I sucked in a breath and tried to remain composed. I pulled her up until she was sitting on my lap. "So, you've wanted to visit him for a while?"
"Yeah," she said quietly, facing the ground. I tilted her chin up so I could see her face.
And then I waited.
"I just think it would be good, for closure, or something. I thought about it a lot while you were gone, and then you came back, and I thought that maybe I wouldn't need to anymore, but it's still there, in the back of mind. I still feel like it's something I need to do."
I sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. "Okay . . ."
We sat in silence for a few minutes while I thought. She didn't press on, she didn't ask me to speak sooner than I was ready. She knew me well; she knew me better than I faked it.
I continued. "If you want to see him, I'll support you. But I don't. I don't want to see him or even really think about him. I'm done."
She nodded slowly. "I understand that."
I kissed her quickly. "Do you know where he is?"
She nodded again.
"When did you want to see him?"
She swallowed audibly. "Tomorrow."
My eyes drifted shut. "I'll drive."
Amanda
I tried to ignore the skeezy looks I was getting from the inmates. I did my best to dress as least flattering as I could; I knew that Logan was concerned about that, especially because he wasn't coming into the building with me. He’d called ahead and spoke to someone to make sure that I'd be watched the entire time. I knew I would be, and that I'd be safe, but if him making that phone call meant that he'd breathe easier while I was in there—then who the hell was I to say anything?
The thumping against my chest made it hard to breathe. I admit it. I was scared. I wasn't afraid that he'd hurt me—not physically, anyway. What I was afraid of was looking into the same monster's eyes that Logan had spent years trying to hide from. And I didn't want that for me. I didn't want to have to hide from him, or be afraid of the dark, or being alone. I wanted to let go of the hatred in my heart that I carried around because of him. Not so much for what he did when he showed up that night, but for what he did to Logan all the nights before.
Before he was finally safe.
His eyes were cast downwards when I sat down in front of him. He didn't even bother to lift his head. I cleared my throat. Nothing. "Hey, asshole."
That got his attention. Slowly, he lifted his chin. Dried blood and bruises covered his face. Not a single part of me felt sorry. Maybe that made me a bad person, but I doubt it.
"Who are you?" he spat out. The asshole couldn't even remember me. Then he chuckled lightly to himself. "Don't tell me I'm your father."
"No." I assured him. "You don't need to worry about that. My dad—he's an asshole. You—you're a waste of fucking air."
His eyes widened. "Oh. You have a mouth on you."
"Fuck you."
He rolled his eyes and sighed.
Valid. I needed to calm down. I came here to speak to him, to get closure. Not to cuss him out.
"My name's Amanda—"
"Fuck," he growled, and then trained his eyes on the table in front of him.
"So you remember me now?" My name must have triggered something.
"What are you doing here, little girl?"
I leaned forward and rested my elbows on the table. "Little girl?" I laughed. I wasn't going to bring up the fact that his daughter was the same age as me. The same one whose sex he traded for drugs.
His jaw tensed, but he still refused to look up at me.
"I came here because I thought you had the right to know. Not because you deserved to, but because you don't." I paused, trying to find a place to start. "Logan—he's an amazing person. The best, actually."
His eyes lifted slightly.
"You know he's really smart? He's studying to be a doctor, just like his dad."
He lifted his chin now, paying more attention.
"And he's so genuine. He cares about everyone, and everything, and always puts himself last." I sniffed back my emotions. "You know he feels everything, right here." I pointed to my chest. "In his heart. And he loves. He loves fiercely, with this passion and emotion that's all Logan. Every part of him. He gives you every single piece." I wiped away the tears as I struggled to speak. "And you take all those pieces, and you cherish them, because Logan—that's what he deserves." I laughed to myself. "And he's so funny. He's cocky, and rude, but he's so damn funny. He always makes the effort to make me laugh. All the time. And he watches me, with this intensity that knocks me back a step. And he doesn't know that I notice, because he's so busy giving me everything." I let it out now—all the feelings I had brewing inside, and I cried. I cried for the person I loved. My person. "He's always thinking. His mind's always churning. You know, he thinks about things that people our age don't even worry about. He wants to cure hunger, fight for world peace, stop slavery—he wants to do it all. He wants to change the world. And you know what? One day, he will." I leaned closer and lowered my voice. "But it won't ever be because of you."
His hands balled into fists on the table and a low grunt escaped him. His lips formed into a sneer, but he kept quiet.
"No matter what you did to him, you couldn't bring him down. You tried." I laughed bitterly. "Oh, you fucking tried. But you couldn't do it. Because Logan—he's better than you. He's always been better than you. And you missed out on all of it. You missed out on watching this bright, amazing little boy turn into the best man possible. And he did it all without you. He could've played the 'poor me, I was an abused kid' card. But he never did. Not once. He left you exactly where you belong, in the past—where people leave all their regrets, and mistakes, and fuck-ups. Because that’s what you are. A fuck-up. And you deserve to know that. So that five, ten, fifteen years from now, when you hear that your own son, the one that you abused every day of his life when you had him, has done something amazing, you should know that he did it all without you. And everything he achieves, every success he has, I want you to take it as personal fuck you from him. And from me, too."
