by McLean, Jay
"Hey, man. You awake?"
I didn't recognize the voice. I tried to open my eyes again. This time it worked. Barely.
Tristan. He was sporting what would soon be a black eye.
"Shit, okay." He started to panic. "I'll get your dad, just wait, okay?" He started to leave.
"Wait." My voice cracked. I tried to sit up. "Is she—did he?"
He slowly came back. "He didn't," he said. "We got there in time, just before the cops. He didn't—do that—to her."
I nodded and lay back down.
What the fuck was happening?
Dad walked in a minute later. I struggled to sit up.
"Broken arm and bruises, she'll be fine."
I breathed out, relieved.
"You on the other hand—"
"I don't care."
"Son, she's okay," he tried to soothe. But he shouldn't have. I'm not the one the deserved to be comforted. They were in that house because of me. They hurt her because of me.
My breathing got heavy. My body shook. My muscles tensed. The beeps got faster. My heart was breaking.
And then for the first time since I was in this same position, fourteen years ago, I cried. In the arms of a man that loved me more than blood. "Dad." I held on to him tighter. It was the first time I'd ever called him that to his face. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to.
Amanda
I was in hospital for two days. For two days Ethan never left my side. He never went home. He never showered. Mom brought us food. Logan never showed.
He's at home, I told myself. He's preparing our room. He's moving my stuff into his. Like he said I should do. And when I get home, it will be perfect. The girls came by. They didn't mention him. I didn't ask. He's at home, waiting for me.
Only he wasn't.
I got home to his empty room. "Baby?" I looked around the house. He wasn't there. Ethan was carrying all the flowers and balloons from hospital into the house. Mom had come and cleaned up the living room, so there was no more blood. No more broken furniture. No more bad memories. "Babe?" I yelled again. I went to my room first, and then his. I looked in his bathroom. He wasn't there. Was his car here? I didn't even bother to check. "Logan!" I started to panic. I walked to his desk, where he normally kept his keys. They weren't there. But there was a wad of cash, and a note.
The money should cover rent for six months.
What?
I dropped to sit on the bed. I re-read the note over and over. It never made sense. Not once.
Ethan came in.
"Where is he?" he asked.
"Gone." I sobbed into my hands and dropped the note.
I felt him pick it up.
Then the bed dip as he sat next to me.
He wrapped his arms around me. "I'm sorry, Dimmy."
I cried harder. "What did I do wrong?"
"Nothing, Dim. You just loved him."
FORTY
-A week Later-
Amanda
I don't know how or why I ended up here, but I needed to be here. I couldn't go another day not knowing what happened.
His dad answered when I knocked on the door, a look of surprise clear on his face. "Amanda?"
I don't even care to know what I looked like right now. I'd walked a mile in the pouring rain from the bus stop to his front door. My arm wrapped in a plastic bag to keep the plaster from getting wet.
"You're shivering, come inside."
So I did.
I couldn't stop my teeth from chattering.
"Goodness Amanda, you must be freezing. Just...wait, okay? I'll get Logan."
I nodded.
It's the only thing I could do.
I stood in the entryway for only a minute before I heard his voice. He walked from the back of the house, his eyes widening when he saw me.
"Get her dry and a change of clothes, son. She's going to catch pneumonia." I watched his dad make his way up the stairs, giving us some privacy.
When he was out of earshot, I faced Logan. "I had to see you," I tried to get out, but my body wouldn't stop shaking.
He blew out a deep breath. "Come on. Let's get you dry." He jerked his head for me to follow, but he didn't wait for me to walk ahead of him. Instead I followed behind him. Neglected. Because maybe that's what I was now.
We walked into the pool house and led me to the bathroom, holding the door open for me. "You should have a shower, warm your body, I'll bring you a change of clothes." He looked down at my plastered arm, and then lifted it to inspect it. "Try to keep it out of the water."
I wasn't going to call him out on the fact that I'd had it on for a week already. A week when he'd been MIA. When I've had to take care of this myself because he decided to just up and leave me. Leave us.
Ten minutes later, I was out of the shower and true to his word, fresh clothes were waiting for me. When I was dressed, I walked out of the room and he was there. Hands in his pockets, leaning against the kitchen island, his head bowed, his shoulders slouched.
When he heard me, he slowly raised his head, but he didn't look at me. "What are you doing here, Amanda?"
"You just disappeared." I took steps forward until I was right in front of him.
His eyes finally moved to mine. His jaw clenched. Hands still in his pockets. "Is that your answer or a question?"
"I don't know." I moved to hold his hand but he jerked it away and moved so he was behind me.
And now I was pissed. Because I don't know what the fuck I did wrong. I turned to face him, "Did I do something? What the fuck happened, Logan? One second I'm in a hospital bed, and then the next second you're gone. Your shit's all packed up and you're gone. What did I do?"
He shrugged, eyes staring off into nothing. "You didn't do anything, Amanda."
"Really asshole? The 'it's not you, it's me' speech. Really?"
He shrugged again.
