Page 85 of The Things That Hold Us

“So,” she starts as we walk. “Did something happen with you and Logan?”

I try my best not to give any type of reaction, but why does she suspect that?

“What do you mean?” I ask.

She eyes me and smiles, “He just seemed to be in a different mood when he got home from dropping you off, that's all.”

I nod my head, trying to make my face look neutral. Would he have been in a weird mood because of our kiss? Or is it something else entirely?

“I’m not sure. He seemed fine when he left me.”

Lies.

He seemed off. But I don’t know if that's because of me, or because of the nightmare he had.

She shrugs it off like it's nothing, and we walk the rest of the way to her house talking about random things.

Once we get there, I see his truck is gone from the spot it was last time I was here, and something stirs in my stomach.

Is it weird that I’m here when he’s not? Would he think it’s weird?

“Are you sure Logan won't mind me being here?” I ask Sarah as we walk up her front steps.

“Why would he?” she asks me, and there's a smirk on her lips.

She got me there. I guess he wouldn't.

We get inside, and I’m instantly overcome with the scent of Logan. He must have left not long ago.

“You can just set your things in the kitchen, make yourself at home.”

She calls from down the hallway.

“Thanks.” I call back.

I walk into the kitchen, and set my bag and coffee on the counter. Pudding sits at my feet, waiting patiently to be unhooked from his leash. I’ll wait till Sarah tells me it’s ok first.

I look around her house, taking in the cozy rustic ranch vibes. There's wood beams and hardwood flooring, and a large wood burning fireplace with pictures on the mantel above it. It's just so relaxing.

“Sorry!” she says as she comes back in the room.

“My bladder has zero control after having Hazel.” she laughs, and I smile.

She looks down at Pudding, “Oh, you can turn him loose. He doesn't have to stay on the leash the whole time.”

“I wasn't sure, I wanted to wait till you said something.” I laugh nervously, and I know by her expression that she can tell that my nerves are getting the better of me. I don’t even know why I’m nervous. I think it’s simply because I’m in Logan's house, and he isn't here. I feel like I’m invading his personal life.

I follow her into the living room and see large floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over her backyard. It’s not big, but I can't tell it’s a 10-year olds dream backyard.

There's a treehouse, a zipline, and a trampoline; to the side of the treehouse is a small fenced in garden.

We sit on the couch, and Pudding walks right over to Sarah, his tail wagging a million miles a second.

She rubs his head, and he sits at her feet.

“He’s adorable. What kind of dog is he?” she asks as she scratches his nose.

“I’m really not sure. The guy at the shelter didn't know much other than he’s brown, and about 4 years old.”

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