.

"Wait."

She spun to face me, her eyes glazed with wetness. She did that thing chicks do when their eyes go big so that the tears don't fall. "Hey, are you okay? What's going on?"

"Nothing." She sniffed once. "I just thought I'd make you and your dad dinner
—
kind of like a thank you, for yesterday, I guess." She shrugged, looking right at me.

And for some reason I couldn't fucking say no.

"Dad's not home, but I eat enough for two people." I opened the front door for her and led her to the kitchen. She placed the bags on the counter. I smiled at her, "What are you making? I'm starving."

"Pasta. It's pretty much the only thing I can cook." She started emptying the bags.

I excused myself and left the room so I could text Amanda. I don't know why, but I didn't want Micky to know that I had plans. I didn't want her to think that it wasn't okay for her to be there.

Logan: Hey. I'm really sorry to do this...something came up and I can't make it. I'll call you later though. Promise.

When I got back into the kitchen, she had two pots on the stove and the burners on. She looked up when I walked in, giving me that same awkward smile. I sat on the island and watched her. I didn't know what to say to her, so the whole situation was a little off. But she was there for a reason, which was enough to make me sit and wait. She looked up from whatever she was cutting and faced me. "So, yesterday, with Jake
—
that was something, huh?"

I blew out a breath. "Yeah, it was definitely
something."

"You didn't tell him what happened." It was a statement.

I shook my head, "It's not my place, Micky."

She looked at me for a long time, our eyes locked, neither looking away. Who knows how long we stood there, watching each other, until finally, she looked back down. Then she spoke; "Jake, he's a great guy..." she trailed off.

"One of the best." I said

She was still looking down, chopping whatever was in front of her. "Yeah, he really is. But what happens...I mean, what happens to
me,
if something happens to
us?"
her voice broke. When she looked up at me, there were tears in her eyes again.

I slowly got off the stool and moved to stand in front of her. "What's going on, Micky?" I bent slightly so I could look at her face.

"I've only known him a month. I mean, I know I have feelings for him, Logan. But what happens if he decides he doesn't like me. I'll have no one. It'll be like that night all over again. You know...prom night. He can't be
all
I have. I can't go through that loss again." She broke down and hugged herself. "And I miss them, Logan. I miss my family so fucking much and I can't tell him that. I can't talk to him about it because he'll think that he's not doing enough to help me, but it's not about him. It's not about..." Her body fell into mine and she cried. Loud, uncontrollable cries.

I moved us so we were sitting on the floor and were face to face, and I let her cry.

"I miss them so fucking much," she continued. "And I miss James, and I even miss Megan. And it's not that I want those two back in my life, I just miss the times, you know? And my sister, Emily, I miss
her
the most. I always thought she was this pain in my ass, but I miss her the fucking most. I miss her laugh and I miss how we used to make fun of Dad, and I miss the way Mom smiled at us when we did it. I miss the way Dad would always make us breakfast and ...I just miss
them
." Her tears fell endlessly as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I'm
so
sorry, Logan. Shit, I didn't come here to put all this on you. Swear it."

She looked up at me. I hadn't said a word. I don't think I could have said anything through the knot in my throat and
that
God damn ache in my chest.

"It's just
—
it's been hard. Like, really fucking hard. It's not like I lost one parent, and the other was there to help me get through it. And even though I'm an adult I'm still a child...am I? If I don't have parents am I still someone's child? Oh my God. I'm not ready to do this."

She started to cry harder.

"It's not fucking fair, Logan." She was almost yelling now. "It's not fair. It's not right and it's not fucking fair. I shouldn't have to wake up one random day and have nothing
—
and I feel like I can't tell the only person I have in my life any of this because he doesn't get it. He doesn't understand that I just need to miss them, and that he can't fix it. He want's to make sure that I'm okay
all
the time, and that's great. That's perfect. But sometimes I just need to feel
not
okay." She couldn't control her breathing anymore.

We were both sitting against the island. I put my arm around her and held her to me. She leaned in and rested her head on my chest. "I just need to feel
not okay
, Logan. I just need to
feel
the
hurt
. All of it. And I don't know that I want him to
see
that."

I don't know what I was supposed to say. If I was supposed to say anything at all. But I got it. I knew exactly how she felt. Because I'd felt it too. So I told her.

"Micky, I'm adopted."

She instantly stopped crying and pulled her head off my chest, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

"Alan, who you met yesterday
—
he adopted me, when I was a seven. He was the doctor that was working the ER the night my birth mother bought me in. My birth dad
—
he beat me pretty bad that night."