I took a minute to calm down. Because as much as I hated that I was here right now, I was here for a reason. And I wasn't leaving until I knew what the fuck happened.
"Can you at least look at me, Logan, please?"
And he did.
He looked at me and it's that exact same feeling I had the first time I saw him again. Standing in that library. With all those misplaced emotions. All at once.
"Do you think I want to be here?" I started. My voice broke and I knew I was about to cry but I didn't give a shit, because he needed to see it. He needed to understand how badly he was hurting me. "I don't want to be this girl. I don't want to be standing in front of you, pouring my heart out, because I don't know what happened. I don't know why you haven't come home. I don't know why you won't answer my calls." The tears were flowing and I didn't bother to wipe them. "I don't know what the fuck I did, Logan. I'm sorry. What ever it is, I'm sorry. You just have to forgive me and you need to come home. And I need you tell me what I did. Please. You have to tell me." I hated me. I hated me so fucking much. I hated this pathetic weak excuse of a person that I'd become, but I couldn't fucking help it. Because I needed him. Like air. I just needed him.
He sniffed once, looking right into my eyes. "I don't know what you want from me, Amanda." His voice was strained.
I knew he was holding back his tears, and his own emotions. He had to be. Because this can't be it. This can't be all there is to us. To our story. This can't be how it ends.
"I want you to want me." I tell him. "I want you to need me. I want you to fucking choose me. I want you to fight for me. You have to fight for me, Logan! You can't walk away. Not again." I moved so I was standing in front of him, my hurt and anger taking over. I grabbed his shirt in my hands as best I could. And some time between walking into his house and now, I'd become desperate. "You have to choose me." My fingers gripped the material tighter. And this—this is the moment I lost all control. "You have to fucking choose me. Please Logan. You just have to."
I was crying so hard I didn’t know if my words we
re clear.
Outside of my head it was silent.
But in my mind, every single conversation we'd ever had played. All the time's he told me how he felt about me. The ways he showed me that he cared. The late night conversations with those stupid truths. The times we talked about our lives, our future. And now? This. Me—begging him to stay. And I have no idea what the fuck happened to us.
I tried to calm my breathing, but the sobs wouldn't quit, not even for a second.
"Amanda." He said it so softly I almost didn't hear him.
I lifted my eyes to his, and held my breath, waiting for him to say something. To tell me that I was right. That he wanted me, as much as he needed me. Like air. Those were his words.
He pried my fingers from their hold on his shirt and pushed my hands away. "I can't."
The second the words were out of his mouth, something in me changed. I slowly closed my eyes and took a deep breath in. When I opened them, I refused to see him. Instead, I walked straight to the door and opened it.
"Wait," he said.
So I did.
I stopped halfway out, but didn't turn around. Because I couldn't stand him anymore.
"It's still pouring out, I'll give you a ride to your mom's."
Whatever.
I didn't move, but I didn't decline.
I heard him grab his keys before he brushed past me and led me to his car.
The drive home was silent apart from my soft cries.
When he pulled into the driveway, he didn't turn the car off, and he didn't look at me. Not until I opened the door to get out.
"Wait," he said again.
So I did.
Finally, he turned to face me.
And we stared at each other. Like we did the first time I sat in this car. Not knowing that one night would lead us here—to this moment.
He swallowed and cleared his throat, his eyes started to glaze with his own tears. He sniffed once, trying to hold it together. And I don't know why he chose this moment. Why he said what he said next. Or why he even said it all.
"I love you, Amanda."
And then he quickly turned and faced forward again, refusing to look at me. Refusing to acknowledge what he'd just said. What he just did.
And I know why.
It's because he doesn't.
He doesn't love me.
Not at all.
Those words he promised would belong to me forever—they don't.
And I didn't have him.
Not forever.
Not even for now.
Not anymore.
So I told him the one truth that wasn't a truth, but one I had to believe to get through the rest of my life without him.
"I hate you, Logan."
And then I was out of his car, slamming the door shut, and walking away. Because it was my turn. It was my fucking turn to leave him behind.
Logan
Dad looked up when I entered his office.
"Everything okay?"
I nodded
"You ready?"
I nodded again.
FORTY ONE
Amanda
Five weeks.
It's been five weeks since I'd seen him. I hadn't heard from him once. Not a thing. And I think it's for the best. I think that maybe I needed a clean break. A way to completely erase him from my life. I'd told Micky and Lucy, and they understood. They knew that being around them might mean being around him, or even hearing about him. And I couldn’t do that to myself. Not now. Not yet. I was back to where I was when I first got here. Trying to do everything I could to avoid him.
"I have something to tell you." Ethan turned the TV off and I faced him. He was home more often now, and I knew why. He was worried about me. He thinks I've turned into the girl from that summer. But I wasn't. Not really. I was nowhere near as broken as I was then. Maybe it was because I was immune to the fucked up ways of Logan Matthews. Maybe it was because I'd come to accept the fact that maybe—just maybe—it was my fault. That I never should have taken him back the first time. Or the second time. Or the third. Whatever it was. I didn't care. I was over it.
