by Melissa West
Logan reached for her, but she had enough sense and control to toss up a hand, stopping him. A moment passed with nothing but the fountain’s melody to fill the air. Finally, Savannah drew a rattled breath and looked up, taking in the man who’d broken her heart now twice. “What do you want, Logan?”
His face reflected all the agony she felt, but she couldn’t trust his expression to make her feel better. Nothing could now. “That’s why I’m here now. To say good-bye.”
If she had any strength at all, she would have laughed. “Of course that’s why you’re here—you came to say good-bye. Not to try to work on it, to find a way. No, you’re just leaving.”
“We both knew it would end like this.”
Savannah’s mouth curved into a sad smile. “See, I thought we were able to choose how it ended. I guess I was wrong there. You’d already decided.”
He tucked his hands into his pockets, his eyes glassy as he stared down at her, but he didn’t argue. To him, there was no forever, only a ticking clock.
With one more look at him, Savannah bit her trembling lip and breathed out, “Good-bye, Logan,” before disappearing back up the walk to what used to be her home.
...
Logan found himself staring at the Pruitt’s house, unsure exactly how he’d ended up there. This wasn’t his home, yet while growing up, it was the only place he ever felt relief. And right now, all he wanted was a little relief. He had more regrets than he could bear, each one more complex than the last. How had he let himself get into this mess?
“Logan?”
His eyes rose to see Mrs. Pruitt hanging out the screen door. “Yes, it’s me, Mrs. Pruitt.”
“I’ve told you for years to call me Patricia.”
He smiled a little. “I’m still working on it, ma’am.”
She opened her mouth to say something else, but then closed it as she took him in. “Why don’t you come inside? I just made blueberry muffins.”
It was long past morning now, and in any other household it might have seemed weird for someone to make muffins after breakfast, but not in the Pruitt home. They never once followed the conventional rules, which was how Logan had ended up staying there as often as he stayed at his own house. Most in Maple turned a blind eye to Canton Park’s ways, but not them. It had hurt him tremendously when Will died as much because of their pain as his own. He cared for the Pruitts as family and hated the idea of ever causing them sadness.
He hesitated, and Mrs. Pruitt walked out the door toward him, a white apron around her, with bits of blueberry streaked across it. She stood a good head below him, but as she looked up and pressed a gentle hand to his face, he felt like a small boy again. “Come in, son. Rest your mind.”
Logan had to fight back his emotions, but he managed to nod once and follow her into the house. He felt like a traitor for taking their kindness after what he’d done to Will. The thought made him want to apologize for her trouble and walk out, never to bother them again.
Setting down a plate in front of him, along with a tall glass of orange juice, she took the seat beside him and rested her chin in her hand, her eyes full of worry. “Is this about Savannah?”
Logan’s head snapped up. “How…?”
She stirred the cup of tea in front of her then rested the spoon on the edge of the saucer. “I’m a mother. We always know. It’s okay, you can talk about her here. It feels like whenever I see either of you, you try to pretend the other doesn’t exist. But you were both a part of Will’s life. And mine. You and Savannah were like my own children. I don’t want to see my kids unhappy.”
Unsure what to say, Logan took to picking apart his muffin.
“Do you love her?”
His eyes lifted slowly this time. “It doesn’t matter if I do. I shouldn’t.”
“‘Shouldn’t’ isn’t a part of love. You either do or you don’t, and if you do, and I believe you do, then you shouldn’t let the should or shouldn’t stop you from trying to make it work with her. She’s a sweet girl. She deserves a good man.”
This was the second time someone had said that to him, and he couldn’t decide if it made him feel better or worse. “I’m afraid I don’t really meet that requirement.”
At that she took his hand. “Look at me.” He did, because in Mrs. Pruitt’s house you did what she said. “Who fixed the leak in our basement? Who came to visit every day after we lost Will, just to make sure we were okay? You are good, through and through. You’ve just never seen yourself very clearly. And if you will allow me to say, that’s part of the problem with you and Savannah. She’s always seen you perfectly clear and I think that scares you.”
The throbbing in Logan’s head eased a bit as he thought about Savannah, all the things she’d said to him over the years, even before they were…whatever they were. Mrs. Pruitt was right. Savannah knew him and accepted him with nothing but open arms. She offered her heart to him time and time again, only to have him push her away.
He’d messed up, thought about everything the wrong way. He thought because he was Logan Park, only son of the town’s trash and Will’s best friend, that he wasn’t good enough for Savannah. That he didn’t deserve her. But that was never his call to make. Savannah loved him, which meant that to her, he was more than simply good enough. He was her match, and she was his, and he was done letting his past control him.
Swallowing hard, he looked at Mrs. Pruitt with a new sense of purpose. Maybe love was never easy. Maybe it was full of anger and sadness and doubts. But if you tried, if you fought for it, love could also be full of joy and happiness and hope. And he had hope that Savannah could forgive him, love him…spend forever with him. “What can I do?”
“I can’t answer that. But you can. Women like for our men to fix things. We like to lean on you and to feel like when everything crumbles you can put the pieces back together again. So what does she need you to fix? Figure that out and you have your answer.”
