Page 106 of The Breakaway

“Of what?” I planted my hands on my hips, then thought better of it and put them in my pockets.There was the bracelet.

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I'm competitive. I always have been, and when I found out that Rob liked you, I don’t know. I wanted to prove I could win. That I could be better than him."

My mind started to spin, and I had to steady myself against the dresser. "You knew Rob liked me?"

Logan's jaw clenched, and he nodded. "He never said it, but yeah. It was pretty obvious."

I stared at him. "Wait, so you?—"

Logan cut me off, his voice strained. "It wasn't just about that. I swear, Shar. I wanted you, but I'm not proud of that part of it. I don’t know. I’m just always trying to prove something. To my team, to myself." His voice wavered. "To you.”

I stood there, my hands trembling. I didn’t know what to say to that.

He took a step closer, his eyes pleading. "I'm not asking for anything. I just needed you to know.”

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. Logan's eyes searched mine, then finally, he exhaled and took a step back. “Can I help you with that?”

Logan not only helped me finish packing, he carried everything to the front door. When I brought my last bag of knick-knacks and half-empty toiletries, Logan motioned to the stereo.

“Did you know it was him?”

I paused, staring at the mix tape in the cassette player. “Not until recently. Did you?”

Logan shook his head. “I swear, if I'd known it was him, I wouldn't have—" He stopped mid sentence, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry I let you believe it was me, though.”

I slipped on my shoes. “Thank you.” I’d never heard Logan apologize so many times in the space of thirty minutes, but I was quickly becoming a fan.

Logan took in the pile of bags and boxes. "How are you getting all this to your new place?"

"I was going to call my friend Caleb.” I had to specify because Logan had never met my orchestra friends. One year with Logan, and Rob had already spent more time with them than he had. “He was going to bring his car over and help me load up."

Logan nodded, then reached into his pocket and tossed me a keychain with a single key on it. I caught it. "You can take my truck. I'm not going to need it until tomorrow."

"You sure?"

He gave me a sad smile. "Might be helpful. If you need to grab anything else.”

I put the key in my pocket. "Thank you, Logan. This . . . it means a lot."

A flush crept up his neck. “Here. I’ll help you load it up.”

We transported everything to the truck, and when I’d successfully convinced Logan that I would only be driving itacross campus and not on any major highways, he closed the tailgate and stepped back.

I stood in front of him on the sidewalk. “Thanks for your help.”

He nodded, kicking a rock back into the landscaping. “We had some good times, didn’t we?”

I stepped forward and took his hand. “Logan, we had so many good times.”

He looked up, his eyes glassy. “I’m sorry, Shar.”

“I know.” I stepped forward and hugged him. It wasn’t an attempt to fix him this time. It wasn’t out of guilt or a misguided belief that I was responsible for his emotions. I hugged Logan because I wanted him to know that I had loved him. That I still wanted what was best for him. That I was grateful for everything I’d learned about love and especially about myself.

When I pulled back, his eyes were soft. He sniffed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t better for you."

I pressed my lips together. “I’m sorry we weren’t better for each other.”

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