Page 52 of Because of Logan

She moves from her side of the booth to mine and pulls me into a hug. I feel like an alien in my own skin. Opening up like this is foreign to me.

“She never made an attempt to reach out to me. I feel like an asshole. In making that ultimatum, I’m no different from my father, and I hate myself for it.”

Skye pulls away from the hug.

“No. You are nothing like your father. You may have allowed anger to speak for you, and I understand that. But you’d never treat your children the way he treated you. Never.”

I never thought about having kids, but I know she speaks the truth. I’d never treat my children the way my parents treated me. I would love them unconditionally.

Still, I can’t go back to that place. My mother knows where I live. She has my phone number. She knows how to find me, and she’s never tried. Mom made a choice, and it wasn’t Liam or me.

My entire life up to the day I left for good had been a web of lies, manipulation, and control. And I refuse to be a willing participant. But even now, four years later and with no contact with them, I can still feel the reach of my father in the way I live, in the decisions I make. It’s been four years of trying to shed the conditioning he imposed on me.

Skye is a step in the right direction. A step away from him. I would’ve never gotten involved with her in my old life. She wouldn’t have been good enough for my father.

* * *

Logan: Guess what, baby bro?

Logan: She likes hockey.

Logan: And fishing.

Logan: We’ve been together four weeks now.

Logan: I like this girl, Liam. I really, really do.

Logan: Mary is worried about you too. Please call us.

Chapter Twenty-One

Standingin front of my closet, I consider my options. My eyes find the flirty blue dress. It’s kind of cold for it, but a long coat will solve the problem.

Next, my underwear drawer, which now houses several new panties and matching bras.

Today is the day, I tell myself. I can’t help the smile on my face. I feel good. It feels right.

For the first time in years, I don’t feel like less. For the first time in years, I’m not comparing myself to River and finding I’m in the loser column. Not that it was ever a competition, but being the lesser twin has always weighed heavily on me.

I will never be as beautiful as she is. Not even with all the plastic surgery in the world. When I look at myself, I see a small, timid girl who’s plain and boring looking. My skin is pale. My hair is pale. The only pop of color on me are my blue eyes, but even they are a watered-down blue. I’m not curvy or tall like River. I can’t think fast and toss comebacks at people when they say something rude. I don’t know how to stand up for myself or be assertive.

As far back as I can remember, I was ignored. People would comment without any regard for the little blond girl hiding behind her mother’s legs while River sucked up all the attention. Every single time, whenever we were out in public, the comments would be about how beautiful River was. How funny and assertive.

And me? It would be...

Oh, who’s that?

Is that your friend?

You can’t be sisters!

Twins? No way. They look nothing alike.

Way to go, people. Say I look nothing like my sister right after gushing about how beautiful she is.

It didn’t take long for me to catch on. Even at a very young age, I was aware of our differences, and the shy little girl I was retreated into herself even more. When I was too old to hide behind my mother’s legs, I started hiding behind books.

Sometimes, I’d hear, ‘Oh, she likes to read. She must be very smart.’ But as I grew older, smart turned into nerd, bookworm, and weirdo. And then there were the braces. The braces made the nerd-ugly-duckling-without-hope-of-ever-becoming-a-swan package complete.

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