Page 78 of Somewhere Without You
“Bus picks me up at six,”he said.“From the high school parking lot.”
I nodded, more to myself than to him.
“You don’t have to come say goodbye,”he added, voice uncertain.“I’dunderstand if you didn’t.”
I laughedbitterly.“Yeah, well. You’ve been saying goodbye for the last six months, Ijustdidn’tknowit.”
I dug into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out a small, heart-shaped rockI’dfoundlast week and wrappedin twine. His birthdaywasnext week, and Iwasgoing to give it to himthen. I’d wanted to turn it into a necklace, butwe didn’t have enough string, so I ended up tying it into a bracelet instead.
Ihadplannedonfinallytelling him how Ireallyfelt, howI’dalwaysfeltbutcouldnever bring myself to admit.Maybeitwasbecause everyone I ever loved always left.
“Here,”I said, tossing it at him, not caring where it landed.“Happy fucking birthday.”
Logan didn’t say a word as he bent down to pick it up.Andhe didn’t try to stop me when I turned and walked away through the tall grass, back toward the housethatneverfeltfull,evenwhen itwas. The clouds above shifted again,thatwillow-shaped one unraveling into nothing.
Justlike us.
I didn’t bother showing up to say goodbye, despite Gran’s protests.IfLoganhadn’tcaredenough to tell me when he made the decision to leave,thenI didn’tseewhy I should care enough towatchhim go.
A few weeks after hewasgone, letters started arriving—each one addressed to me in his familiar, messy handwriting. I never opened them. Why should I? Whatcouldhepossiblysaythatwould mend the raw, aching holehe’dleftbehind? The onehe’dcarvedout of betrayal,thenleft abandoned to rot.
Still, I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away.
Instead, I tucked them into an old hatbox inside my closet.Evenin my anger, I couldn’t let them go. Theywereall Ihadleftof him—a fragile reminder of the friendship we once shared.Eventually, the letters stopped coming. I figuredhe’dfinallygiven up, realizing Iwasn’tgoing to write back.
Then, on a dreary August afternoon, the phone rang.
By now, Loganhadalready graduated bootcamp.WhenGran called up the stairs saying the callwasfor me, I paused—half hoping itwashim on the other end.
“Emily?”
Butitwasn’tLogan’s voicethatbled through the phone. ItwasKatherine’s.
“Hey,”I said, swallowing my disappointment.“Is everything okay?”
Itwasa surprise tohearfrom her considering wehadn’thearda word innearlyfive months. Ever since she left, itfeltlikewe’dbeen shelved. Her calls always came out of nowhere, and they always left something bitter behind.
“Everything’sgreat,”she saidbrightly.“Perfect,actually.”
Everything will be perfect. . .
“That’sgreat,”I said, forcing cheer into my voice.“How’s Grant? How’s the new baby?”
“Grant’s. . . Grant,”she replied.“AndBella is the most amazing little thing I’ve ever seen. Istillcan’t believe I made something so beautiful.”
“I can,”I said with a smile.“I’mreallyhappy for you, Kat. You got everything you ever wanted.”
“Yeah. . .”Her voice dipped a little.“Almost everything.”
I laughedlightly.“What? Living in California with a rich, handsome husband and a perfect baby isn’t enough for you?”
Katherine laughed along with me.“Itis—butit’d be better if Icouldshare it with you.”
I waited, expecting her to say more.Whenshe didn’t, the silence filled in the blanks for me.
“Are you asking me to come visit?”
“I’m asking you to comestay,”she said.“Butonly if you want to.”
