More Than Her

Page 72

 
 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 were 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.