I back away from the table, face Jenna, and look down at her. She stares at me with puffy eyes. But there’s no pity in them, just understanding. “Why are you telling me this?” she asks.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “It just feels right. I’ve never talked to anyone about it, but I think knowing you can relate makes it easier.” It does make it easier. Jenna knows how it feels to grow up in a household with someone all your life—your best friend—only to have them taken away from you in the blink of an eye. “I also wanted you to realize that even though the pain will always be there, I’m living proof you can get past this. Right now I know it feels impossible, but one day you’ll look back and see how far you’ve come.”
Jenna lifts her hand to my face and cups my jaw. There’s warmth where she touches. Her eyes stare intensely into mine. I stare back, waiting for her to say something. My gaze drops to her lips—those perfectly pouty, pink lips—which she wets with a stroke of her tongue. She opens her mouth to say something and then shuts it quickly. “Thank you,” she finally whispers as her eyes water. She tries fighting back the tears, but she can’t, and a few escape.
“Come here.” I bring her close, wrapping my arms tight around her. She buries her face in my chest, and I think about the pain we both share. More than anything, I wish Jenna and I were bonding over something else, that she didn’t know what it feels like to lose a sister and I a brother. I rest my chin on her hair and hold her, giving her whatever comfort I can.
After we stand this way for what seems like forever, Jenna looks up at me, her tearstained cheeks flushed. She seems embarrassed by our small connection and pulls away from me. “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cry on you. I’m so very sorry,” she says.
“Don’t be. You needed it. It’s okay to cry sometimes.” I smile. “It’s kind of nice chatting with someone who doesn’t know me and doesn’t judge me for a change.”
She furrows her brow. “Why would I judge you?”
“Because that’s what most people do when they hear what my brother was responsible for or the reason behind his jail time. They look at me with revulsion, or they whisper something like ‘His brother is a murderer.’ They make it seem like I did it.”
Jenna sniffs, brushing her nose with the back of her hand. “You’re not your brother, Logan,” she says with a simple shrug. “And even at that, I’m sure he wasn’t a bad guy. It sounds to me like he was a young kid that made a terrible mistake, and he had to live with that mistake for the rest of his life.”
Does she even know that those are the exact words I needed to hear right now? “Thank you,” I say.
Her pouty lips tug into a tiny smile. Damn. I’d do anything to touch those lips again. “You’re welcome,” she says. Then she turns around and walks out of the shed. I fight back the urge to reach out, grab her, and kiss her. Not like the kiss we had on her front porch when I first met her. Don’t get me wrong, that kiss…well…it heightened all my senses and could have turned into much more than just a kiss. But it wasn’t a real fucking kiss. I want to show her how much this one moment truly meant to me. Wow. I’m starting to sound like a little bitch.
“Jenna,” I call out. She turns around.
“Yes?”
“Go out with me. On a date.” From the look on her face, I can tell I’ve caught her off guard. She opens her mouth to speak but closes it just as quickly. “You don’t have to give me an answer right now,” I say. “Think about it.”
“I don’t think it’s a good ide—”
“Do me a favor and just think about it first. Okay?”
She nods. “Okay. I will.”
I arch a brow. “You’ll think about it? Or you’ll go out with me.”
Jenna casually laughs. “I’ll think about it, Logan.”
And then she’s gone.
chapter 12
Jenna
I can’t believe I just cried my eyes out in front of Logan. What the hell was I thinking? Some of the things he said resonated with me so deeply that I allowed myself to show weakness in front of him. His empathy, his understanding, his loss completely shook my resolve. How pathetic am I?
There’s a part of me that feels relieved—relieved that I was able to just let it out. He’s a stranger. I don’t know anything about him aside from the little I’ve seen. Even so, I feel a unique connection with Logan. When he revealed the details of his brother’s death, I felt sympathy for him, but not in the way an outsider might. It was coming from a place of first-hand knowledge, from a place of compassion. I felt his pain, the struggle I imagine he went through¸ and his loss. I’ve lived through it.
There’s another part of me that feels it may have been a mistake—a huge, stupid mistake. I don’t want him to think that because we shared a moment there could be something more between us. Because there can’t be. Of that I’m certain. Logan is probably a good guy. Or maybe he’s not. Either way, he’s a risk I’m not going to take.
I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and sneak back into the bedroom, quietly shutting the door behind me. I turn and see Charlie sitting against the headboard of the twin bed. Her shoulders and head are slumped over, but she looks up when she hears me. I smile. She rolls her eyes. “Don’t take out your hangover anger on me,” I say, treading over to her.
“I’m never drinking again.” Sure. That’s a famous line of hers. I hand her the bottle of water. “Thank you,” she mumbles, snatching it from my hand. Charlie unscrews the cap and chugs back the entire bottle. She places the empty bottle on the nightstand beside her and leans her head back against the headboard. “Oh God. I’m going to be sick.”
“I’m pretty sure you threw up all of last week’s meals last night.” I hand her the clean bucket from beside her bed and take a seat across from her on the bed I slept in last night.
Charlie settles the bucket between her legs and stares into it. “Where were you?” she asks as she concentrates on the green container.
“Downstairs. I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to wake you.”
She nods. “I woke up over a half hour ago. I didn’t have the strength to go looking for you. I told myself if you didn’t come back in fifteen minutes, I was going to force myself to search.”
“Ha! I’m sure you would’ve made it,” I tease. “Whenever you get yourself together and ready, we’ll drive back. Take your time.”
She groans. “Do we have to leave? I’m seriously in no mood to take a three-hour drive back home. It’s not like you can take the wheel if I get sick.”
“We’re not staying another night, Charlie.”
“Come on. I’m going to need a day to recuperate. I promise I won’t drink today. I’ll keep it to just soft drinks. Don’t make me drive back home like this.” She pouts her lips and rolls her head back against the wooden headboard.
“Oh my God. I can’t believe you’re making me feel guilty.”
“Do you want to face your mother today?”
“Low blow.” And the brief reprieve I had without thoughts of my mother is now over. “Fine.”
Charlie doesn’t smile at my concession. She just sighs and her shoulders deflate. “Thank God,” she says. Then she sinks into the bed, tossing the covers over her face.
It’s noon. I sat in bed channel surfing on the tiny television until Charlie woke up. I couldn’t leave the room and face Logan alone after what happened this morning. Charlie grumbled out of bed with only the word “food” escaping her mouth. I waited patiently as she showered and put on shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops. Now, we’re finally heading downstairs together.