I wasn’t blind. I knew the man was attractive. But that had no bearing on why I liked him, why I liked being in his space.
With Logan, nothing seemed forced, and he stood there watching me without the scrutiny of those who judged, those who wanted responses from me that I didn’t want to give.
They’d wanted me to promise them I was okay when I wasn’t.
Logan had never once asked me things I didn’t want to tell.
Christian’s presence slipped just under the surface of my skin. And it hurt and it longed, whispered a call I didn’t think I’d ever be able to heed. Because that whisper burned, the memory of that beautiful man ingrained so deeply in my spirit that it now felt like a burden. He’d always be there, a part of me. There was no ridding myself of something so strong. He’d called me today. I’d let it go to voicemail because I just…couldn’t.
I managed to push all thoughts of Christian down, tucked them inside where I hid everything else, and focused on Logan.
I offered him a little honesty. “It’s hard for me to see her growing up like this.” I lifted my shoulders in a confounded shrug. “But then I’m so happy to see her this excited.” I paused, chewed at my lip before I fully leveled my eyes on him. “I just want her to be happy.”
Simple.
Just like I felt things were with Logan.
“You’re a good mom, Liz.” His nod was slow and meaningful.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said through a scoff, then shook it off. “Anyway, I better get going.” I pointed to my car as if asking him to remove himself from it.
“You have plans tonight?”
“No, not really. I’m just going to get some laundry done.”
He laughed and turned his attention to the deepening sky. He was grinning when he looked back at me from the side, his arms crossed up high on his chest. “That’s really sad, Liz.” Those green eyes gleamed with the tease.
I dropped my gaze to my feet and released a self-conscious chuckle. “Exciting, right?”
“Not so much.” He shifted a little. “Listen…I have dinner simmering on the stove. Why don’t you come over? We can wallow in our little girls growing up together.”
I took a single step back. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Oh, come on, how could it be a bad idea? I have dinner and wine. There aren’t many things better than that.”
Over my shoulder, I gazed at the house. Lights glowed bright from all the windows. So much life was happening inside.
I wanted to…I wanted to do something different than spending another night alone at my house. Each night this week it had just gotten harder to bear.
Still, something held me back, a hesitation that hammered in my heart.
Something that felt inherently wrong.
“Why don’t you drive back to your house,” he continued, “leave your car, and you can ride over with me. That way you can have a glass of wine, relax, enjoy yourself a little.”
I wavered, my head tipped to the side as I tried to decipher his intention. I wasn’t a fool. I saw it in his eyes, read it in his actions, the way he stayed just a little too long and talked just a little too much, the attraction that was there. I knew he wanted something to develop between us.
Could it?
Now?
In time?
I just didn’t know.
As if he read every last one of my thoughts, he shook his head and laughed. “God, Liz, you worry too much. It’s just dinner.” His toothy grin was wide and without a trace of strain. Nonchalant.
But was it? Was that what he really intended it to be? Is that what I intended? Because I was lonely. I could admit it now. I missed something, but I couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was that I was missing.
I finally conceded, because in the end, I couldn’t stand the thought of walking into the emptiness of my house. “That sounds nice, I guess.”
His smile widened even more. “You guess, huh?” He splayed his hand over his heart. “You wound me, Liz.”
A sputter of laughter tripped from my mouth. I couldn’t help it.
Then he stood and straightened himself out. “Let me grab my car, and I’ll follow you over.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
By the time I sat down in my car, I was shaking. I fumbled to get the key into the ignition. I glanced to where Logan was parked on the opposite side of the street, facing me.
What was I doing?
God, I had no idea.
I had no idea what I felt or what I needed.
Starting my car, I flipped a U-turn and headed back toward my house. Headlights gleamed in my rearview mirror, a constant reminder that a different man than the one I’d thought I’d spend my life with tailed me, followed with unknown intentions. I had a feeling tonight he would make them clear.
I pulled into my garage and cut the engine. My heart skittered, and I couldn’t tell if it was a pleasant or unwelcomed sensation.
I will try.
I realized this was part of it, moving on, living. Hiding away was no longer an option.
With the keypad, I tapped in the code and closed the garage. I started toward Logan’s car. I couldn’t help but grin when he ran around to the passenger door and opened it, dipped himself in an exaggerated bow.
“Ma’am.”
I laughed, and it felt good.
Chapter Seventeen
Christian
Present Day, Early October
Night steadily swallowed the heavens, a blanket of darkness strewn across the sky. Under it, I felt caged. Edgy. My headlights splayed across the road, the cabin dim, the high whine of my engine nipping at my ears as I sped the short distance from Matthew and Natalie’s house to Elizabeth’s.
I didn’t matter if she was there or not. I’d wait.
It was time.
Time to bring all this shit out into the open. Grief fisted my chest, thrashed at my ribs as words that needed to be said, hurt that needed to be confessed.
I knew Elizabeth had plenty of her own that needed to be shed.