I stood up, ready to leave, but his hand caught my wrist. I looked down at it and panicked for second, before remembering where I was. The guards had already taken two steps forward—ready to pounce.
"Amanda," he croaked. I flinched. My name leaving his mouth made my insides freeze. I looked from my wrist to his eyes. I tried to cover my gasp, but I wasn't quick enough. The monster's eyes I'd been so afraid of matched the ones I loved so much. Only they weren't lively like Logan's. They seemed expired. Beyond their date. Used.
He flipped my wrist up so he could see Logan's initials on permanent display. "You love him, don't you?"
I nodded once. "He's my person."
He pulled out a ratty old envelope from his front pocket. "Jones!" he called out to the guard behind him.
The guard took the steps to cover the space between us. Picking up the letter from his raised hand, he opened it and skimmed it quickly, and then handed it to me.
It felt like a ball of fire between my fingers.
I waited until I was in the foyer before reading it.
***
Thirty-four weeks post Amanda.
How bad is it that I don't know how to greet you. Dear Dad? Dear Asshole? Maybe Dear Child Abuser? What do I call you? Sperm Donor? Monster?
Dear Monster,
Remember that time when I was six, and you told me you'd stop hitting me for a week if I didn't speak for two hours? I didn't speak for an entire day, but the next morning, I got woken with a fist to my stomach. You probably don't remember. You were too wasted, high, fucked-up in all other ways.
I dreamt about that last night. I woke up in a sweat. No piss this time. I'd say you'd be proud of me. But honestly, I couldn't fucking care less what you thought of me.
Here's the thing. I woke up today with a new outlook on life. It's this; fuck you.
I'm not going to live another day waiting for the dark
ness to fade or the shadows to pass. You and my mother—you're monsters that hide out those places. In the shadows and darkness of my life, and my thoughts, and my dreams. For so long I'd been afraid to close my eyes. But not anymore.
I almost let you win. You came back and you turned my dreams into a nightmare. I walked away from the one person in the entire world that I let love me back—and it's because of you. Because you embedded my brain to believe that I wasn't worthy, and that I didn't deserve to have the kind of happiness that Amanda gave me.
So, fuck you.
Because you're wrong. I've worked hard my entire life to leave you in the past, to not let you have any control over me. And in one night, you came back and you ruined that. You ruined me, and I lost her. And letting you control that, letting you own that part of me, was the biggest mistake of my fucking life.
Because I gave up on her—and I gave up on us.
But I'm going back, and when I do, I'm going to fight for her.
It could take me days, weeks, months, years. It doesn't fucking matter. Because I won't just be fighting for her. I'll be fighting you, too. And if I ever get her back, it'll be my life's biggest achievement.
And the biggest fuck you I could give you.
Because you won't win. I won't let you.
Epilogue
September twenty-fourth
Logan
Ethan's eyes were huge as he took in my words. "How the hell did you manage to hire out the entire place?"
Unlocking the gate to the mini golf center, I turned to him. "Let's just say I had to have a lot of sex with a lot of different people, some I'd rather forget."
Amanda's backhand into my stomach knocked the wind out of me. "You're an ass," she stated.
I opened the gate and waited for them to enter. "Baby, don't be mad. I thought about you the entire time."
I walked us over to where all the switches were and started turning them on, just like the owner showed me. Truth is, I came in and asked if it was possible. He said if I covered double the general takings for a Tuesday night, it would be fine, as long as we had a professional clean-up crew come in before opening the next day. He was kind of eyeing me weird the whole time, and I knew the instant recognition hit him because he took a physical step back. "Actually," he'd said. "That's not going to cover it." I'd dropped my shoulders and waited for him to continue. "You're friends with Jake Andrews, right?" It wasn't really question. "If we can get him here for a day, do some signings, get some pictures, maybe he can donate a signed jersey or baseball to hang up—then I'll let you have it for nothing." I'd smirked. "Sure, bud. Won't be a problem."
Not until I actually told Jake about it.
Ethan came up next to me and nudged my side. "Seriously, dude. This is the best birthday present ever. I can't believe you did all this."
I shrugged, watching Amanda talking to Lexi, Tristan and James, Micky's ex and their new housemate. Tristan was play punching her arm, counting off each one. She laughed, trying to get him to stop. "I have a lot to make up for," I told him.
"I don't know," Ethan started. "I mean, look at her." I already was. "I think you're done. You came back. You're both healed. You're both moving forward. What else can you do?"
A slow smile spread on my face. "Give her the whole goddamn universe."
***
An hour later, the place was packed. Alcohol was in full supply and a handful of guys were actually trying their hand at mini golf. Jake was pissed when I told him that I'd basically traded his time for the place. He hated doing anything that made him the center of attention. I played the pity card and told him that I just wanted to give Amanda and Ethan a good time; they deserved it after the hell I’d put them through. It worked. He changed his tone and said he'd be more than happy to do it.
"Have you spoken to Megan since you've been back?" Micky asked over the music.
I leaned forward on the table so she could hear me properly. "Not yet, have you?"
