Page 47 of Somewhere Without You

Forty Five

The morning was still and gentle, wrapped in a low fog that clung to the mountains. A fine mist floated in the air—a quiet warning of bad weather still to come.

My body ached. I was bruised, sore, and trembling in places I hadn’t even realized could hurt.

All things considered, it could’ve been worse.

I was exhausted, but I hadn’t really slept.

I’d spent most of the night listening—holding my breath, terrified Jackson might come back, and that this time, nobody would be there to save me.

Logan showed up shortly before noon the next day. Raindrops clung to his jacket, sliding down his shoulders in slow rivulets as I opened the door. In one hand, he held a drink carrier with two cups of coffee. In the other, a rolled-up sheet of plastic.

“A peace offering,”he said, lifting the cups.“And if you’ll let me, I’d like to fix that window. There’s a strong system moving in, and I. . .”his voice trailed off as he took me in.

I stepped back and let the door fall open wider.

He set the coffees on the table, and almost immediately, Winston came trotting down the stairs. The dog gave a soft, delighted bark when he spotted Logan.

“I’ll admit, I had my doubts about you,”Logan said, kneeling to scratch behind Winston’s ears.“But you’ve won me over, buddy.”

Winston’s tail thumped against the floor as if he’d never known a reason to doubt Logan. I envied his trust.

Logan stood and peeled off his damp jacket, draping it over the back of a chair.

He didn’t say much as he unrolled the plastic sheet and set to work.

I watched him for a moment, unsure what to do with myself.

The silence between us was uncomfortable.

Both of us had things we weren’t ready to say yet.

When he was finished, the wind picked up outside, whistling faintly through the cracks. He glanced toward the window.

“This’ll hold through the storm,”he said.“Might not be pretty, but it’ll keep the rain out.”

I nodded, finally giving in and wrapping my hands around the warm coffee cup. “Thank you.”

He looked up at me then, eyes searching mine.“You okay?”

The question hung between us longer than it should have. I wasn’t. Not really. But over the years, I’d gotten good at pretending.

“I’m fine,” I lied, adding another stone to the fragile wall I’d built around myself.

Logan didn’t move. “Don’t do that,” he begged. “Don’t shut me out like I don’t know the difference.”

I looked away, jaw tight. “I’m not shutting you out.”

“Yeah, you are,” he pressed. “And I get it—you don’t owe me anything. But at least give me the chance to explain. After that, if you want me gone, I’ll go.”

“I wanted to believe you, you know,”I said, my gaze fixed on everything but him.“When you said you loved me? God, I really wanted to believe it.”

“I meant it, Emily,”he said quickly.“I wasn’t lying.”

“No?”I scoffed, the words catching in my throat.“You just forgot to mention that you’re married, right? Or that your wife happened to be Madeline? Was that a lie too, or did it just conveniently slip your mind?”

Anger rose in my chest. I took another sip of coffee, trying to force it back down.

Logan’s eyes fell to the floor.“Madeline and I are separated. We split three months ago. She’s a psychiatrist up in Boston and wanted me to move there, to follow her.

But I couldn’t. I thought she understood.

She said she did. We’d been living apart when she suddenly showed up here—right after you did, claiming she wanted to give it one last try. ”

He rubbed the back of his neck, waiting for me to reply. When I didn’t, he continued.“I’ll be honest, I thought about it. I felt like I owed her. . . out of habit maybe, or guilt. But the truth is, our marriage had been over for a long time.”

Part of me wanted to believe him. The same part that had clung to every kind thing he’d ever said, every time he made me feel seen, safe. But there was another part that reminded me I’d been here before—that trusting the wrong man had already cost me too much.

“Where were you when you disappeared that week?”I stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying, and what was the truth.“Were you with her?”

Logan hesitated. Then, slowly, shamefully, he nodded.

“I can’t fucking believe this,”I breathed, setting the cup down a little too hard.

“Please, Emily,”he begged.“It’s over between us. I swear. My lawyer’s already drawn up the papers—”

“Is that what Clarksburg was?”I cut in, suddenly queasy.“Did you drag me out there unknowingly so that you could divorce your wife?”

His eyes dropped to the floor again.

“Are you serious, Logan? What the fuck?”

The room tilted slightly, narrowing at the edges. I grabbed the back of the kitchen chair and sat, afraid my knees might give out. There was too much happening inside me—grief, rage betrayal.

Heartbreak.

How could I have been so fucking blind? How could I have been so stupid?

“And Abernathy’s?”I managed.“The way she looked at you, the way she cozied up to you. . . it didn’t look like you two were on the brink of divorce.

” I flinched at the image of them together, her arm curled around him like some prized possession.

“If you two are supposedly over, then why were you there with her in the first place?”

Logan ran a hand through his hair.“I told her I’d fix a few things around the house before we listed it. That’s it.”

“Before or after you went to lunch with her family?”I asked.“Was that just your way of saying goodbye, or were you letting her down gently over sandwiches and sweet tea?”