Impatience bounced my knee as I stopped at a red stoplight. Thirty seconds passed like an eternity. Finally, it changed, and I accelerated, surging through the thick evening traffic. I merged into the turn lane and made a left onto the narrow road. Trees rose up on every side. Lights glowed their warmth from the windows where families ate dinner within the walls of their houses, where they played and laughed and loved. This neighborhood had always felt that way. Safe. Peaceful. Like home.
Twice I’d driven this road when I had been certain my heart would pound right out of my chest. Falter. Cease to sustain my life.
The first was the day I’d come here not even knowing my daughter’s name, not knowing the circumstances of their lives or the pain my decisions had brought them. I’d been unprepared then for what I had found. Elizabeth living alone, without love, solely supporting the daughter I’d abandoned.
That day had broken me, thrusting all my regrets and mistakes to the forefront. I’d finally had to accept the true consequences of the appalling choices I had made. But in that day, I’d still found light. A purpose. Hope. An inundating swell of devotion had pulsed steadily through my veins as I watched the two girls I loved with all of me embracing each other at the end of Elizabeth’s drive. That moment in time marked the day when I made the decision to take my family back. When I’d stood up, taken on the responsibility that had always been mine. When I finally knew I had to make it right.
The second was today.
As I inched my car down the quieted hush of the neighborhood street, my heart rate ratcheted high. It thundered to a roar in my ears and sloshed blood through my veins, pushed and pressed and tugged.
I approached slowly.
Three long blinks shielded my disbelieving eyes, the air punched from my lungs. I didn’t want to see. Still, I couldn’t help but look, as if I were drawn to the slaughter.
Like I’d done that first day, I pulled to the curb
on the opposite side of the road and concealed myself behind the cover of another car.
But unlike then, today was without that hope. Without the bright flash of light that had been injected into my weary life.
Today, there was just anger and pain and anguish that shocked across my skin.
A tremor shook me, rattled to my bones, and I struggled to draw in a breath of stifled air. But there was none to be found.
Part of me was screaming at myself to get up, to get out, to stop the ruin playing out in slow motion in front of me.
The other was frozen, pinned to that wall that seemed impossible to break free from.
Pain slammed me, sliced me in two, severing the few frayed threads that were holding my sanity together. That one that had held the last piece of my heart.
My vision blurred.
That asshole was here, standing at the passenger door of his car, holding it open as if he were some kind of fucked up knight in shining armor.
Playing a bastard’s game where he won and I lost my family.
Elizabeth rushed down her driveway to where he waited for her on the street.
And she laughed.
She fucking laughed and got in his car.
He slammed her door shut and ran around to the driver’s side. Brake lights flashed as he shifted the car into drive. Easing back onto the road, he headed in the opposite direction than the way we normally came in from the main street.
He was taking her to his house.
I knew it.
Motherfucker.
Images assaulted my mind. My fingers constricted around the steering wheel, my knuckles white. Furiously I blinked, struggling to see through the madness that clouded my sight. Anger singed my blood, pounded faster and harder and consumed every inch of my being.
Had they been doing this? Sneaking away? When Lizzie was at my house, was she with him?
Unable to stop myself, I followed, knowing there was no other choice. I fought to grasp onto one rational thought as I trailed them at a distance. Taillights burned a path ahead of me, like a beacon. Or maybe a warning flare.
Because the end result of this night remained unknown.
But it would have a result.
And it very well may be the end.
Chapter Eighteen
Elizabeth
Present Day, Early October
Logan pulled his car into his garage.
I spent the entire ride over fretting, questioning the decision I made to come here.
And the ride had been short.
That didn’t mean a million thoughts hadn’t spun through my overactive mind, confusion and contention and doubt.
Inside, I’d warred.
I guess what scared me most was I really didn’t know myself anymore. Didn’t recognize the woman sitting in this seat who was going to another man’s house.
What was I doing here?
Was I fool? Because any wise woman would know a man didn’t take her back to his house to talk. Logan wasn’t looking for a friend. He was looking for something I wasn’t sure I was ready to give.
He reached up to the visor and pushed the button to lower the garage door. The loud chain ran, spinning on wheels as the door slowly settled to the concrete floor. In it came a silence, a claustrophobic sense that made me want to jump out of my skin.
Logan patted me on the thigh. A flirty smile curved his upper lip as he looked over at me. “Come on, Liz, let’s get some dinner, I’m starving.”
We climbed out. He spun his keyring on his index finger as he walked toward the door that led into the house. He stepped aside as he held it open for me. “After you.”
Dropping my head, I acquiesced, ignoring the warning blaring within my head.
I promised I would try, and I knew I had to see this through.
Stepping inside, I found myself standing within cluttered piles of dirty clothes that sat in heaps on the floor in the small, enclosed laundry room that led into his house.
Self-conscious laughter seeped into the small room from behind. “You’ll have to excuse the mess. I wasn’t expecting company, although I have to admit, I’m really happy to have it.”
From over my shoulder, I forced a smile as I sidestepped around the mess. “Don’t worry about it. You should see mine. I think I have enough laundry to keep me busy for the next three months.”
He placed a warm hand on the small of my back as he guided me, bringing us out into a short hall. “To the left,” he instructed, prodding me forward with the heat of his hand.
