Chapter 48: Chapter Forty-Eight

RAE

“How was the—” Zoe stops mid-sentence when she sees my tear-streaked face.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” is all I say before I close myself in my bedroom.

Steven comes over later. I don’t see him, but I hear his laughter mixed with Zoe’s, carrying over a Christmas movie playing in the background.

Zoe’s making fun of the sappy plot, and Steven thinks her commentary is the funniest thing in the world. Then, the talking stops, Zoe’s bedroom door closes, and her headboard starts slamming into the wall.

I put in headphones, but there isn’t any music I can stand listening to, so I bury my head beneath the pillows and try not to think about what Logan and I didn’t do last night.

After more rounds of laughter and, well, banging furniture, Zoe and Steven say their goodbyes. She knocks on my door after and cracks it open a sliver, but I pretend to be asleep.

Eventually, I do fall asleep, only to wake up to a text from Logan.

Logan

Can I stop by your apartment after work?

Rae

Of course

Logan

I’ll text you when I’m there.

I hate not knowing what time plans are starting. I get anxious if my schedule is up in the air. Frankly, I get anxious if anything is up in the air, but it’s even worse when plans are concerned.

I don’t know when to start preparing myself, how I should slate my coffee intake for optimal caffeine levels, what distractions I have time for while I wait.

When you have anxiety, sitting around and waiting is one of the worst activities in the world. I think I’d actually rather join Zoe on one of her runs than play on my phone until Logan shows up.

But Zoe’s at work, not that she’d ever invite me anyway—I was always picked last in gym class for a reason—so I’m stuck doing what I hate most.

Waiting. Anticipating. Stressing.

Six comes and goes. Half past six goes by too. As does seven.

By the time Logan texts me that he’s here at 7:46, I’ve already anxious-puked twice. I do the lazy thing and give him the code instead of meeting him in the lobby like a good girlfriend would.

I’m obviously not a good girlfriend, so what’s the harm in adding another offense to the list of reasons why?

I mean, a lot of harm, but Logan appears at my doorstep anyway.

“Hey.”

I can’t read his tone, prompting my stomach to tie itself into the world’s most convoluted knot. “Hi. Come in.”

He chooses a seat at the counter, which means he doesn’t want to snuggle on the couch.

I burst into tears. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot since Saturday, and—”

My sob cuts him off. The absence of “no” means “yes” when you ask if you’re being dumped. “Please,” I whimper. “Please, let me make it up to you.”

“Rae,” he sighs. My eyes are locked on his, but his are locked on the counter. “I’m not upset with you for what you said. I know what you were trying to do. I’m not saying I liked it, but I understand, I guess.”

“Then why?”

“We’re from different worlds, Rae. I can never give you what you need. My family would be tearing each other’s throats out if we all got together for a Christmas party.”

Why can’t he see that I don’t care about that? Didn’t he listen when I told him how uncomfortable my family makes me feel?

“I told you that I hate the cookie-cutter family dynamic,” I protest.

“It’s not that I don’t come from the stereotypical, perfect Utah family. They’re not even functional, Rae. We don’t even have a family dynamic.” He pauses to clear his throat. “Not since Zach.”

“Logan,” I whimper. This can’t be happening. He can’t leave me. He has to change his mind. He ~has~ to.

“I’m sorry, Rae.”

“Please.” I’m begging now, waving goodbye to the minuscule scraps of dignity I’ve managed to hold onto after nearly twenty-four years of pure awkwardness.

“I gave a lot of thought to what Miles said, and as hard—” He clears his throat again—“as hard as it was to hear, he was right.” Logan smacks his hand against his forehead.

“ ~Shit~ . I wasn’t going to—”

“What did Miles say?” I demand.

“I don’t think he would want—”

“Tell me.” The tears are gone, replaced by rage and a dash of confusion. What the fuck did Miles say that convinced Logan to break up with me? ~Miles~ of all people.

He never meddled in my life. He was always there to support, not to influence.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he sighs. “This is hard enough for me as it is.”

“Then don’t do it,” I plead. The tears return, blurring my vision and stinging my tired eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

He spreads his arms, and I fall into his embrace, sobbing and sniffling and whimpering because I can’t lose him. The moment he walks out the door, I’ll be broken.

Logan Quincy, the man I gave my heart, has the power to break me, shatter me into pieces like nothing has ever before, and he’s doing exactly that.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats.

I’m desperate and pathetic, but I don’t care, not when I can fix this. Not when I can remind him of our connection, how much love exists between us. I press my lips to his.

They’re frozen, unmoving, stubborn. I don’t give up. I run my fingers through his hair and move my lips to his cheek and his neck, and soon, he’s stirring. When I kiss his lips again, they accept mine.

I pull him into my bedroom and rip my clothes from my body. He removes his slowly, cautiously. His hesitation is so apparent I nearly surrender to the rejection.

Is family just an excuse? Does he no longer love me? No longer want me?

No, he has to. Logan loves me. He’ll come to his senses. He has to, because I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t.

He allows me to kiss him again. There’s passion on my side, none on his. I’m pitiful, throwing my body at Logan in an attempt to make him stay.

I keep kissing him anyway because the second he leaves, I’ll break. Finally, he emits a soft groan.

“Logan,” I whisper. “Please.”

When we move onto my bed, it’s almost as if nothing changed. Our bodies collide. Fireworks explode inside me. His breath catches, and so does mine. We rock our hips together.

He fills me up, completes me, and all that’s left in the world is our bodies, the magic in our connection.

At the end, we come together.

He pries himself away a second later.

“I love you,” I whimper.

“I love you too, Rae.”

“Then don’t do this.”

“It’s… I’m not the person you need.”

“Why don’t you let me decide for myself what I need?” My voice is, by some miracle, sharp. ~Good~.

Clearly, I need to prove my strength to Logan because he thinks he understands me better than I understand myself.

Just like every other fucking person in the world, he believes I’m incapable of making a decision about what’s best for me.

“Rae—”

“No. You think you know what I need better than I do? You think Miles knows better? How can you have so little regard for your fucking girlfriend?” I snap.

I’m shaking with anger now. “I thought you saw me for who I am, but I was wrong. You’re just like everyone else. You see depressed, shy little Rae, too broken to make decisions for herself.”

I glare at him, and the words tumble from my mouth. “Get out.”

He doesn’t so much as deny my accusation. He doesn’t even respond.

He just tugs his hoodie over his head and leaves without a tear or sniff or frown. Once again, I’m witness to how goddamn effortless it is to walk out of my life.