"Dimmy." He tried to get my attention again.
"What? What do you have to tell me? If it's about his room—not yet, okay? Just wait. Another week. I've got to go in there and clear out my stuff."
Okay, so maybe I wasn't not over it yet. But I was close.
"No." He shook his head. "That's not it. But uh, it's about him."
I looked away. "Then I don't want to know."
"Dimmy, I think you need to know."
"I don't think I need to know shit about him anymore, E. I'm done with him."
"He's gone."
My head whipped to his. "What do you mean he's gone?"
"Like, gone. Away. Out of the country. He's traveling the world or some shit. I don't know." He shrugged.
"What? How? What about college? What about med school? Traveling where?"
"Dim, I don't know. I bumped into James today and he asked how you felt about Logan experiencing the world indefinitely, or something."
"Indefinitely?"
"Seriously, I don't know. I know as much as I just told you. Look, I'm just telling you so that you know it's okay. You don't have to worry about bumping into him on campus or anything. You can hang out with your friends again. He won't be there. I just wanted you to know. And honestly, Dim, you fucking deserve to know. He should have at least told you that much."
EPILOGUE
Logan
I was the match that started the inferno.
Excerpt More Than Him
Spring 2014
A knock on the window caused me to jump out of my skin. I held my hand to my heart and turned to see a familiar face.
He knocked again.
I should’ve expected to see him; we were parked at the front of his work. I wound down the window.
"Hey, Amanda," he greeted. Then rubbed the scruff of his beard with the back of his fingers. “You got a minute? I’d like to have a quick word if that’s okay?"
It could only be about one thing, and for a second, I hesitated. But I wouldn’t let this ruin what I’d spent months trying build. "Sure," I smiled at him and got out of the car.
He motioned for me to sit on a bench a few feet away. I did. “How have you been, Dr. Matthews?"
"You know to call me Alan, Amanda."
I laughed. "How have you been, Alan?"
He blew out a breath, his smile completely gone. "I’ve been better." He cleared his throat. "That’s actually why I wanted to speak to you."
My eyebrows drew in. "What do you mean?"
He took my hand in both of his. I let him. I swallowed down my emotions and blinked back the tears. I don’t know how he’d suddenly made me feel like this.
"I owe you an apology—"
I opened my mouth to interrupt but he lifted his hand to stop me.
"Please, sweetheart," he said. "I need to apologize to you. Logan—"
My breath caught. No one’s mentioned him by name since he left.
"He was in a bad way after what happened to you. And even though it happened to him, too. He never saw it like that. All he ever saw was you. He blamed himself. He thought it was his fault that it happened. And he thought that if you hadn’t of met him—well—" He let out all the air in his lungs. Then he looked at me. Right into my eyes.
I let a tear fall.
"I thought I was helping him. It was my idea for him to leave and travel. I thought that maybe it would help him if he saw things differently…but hell, I never even thought about you."
I let the dam break.
"And I’m sorry," he continued. "I’m sorry that he’s gone."
"Please." I managed to say, trying to stop him from continuing. I wiped my face. "I appreciate what you’re saying. I really do. But you’re not the one that should be apologizing."
He nodded. "Do you want t
o know about him?"
"No." I said quickly. "I can’t."
"Okay," is all he said.
Then he removed his hands from mine and leaned back on the bench.
I mimicked his position.
We stared straight ahead.
"You know," he said, his tone a little lighter. "When he left for college, it started to get real lonely in that big old house, but he would come by and visit on weekends. Now though—I miss him."
I swallowed the knot in my throat. "Yeah." I did, too. But I wasn’t going to admit that to anyone.
He laughed once. "I looked up taco casserole recipes on the internet."
I smiled. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," he replied. "Mine came out black, though."
I laughed. That awkward crying type laugh. I wiped my face and sniffed.
"Just saying—if you ever feel the need to make it, and want to visit a lonely old man in a big empty house, the invitation is there."
I tuned my head to face him. "Maybe."
"There you are!" his voice came from behind me, interrupting us.
I stood up.
So did Alan.
I waited until he was next to me before I made the introductions. "Um, this is Tyson." I pointed my thumb at him. "Tyson, this is Dr. Matthews." I felt Tyson tense from next to me.
They shook hands.
Alan smiled, and then faced me. "The invitation will always stand, pretty girl."
Acknowledgements
So many people to thank for making More Than This and More Than Her possible.
Firstly, my amazing fiancé. The line, “He's not the hearts and flowers kind of guy, but he's the heart and soul kind, and fuck if every girl would rather that than the flowers.” — That’s all you.
My beautiful, perfect little boys, I don’t have words. They are my heart. My soul. My everything. I hope one day you’ll read this and be proud of Mummy.
My mother in law, Jan McLean. You were there to help me out on so many occasions when I was up all night writing and needed someone to be there. Whatever our little family needs you are always there, and I can’t tell you how much I love and appreciate you.