A sharp breath left me. I wasn’t sure I liked it.
I hurried ahead.
He dropped his hand and began flipping on lights as we headed toward the front of his house. We stepped into the family room and he wove around to the far wall to flip on the light.
His home was much like mine, modest, the tiny rooms stuffed with so many mementos that it was cluttered in the most comfortable way.
I’d been here several times, dropping Lizzie off or picking her up, and of course I’d been inside during the barbeque last weekend. But being here, alone with him, it felt entirely different. Claustrophobic. Confined.
From where he stood on the other side of the couch, he smiled at me. “It’s quiet in here without the girls running around, isn’t it?”
I guess maybe he felt it, too.
“Yeah,” I said. Too quiet.
I fixed a plaintive smile on him, not really knowing what I was doing here, wondering why I stayed.
God, I was so messed up. Wrecked. I realized it a long time ago as I’d been lost in my misery. As my mind had begun to clear, I’d accepted it. Maybe even understood it.
My eyes narrowed as I studied Logan from across the room, and I wondered if he saw it in me. Did he know how broken I was? Did he know I was a mess? That most mornings, I could barely get out of bed?
Did he know I ached for a little girl I would never again hold? Did he know she haunted me? Did he know I’d never let her go?
What was he after? A fast fix? A fuck? A vulnerable woman who lacked common sense because she was blinded by pain?
Maybe I could give him that.
Maybe for a few minutes, it would cover it, the hurt and the sorrow and the cruelty of this world.
Or did he see something different in me? A companion. Someone who understood. A parent with similar circumstances, someone who was alone, one who was spinning away her days until something finally made sense.
Would it ever?
Because nothing made sense now. Not being here. Not looking at him. Not the confusion wreaking havoc on my emotions.
Maybe the most important question was the one that burned bright, the one that nagged, the one that promised Christian could never be scraped from my consciousness. No blade was sharp enough. No cut could ever go deep enough.
Did Logan know he could never compare?
Standing here, in his house, watching him from across the span of this tiny room, this nonchalant man with the insipid smile, I knew. I knew the mark Christian had made. It was profound. Permanent.
And it ached.
Logan tipped his head toward the kitchen archway. “I’d better check on the sauce. I’m making spaghetti, if that’s okay?”
Delirious laughter threatened, but I bit it back, held it in. Of course he was. The past seemed to be mocking me. Maybe such a simple dinner was common, but it didn’t matter. It still belonged to Christian and me. How many times had we stood in my tiny kitchen after we had reconciled, Christian’s arms wrapped around my expanding waist, his face buried in my hair as he sought out my neck, kissing me there. I could almost hear his voice in my ear. Are you making my favorite? Smells so good, baby. You spoil me. Let me finish.
I drew in a staggered breath.
“Yeah, that’s great,” I forced out.
Concern deepened the lines on Logan’s face. He cocked his head. “You sure? Because if you don’t like spaghetti, I can dump it and start over. Better yet, we could go out to di
nner.”
I realized then how clueless he was. He didn’t know me. The man had no idea what hurt me and what touched me. What would turn me on and what would shut me down.
I shook a little.
Was that what I wanted?
To start fresh?
To leave behind all the memories that would forever haunt me? Did I want to forget the ones that had meant most to me in favor of shunning the hurt?
It seemed the only option, because I didn’t know how else to stand up under the pain.
A soft sound sifted from me, and I shook my head. “No, honestly, I love spaghetti. It’s one of my favorites.”
His concern washed to confusion. “All right, then.” He turned and passed through the archway.
I followed him into his kitchen. It was small, but updated. The black granite countertops gleamed with specks of silver, black appliances to match, the dark wood cabinets warm.
I tried to relax within it. It was one of the coziest kitchens I’d ever been in, a lot like those we’d seen in the homes Christian and I had been looking to buy.
Logan went straight for the large skillet simmering on the stove. He lifted the lid. Steam curled as it rose, and he leaned over it to take in the aroma.
“Mmm…smells good.” He opened a drawer beside him, rustled around inside, and produced a spoon. He dipped it into the thick, red sauce. “Here…taste.”
He held it out for me, an offering.
Cautiously I approached, this timorous edge to my movements. My lips parted as I leaned forward to accept the spoon. He cupped his hand under it as he lifted it to my mouth and slipped it inside.
It was hot, burned my tongue, the savory sauce strong. I swallowed and pulled away, our faces too close as eager green eyes studied me. “It’s delicious,” I mumbled.
His brow shot up. “Yeah?”
“Honest.”
He smiled and raked his teeth on his bottom lip. Then he laughed, the sound cocky and sure, breaking the band of tension that had stretched us tight.
“Well, that’s a damn good thing, Liz, because it’s my mom’s special recipe. Not liking my momma’s food is a deal breaker.”
I shook my head, looked at my feet as I laughed away my discomfort, forcing myself to relax. I cautioned a glance up at him beneath the heavy drop of bangs that had fallen across my forehead. “Deal breaker, huh? And just what kind of deal am I agreeing to?”
The Regret Series Complete Collection Box Set: Lost to You, Take This Regret, and if Forever Comes Page 58