Logan stood then, excitement coursing through him, because he knew exactly what she needed him to fix.
“Where are you going?”
He smiled over his shoulder at Mrs. Pruitt as he started for the door. “I’m going to fix it.” Hopefully he wasn’t too late.
Chapter Seventeen
Savannah took her seat on the plane, her carry-on stashed in an overhead bin, a tote bag in her lap, and her heart full of pain. She still couldn’t believe she’d left Maple to return to Boston, and though she knew she’d made the right decision, she ached to change her mind. Ached to beg the pilot to turn around and take her back home. But the B and B was all but gone now. She didn’t have a home.
A fresh wave of sadness hit her, and she set the tote on the floor. As she did, she glimpsed a corner of a box from inside. The box Mrs. Pruitt had given her. Savannah had told herself she’d look through it on the plane, but now she wondered if the contents could drive the last nail into her depression coffin.
But then she heard a voice in her head—her mama’s as always—telling her to not be afraid. Life went on, fear or not. Might as well go with it.
Lifting the box from her tote, she removed the lid and peered inside. Will’s dog tags rested on top, and as she ran her fingers over them, tears welled in her eyes. Next was an acceptance letter to Duke University. That threw her. He’d never told her he got in. She was surprised he chose the army over Duke, which made her wonder how well she truly knew him.
Below the acceptance was another letter this one folded, but written out—by Will. The words LIFE’S TO-DO LIST ran across the top in Will’s writing, and below it was an itemized list of what he wanted to do in his life.
1. Serve in the army.
2. Double major.
3. Work for Hartridge and Long.
4. Explore Europe
5. Backpack through Asia.
6. Safari in Africa.
7. Snowboard
8. Save 5 million dollars
9.
A knot rose in her throat as she stare
d at the nine, realizing he’d died before he could finish his list. The tears that had threatened her before overflowed now, unable to be contained. He’d only made it through the first thing on his list. Only one thing. She read each of the items again, and then sat up straight, gripping the paper in her hands, a memory coming back to her of a conversation with Logan. Africa, snowboarding. Backpack through Asia. What do I want to do or what do I need to do?
Oh my God. She thought maybe Logan had promised Will that he would do certain things with him. She never realized that Logan was living Will’s life, even down to taking the job with Hartridge and Long, a job he seemed to hate, but which he did because Will couldn’t. He gave up everything he wanted, even her, all because of his love for his friend.
She closed the box and put it back into her tote, suddenly eager to get off the plane. Eyeing her watch, she sighed. Still ten minutes until she landed in Boston, and then she’d have to try to find a direct flight back to Atlanta, then grab a cab that would take her to Maple. Or maybe she should go directly to his townhome in Atlanta. Only she didn’t know where his townhome was and—
“Ugh!”
“Shh,” the old man beside her said.
“I’m sorry. I just need to get to Atlanta.”
“We just left Atlanta.”
“I know that. I need to go back.”
The man stared at her like she was crazy, so she shook her head and returned to eyeing her watch, the second hand ticking so slowly and so loudly she was tempted to smash it. Finally, the pilot announced they would be landing, and Savannah sat up tall, eager to get off the plane, so she could—what? Go back? And do what? Tell Logan she knew about the bucket list? Tell him she loved him? She already did that and it wasn’t enough. He didn’t want her. Still, she had to tell him that she knew about the list, that it was okay to live his life. He was free to be Logan Park now, not some carbon copy of Will.
She turned her phone back on, resolved she would just text him and leave it alone, when her phone buzzed with a new email—a note from Frank.
Dear Savannah,
Please provide me with a fax number to send final paperwork for the deed to your house. I need your signature on a few forms.
Best,
Frank
Savannah stared at the words, sure her brain was intoxicated from all the chocolate she’d eaten on the plane, and could no longer process words properly. Deed to her house? What house? Surely he didn’t mean…
Scrolling through her phone, she clicked Leigh’s name and grabbed her carry-on from the overhead bin.
“Hey—I need Frank’s home number.”
“Slow down, what? Are you drunk?”
“No, I need Frank’s home number. Can you get it for me?”
Leigh sighed heavily. “Frank doesn’t like to be called at home.”
“Get me the number.”
“Fine. I’ll need to make another call, then I’ll text it to you.”
Savannah’s pulse blasted in her ears. None of this made sense. Finally, Leigh texted the number and Savannah stopped just before baggage claim at Logan International to call Frank’s house, sure he would be annoyed, but at this point having no choice. She needed to know. Right now.
“Hello?” a groggy voice asked, and Savannah cringed. He sounded half asleep. Crap.
“Um, Frank? It’s Savannah Hale. I’m so sorry to bother you at home.”
A long pause, then, “I didn’t mean you needed to call me with the fax today. Tomorrow would work just fine, so I’ll speak with you—”
“Actually, I’m not calling about the fax number. I’m calling about your email. It didn’t make sense. A deed? What house? I don’t understand.”
“The bed-and-breakfast.”
Savannah straightened, the phone slipping from her grasp, but she managed to fumble for it before it hit the floor. “What did you say?”