She gasped.

"I mean, he used to beat me all the time, so I guess it
must
have been pretty bad, because she took me to hospital..."

"Oh my God." She looked at me, her eyes huge, her hand covering her mouth, tears still falling.

"Yeah, Dad...uh...Alan...he saved me that night, and every night since then. My birth mom, she never came back for me. They waited a month. She never came."

"Oh my God, Logan," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"No one knows, Micky. Just you. And I didn't tell you because I wanted your pity. I told you because..." I took a deep breath and thought about my next words. "I told you because I get it. I get what it's like to feel like you depend too much on one person. I felt like that with Alan. I still feel like that, every day. But I couldn't have done it without him, and I think we all need someone to be our strength sometimes, and if you don't want that to be Jake, then you can let that be me...if you want to, I mean. Look, I just... " I blew out a breath. She sat and listened to everything I said. "I just wanted to tell you that I get it. I know what it's like to wake up one day and have nothing
—
"

"It's not the same
—
" she started.

I interrupted her. "I know it's not the same, Micky. I know your family died...I'm stupid, I shou
—
"

"No, Logan." It was her turn to interrupt me. "It's not the same because my family
died
, I can't see them ever again. You
can
see yours, but they're
that
bad a people that you wouldn't
want
to. It's not the same because I'll always have good memories of my parents and you
—
you don't even have that." Her voice broke. I held her tighter. Her arms went around me.

I took in her words and let them sink in.

I never thought of my birth parents as a memory. As something I could bring out when I wanted to. And I never thought hard enough for a
good
memory of them. And even if I did, I don't know that there would be any.

"How do you do it?" she asked. "How do you wake up every day and be the person you are? That's a huge thing to happen to you, and it's not like you just go through life 'getting by'. How are you so normal?"

I thought about my answer for a while. "Because, Micky, it's my past. It's not my future and it sure as shit isn't who I am. I'm not going to let that
be
me. I'm not going to let abusive or neglectful people
ruin
me. What they did
—
that's on them. That's their guilt to carry. It has nothing to do with me or who I am. And so what if it happened," I shrugged, "I lived through it. And that asshole went to jail, my dad
—
Alan
—
made sure of it. He made sure he wasn't going to be out there, possibly having more kids to beat on."

It was silent for what seemed like forever. Then finally, she spoke, "God, Logan. You were just a kid..." Another round of sobs took over her. I placed my hand on the back of her head and held her to me as I listened to her cry. There was that same fucking ache in my chest, and I don't exactly know what it was. But it was this moment
—
this
exact
moment
—
with her in my arms, that I
felt
something. Something I'd never felt before. Ever.

And I got it. I got why Jake wanted to be a rock for this girl. Why he wanted to make sure that she was never hurting, or that she was never sad. I got why he'd do anything to make sure she was okay.

Because I felt it too.

Her sobs grew silent but her tears still fell. Her head lifted from my chest. I moved the hair away from her face. Then she looked up at me, her eyes huge. Expectant. Waiting. For me to say something
—
anything
—
that would let her know that
it
would be okay. That
we
would be okay. "Micky..."

She sniffed once. I took in her face, and then looked into her eyes, my gaze dropped to her mouth quickly before I spoke. And I don't know why the next question came out, but it did. "Does Jake know you're here?"

She slowly shook her head no.

Then suddenly, the smoke alarm went off.

We pulled apart and were on our feet so quickly, my head spun.

***

She didn't end up cooking dinner. In fact she left pretty much straight away. It was awkward after that, or at least
I
felt awkward, but it could have just been in my head.

After I cleaned up the mess in the kitchen and put away the groceries, I headed to the pool house for the night. I lay on my bed for I don't know how fucking long, thinking about what ever the hell just happened with Micky, and wishing that some of it, any of it, actually made sense.

I pulled out my phone to look at the time; it was almost nine. There was a text from Amanda at 5:05.

Amanda: Okay? I wish you would have told me earlier. I would have organized a ride home. Can you call me if you get done before 7? I can't get home until then. Hope you're okay.

Shit. I felt like the biggest asshole in the world.

Fuck, I
was
the biggest asshole in the world.

I was about to the tap the screen to call her, but then I thought about what I was going to say, and I panicked.

The thing was, I really,
really
liked Amanda. And yeah, we could have gone out a few times to see how things went...but I didn't want to do that to her. Not then. Not when I didn't fucking understand my feelings for Micky. Because Amanda, she was great. She was more than great. She was amazing. And she deserved to find someone that was going to treat her like that. And back then, that wasn't me. Not even close.