He looked up at me then, tired.“Her mom works in real estate now. She’s helping us sell the house.”

I laughed.“How convenient.”

I didn’t know what to believe anymore. Too many things had happened. Too many things had changed, and I was still too broken to allow myself to risk being shattered again.

I stared at the table, willing myself not to cry. Not in front of him. Not when everything I’d felt for him was now tangled in doubt.

“You should’ve told me,”I said, my voice quieter now, not out of forgiveness but fatigue.“You should’ve told me from the start, Logan. You had so many chances.”

Logan took a small step forward, then thought better of it.“I know.”

“Then why didn’t you?”I hated the way my voice sounded—hurt, not angry.“Why let me fall for something you knew was already tainted with lies?”

He didn’t answer right away. He just stood there, motionless, like he wasn’t sure if reaching for me would make things better or worse.

“I was scared,”he said at last. “Scared of screwing it up—of ruining the second chance I’d begged for.

You have no idea how much I wanted this with you.

How many promises I made to whoever might be listening, swearing I’d give up everything if I could just have one more shot.

I kept waiting for the right moment to tell you.

But then the rock, the car. . . everything you went through with that bastard.

I didn’t want to risk hurting you more.”

His words pierced something in me I didn’t want touched. Because I knew that feeling—that desperate grip on something good, even when it’s built on shaky ground.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

“You don’t get to use my feelings as a reason for lying,”I said.“You don’t get to say it was about protecting me when it was really about protecting you .”

He winced. Good.

“Do you love her?”

Logan didn’t hesitate. He shook his head.“No. Not now. Not then. Not ever.”

“Then why?”My voice shook despite me.“Why her ?”

He exhaled sharply. Then he sank into the chair across from me, elbows on his knees, hands laced together forcing them to stay steady.

Outside, the wind howled, rattling the window he’d just repaired. I wondered, vaguely, if it would hold.

“I told you,”he said after a long pause.

“I wasn’t myself when I got back. I was barely anything at all.

The Army stripped pieces of me I didn’t even know I had, and then losing you—”He stopped, jaw tightening.

“I was a wreck. Madeline was like fucking duct tape. She didn’t ask questions.

She didn’t look too closely. She just wanted to fix me. And I was so tired of being broken.”

“So she was convenient?”I pressed, bitterly.

Logan shrugged.“I think some part of her always knew I wasn’t really in it. That my heart was never fully there because it still belonged to you.”

I swallowed hard, but didn’t look away.

“She wanted me to move to Boston because she knew, eventually, you’d come back,”he added.“And she was right.”For a moment, I saw the truth in his eyes—raw and unguarded. But it didn’t dull the sting.

“Love doesn’t mean much if it’s built on half-truths,”I said. Hot tears filled my eyes, and this time, I didn’t stop them. They slipped down silently, one after another.“I let you in. I told you the truth, even when it hurt. And you. . . you only gave me half of yours, dressed up like a whole.”

Logan looked like he wanted to close the space between us, to reach for me. But he didn’t. Maybe he finally understood that whatever stood between us now couldn’t be patched up with apologies or promises.

“You have every right to be angry,” he insisted. “I messed this up—completely. But what I felt for you, what I feel . . . that’s real. It’s the only thing that’s ever made any sense to me.”

I didn’t speak. Not right away.

Because what could I say to that? That I was flattered? That it somehow made this easier? It didn’t. It only made everything murkier, like stepping into water you thought was shallow only to find yourself sinking.

“I’m not some echo, Logan,”I said, my voice thin and trembling.“You don’t get to keep circling back to me every time something else doesn’t work out for you.”

He flinched, like the words had struck a nerve, but he didn’t argue. Maybe he knew better than to try.

“I don’t know if I can come back from this,”I admitted, staring down at my hands.“You keep saying I was the one thing that felt real. . . but if that’s true, why wasn’t it enough to tell me the truth?”

Silence settled between us, thick and uncomfortable. He looked like he wanted to answer, like he had a thousand things on the tip of his tongue. But none of them made it past his lips.

“I need time,”I said, standing slowly.“I don’t know what this is anymore. What we are. Or if we were even anything at all.”

He nodded, his jaw flexing.“I’ll give you whatever you need.”

I patted my eyes with my shirt.“Right now, I think I need you to leave.”

“Emily—”

“Don’t,”I said, holding up a hand.“Just. . . don’t.”

Logan stood, brushing his palms against his jeans like he needed something to do with his hands.“Ok,”he relented.“You need space. And I. . .”He glanced toward the door, then back at me.“I’ve done enough damage for one day.”

I didn’t know what he wanted me to say. That I forgave him? That I understood? Because I didn’t. Not yet.

So instead, I said nothing.

He walked to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob.“For what it’s worth, I meant it. All of it. Evenif I said it too late.”

The door shut behind him, and I was alone.

I looked toward the window, the one he’d patched up with quiet hands and good intentions, and wondered, not for the first time, if some things were meant to be fixed. . . or if they were always meant to stay broken.