“I said, the bed-and-breakfast. It’s yours.”
“Mine, but how…?”
She heard him yawn on the other end, then sigh. “The mortgage was paid off by Logan Park. Didn’t he tell you? He finalized everything with the bank yesterday. I received the paperwork today. I just need your signature.”
“Logan… He… Oh my God.”
“I assumed you were going into some dual partnership or what have you. Either way, though, I need your signature to complete the paperwork. Though, not at ten o’clock at night, Ms. Hale.”
It took Savannah three seconds to process what this meant, and five more seconds to hang up, grab her carry-on and start toward the exit. Only the moment she looked up, her eyes locked on the very person she’d been so desperate to talk to. He started for her, and tears welled in her eyes.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Logan swiped away her tear and then cradled her face. “Whatever I have to do. For the rest of my life. I love you and I want to be with you. I want to stand beside you in front of an altar. I want to hold your hand as you give birth to our kids. I want to walk with you on the beach when we’re old. I want your forever, and I’m willing to do whatever you want me to do. Because you’re my match. You were at ten, and nineteen, and you will be when I’m on my deathbed. I love you.”
Unable to remain still another second, Savannah launched into his arms, her lips on his, her heart and mind in sync for the first time. But she had to know if what Frank said was right. Pulling away, she asked, “Is it true?”
“Wha— Oh. It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s everything. It’s…” Savannah shook her head, her tears refusing to stop. “You have to let me find a way to repay you. I can pay you monthly, like the bank, something. Anything.”
“No. I think I’ve taken enough from you.”
“You’ve given everything to me…and to Will. I found his list.”
At that, Logan straightened, but he didn’t say anything.
“I know you’ve given up your life so he could live his. But I’m here to tell you can stop now. You’ve fulfilled whatever debt you feel you owe him. You can quit Hartridge and Long if you want, do whatever you like with your life.”
“Well, I appreciate that,” he said, a hint of a smile in his voice. “But seeing as how they already fired me, I’m not sure they would be interested in a resignation letter.”
Savannah sucked in a breath. “No… Logan, I’m so sorry. It’s because of the bed-and-breakfast, right? You have to let me call them. I can tell them I forced you into it. Blackmail or something. I can come up with a lie that you—”
“Stop talking,” he said, one hand gliding into her hair as the other tilted her chin up, “and kiss me.” His lips met hers, and in them lay all the hurt and pain, the longing and hope. He pulled away then to look at her. “I’m sorry I left eight years ago. But you have to know, you have to see that it was all for you. It was my way of loving you. Because I do—love you. I love you to the depths of my soul, and I may never deserve you, but if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to.”
“I understand now, and while I will always love Will for the wonderful person he was, he never had my heart. You did. You do.”
A smile broke across Logan’s face. “Are you trying to tell me that you love me?”
“I’m trying to tell you that I always loved you. And I will always love you.”
Epilogue
One year later
Savannah stood just inside the basement door, forcing herself not to peek outside, butterflies swarming in her stomach.
“Are you ready?” Jack asked, and she turned to see him dressed in the dark gray suit they’d chosen for him, a matching tie, a smile on his face and no hint of the humor he typically wore around his older sister. “You look beautiful.”
Savannah’s gaze dropped to her dress— strapless, white satin with silver and gold stitching, beading in all the right places. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
Taking her arm, Jack opened the door and Savannah drew a short breath
at the sight of the garden, flowers everywhere, the smell of honeysuckle in the air, the string quartet playing “Canon in D” at its center. And then she stopped at the end of the white cloth aisle, now covered in white and pink rose petals, and her eyes locked on the man at the other end. On her soon to be husband.
On Logan.
A boom of thunder hit overhead, followed by a crack of lightning, causing the crowd to gasp, but still Logan’s eyes held steady on her. The song switched to The Civil Wars’ “Poison & Wine”—their song—and she started toward Logan. Tiny droplets of water dripped from the sky like a faucet left on. Still, she kept her pace.
Jack stopped them before Pastor Parkins and Logan, his hand still covering Savannah’s. “Promise to be good to her,” he said to Logan, who nodded once.
“You have my word.”
Jack passed Savannah’s hand to Logan, and their eyes locked just as the dark sky opened up, showers drenching the garden and everything in it, but neither Savannah nor Logan moved.
“Should I continue?” Pastor Parkins asked, as another bolt of lightning hit.
The rest of the crowd ducked back into the safety of the bed-and-breakfast, except Leigh, the maid of honor, and Jim, the best man.
“Mama always said rain on a wedding day was good luck.”
Logan smiled. “I can’t wait another minute to call this woman my wife.”
Savannah’s heart surged, and she leaned in—just as Pastor Parkins cleared his throat. “We aren’t to that part yet, Ms. Hale.”
She grinned. “Right.”
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to witness the union of Savannah Hale and Logan Park…”
But Savannah lost track of the words as she stared into her love’s eyes, the words “I do” coming out of his mouth, and then hers, and then, “You may kiss the bride,” had only a moment to register before Logan pulled her to him, his lips crushing down on hers. Time seemed to stop as they kissed, their cup of happiness running over.