She nodded. "She's doing well, Logan. That new facility she was moved to helped her lots." She smiled proudly. "She's clean, and she's started to sort her life out." Then her features flattened. "It would mean a lot to her if you called, or something. Just let her know that you're safe, and that you don't blame her for what happened. She's carrying around a lot of that guilt—"
"What?" I interrupted.
"Yeah," she said timidly. "She thinks it's her fault, what happened that night, and you leaving. She even called Amanda to apologize."
I looked over to Amanda who was laughing at Ethan missing the hole from only inches away. "I'll call her," I promised. "I don't want her thinking any of that shit. I just wanted the time to make things right, you know?" I faced her again. She was nodding, understanding what I meant.
I just wanted Amanda.
Amanda
Logan and I left the party right after Cameron and Lucy did. They had to be up early to head home. Tomorrow was the anniversary of Lucy's mom's death, and, like every year, they went to visit her with the rest of her family.
"You promise you can't see anything?" he asked.
I gripped his arm tighter and took the final step onto the roof. "Do you promise this isn't going to be like the last time you blindfolded me?"
"Holy shit, babe, my dick just twitched in my pants."
"Really?"
"Yup."
"Let me touch it."
The warmth of his breath from his chuckle hit my cheek. "Okay," he announced. "You ready?"
"Yes." I blinked a few times, adjusting my eyes to the small amount of night light that filtered through once the blindfold was off. We were on the rooftop of the apartment, like I’d suspected, but there was nothing different about it. "Um, I don't—"
His laugh cut me off. "Just wait right here, okay?" He moved swiftly to an outlet next to the door. "Ready?" he shouted.
I nodded.
Then the entire place lit up from above. My eyes darted up to the hundreds of fairy lights that were strung up above us. In the center was a bunch of different sized and colored paper lanterns. But that's not what made me gasp; it was the dozens of tiny glass vials weaved through them.
"See?" He stood next to me, and followed my gaze. "Now we just wait for it to rain, and we can start collecting more moments."
I slowly turned to him. His eyes were still focused above us. But he wasn't seeing what I was seeing. What I saw my future, my life, my world. "Logan, this is amazing."
His smile was instant. That all-out, carefree, deep-dimple-displaying smile I loved so much. He took my hand. "Come on." He led me to a rug set out underneath the center of the lights. I followed. Once we were seated, he said, "Hi." He chewed the corner of his lip and played with a loose thread on the rug.
"Hi," I replied.
We sat cross-legged, facing each other. Our grins matched each other’s. "Happy birthday."
"Thank you."
"I got you something."
"No. You've already done so much. You've spent way too much money."
He rolled his eyes. "This didn't cost me anything."
"You sure?"
"Yes, babe," he drawled. "I'm sure."
I perked up. "Okay, then. Gimme!" I threw my hand out, palm up.
He sighed. "It's not—" He took a deep breath and let it out with his words. "It's not what you think it is, and I don't want you to get excited, or mad, or disappointed because you will, and it's—"
"Logan. Stop!"
"Okay . . ."
I moved my hand suggestively closer to him.
And then I waited.
And waited.
It felt like forever.
But the instant the metal hit my palm and the lights from above shined reflectively on the diamond—I flipped my hand and dropped it.
I glared at him, my eyes falling out of my head. His expression matched mine.
I glanced down at the ring, now sitting on the rug.
Thump. Thump.
I looked away.
&nb
sp; "I told you it's not what you think it is."
"No," is all I could say. My mind was racing. My palms were sweating.
"Amanda." He tried to get my attention.
I started to stand up but his heavy hands on my legs stopped me from moving any further.
"What is wrong with you?" He'd started chuckling. I didn't know what was so funny.
"You're giving me an engagement ring, Logan. That's not funny."
He quit laughing. His tone was serious when he said, "It is an engagement ring, but it's not for you. I mean it's not your engagement ring."
My face must've shown how confused he just made me because he dropped his head and let out the sigh of all sighs. When he finally lifted it, his eyes were focused, determined. Picking up the ring between us, he asked me to come closer. I did. "Closer," he said again. I moved. "Closer." I was sitting across his lap by the time he was satisfied. "I'm not asking you to marry me," he started. My shoulders relaxed. I wasn't ready for that yet. "I'm not saying that I won't. It's just not our time—yet." I smiled, so glad we were on the same page. He continued, "Remember how I told you about Dad's Tina?"
"His high school sweetheart? The one that . . ." I trailed off.
He glanced away for a second. "Yeah, this is hers."
My breath caught.
"My dad . . ." He held my hand upright and placed the ring on my palm. I picked it up and started to examine it. It was beautiful. Beyond beautiful. White gold with a single stone, but the stone was huge; triple the width of the band. His words broke into my thoughts, but I kept my eyes on the ring. "He gave this to me when I was sixteen. He said I'd become a man." He laughed lightly to himself. "He told me that moments, the ones I create, the ones I hold onto—they're only worth remembering if I have someone to share them with. He said that when I found someone—someone I wanted to share all of my future moments with—to give them this. And hope that every time that person looks at it, they'll know. They'll know that I wanted to share my life with them.