“It can’t be that simple.”
“You’re right, it’s not, but excuse the fuck out of me if I don’t want to be known as the boy with diabetes. The broken boy everyone feels sorry for and does things for because of pity.”
My words being flung back at me hurt. A sharp knife cutting into me over and over again. “I was mad. I didn’t mean what I said to Chris. This isn’t about pity or feeling sorry for you. You didn’t trust me!”
“You didn’t trust me, either!” Logan shouts then circles away from me. His chest expands and deflates at a rapid pace and he tosses his pack to the ground.
He threads his fingers behind his head and yells, “Dammit!”
I don’t flinch with his anger. Maybe because I’m just as mad, maybe because I’m too numb to emotion, maybe because I know Logan would never hurt me. Logan paces. Back and forth and each pass is less hurried than before. Finally, he halts in the middle of the barn and drops his arms to his sides.
Besides the cooing of a few pigeons in the rafters, the barn is quiet, but heavy. Filled with all the words I don’t know how to say, emotions I’m not sure how to feel.
“I did trust you,” I say, softly. “When it counted, you are the one I told about Grams. I trusted you to take care of what I love the most.”
Logan blows out an audible breath. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Me, too. I study Logan under the dim light. His shirt is off, his muscles flexed in tense emotion. He’s beautiful and strong and I trust him more than I trust anyone else. Have been honest with him more than I’ve been honest with anyone else, even myself.
Would I have looked upon Logan differently if I had known from the beginning he had diabetes? I purse my lips. Wish I could say I’m a better person, but I’ve never claimed to be good. Odds are I would have second-guessed him—would have wondered if he could have really kept up with me and Isaiah.
Knowing Logan like I do, he would have eventually proved himself, but that’s the problem—why should Logan have to prove himself because of the shitty hand his genetics dealt him?
“I did it for you,” Logan says to the dirt floor. “I told everyone about my diabetes for you. I risked my best friendships, risked changing how they think of me, for you. I knew telling them about your grandmother would hurt you so I made them mad at me. To make it fair between us—I told them my secret. So thanks, for what you did today. For distracting them after my shot. Just...thanks.”
Logan grabs his bag again and shame heats my face and it’s not an emotion I’m used to. It’s a sickening feeling and I’m experiencing it because I’ve hurt Logan’s pride. “Logan.”
But he ignores me.
“Logan!” And when he won’t stop, I fall into step with him and place my fingers on his bicep. “Logan, please stop.”
He does, halting so quickly that I almost ram into him. We’re at the barn door and he stares out into the night.
Logan’s done what I wanted, but I’m paralyzed. Talking, convincing people to stay, giving words to my emotions—that’s not something I’m used to. Not something I’m sure how to do. “I was mad...at Chris for stepping in and...I am mad...at you...for telling everyone...but then I’m not...and...”
“Be quiet, Abby.”
He’s angry. Logan should be angry. I cut him down...proved why he never wanted to share what he did... I thought leaving him or him leaving me was what I desired, but there’s this desperation I can’t shake. “Just listen...this isn’t easy...”
“I mean it,” he says in a harsh whisper. “Stop talking.”
“You’re serious?” Panic wells up inside me. “This is when you give up on me? This moment...one stupid moment...I’m telling you I’m sorry...”
Dizziness overwhelms me and heat rushes up my neck, to my face and blasts me in such a way that causes my throat to swell shut. I don’t tell people I’m sorry. I don’t apologize and when I do, it’s too late.
Never did I think Logan would give up on me...not when he showed up on my staircase after I tried to shove him away, not after that kiss on my bed. In the back of my mind, no—in the depth of my soul—I always thought he’d be there, just like he said, to catch me when I fall...
...and Logan and I both know how long and tough my falls are.
“I didn’t mean what I said,” I rush out before he can stop me again. “You’re right, I care about you. A lot.”
I sway with the words and a hand crashes to my heart. I love him. Oh, God, I do love him. This isn’t falling. This isn’t a maybe. This is love and I’m not allowed to love anyone else. There’s only room for Grams.
Logan finally looks over at me and the frustration that had marred his beautiful dark eyes is gone. He reaches up and tucks my hair behind my shoulder. When his fingers feather against my face pleasing chills trickle down my spine. Like we’re in sync, I lean my cheek into him and Logan cups my face with his hand.
He tilts his head to the yard. “I didn’t want you to scare the bunnies.”
I blink and a sweep of his thumb across my face shakes me back to life. “What?”
“Look.” Logan drops his hand but then slips his arm around my waist and slides behind me so that his front warms my back. His head is against mine, his breath billows through the stands of my hair and I have goose bumps. Me, I have the good, pleasing type of goose bumps.